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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8143-0.txt b/8143-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4b183b --- /dev/null +++ b/8143-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10008 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. Hull + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Shadow of the East + +Author: E. M. Hull + + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8143] +This file was first posted on June 19, 2003 +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE SHADOW OF THE EAST + + +By E. M. Hull + +1921 + + + + “_The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's + teeth are set on edge_.” + + _Ezekiel xviii 2_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The American yacht lying off the harbour at Yokohama was brilliantly lit +from stem to stern. Between it and the shore the reflection of the +full moon glittered on the water up to the steps of the big black +landing-stage. The glamour of the eastern night and the moonlight +combined to lend enchantment to a scene that by day is blatant and +tawdry, and the countless coloured lamps twinkling along the sea wall +and dotted over the Bluff transformed the Japanese town into fairyland. + +The night was warm and still, and there was barely a ripple on the +water. The Bay was full of craft--liners, tramps, and yachts swinging +slowly with the tide, and hurrying to and fro sampans and electric +launches jostled indiscriminately. + +On board the yacht three men were lying in long chairs on the deck. +Jermyn Atherton, the millionaire owner, a tall thin American whose keen, +clever face looked singularly youthful under a thick crop of iron-grey +hair, sat forward in his chair to light a fresh cigar, and then turned +to the man on his right. “I guess I've had every official in Japan +hunting for you these last two days, Barry. If I hadn't had your wire +from Tokio this morning I should have gone to our Consul and churned up +the whole Japanese Secret Service and made an international affair of +it,” he laughed. “Where in all creation were you? I should hardly have +thought it possible to get out of touch in this little old island. The +authorities, too, knew all about you, and reckoned they could lay their +hands on you in twelve hours. I rattled them up some,” he added, with +evident satisfaction. + +The Englishman smiled. + +“You seem to have done,” he said dryly. “When I got into Tokio this +morning I was fallen on by a hysterical inspector of police who implored +me with tears to communicate immediately with an infuriated American who +was raising Cain in Yokohama over my disappearance. As a matter of fact +I was in a little village twenty miles inland from Tokio--quite off +the beaten track. There's an old Shinto temple there that I have been +wanting to sketch for a long time.” + +“Atherton's luck!” commented the American complacently. “It generally +holds good. I couldn't leave Japan without seeing you, and I must sail +tonight.” + +“What's your hurry--Wall Street going to the dogs without you?” + +“No. I've cut out from Wall Street. I've made all the money I want, and +I'm only concerned with spending it now. No, the fact is I--er--I left +home rather suddenly.” + +A soft chuckle came from the recumbent occupant of the third chair, but +Atherton ignored it and hurried on, twirling rapidly, as he spoke, a +single eyeglass attached to a thin black cord. + +“Ever since Nina and I were married last year we've been going the devil +of a pace. We had to entertain every one who had entertained us--and a +few more folk besides. There was something doing all day and every day +until at last it seemed to me that I never saw my wife except at the +other end of a dining table with a crowd of silly fools in between us. +I reckoned I'd just about had enough of it. Came on me just like a flash +sitting in my office down town one morning, so I buzzed home right away +in the auto and told her I was sick of the whole thing and that I wanted +her to come away with me and see what real life was like--out West or +anywhere else on earth away from that durned society crowd. I'll admit I +lost my temper and did some shouting. Nina couldn't see it from my point +of view. + +“My God, Jermyn! I should think not,” drawled a sleepy voice from +the third chair, and a short, immensely stout man struggled up into a +sitting position, mopping his forehead vigorously. “You've the instincts +of a Turk rather than of an enlightened American citizen. You've not +seen my sister-in-law yet, Mr. Craven,” he turned to the Englishman. +“She's a peach! Smartest little girl in N'York. Leader of +society--dollars no object--small wonder she didn't fall in with +Jermyn's prehistoric notions. You're a cave man, elder brother--I put my +money on Nina every time. Hell! isn't it hot?” He sank down again full +length, flapping his handkerchief feebly at a persistent mosquito. + +“We argued for a week,” resumed Jermyn Atherton when his brother's +sleepy drawl subsided, “and didn't seem to get any further on. At last +I lost my temper completely and decided to clear out alone if Nina +wouldn't come with me. Leslie was not doing anything at the time, so I +persuaded him to come along too.” + +Leslie Atherton sat up again with a jerk. + +“_Persuaded_!” he exploded, “A dam' queer notion of persuasion. +Shanghaied, I call it. Ran me to earth at the club at five o'clock, and +we sailed at eight. If my man hadn't been fond of the sea and keen on +the trip himself, I should have left America for a cruise round the +world in the clothes I stood up in--and Jermyn's duds would be about +as useful to me as a suit of reach-me-downs off the line. Persuasion? +Shucks! Jermyn thought it was kind of funny to start right off on an +ocean trip at a moment's notice and show Nina he didn't care a durn. +Crazy notion of humour.” He lay back languidly and covered his face with +a large silk handkerchief. + +Barry Craven turned toward his host with amused curiosity in his grey +eyes. + +“Well?” He asked at length. + +Atherton returned his look with a slightly embarrassed smile. + +“It hasn't been so blamed funny after all,” he said quietly. “A Chinese +coffin-ship from 'Frisco would be hilarious compared with this trip,” + rapped a sarcastic voice from behind the silk handkerchief. + +“I've felt a brute ever since we lost sight of Sandy Hook,” continued +Atherton, looking away toward the twinkling lights on shore, “and as +soon as we put in here I couldn't stand it any longer, so I cabled to +Nina that I was returning at once. I'm quite prepared to eat humble pie +and all the rest of it--in fact I shall relish it,” with a sudden shy +laugh. + +His brother heaved his vast bulk clear of the deck chair with a mighty +effort. + +“Humble pie! Huh!” he snorted contemptuously. “She'll kill the fatted +calf and put a halo of glory round your head and invite in all the +neighbours 'for this my prodigal husband has returned to me!'” He ducked +with surprising swiftness to avoid a book that Atherton hurled at his +head and shook a chubby forefinger at him reprovingly. + +“Don't assault the only guide, philosopher and friend you've got who has +the courage to tell you a few home truths. Say, Jermyn, d'y'know why I +finally consented to come on this crazy cruise, anyway? Because Nina +got me on the phone while you were hammering away at me at the club +and ordered me to go right along with you and see you didn't do any dam +foolishness. Oh, she's got me to heel right enough. Well! I guess I'll +turn in and get to sleep before those fool engines start chump-chumping +under my pillow. You boys will want a pow-wow to your two selves; there +are times when three is a crowd. Good-bye, Mr. Craven, pleased to have +met you. Hope to see you in the Adirondacks next summer--a bit more +crowded than the Rockies, which are Jermyn's Mecca, but more home +comforts--appeal to a man of my build.” He slipped away with the +noiseless tread that is habitual to heavy men. + +Jermyn Atherton looked after his retreating figure and laughed +uproariously. + +“Isn't he the darndest? A clam is communicative compared with Leslie. +Fancy him having that card up his sleeve all the while. Nina's had the +bulge on me right straight along.” + +He pushed a cigar-box across the wicker table between them. + +“No, thanks,” said Craven, taking a case from his pocket. “I'll have a +cigarette, if you don't mind.” + +The American settled himself in his chair, his hands clasped behind his +head, staring at the harbour lights, his thoughts very obviously some +thousands of miles away. Craven watched him speculatively. Atherton +the big game-hunter, Atherton the mine-owner, he knew perfectly--but +Atherton the New York broker, Atherton married, he was unacquainted with +and he was trying to adjust and consolidate the two personalities. + +It was the same Atherton--but more human, more humble, if such a word +could be applied to an American millionaire. He felt a sudden curiosity +to see the woman who had brought that new look into his old friend's +keen blue eyes. He was conscious of an odd feeling of envy. Atherton +became aware at last of his attentive gaze and grinned sheepishly. + +“Must seem a bit of a fool to you, old man, but I feel like a boy going +home for the holidays and that's the truth. But I've been yapping about +my own affair all evening. What about you--staying on in Japan? Been +here quite a while now, haven't you?” + +“Just over a year.” + +“Like it?” + +“Yes, Japan has got into my bones.” + +“Lazy kind of life, isn't it?” + +There was no apparent change in Atherton's drawl, but Craven turned his +head quickly and looked at him before answering. + +“I'm a lazy kind of fellow,” he replied quietly. + +“You weren't lazy in the Rockies,” said Atherton sharply. + +“Oh, yes I was. There are grades of laziness.” + +Atherton flung the stub of his cigar overboard and selecting a fresh +one, cut the end off carefully. + +“Still got that Jap boy who was with you in America?” + +“Yoshio? Yes. I picked him up in San Francisco ten years ago. He'll +never leave me now.” + +“Saved his life, didn't you? He spun me a great yarn one day in camp.” + +Craven laughed and shrugged. “Yoshio has an Oriental imagination and +quite a flair for romance. I did pull him out of a hole in 'Frisco but +he was putting up a very tidy little show on his own account. He's +the toughest little beggar I've ever come across and doesn't know the +meaning of fear. If I'm ever in a big scrap I hope I shall have Yoshio +behind me.” + +“You seem to be pretty well known over yonder,” said Atherton with a +vague movement of his head toward the shore. + +“It is not a big town and the foreign population is not vast. +Besides, there are traditions. I am the second Barry Craven to live in +Yokohama--my father lived several years and finally died here. He was +obsessed with Japan.” + +“And with the Japanese?” + +“And with the Japanese.” + +Atherton frowned at the glowing end of his cigar. + +“Nina and I ran down to see Craven Towers when we were on our wedding +trip in England last year,” he said at length with seeming irrelevance. +“Your agent, Mr. Peters, ran us round.” + +“Good old Peters,” murmured Craven lazily. “The place would have gone to +the bow-wows long ago if it hadn't been for him. He adored my mother +and has the worst possible opinion of me. But he's a loyal old bird, he +probably endowed me with all the virtues for your benefit.” + +But Atherton ignored the comment. He polished his eyeglass vigorously +and screwed it firmly into position. + +“If I was an Englishman with a place like Craven Towers that had been in +my family for generations,” he said soberly, “I should go home and marry +a nice girl and settle down on my estate.” + +“That's precisely Peters' opinion,” replied Craven promptly with a +good-tempered laugh. “I get reams from him to that effect nearly every +mail--with detailed descriptions of all the eligible debutantes whom he +thinks suitable. I often wonder whether he runs the estate on the same +lines and keeps a matrimonial agency for the tenants.” + +Atherton laughed with him but persisted. + +“If your own countrywomen don't appeal to you, take a run out to the +States and see what we can do for you.” + +The laugh died out of Craven's eyes and he moved restlessly in his +chair. + +“It's no good, Jermyn. I'm not a marrying man,” he said shortly. + +Atherton smiled grimly at the recollection of a similar remark +emphatically uttered by himself at their last meeting. + +For a time neither spoke. Each was conscious of a vague difference in +the other, developed during the years that had elapsed since their last +meeting--an intangible barrier checking the open confidence of earlier +days. + +It was growing late. The sampans had nearly all disappeared and only an +occasional launch skimmed across the harbour. + +A neighbouring yacht's band that had been silent for the last hour +began to play again--appropriately to the vicinity--Puccini's well-known +opera. The strains came subdued but clear across the water on the +scent-laden air. Craven sat forward in his chair, his heels on the +ground, his hands loosely clasped between his knees, whistling softly +the Consul's solo in the first act. From behind a cloud of cigar smoke +Atherton watched him keenly, and as he watched he was thinking rapidly. +He was used to making decisions quickly--he was accustomed to accepting +risks at which others shied, but the risk he was now contemplating meant +the taking of an unwarranted liberty that might be resented and might +result in the loss of a friendship that he valued. But he was going to +take the risk--as he had taken many another--he had known that from the +first. He screwed his eyeglass firmer into his eye, a characteristic +gesture well-known on the New York stock market. + +“Ever see _Madame Butterfly_? he asked abruptly. + +“Yes.” + +Atherton blew another big cloud of smoke. + +“Damn fool, Pinkerton,” he said gruffly, “Never could see the attraction +myself--dancing girls--almond eyes--and all that sort of thing.” + +Craven made no answer but his whistling stopped suddenly and the +knuckles of his clasped hands whitened. Atherton looked away quickly and +his eyeglass fell with a little tinkle against a waistcoat button. There +was another long pause. Finally the music died away and the stillness +was broken only by the soft slap-slap of the water against the ship's +side. + +Atherton scowled at his immaculate deck shoes and then seized his +eyeglass again decisively. + +“Say, Barry, you saved my life in the Rockies that trip and I guess a +fellow whose life you've saved has a pull on you no one else has. Anyhow +I'll chance it, and if I'm a damned interfering meddler it's up to you +to say so and I'll apologise--handsomely. Are you in a hole?” + +Craven got up, walked away to the side of the yacht and leaning on the +rail stared down into the water. A solitary sampan was passing the +broad streak of moonlight and he watched it intently until it passed and +merged into the shadows beyond. + +“I've been the usual fool,” he said at last quietly. + +“Oh, hell!” came softly from behind him. “Chuck it, Barry. Clear out +right now--with us. I'll put off sailing until tomorrow.” + +“I--can't.” + +Atherton rose and joined him, and for a moment his hand rested on the +younger man's shoulder. + +“I'm sorry--dashed sorry,” he murmured. “Gee!” he added with a half shy, +half humorous glance, wiping his forehead frankly, “I'd rather face a +grizzly than do that again. Leslie keeps telling me that my habit of +butting in will land me in the family vault before my time.” + +Craven smiled wryly. + +“It's all right. I'm grateful--really. But I must hoe my own row.” + +The American swung irresolutely on his heels. + +“That's so, that's so,” he agreed reluctantly. “Oh damn it all,” he +burst out, “have a drink!” and going back to the table he pounded in the +stopper of a soda-water-bottle savagely. + +Craven laughed constrainedly as he tilted the whisky into a glass. + +“Universal panacea,” he said a little bitterly, “but it's not my method +of oblivion.” + +He put the peg tumbler down with a smothered sigh. + +“I must be off, Jermyn. It's time you were getting under way. It's been +like the old days to have had a yarn with you again. Good luck and a +quick run home--you lucky devil.” + +Atherton walked with him to the head of the gangway and watched him into +the launch. + +“We shall count on you for the Adirondacks in the summer,” he called out +cheerily, leaning far over the rail. + +Craven looked up with a smile and waved his hand, but did not answer and +the motor boat shot away toward the shore. + +He landed on the big pier and lingered for a moment to watch the launch +speeding back to the yacht. Then he walked slowly down the length of the +stage and at the entrance found his rickshaw waiting. The two men who +were squatting on the ground leaped up at his approach and one hurriedly +lit a great dragon-painted paper lantern while the other held out a +light dustcoat. Craven tossed it into the rickshaw and silently pointing +toward the north, climbed in. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. The +men sprang away in a quick dog-trot along the Bund, and then started +to climb the hillside at the back of the town. They wound slowly up the +narrow tortuous roads, past numberless villas, hung with lights, from +which voices floated out into the quiet air. + +The moon was brilliant and the night wonderfully light, but Craven paid +no attention to the beauty of the scene or to the gaily lit villas. +Atherton's invitation had been curiously hard to decline and even now +an almost overpowering desire came over him to bid his men retrace +their steps to the harbour. Then hard on the heels of that desire came +thoughts that softened the hard lines that had gathered about his mouth. +He pitched his cigarette away as if with it he threw from him an +actual temptation, and resolutely put out of his mind Atherton and the +suggestion of flight. + +Still climbing upward the rickshaw passed the last of the outlying +European villas and turned down a side road where there were no houses. +For a couple of miles the men raced along a level track cut on the side +of a hill that rose steeply on the one hand and on the other fell away +precipitously down to the sea until they halted with a sudden jerk +beside a wooden gateway with a creeper-covered roof on either side of +which two matsu trees stood like tall sentinels. + +Waiting by the open gate was a short, powerful looking Japanese dressed +in European clothes. He came forward as Craven alighted and gathering up +the coat and hat from the floor of the rickshaw, dismissed the Japanese +who vanished further along the road into the shadows. Then he turned +and waited for his master to precede him through the gateway, but Craven +signed to him to go on, and as the man disappeared up the garden path +he crossed the road and standing on the edge of the cliff looked down +across the harbour. The American yacht was the biggest craft of her kind +in the roads and easily discernible in the moonlight. The brilliant deck +illumination had been shut off and only a few lights showed. He gave a +quick sigh. Atherton's coming had been like a bar drawn suddenly across +the stream down which he was drifting. If Jermyn had only come last +year! The envy he had felt earlier in the evening increased. He thought +of the look he had seen in Atherton's eyes and the intonation of his +voice when the American spoke of the wife to whom he was returning. What +did love like that mean to a man? What factor in Atherton's strenuous +and adventurous life had affected him as this had done? What +were the ethics of a love that rose purely above physical +attraction--environment--temperament; a love that grew and strengthened +and absorbed until it ceased to be a part of life and became life +itself--the main issue, the fundamental essence? + +And as Craven watched he saw the yacht steam slowly down the bay. He +drew a deep breath. + +“You lucky, lucky devil,” he whispered again and swung on his heel. He +paused for a moment just within the gateway where on the only level part +of the garden lay a miniature lake, hedged round with bamboo, clumps +of oleander, fed by a little twisting stream that came tumbling and +splashing down the hillside in a series of tiny waterfalls, its banks +fringed with azalea bushes and slender cherry trees. Then he walked +slowly along the path that led upward, winding to and fro through +clusters of pines and cedars and over mossy slopes to the little house +which stood in a clearing at the top of the garden surrounded by fir +trees and backed by a high creeper-clad palisade. + +From the wide verandah, built out on piles over the terrace, there was +an uninterrupted view of the harbour. He climbed the four wooden stairs +and on the top step turned and looked again down on to the bay. The +yacht was now invisible, but in his mind he followed her slipping down +toward the open sea. And Atherton--what were his thoughts while pacing +the broad deck or lying in his cabin listening to the screw whose every +revolution was taking him nearer the centre of his earthly happiness? +Were they anything like his own, he wondered, as he stood there +bareheaded in the moonlight, looking strangely big and incongruous on +the balcony of the little fairylike doll's house? + +He shrugged impatiently. The comparison was an insult, he thought +bitterly. Again he stared out to sea, straining his eyes; trying vainly +to pick up the yacht's lights far down the bay. It was very still, a +tiny breeze whispered in the pines and drifted across his face the sweet +perfume of a flowering shrub. A cicada chirped in the grass at his feet. + +Then behind him came a faint rustle of silk. He heard the soft sibilant +sound of a breath drawn quickly in. + +“Will my lord honourably be pleased to enter?” the voice was very low +and sweet and the English very slow and careful. + +Craven did not move. + +“Try again, O Hara San.” + +A low bubble of girlish laughter rippled out. + +“Please to come in, Bar-ree.” + +He turned slowly, looking bigger than ever by contrast with the slender +little Japanese girl who faced him. She was barely seventeen, dainty +and fragile as a porcelain figure, wholly in keeping with her exquisite +setting and yet the flush on her cheeks--free from the thick disfiguring +white paste used by the women of her country--and the vivid animation +of her face were oddly occidental, and the eyes raised so eagerly to +Craven's were as grey as his own. + +He held out his arms and she fluttered into them with a little +breathless murmur, clinging to him passionately. + +“Little O Hara San,” he said gently as she pressed closer to him. He +tilted her head, stooping to kiss the tiny mouth that trembled at the +touch of his lips. She closed her eyes and he felt an almost convulsive +shudder shake her. + +“Have you missed me, O Hara San?” + +“It is a thousand moons since you are gone,” she whispered unsteadily. + +“Are you glad to see me?” + +Her grey eyes opened suddenly with a look of utter content and +happiness. + +“You know, Bar-ree. Oh, Bar-ree!” + +His face clouded, the teasing word that rose to his lips died away +unspoken and he pressed her head against him almost roughly to hide the +look of trusting devotion that suddenly hurt him. For a few moments she +lay still, then slipped free of his arms and stood before him, swaying +slightly from side to side, her hands busily patting her hair into order +and smiling up at him happily. + +“Being very rude. Forgetting honourable hospitality. You please +forgive?” + +She backed a few steps toward the doorway and her pliant figure bent for +an instant in the prescribed form of Japanese courtesy and salutation. +Then she clasped both hands together with a little cry of dismay. +“Oh, so sorree,” she murmured in contrition, “forgot honourable lord +forbidding that.” + +“Your honourable lord will beat you with a very big stick if you forget +again,” said Craven laughing as he followed her into the little room. +O Hara San pouted her scarlet lips at him and laughed softly as she +subsided on to a mat on the floor and clapped her hands. Craven sat down +opposite her more slowly. In spite of the months he had spent in Japan +he still found it difficult to adapt his long legs to the national +attitude. + +In answer to the summons an old armah brought tea and little rice cakes +which O Hara San dispensed with great dignity and seriousness. She drank +innumerable cupfuls while Craven took three or four to please her and +then lit a cigarette. He smoked in silence watching the dainty little +kneeling figure, following the quick movements of her hands as she +manipulated the fragile china on the low stool before her, the restraint +she imposed upon herself as she struggled with the excited happiness +that manifested itself in the rapid heaving of her bosom, and the +transient smile on her lips, and a heavy frown gathered on his face. She +looked up suddenly, the tiny cup poised in her hand midway to her mouth. + +“You happy in Tokio?” + +“Yes.” + +It was not the answer for which she had hoped and her eyes dropped at +the curt monosyllable. She put the cup back on the tray and folded her +hands in her lap with a faint little sigh of disappointment, her head +drooping pensively. Craven knew instinctively that he had hurt her and +hated himself. It was like striking a child. But presently she looked +up again and gazed at him soberly, wrinkling her forehead in unconscious +imitation of his. + +“O Hara San very bad selfish girl. Hoping you very _un_happy in Tokio,” + she said contritely. + +He laughed at the naive confession and the gloom vanished from his face +as he stood up, his long limbs cramped with the uncongenial attitude. + +“What have you been doing while I was away?” he asked, crossing the room +to look at a new kakemono on the wall. + +She flitted away silently and returned in a few moments carrying a small +panel. She put it into his hands, drawing near to him within the arm +he slipped round her and slanted her head against him, waiting for his +criticism with the innate patience of her race. + +Craven looked long at the painting. It was a study of a solitary fir +tree, growing at the edge of a cliff--wind-swept, rugged. The high +precipice on which it stood was only suggested and far below there was a +hint of boundless ocean--foam-crested. + +It was the tree that gripped attention--a lonely outpost, clinging +doggedly to its jutting headland, rearing its head proudly in its +isolation; the wind seemed to rustle through its branches, its gnarled +trunk showed rough and weather-beaten. It was a poem of loneliness and +strength. + +At last Craven laid it down carefully, and gathering up the slender +clasped hands, kissed them silently. The mute homage was more to her +than words. The colour rushed to her cheeks and her eyes devoured his +face almost hungrily. + +“You like it?” she whispered wistfully. + +“Like it?” he echoed, “Gad! little girl, it's wonderful. It's more than +a fir tree--it's power, tenacity, independence. I know that all your +work is symbolical to you. What does the tree mean--Japan?” + +She turned her head away, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her fingers +gripping his. + +“It means--more to me than Japan,” she murmured. “More to me than +life--it means--you,” she added almost inaudibly. + +He swept her up into his arms and carrying her out on to the verandah, +dropped into a big cane chair that was a concession to his western +limbs. + +“You make a god of me, O Hara San,” he said huskily. + +“You are my god,” she answered simply, and as he expostulated she laid +her soft palm over his mouth and nestled closer into his arms. + +“I talk now,” she said quaintly. “I have much to tell.” + +But the promised news did not seem forthcoming for she grew silent +again, lying quietly content, rubbing her head caressingly from time +to time against his arm and twisting his watch-chain round her tiny +fingers. + +The night was very quiet. No sound came from within the house, and +without only the soft wind murmuring in the trees, cicadas chirping +unceasingly and the little river dashing down the hillside, splashing +noisily, broke the stillness. Nature, the sleepless, was awake making +her influence felt with the kindly natural sounds that mitigate the awe +of absolute silence--sounds that harmonized with the peacefulness of the +little garden. Tonight the contrast between Yokohama, with its pitiful +western vulgarity obtruding at every turn, and the quiet beauty of +his surroundings struck Craven even more sharply than usual. It seemed +impossible that only two miles away was Theatre Street blazing and +rioting with all its tinsel tawdriness, flaring lights and whining +gramophones. Here was another world--and here he had found more +continuous contentment than he had known in the last ten years. The +garden was an old one, planned by a master hand. By day it was lovely, +but by night it took on a weird beauty that was almost unreal. The +light of the moon cast strong black shadows, deep and impenetrable, that +hovered among the trees like sinister spirits lurking in the darkness. + +The trees themselves, contorted in the moonlight, assumed strange +forms--vague shapes played in and out among them--the sombre bushes +seemed alive with peeping faces. It was the Garden of Enchantment, +peopled with a thousand djinns and demons of Old Japan. The atmosphere +was mysterious, the air was saturated with sweet heavy scents. + +Craven was a passionate lover of the night. The darkness, the silence, +the mystery of it appealed to him. He was familiar with its every phase +in many climates. It enticed him for long solitary rambles in all the +countries he had visited during the ten years of his wanderings. Nature, +always fascinating, was then to him doubly attractive, doubly alluring. +To the night he went for sympathy. To the night he went for inspiration. +It was during his midnight wanderings that he seemed to get nearer +the fundamental root of things. It was to the night he turned for +consolation in times of need. It was then that he exorcised the demon of +unrest that entered into him periodically. All his life the charm of the +night had called to him and all his life he had responded obediently. As +a tiny boy one of his earliest recollections was of slipping out of bed +and, evading nurses and servants, stealing out into the park at Craven +Towers to seek the healing of the night for some childish heartache. He +had crept down the long avenue and climbing the iron fence had perched +on the rail and watched the deer feeding by the light of the moon until +all the sorrow had been chased away and his baby heart was singing with +a kind of delirious happiness that he did not understand and that gave +way in its turn to a natural childish enjoyment of an adventure that +was palpably forbidden. He had slid down from the fence and retraced +his steps up the avenue until he came to the path that led to the rose +garden and eventually to the terrace near the house. He had trotted +along on his little bare feet, shivering now and then, but more from +excitement than from cold, until he had come to the long flight of stone +steps that led to the terrace. He had laboriously climbed them one foot +at a time, his toes curling at the contact with the chill stone, and at +the top he had halted suddenly, holding his breath. Close to him was +a tall indistinct figure wrapped in dark draperies. For a moment fear +gripped him and then an immense curiosity swamped every other feeling +and he moved forward cautiously. The tall figure had turned suddenly and +it was his mother's sad girlish face that looked down at him. She had +lifted him up into her arms, wrapping her warm cloak round his slightly +clad little body--she had asked no questions and she had not scolded. +She had seemed to understand, even though he gave no explanation, and +it was the beginning of a sympathy between them that had developed to an +unusual degree and lasted until her death, ten years ago. She had hugged +him tightly and he had always remembered, without fully understanding in +his childhood, the half incredulous, half regretful whisper in his ear, +“Has it come to you so soon, little son?” + +The hereditary instinct, born thus, had grown with his own growth from +boyhood to manhood until it was an integral part of himself. + +And the lure of the eastern nights--more marvellous and compelling even +than in colder climates--had become almost an obsession. + +Little O Hara San, firm believer in all devils, djinns and midnight +workers of mischief, had grown accustomed to the eccentricities of the +man who was her whole world. If it pleased him to spend long hours of +the night sitting on the verandah when ordinary folk were sensibly shut +up in their houses she did not care so long as she might be with him. No +demon in Japan could harm her while she lay securely in his strong arms. +And if unpleasant shadows crept uncomfortably near the little house she +resolutely turned her head and hiding her face against him shut out all +disagreeable sights and slept peacefully, confident in his ability +to keep far from her all danger. Her love was boundless and her trust +absolute. But tonight there was no thought of sleep. For three long +weeks she had not seen him and during that time for her the sun had +ceased to shine. She had counted each hour until his return and she +could not waste the precious moments now that he had really come. The +djinns and devils in the garden might present themselves in all their +hideousness if it so pleased them but tonight she was heedless of them. +She had eyes for nothing but the man she worshipped. Even in his silent +moods she was content. It was enough to feel his arms about her, to hear +his heart beating rhythmically beneath her head and, lying so, to look +up and see the firm curve of his chin and the slight moustache golden +brown against his tanned cheek. + +She stirred slightly in his arms with a little sigh of happiness, and +the faint movement woke him from his abstraction. + +“Sleepy?” he asked gently. + +She laughed gaily at the suggestion and sat up to show how wide awake +she was. The light from a lantern fell full on her face and Craven +studied it with an intensity of which he was hardly aware. She bore his +scrutiny in silence for a few moments and then looked away with a little +grimace. + +“Thinking me very ugly?” she hazarded tentatively. + +“No. Very pretty,” he replied truthfully. She leaned forward and laid +her cheek for a second against his, then cuddled down into his arms +again with a happy laugh. He lit a cigarette and tossed the match over +the verandah rail. + +“What is your news, O Hara San?” + +She did not speak for a moment, and when she did it was no answer to his +question. She reached up her hands and drawing his head down toward her, +looked earnestly into his eyes. + +“You loving me?” she asked a little tremulously. + +“You know I love you,” he answered quietly. + +“Very much?” + +“Very much.” + +Her eyes flickered and her hands released their hold. + +“Men not loving like women,” she murmured at length wistfully. And +then suddenly, with her face hidden against him, she told him--of the +fulfilling of all her hope, the supreme desire of eastern women, pouring +out her happiness in quick passionate sentences, her body shaking with +emotion, her fingers gripping his convulsively. + +Craven sat aghast. It was a possibility of which he had always been +aware but which with other unpleasant contingencies he had relegated +to the background of his mind. He had put it from him and had drifted, +careless and indifferent. And now the shadowy possibility had become a +definite reality and he was faced with a problem that horrified him. +His cigarette, neglected, burnt down until it reached his fingers and +he flung it away with a sharp exclamation. He did not speak and the girl +lay motionless, chilled with his silence, her happiness slowly dying +within her, vaguely conscious of a dim fear that terrified her. Was +the link that she had craved to bind them closer together to be useless +after all? Was this happiness that he had given her, the culminating +joy of all the goodness and kindness that he had lavished on her, no +happiness to him? The thought stabbed poignantly. She choked back a sob +and raised her head, but at the sight of his face the question she would +have asked froze on her lips. + +“Bar-ree! you are not angry with me?” she whispered desperately. + +“How could I be angry with you?” he replied evasively. She shivered and +clenched her teeth, but the question she feared must be asked. + +“Are you not glad?” it was a cry of entreaty. He did not speak and with +a low moan she tried to free herself from him but she was powerless +in his hold, and soon she ceased to struggle and lay still, sobbing +bitterly. He drew her closer into his arms and laid his cheek on her +dark hair, seeking for words of comfort, and finding none. She had read +the dismay in his face, had in vain waited for him to speak and no tardy +lie would convince her now. He had wounded her cruelly and he could make +no amends. He had failed her at the one moment when she had most need +of him. He cursed himself bitterly. Gradually her sobs subsided and her +hand slipped into his clutching it tightly. She sat up at last with +a little sigh, pushing the heavy hair off her forehead wearily, and +forcing herself to meet his eyes--looked at him sorrowfully, with +quivering lips. + +“Please forgive, Bar-ree,” she whispered humbly and her humility hurt +him more even than her distress. + +“There is nothing to forgive, O Hara San,” he said awkwardly, and as she +sought to go this time he did not keep her. She walked to the edge of +the verandah and stared down into the garden. Problematical ghosts and +demons paled to insignificance before this real trouble. She fought +with herself gallantly, crushing down her sorrow and disappointment and +striving to regain the control she had let slip. Her feminine code Was +simple--complete abnegation and self-restraint. And she had broken down +under the first trial! He would despise her, the daughter of a race +trained from childhood to conceal suffering and to suppress all signs of +emotion. He would never understand that it was the alien blood that ran +in her veins and the contact with himself that had caused her to abandon +the stoicism of her people, that had made her reveal her sorrow. He had +laughed at her undemonstrativeness, demanding expressions and proofs +of her affection that were wholly foreign to her upbringing until her +Oriental reserve had slipped from her whose only wish was to please him. +She had adopted his manners, she had made his ways her ways, forgetting +the bar that separated them. But tonight the racial difference of +temperament had risen up vividly between them. Her joy was not his +joy. If he had been a Japanese he would have understood. But he did not +understand and she must hide both joy and sorrow. It was his contentment +not hers that mattered. All through these last months of wonderful +happiness there had lurked deep down in her heart a fear that it would +not last, and she had dreaded lest any unwitting act of hers might +hasten the catastrophe. + +She glanced back furtively over her shoulder. Craven was leaning +forward in the cane chair with his head in his hands and she looked away +hastily, blinded with tears. She had troubled him--distressed him. +She had “made a scene”--the phrase, read in some English book, +flashed through her mind. Englishmen hated scenes. She gripped herself +resolutely and when he left his chair and joined her she smiled at him +bravely. + +“See, all the djinns are gone, Bar-ree,” she said with a little nervous +laugh. + +He guessed the struggle she was making and chimed in with her mood. + +“Sensible fellows,” he said lightly, tapping a cigarette on the verandah +rail. “Gone home to bed I expect. Time you went to bed too. I'll just +smoke this cigarette.” But as she turned away obediently, he caught her +back, with a sudden exclamation: + +“By Jove! I nearly forgot.” + +He took a tiny package from his pocket and gave it to her. Girlishly +eager her fingers shook with excitement as she ripped the covering from +a small gold case attached to a slender chain. She pressed the spring +and uttered a little cry of delight. The miniature of Craven had +been painted by a French artist visiting Yokohama and was a faithful +portrait. + +“Oh, Bar-ree,” she gasped with shining eyes, lifting her face like +a child for his kiss. She leaned against him studying the painting +earnestly, appreciating the mastery of a fellow craftsman, ecstatically +happy--then she slipped the chain over her head and closing the case +tucked it away inside her kimono. + +“Now I have two,” she murmured softly. + +“Two?” said Craven pausing as he lighted his cigarette. “What do you +mean?” + +“Wait, I show,” she replied and vanished into the house. She was back +in a moment holding in her hand another locket. He took it from her +and moved closer under the lantern to look at it. It hung from a thick +twisted cable of gold, and set round with pearls it was bigger and +heavier than the dainty case O Hara San had hidden against her heart. +For a moment he hesitated, overcoming an inexplicable reluctance to open +it--then he snapped the spring sharply. + +“Good God!” he whispered slowly through dry lips. And yet he had known, +known intuitively before the lid flew back, for it was the second time +that he had handled such a locket--the first he had seen and left lying +on his dead mother's breast. + +He stood as if turned to stone, staring with horror at the replica of +his own face lying in the hollow of his hand. The thick dark hair, the +golden brown moustache, the deep grey eyes--all were the same. Only the +chin in the picture was different for it was hidden by a short pointed +beard; so was it in the miniature that was buried with his mother, +so was it in the big portrait that hung in the dining-room at Craven +Towers. + +“Who gave you this?” he asked thickly, and O Hara San stared at him in +bewilderment, frightened at the strangeness of his voice. + +“My mother,” she said wonderingly. “He was Bar-ree, too. See,” she added +pointing with a slender forefinger to the name engraved inside the case. + +A nightbird shrieked weirdly close to the house and a sudden gust of +wind moaned through the pine trees. The sweat stood out on Craven's +forehead in great drops and the cigarette, fallen from his hand, lay +smouldering on the matting at his feet. + +He pulled the girl to him and turning her face up stared down into +the great grey eyes, piteous now with unknown fear, and cursed his +blindness. Often the unrecognised likeness had puzzled him. He dropped +the miniature and ground it savagely to powder with his heel, heedless +of O Hara San's sharp cry of distress, and turned to the railing +gripping it with shaking hands. + +“Damn him, damn him!” + +Why had instinct never warned him? Why had he, knowing the girl's mixed +parentage and knowing his own family history, made no inquiries? A wave +of sick loathing swept over him. His head reeled. He turned to O Hara +San crouched sobbing on the matting over the little heap of crushed gold +and pearls. Was there still a loop-hole? + +“What was he to you?” he said hoarsely, and he did not recognise his own +voice. + +She looked up fearfully, then shrank back with a cry--hiding her eyes to +shut out the distorted face that bent over her. + +“He was my father,” she whispered almost inaudibly. But it sounded to +Craven as if she had shouted it from the housetop. Without a word he +turned from her and stumbled toward the verandah steps. He must get +away, he must be alone--alone with the night to wrestle with this +ghastly tangle. + +O Hara San sprang to her feet in terror. She did not understand what had +happened. Her mother had rarely spoken of the man who had first betrayed +and then deserted her--she had loved him too faithfully; with the girl's +limited experience all western faces seemed curiously alike and the +similarity of an uncommon name conveyed nothing to her for she did not +realize that it was uncommon. She could not comprehend this terrible +change in the man who had never been anything but gentle with her. She +only knew that he was going, that something inexplicable was taking him +from her. A wild scream burst from her lips and she sprang across the +verandah, clinging to him frantically, her upturned face beseeching, +striving to hold him. + +“Bar-ree, Bar-ree! you must not go. I die without you. Bar-ree! my +love--” Her voice broke in a frightened whisper as he caught her head in +his hands and stared down at her with eyes that terrified her. + +“Your--love?” he repeated with a strange ring in his voice, and then he +laughed--a terrible laugh that echoed horribly in the silent night and +seemed to snap some tension in his brain. He tore away her hands and +fled down the steps into the garden. He ran blindly, instinctively +turning to the hillside track that led further into the country, +climbing steadily upward, seeking the solitary woods. He did not hear +the girl's shriek of despair, did not see her fall unconscious on the +matting, he did not see a lithe figure that bounded from the back of the +house nor hear the feet that tracked him. He heard and saw nothing. His +brain was dulled. His only impulse was that of the wounded animal--to +hide himself alone with nature and the night. He plunged on up the +hillside climbing fiercely, tirelessly, wading mountain streams and +forcing his way through thick brushwood. He had taken, off his coat +earlier in the evening and his silk shirt was ripped to ribbons. His +hair lay wet against his forehead and his cheek dripped blood where a +splintered bamboo had torn it, but he did not feel it. He came at last +to a tiny clearing in the forest where the moon shone through a break in +the trees. There he halted, rocking unsteadily on his feet, passing his +hand across his face to clear the blood and perspiration from his eyes, +and then dropped like a log. The next moment the bushes parted and his +Japanese servant crept noiselessly to his side. He bent down over him +for an instant. Craven lay motionless with his face hidden in his arms, +but as the Jap watched a shudder shook him from head to foot and the man +backed cautiously, disappearing among the bushes as silently as he had +come. + +The breeze died away and it was quite still within the moonlit clearing. +A broad shaft of cold white light fell directly on the prone figure. +He was morally stunned and for a long time the agony of his mind was +blunted. But gradually the first shock passed and full realization +rushed over him. His hands dug convulsively into the soft earth and he +writhed at his helplessness. What he had done was irremediable. It was +a sudden thunderbolt that had flashed across his clear sky. This morning +the sun had shone as usual and everything had seemed serene to him whose +life had always been easy--tonight he was wrestling in a hell of his +own making. Why had it come to him? He knew that his life had been +comparatively blameless. Why should this one sin, so common throughout +the world, recoil on him so terribly? Why should he, among all the +thousands of men who had sinned similarly, be reserved for such a +nemesis? Why of him alone should such a reckoning be demanded? Surely +the fault was not his. Surely it lay with the man who had wrecked his +mother's life and broken her heart, the man who had neglected his duties +and repudiated his responsibilities and who had been faithful to neither +wife nor mistress. He was to blame. At the thought of his father an +access of rage passed over Craven and he cursed him in a kind of dull +fury. His fingers gripped the ground as if they were about the throat of +the man whom he hated with all the strength of his being. The mystery +of his father had always lain like a shadow across his life. It was a +subject that his mother had refused to discuss. He shivered now when he +realized the agony his perpetual boyish questions must have caused her. +His petulance because “other fellows' fathers” could be produced when +necessary and were not shrouded away in unexplained obscurity. He +remembered her unfailing patience with him, the consistent loyalty she +had shown toward the husband who had failed her so utterly, the courage +with which she had taken the absent father's place with the son whom +she idolized. He understood now her intolerant hatred of Japan and +the Japanese, an intolerance for which--in his ignorance--he had often +teased her. One memory came to him with striking vividness--a winter +evening, in the dawn of his early manhood, when they had been sitting +after dinner in the library at Craven Towers--his mother lying on the +sofa that had been rolled up before the fire, and himself sprawled on +the hearthrug at her feet. Already tall and strong beyond his years and +confident in the full flush of his adolescence he had launched into a +glowing anticipation of the life that lay before him. He had noticed +that his mother's answers were monosyllabic and vague, and then when he +had broken off, hurt at her seeming lack of interest, she had suddenly +spoken--telling him what she had all the evening nerved herself to say. +Her voice had faltered once or twice but she had steadied it bravely +and gone on to the end, shirking nothing, evading nothing, dealing +faithfully with the whole sex problem as far as she was able--outraging +her own reserve that her son might learn the pitfalls and temptations +that would assuredly lie in wait for him, sacrificing her own modesty +that he might remain chaste. He remembered the vivid flush that had +risen to his face and the growing sense of hot discomfort with which he +had listened to her low voice; his half grateful, half shocked feeling. +But it was not until he had glanced furtively at her through his thick +lashes and seen her shamed scarlet cheeks and quivering downcast eyes +that he had realized what it cost her and the courage that had made it +possible for her to speak. He had mumbled incoherently, his face hidden +against her knee, and with innate chivalry had kissed the little white +hand he held between his own great brown ones--“Keep clean, Barry,” + she had whispered tremulously, her hand on his ruffled hair--“only keep +clean.” + +And later on in the same evening she had spoken to him of the woman who +would one day inevitably enter his life. “Be gentle to her, Barry-boy, +you are such a great strong fellow, and women, even the strongest women, +are weak compared with men. We are poor creatures, the best of us, we +_bruise_ so easily,” she had said with a laugh that was more than half +a sob. And for his mother's sake he had vowed to be gentle to all women +who might cross his path. And how had he kept his vow? Tonight his +egoism had swallowed his oath and he had fled like a coward to be alone +with his misery. A great sob rose in his throat. Craven by name and +craven by nature he thought bitterly and he cursed again the father +who had bequeathed him such an inheritance, but as he did so he stopped +suddenly for a soft clear voice sounded close to his ear. “No man need +be fettered for life by an inherited weakness. Every man who is worthy +of the name can rise above hereditary deficiencies.” He lay tense and +his heart gave a great throb and then he remembered. The voice was +inward--it was only another memory, an echo of the young mother who had +died, ten years before. Overwhelming shame filled him. “Mother, Mother!” + he whispered chokingly, and deep tearing sobs shook his broad shoulders. +The moon had passed beyond the break in the trees and it was dark now in +the little clearing and to the man who lay stripped of all his illusions +the blackness was merciful. He saw himself as he was clearly--his +selfishness, his arrogance, his pride, and a nausea of self-hatred +filled him. The eagerness with which he had sought to lay on his father +the blame of his own sin now seemed to him despicable. He would always +hate the memory of the man whose neglect had killed his mother, but the +responsibility for this horror rested on himself. He had made his own +hell and the burden of it lay with him only. That he had never known +the manner of his father's life in Japan and that during the time he had +himself been living in Yokohama he had cared to make no inquiries was no +excuse. He alone was to blame. + +The air seemed suddenly stifling, his head throbbed and he panted +breathlessly. Then as suddenly the sensation passed and he rolled over +on his back with a deep sigh, his limbs relaxed, too weary to move. For +a long time he lay until the first pale streaks of early dawn showed +above the tree tops, then he sat up with a shiver and looked around +curiously at the silent trees and bamboo clumps that had witnessed his +agony. His head ached intolerably, his mouth was parched and the cut +in his cheek was stiff and sore. He staggered to his feet and stood +a moment holding his head in his hands and the thought of O Hara +San persisted urgently. He shivered again as the image of the girl's +distraught face and pleading eyes rose before him--in a few hours he +would have to go to her and the thought of the interview sickened him. +But he could not go now, his appearance would terrify her, she might be +asleep and he could not wake her if nature had mercifully obliterated +her sorrow for a few hours. In his mad flight he had lost all sense of +distance and locality, but as the dawn grew stronger he recognised his +surroundings and started to tramp to his own bungalow at the top of the +Bluff. He stumbled through the woods, hurrying wearily to reach home +before the full light. It was still dusk when he arrived and crossing +the verandah went into his bedroom and flung himself, dressed as he was, +on to the bed. And the stealthy footsteps that had tracked him through +the night followed softly and stopped outside the open doorway. The Jap +stood for a few moments listening intently. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Craven woke abruptly a few hours later with a spasmodic muscular +contraction that jerked him into a sitting position. Half dazed as yet +with sleep he swung his heels to the floor and sat on the edge of the +bed looking stupidly at his dusty boots and earth-stained fingers. Then +remembrance came and he clenched his hands with a stifled groan. He +drank thirstily the tea that was on a table beside him and went to the +open window. As he crossed the room the reflection of his blood-stained +haggard face, seen in a mirror, startled him. A bath and clean clothes +were indispensable before he went back to the lonely little house on the +hillside. He lingered for a few minutes by the window, glad of the +cool morning breeze blowing against his face, trying to pull himself +together, trying to brace himself to meet the consequences of his +folly, trying to drag his disordered thoughts into something approaching +coherence. He stared down over the bay and the sunlit waters mocked him +with their dancing ripples sliding lightheartedly one after the other +toward the shore. The view that he looked upon had been until this +morning a never-failing source of pleasure, now it moved him to nothing +but the recollection of the hackneyed line in the old hymn--“where only +man is vile,” and he was vile--with all power of compensation taken from +him. To some was given the chance of making reparation. For him there +was no chance. He could do nothing to mitigate the injury he had done. +She whom he had wronged must suffer for him and he was powerless to +avert that suffering. His helplessness overwhelmed him. O Hara San, +little O Hara San, who had given unstintingly, with eager generous +hands. His face was set as he turned from the window and, starting +to pull off his torn shirt, called for Yoshio. But no Yoshio was +forthcoming and at his second impatient shout another Japanese servant +bowed himself in, and, kowtowing, intimated that Yoshio had already gone +on the honourable lord's errand and would there await him, and that +in the meantime his honourable bath was prepared and his honourable +breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. + +Craven paused with his shirt half off. + +“What errand?” he said, perplexed, unaware that he was asking the +question audibly. + +The man bowed again, with hands outspread, and gravely shook his head +conveying his total ignorance of a matter that was beyond his province, +but the pantomime was lost on Craven who was wrestling with his shirt +and not even aware that he had spoken aloud. It was the first time in +ten years' service that Yoshio had failed to answer a call and Craven +wondered irritably what could have taken him away at that time in the +morning, and concluded that it was some order given by himself the day +before, now forgotten, so dismissing Yoshio and his affairs from his +mind he signed to the still gently explaining servant to go. + +His brain felt dull and tired, his thoughts were chaotic. He saw before +him no clear course. Whichever way he looked at it the horrible +tangle grew more horrible. There was a recurring sense of unreality, a +visionary feeling of detachment which enabled him to view the situation +from an impersonal standpoint, as one criticises a nightmare, confident +in the knowledge that it is only a dream. But in this case the +confidence was based on nothing tangible and the illusion faded as +quickly as it rose and left him confronted with the brutal truth from +which there was no escape. + +In the dressing room everything that he needed had been laid out in +readiness for him, and he dressed mechanically with a feverish haste +that struggled ineffectually with a refractory collar stud, and caused +him to execrate heartily the absent valet and his enigmatical errand. +Another ten minutes was lost while he hunted for his watch and cigarette +case which he suddenly remembered were in the coat that he had left +at the little house. Or had he searched genuinely? Had he not rather +been--perhaps unconsciously--procrastinating, shrinking from the task he +had in hand, putting off the evil moment? He swung on his heel violently +and passed out on to the verandah. But at the head of the steps a +vigilant figure rose up, bowing obsequiously, announcing blandly that +breakfast was waiting. + +Craven frowned at him a moment until the meaning of the words filtered +through to his tired brain, then he pushed him aside roughly. + +“Oh, damn breakfast!” he cried savagely, and cramming his sun helmet +on his head ran down the garden path to the waiting rickshaw. It never +occurred to him to wonder how it came to be there at an unusual hour. +He huddled in the back of the rickshaw, his helmet over his eyes. His +nerves were raw, his mind running in uncontrollable riot. The way +had never seemed so long. He looked up impatiently. The rickshaw was +crawling. The slow progress and the forced inaction galled him and +a dozen times he was on the point of calling to the men to stop and +jumping out, but he forced himself to sit quietly, watching the play +of their abnormally developed muscles showing plainly through the thin +cotton garments that clung to their sweat-drenched bodies, while they +toiled up the steep roads. And today the sight of the men's straining +limbs and heaving chests moved him more than usual. He used a rickshaw +of necessity, and had never overcome his distaste for them. + +Emerging from a grove of pines they neared the little gateway and as the +men flung themselves backward with a deep grunt at the physical exertion +of stopping, Craven leaped out and dashed up the path, panic-driven. He +took the verandah steps in two strides and then stopped abruptly, his +face whitening under the deep tan. + +Yoshio stood in the doorway of the outer room, his arms outstretched, +barring the entrance. His face had gone the grey leaden hue of the +frightened Oriental and his eyes held a curious look of pity. His +attitude put the crowning touch to Craven's anxiety. He went a step +forward. + +“Stand aside,” he said hoarsely. + +But Yoshio did not move. + +“Master not going in,” he said softly. + +Craven jerked his head. + +“Stand aside,” he repeated monotonously. + +For a moment longer the Jap stood obstinately, then his eyes fell under +Craven's stare and he moved reluctantly, with a gesture of mingled +acquiescence and regret. Craven passed through into the room. It was +empty. He stood a moment hesitating--indefinite anxiety giving place to +definite fear. + +“O Hara San,” he whispered, and the whisper seemed to echo mockingly +from the empty room. He listened with straining ears for her answer, +for her footstep--and he heard nothing but the heavy beating of his own +heart. Then a moan came from the inner room and he followed the sound +swiftly. The room was darkened and for a moment he halted in the +doorway, seeing nothing in the half light. The moaning grew louder and +as he became accustomed to the darkness he saw the old armah crouching +beside a pile of cushions. + +In a second he was beside her and at his coming she scrambled to her +feet with a sharp cry, staring at him wildly, then fled from the room. + +He stood alone looking down on the cushions. His heart seemed to stop +beating and for a moment he reeled, then he gripped himself and knelt +down slowly. + +“O Hara San--” he whispered again, with shaking lips, “little O Hara +San--little--” the whisper died away in a terrible gasping sob. + +She lay as if asleep--one arm stretched out along her side, the other +lying across her breast with her small hand clenched and tucked under +her chin, her head bent slightly and nestled naturally into the +cushion. The attitude was habitual. A hundred times Craven had seen her +so--asleep. It was impossible that she could be dead. + +He spoke to her again--crying aloud in agony--but the heavily fringed +eyelids did not open, no glad cry of welcome broke from the parted lips, +the little rounded bosom that had always heaved tumultuously at his +coming was still under the silken kimono. He bent over her with ashen +face and laid his hand gently on her breast, but the icy coldness struck +into his own heart and his touch seemed a profanation. He drew back with +a terrible shudder. + +How dared he touch her? Murderer! For it was murder. His work as surely +as if he had himself driven a knife into that girlish breast or squeezed +the breath from that slender throat. He was under no delusion. He +understood the Japanese character too well and he knew O Hara San too +thoroughly to deceive himself. He knew the passionate love that she had +given him, a love that had often troubled him with its intensity. He had +been her god, her everything. She had worshipped him blindly. And he +had left her--left her alone with the memory of his strangeness and his +harshness, alone with her heart breaking, alone with her fear. And she +had been so curiously alone. She had had nobody but him. She had trusted +him--and he had left her. She had trusted him. Oh, God, she had trusted +him! + +His quick imagination visualised what must have happened. Frantic with +despair and desperate at the seeming fulfilment of her fears she had not +stopped to reason nor waited for calmer reflection but with the curious +Oriental blending of impetuosity and stolid deliberation she had killed +herself, seeking release from her misery with the aid of the subtle +poison known to every Japanese woman. He flung his arm across the little +still body and his head fell on the cushion beside hers as his soul went +down into the depths. + + * * * * * + +An hour of unspeakable bitterness passed before he regained his lost +control. + +Then he forced himself to look at her again. The poison had been swift +and merciful. There was no distortion of the little oval face, no +discoloration on the fair skin. She was as beautiful as she had always +been. And with death the likeness had become intensified until it seemed +to him that he must have been blind beyond belief to have failed to +detect it earlier. + +He looked for the last time through a blur of tears. It seemed horrible +to leave her to the ministrations of others, he longed to gather up the +slender body in his arms and with his own hands lay her in the loveliest +corner of the garden she had loved so much. He tried to stammer a +prayer but the words stuck in his throat. No intercession from him was +possible, nor did she need it. She had passed into the realm of Infinite +Understanding. + +He rose to his feet slowly and lingered for a moment looking his last +round the little room that was so familiar. Here were a few of her most +treasured possessions, some that had come to her from her mother, some +that he had given her. He knew them all so well, had handled them so +often. A spasm crossed his face. It had been the home of the enchanted +princess, shut off from all the world--until he had come. And his coming +had brought desolation. Near him a valuable vase, that she had prized, +lay smashed on the floor, overturned by the old armah in the first +frenzy of her grief. It was symbolical and Craven turned from it with +quivering lips and went out heavily. + +He winced at the strong light and shaded his eyes for a moment with his +hand. + +Yoshio was waiting where he had left him. Craven walked to the edge of +the verandah and stood for a few moments in silence, steadying himself. + +“Where were you last night, Yoshio?” he asked at length, in a flat and +tired voice. + +The Jap shrugged. + +“In town,” he said, with American brevity learned in California. + +“Why did you come here this morning?” + +Yoshio raised eyes of childlike surprise. + +“Master's watch. Came here to find it,” he said nonchalantly, with an +air that expressed pride at his own astuteness. But it did not impress +Craven. He looked at him keenly, knowing that he was lying but not +understanding the motive and too tired to try and understand. He felt +giddy and his head was aching violently--for a moment everything seemed +to swim before his eyes and he caught blindly at the verandah rail. But +the sensation passed quickly and he pulled himself together, to find +Yoshio beside him thrusting his helmet into his hands. + +“Better Master going back to bungalow. I make all arrangements, +understanding Japanese ways,” he said calmly. + +His words, matter-of-fact, almost brutal, brought Craven abruptly to +actualities. There was necessity for immediate action. This was the +East, where the grim finalities must unavoidably be hastened. But he +resented the man's suggestion. To go back to the bungalow seemed a +shirking of the responsibility that was his, the last insult he could +offer her. But Yoshio argued vehemently, blunt to a degree, and Craven +winced once or twice at the irrefutable reasons he put forward. It was +true that he could do no real good by staying. It was true that he was +of no use in the present emergency, that his absence would make things +easier. But that it was the truth made it no less hard to hear. He gave +in at last and agreed to all Yoshio's proposals--a curious compound of +devotion to his master, shrewd commonsense and knowledge of the laws +of the country. He went quickly down the winding path to the gate. The +garden hurt him. The careless splashing of the tiny waterfall jarred +poignantly--laughing water caring nothing that the hand that had planted +much of the beauty of its banks was stilled for ever. It had always +seemed a living being tumbling joyously down the hillside, it seemed +alive now--callous, self-absorbed. + +Craven had no clear impression of the run back into Yokohama and he +looked up with surprise when the men stopped. He stood outside the gate +for a moment looking over the harbour. He stared at the place in the +roadstead where the American yacht had been anchored. Only last night +had he laughed and chatted with the Athertons? It was a lifetime ago! +In one night his youth had gone from him. In one night he had piled up a +debt that was beyond payment. He gave a quick glance up at the brilliant +sky and then went into the house. In the sitting-room he started slowly +to pace the floor, his hands clasped behind him, an unlit cigarette +clenched between his teeth. The mechanical action steadied him and +enabled him to concentrate his thoughts. Monotonously he tramped up and +down the long narrow room, unconscious of time, until at last he dropped +on to a chair beside the writing table and laid his head down on his +arms with a weary sigh. The little still body seemed present with him. O +Hara San's face continually before him--piteous as he had seen it last, +joyous as she had greeted him and thoughtful as when he had first seen +it. + +That first time--the memory of it rose vividly before him. He had been +in Yokohama about a month and was settled in his bungalow. He had gone +to the woods to sketch and had found her huddled at the foot of a steep +rock from which she had slipped. Her ankle was twisted and she could not +move. He had offered his assistance and she had gazed at him, without +speaking, for a few moments, with serious grey eyes that looked oddly +out of place in her little oval face. Then she had answered him in slow +carefully pronounced English. He had laughingly insisted on carrying +her home and had just gathered her up into his arms when the old armah +arrived, voluble with excitement and alarm for her charge. But the girl +had explained to her in rapid Japanese and the woman had hurried on to +the house to prepare for them, leaving Craven to follow more slowly +with his light burden. He had stayed only a few minutes, drinking the +ceremonial tea that was offered so shyly. + +The next day he had convinced himself that it was only polite for him +to enquire about the injured foot. Then he had gone again, hoping to +relieve the tedium of her forced inactivity, until the going had become +a habit. The acquaintance had ripened quickly. From the first she had +trusted him, quickly losing her awe of him and accepting his coming with +the simplicity of a child. She had early confided to him the story of +her short life--of her solitude and friendlessness; of the mother who +had died five years before, bequeathing to her the little house which +had been the last gift of the Englishman who had been O Hara San's +father and who had tired of her mother and left her two years after +her own birth; of the poverty against which they had struggled--for the +Englishman had left no provision for them; of the faithful old servant, +who had been her mother's nurse; of O Hara San's discovery of her own +artistic talent which had enabled her to provide for the simple wants +of the little household. She had grown up alone--apart from the world, +watched over by the old woman, her mind a tangle of fairy-tales and +romance--living for her art, content with her solitude. And into her +secluded life had come Barry Craven and swept her off her feet. Child of +nature that she was she had been unable to hide from him the love that +quickly overwhelmed her. And to Craven the incident of O Hara San had +come merely as a relief to the monotony of lotus-eating, he had drifted +into the connection from sheer ennui. And then had come interest. No +woman had ever before interested him. He had never been able to define +the attraction she had had for him, the odd tenderness he had felt for +her. He had treated her as a plaything, a fragile toy to be teased and +petted. And in his hands she had developed from an innocent child into a +woman--with a woman's capacity for devotion and self-sacrifice. She +had given everything, with trust and gladness. And he had taken all +she gave, with colossal egoism, as his right--accepting lightly all +she surrendered with no thought for the innocence he contaminated, the +purity he soiled. He had stained her soul before he had killed her +body. His hands clenched and unclenched convulsively with the agony of +remorse. Recollection was torture. Repentance came too late. _Too late! +Too late!_ he words kept singing in his head as if a demon from hell was +howling them in his ear. Nothing on earth could undo what he had done. +No power could animate that little dead body. And if she had lived! He +shuddered. But she had not lived, she had died--because of him. Because +of him, Merciful God, because of him! And he could make no restitution. +What was there left for him to do? A life of expiation was not atonement +enough. There seemed only one solution--a life for a life. And that was +no reparation, only justice. He put no value on his own life--he wished +vaguely that the worth of it were greater--he had merely wasted it and +now he had forfeited it. Remained only to end it--now. There was no +reason for delay. He had no preparations to make. His affairs were all +in order. His heir was his aunt, his father's only sister, who would be +a better guardian of the Craven estates and interests than he had ever +been. Peters was independent and Yoshio provided for. There was nothing +to be done. He rose and opening a drawer in the table took out +a revolver and held it a moment in his hand, looking at it +dispassionately. It was not the ultimate purpose for which it had been +intended. He had never imagined a time when he might end his own life. +He had always vaguely connected suicide with cowardice. Was it the +coward's way? Perhaps! Who can say what cowardice or courage is required +to take the blind leap into the Great Unknown? That did not trouble him. +It was no question of courage or cowardice but he felt convinced that +his death was the only payment possible. + +But as his finger pressed the trigger there was a slight sound beside +him, his wrist and arm were caught in a vice-like grip and the weapon +exploded harmlessly in the air as he staggered back, his arm almost +broken with the jiu-jitsu hold against which even his great strength +could do nothing. He struggled fruitlessly until he was released, +then reeled against the table, with teeth set, clasping his wrenched +wrist--the sudden frustration of his purpose leaving him, shaking. He +turned stiffly. Yoshio was standing by him, phlegmatic as usual, showing +no signs of exertion or emotion as he proffered a lacquer tray, with the +usual formula: “Master's mail.” + +Craven's eyes changed slowly from dull suffering to blazing wrath. +Uncontrolled rage filled him. How dared Yoshio interfere? How dared +he drag him back into the hell from which he had so nearly escaped? He +caught the man's shoulder savagely. + +“Damn you!” he cried chokingly. “What the devil do you mean--” But +the Jap's very impassiveness checked him and with an immense effort he +regained command of himself. And imperturbably Yoshio advanced the tray +again. + +“Master's mail,” he repeated, in precisely the same voice as before, but +this time he raised his veiled glance to Craven's face. For a moment +the two men stared at each other, the grey eyes tortured and drawn, the +brown ones lit for an instant with deep devotion. Then Craven took the +letters mechanically and dropped heavily into a chair. The Jap picked up +the revolver and, quietly replacing it in the drawer from which it had +been taken, left the room, noiseless as he had entered it. He seemed to +know intuitively that it would be left where he put it. + +Alone, Craven leaned forward with a groan, burying his face in his +hands. + +At last he sat up wearily and his eyes fell on the letters lying +unopened on the table beside him. He fingered them listlessly and then +threw them down again while he searched his pockets absently for the +missing cigarette case. Remembering, he jerked himself to his feet with +an exclamation of pain. Was all life henceforward to be a series of +torturing recollections? He swore, and flung his head up angrily. +Coward! whining already like a kicked cur! + +He got a cigarette from a near table and picking up the letters carried +them out on to the verandah to read. There were two, both registered. +The handwriting on one envelope was familiar and his eyes widened as he +looked at it. He opened it first. It was written from Florence and dated +three months earlier. With no formal beginning it straggled up and down +the sides of various sheets of cheap foreign paper, the inferior violet +ink almost indecipherable in places. + +“I wonder in what part of the globe this letter will find you? I have +been trying to write to you for a long time--and always putting it +off--but they tell me now that if I am to write at all there must be no +more _mañana_. They have cried 'wolf' so often in the last few months +that I had grown sceptical, but even I realise now that there must be +no delay. I have delayed because I have procrastinated all my life and +because I am ashamed--ashamed for the first time in all my shameless +career. But there is no need to tell you what I am--you told me candidly +enough yourself in the old days--it is sufficient to say that it is the +same John Locke as then--drunkard and gambler, spendthrift and waster! +And I don't think that my worst enemy would have much to add to this +record, but then my worst enemy has always been myself. Looking back now +over my life--queer what a stimulating effect the certainty of death has +to the desire to find even one good action wherewith to appease one's +conscience--it is a marvel to me that Providence has allowed me to +cumber the earth so long. However, it's all over now--they give me a +few days at the outside--so I must write at once or never. Barry, I'm in +trouble, the bitterest trouble I have ever experienced--not for myself, +God knows I wouldn't ask even your help, but for another who is dearer +to me than all the world and for whose future I can do nothing. You +never knew that I married. I committed that indiscretion in Rome with +a little Spanish dancer who ought to have known better than to be +attracted by my _beaux yeux_--for I had nothing else to offer her. We +existed in misery for a couple of years and then she left me, for a more +gilded position. But I had the child, which was all I cared about. Thank +God, for her sake, that I was legally married to poor little Lola, +she has at least no stain on her birth with which to reproach me. The +officious individual who is personally conducting me to the Valley of +the Shadow warns me that I must be brief--I kept the child with me as +long as I could, people were wonderfully kind, but it was no life for +her. I've come down in the social scale even since you knew me, Barry, +and at last I sent her away, though it broke my heart. Still even +that was better than seeing her day by day lose all respect for me. My +miserable pittance dies with me and she is absolutely unprovided for. My +family cast off me and all my works many years ago, but I put my pride +in my pocket and appealed for help for Gillian and they suggested--a +damned charitable institution! I was pretty nearly desperate until I +thought of you. I know no one else. For God's sake, Barry, don't fail +me. I can and I do trust Gillian to you. I have made you her guardian, +it is all legally arranged and my lawyer in London has the papers. He is +a well-known man and emanates respectability--my last claim to decency! +Gillian is at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Paris. My only +consolation is that you are so rich that financially she will be no +embarrassment to you. I realize what I am asking and the enormity of it, +but I am a dying man and my excuse is--Gillian. Oh, man, be good to my +little girl. I always hoped that something would turn up, but it didn't! +Perhaps I never went to look for it, _quien sabe?_ I shall never have +the chance again....” + +The signature was barely recognisable, the final letter terminating in a +wandering line as if the pen had dropped from nerveless fingers. + +Craven stared at the loose sheets in his hands for some time in +horrified dismay, at first hardly comprehending, then as the full +significance of John Locke's dying bequest dawned on him he flung them +down and, walking to the edge of the verandah, looked over the harbour, +tugging his moustache and scowling in utter perplexity. A child--a girl +child! How could he with his soiled hands assume the guardianship of +a child? He smiled bitterly at the irony of it. Providence was dealing +hard with the child in the Paris convent, from dissolute father +to criminal guardian. And yet Providence had already that morning +intervened on her behalf--two minutes later and there would have been +no guardian to take the trust. Providence clearly held the same views as +John Locke on charitable institutions. + +He thought of Locke as he had known him years ago, in Paris, a +man twenty years his senior--penniless and intemperate but with an +irresistible charm, rolling stone and waster but proud as a Spaniard; +a man of the world with the heart of a boy, the enemy of nobody but +himself, weak but lovable; a ragged coat and the manners of a prince; +idealist and failure. + +Craven read the letter through again. Locke had forced his hand--he had +no option but to take up the charge entrusted to him. What a legacy! +Surely if John Locke had known he would have rather committed his +daughter to the tender mercies even of the “institution.” But he had not +known and he had trusted him. The thought was a sudden spur, urging +him as nothing else could have done, bringing out all that was best and +strongest in his nature. In a few hours he had crashed from the pinnacle +on which he had soared in the blindness of egoism down into depths of +self-realisation that seemed bottomless, and at the darkest moment when +his world was lying in pieces under his feet--this had come. Another +chance had been given to him. Craven's jaw set squarely as he thrust +Locke's dying appeal into his pocket. + +He ripped open the second letter. It was, as he guessed, from the lawyer +and merely confirmed Locke's letter, with the additional information +that his client had died a few hours after writing the said letter and +that he had forwarded the news to the Mother Superior of the Convent +School in Paris. + +Craven went back into the sitting-room to write cables. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Owing to a breakdown on the line the boat-train from Marseilles crawled +into the Gare du Lyon a couple of hours late. Craven had not slept. He +had given his berth in the waggon-lit to an invalid fellow passenger and +had sat up all night in an overcrowded, overheated carriage, choked with +the stifling atmosphere, his long legs cramped for lack of space. + +It was early March, and the difference between the temperature of the +train and the raw air of the station struck him unpleasantly as he +climbed down on to the platform. + +Leaving Yoshio, equally at home in Paris as in Yokohama, to collect +luggage, he signalled to a waiting taxi. He had the hood opened and, +pushing back his hat, let the keen wind blow about his face. The +cab jerked over the rough streets, at this early hour crowded with +people--working Paris going to its daily toil--and he watched them +hurrying by with the indifference of familiarity. Gradually he ceased +even to look at the varied types, the jostling traffic, the bizarre +posters and the busy newspaper kiosks. His thoughts were back +in Yokohama. It had been six weeks before he could get away, six +interminable weeks of misery and self-loathing. He had shirked nothing +and evaded nothing. Much had been saved him by the discreet courtesy +of the Japanese officials, but the ordeal had left him with jangling +nerves. Fortunately the ship was nearly empty and the solitude he +sought obtainable. He felt an outcast. To have joined as he had always +previously done in the light-hearted routine of a crowded ship bent on +amusements and gaiety would have been impossible. + +He sought mental relief in action and hours spent tramping the lonely +decks brought, if not relief, endurance. + +And, always in the background, Yoshio, capable and devoted, stood +between him and the petty annoyances that inevitably occur in +travelling--annoyances that in his overwrought state would have been +doubly annoying--with a thoughtfulness that was silently expressed in a +dozen different devices for his comfort. That the Jap knew a great deal +more than he himself did of the tragedy that had happened in the +little house on the hill Craven felt sure, but no information had been +volunteered and he had asked for none. He could not speak of it. And +Yoshio, the inscrutable, would continue to be silent. The perpetual +reminder of all that he could wish to forget Yoshio became, illogically, +more than ever indispensable to him. At first, in his stunned condition, +he had scarcely been sensible of the man's tact and care, but gradually +he had come to realize how much he owed to his Japanese servant. And yet +that was the least of his obligation. There was a greater--the matter of +a life; whatever it might mean to Craven, to Yoshio the simple payment +of a debt contracted years ago in California. That more than this had +underlain the Japanese mind when it made its quick decision Craven could +not determine; the code of the Oriental is not that of the Occidental, +the demands of honour are interpreted and satisfied differently. Life +in itself is nothing to the Japanese, the disposal of it merely the +exigency of a moment and withal a personal prerogative. By all the +accepted canons of his own national ideals Yoshio should have stood on +one side--but he had chosen to interfere. Whatever the motive, Yoshio +had paid his debt in full. + +The weeks at sea braced Craven as nothing else could have done. As the +ship neared France the perplexities of the charge he was preparing to +undertake increased. His utter unfitness filled him with dismay. On +receipt of John Locke's amazing letter he had both cabled and written to +his aunt in London explaining his dilemma, giving suitable extracts from +Locke's appeal, and imploring her help. And yet the thought of his aunt +in connection with the upbringing of a child brought a smile to his +lips. She was about as unsuited, in her own way, as he. Caro Craven was +a bachelor lady of fifty--spinster was a term wholly inapplicable to the +strong-minded little woman who had been an art student in Paris in the +days when insular hands were lifted in horror at the mere idea, and was +a designation, moreover, deprecated strongly by herself as an insult to +one who stood--at least in her own sphere--on an equality with the lords +of creation. She was a sculptor, whose work was known on both sides of +the channel. When at home she lived in a big house in London, but she +travelled much, accompanied by an elderly maid who had been with her +for thirty years. And it was of the maid as much as of the mistress that +Craven thought as the taxi bumped over the cobbled streets. + +“If we can only interest Mary.” There was a gleam of hope in the +thought. “She will be the saving of the situation. She spoiled me +thoroughly when I was a nipper.” And buoyed with the recollection +of grim-visaged angular Mary, who hid a very tender heart beneath a +somewhat forbidding exterior, he overpaid the chauffeur cheerfully. + +There was an accumulation of letters waiting for him at the hotel, but +he shuffled them all into his overcoat pocket, with the exception of one +from Peters which he tore open and read immediately, still standing in +the lounge. + +An hour later he set out on foot for the quiet hotel which had been his +aunt's resort since her student days, and where she was waiting for +him now, according to a telegram that he had received on his arrival at +Marseilles. The hall door of her private suite was opened by the elderly +maid, whose face lit up as she greeted him. + +“Miss Craven is waiting in the salon, sir. She has been tramping the +floor this hour or more, expecting you,” she confided as she preceded +him down the corridor. + +Miss Craven was standing in a characteristic attitude before an open +fireplace, her feet planted firmly on the hearthrug, her short plump +figure clothed in a grey coat and skirt of severe masculine cut, her +hands plunged deep into her jacket pockets, her short curly grey hair +considerably ruffled. She bore down on her nephew with out-stretched +hands. + +“My dear boy, there you are at last! I have been waiting _hours_ for +you. Your train must have been very late--abominable railway service! +Have you had any breakfast? Yes? Good. Then take a cigarette--they are +in that box at your elbow--and tell me about this amazing thunderbolt +that you have hurled at me. What a preposterous proposition for two +bachelors like you and me! To be sure your extraordinary friend did not +include me in his wild scheme--though no doubt he would have, had he +known of my existence. Was the man mad? Who was he, anyhow? John Locke +of where? There are dozens of Lockes. And why did he select you of all +people? What fools men are!” She subsided suddenly into an easy chair +and crossed one neat pump over the other. “All of 'em!” she added +emphatically, flicking cigarette ash into the fire with a vigorous +sidelong jerk. Her eyes were studying his face attentively, seeking for +themselves the answer to the more personal inquiries that would have +seemed necessary to a less original woman meeting a much-loved nephew +after a lapse of years. Craven smiled at the characteristically peculiar +greeting and the well remembered formula. He settled his long limbs +comfortably into an opposite chair. + +“Even Peter?” he asked, lighting a cigarette. + +Miss Craven laughed good temperedly. + +“Peter,” she rejoined succinctly, “is the one brilliant exception that +proves the rule. I have an immense respect for Peter.” He looked at her +curiously. “And--me, Aunt Caro?” he asked with an odd note in his voice. +Miss Craven glanced for a moment at the big figure sprawled in the chair +near her, then looked back at the fire with pursed lips and wrinkled +forehead, and rumpled her hair more thoroughly than before. + +“My dear boy,” she said at last soberly, “you resemble my unhappy +brother altogether too much for my peace of mind.” + +He winced. Her words probed the still raw wound. But unaware of the +appositeness of her remark Miss Craven continued thoughtfully, still +staring into the fire: + +“The Supreme Sculptor, when He made me, denied me the good looks that +are proverbial in our family--but in compensation he endowed me with a +solid mind to match my solid body. The Family means a great deal to me, +Barry--more than anybody has ever realised--and there are times when I +wonder why the solidity of mind was given to the one member of the race +who could not perpetuate it in the direct line.” She sighed, and then as +if ashamed of unwonted emotion, jerked her dishevelled grey head with a +movement that was singularly reminiscent of her nephew. Craven flushed. + +“You're the best man of the family, Aunt Caro.” + +“So your mother used to say--poor child.” Her voice softened suddenly. +She got up restlessly and resumed her former position before the fire, +her hands back in the pockets of her mannish coat. + +“What about your plans, Barry? What are you going to do?” she said +briskly, with an evident desire to avoid further moralising. He joined +her on the hearthrug, leaning against the mantelpiece. + +“I propose to settle down--at any rate for a time, at the Towers,” he +replied. “I intend to interest myself in the estates. Peter insists +that I am wanted, and though that is nonsense and he is infinitely more +necessary than I am, still I am willing to make the trial. I owe him +more than I can even repay--we all do--and if my presence is really any +help to him--he's welcome to it. I shall be about as much real use as +the fifth wheel of a coach--a damned rotten wheel at that,” he added +bitterly. And for some minutes he seemed to forget that there was more +to say, staring silently into the fire and from time to time putting +together the blazing logs with his foot. + +Miss Craven was possessed of the unfeminine attribute of holding her +tongue and reserving her comments. She refrained from comment now, +rocking gently backward and forward on her heels--a habit associated +with mental concentration. + +“I shall take the child to the Towers,” he continued at length, +“and there I shall want your help, Aunt Caro.” He paused stammering +awkwardly--“It's an infernal impertinence asking you to--to--” + +“To turn nursemaid at my time of life,” she interrupted. “It is +certainly a career I never anticipated. And, candidly, I have doubts +about its success,” she laughed and shrugged, with a comical grimace. +Then she patted his arm affectionately--“You had much better take +Peter's advice and marry a nice girl who would mother the child and give +her some brothers and sisters to play with.” + +He stiffened perceptibly. + +“I shall never marry,” he said shortly. Her eyebrows rose the fraction +of an inch but she bit back the answer that rose to her lips. + +“Never--is a long day,” she said lightly. “The Cravens are an old +family, Barry. One has one's obligations.” + +He did not reply and she changed the conversation hastily. She had a +horror of forcing a confidence. + +“Remains--Mary,” she said, with the air of proposing a final expedient. +Craven's tense face relaxed. + +“Mary had also occurred to me,” he admitted with an eagerness that was +almost pathetic. + +Miss Craven grunted and clutched at her hair. + +“Mary!” she repeated with a chuckle, “Mary, who has gone through life +with Wesley's sermons under her arm--and a child out of a Paris convent! +There are certainly elements of humour in the idea. But I must have some +details. Who was this Locke person?” + +When Craven had told her all he knew she stood quite still for a long +while, rolling a cigarette tube between her firm hands. + +“Dissolute English father--and Spanish mother of doubtful morals. My +poor Barry, your hands will be full.” + +“Our hands,” he corrected. + +“Our hands! Good heavens, the bare idea terrifies me!” She shrugged +tragically and was dumb until Mary came to announce lunch. + +Across the table she studied her nephew with an attention that she was +careful to conceal. She was used to his frequent coming and going. +Since the death of his mother he had travelled continually and she was +accustomed to his appearing more or less unexpectedly, at longer or +shorter intervals. They had always been great friends, and it was to +her house in London that he invariably went first on returning to +England--sure of his welcome, sure of himself, gay, easy-going and +debonair. She was deeply attached to him. But, with something akin to +terror, she had watched the likeness to the older Barry Craven growing +from year to year, fearful lest the moral downfall of the father might +repeat itself in the son. The temptation to speak frankly, to warn, +had been great. Natural dislike of interference, and a promise given +reluctantly to her dying sister-in-law, had kept her silent. She had +loved the tall beautiful woman who had been her brother's wife and a +promise made to her was sacred--though she had often doubted the wisdom +of a silence that might prove an incalculable danger. She respected the +fine loyalty that demanded such a promise, but her own views were more +comprehensive. She was strong enough to hold opinions that were contrary +to accepted traditions. She admitted a loyalty due to the dead, she was +also acutely conscious of a loyalty due to the living. A few minutes +before when Miss Craven had, somewhat shamefacedly, owned to a love +of the family to which they belonged she had but faintly expressed her +passionate attachment thereto. Pride of race was hers to an unusual +degree. All that was best and noblest she craved for the clan. And Barry +was the last of the Cravens. Her brother had failed her and dragged her +high ideals in the dust. Her courage had restored them to endeavour +a second time. If Barry failed her too! Hitherto her fears had had +no definite basis. There had been no real ground for anxiety, only a +developing similarity of characteristics that was vaguely disquieting. +But now, as she looked at him, she realised that the man from whom she +had parted nearly two years before was not the man who now faced her +across the table. Something had happened--something that had changed him +utterly. This man was older by far more than the actual two years. This +was a man whom she hardly recognised; hard, stern, with a curiously +bitter ring at times in his voice, and the shadow of a tragedy lying +in the dark grey eyes that had changed so incredibly for lack of their +habitual ready smile. There were lines about his mouth and a glint +of grey in his hair that she was quick to observe. Whatever had +happened--he had suffered. That was written plainly on his face. And +unless he chose to speak she was powerless to help him. She refused +to intrude, unbidden, into another's private concerns. That he was +an adored nephew, that the intimacy between them was great made no +difference, the restriction remained the same. But she was woman enough +to be fiercely jealous for him. She resented the change she saw--it +was not the change she had desired but something far beyond her +understanding that left her with the feeling that she was confronting a +total stranger. But she was careful to hide her scrutiny, and though her +mind speculated widely she continued to chatter, supplementing the home +news her scanty letters had afforded and retailing art gossip of the +moment. One question only she allowed herself. There had come a silence. +She broke it abruptly, leaning forward in her chair, watching him +keen-eyed. + +“Have you been ill--out there?”--her hand fluttered vaguely in an +easterly direction. Craven looked up in surprise. + +“No,” he said shortly, “I never am ill.” + +Miss Craven's nod as she rose from the table might have been taken for +assent. It was in reality satisfaction at her own perspicacity. She had +not supposed for one moment that he had been ill but in no other way +could she express what she wanted to know. It was in itself an innocuous +and natural remark, but the sudden gloom that fell on him warned her +that her ingenuity was, perhaps, not so great as she imagined. + +“Triple idiot!” she reflected wrathfully, as she poured out coffee, “you +had better have held your tongue,” and she set herself to charm away the +shadow from his face and dispel any suspicion he might have formed of +her desire to probe into his affairs. She had an uncommon personality +and could talk cleverly and well when she chose. And today she did +choose, exerting all her wit to combat the taciturn fit that emphasized +so forcibly the change in him. But though he listened with apparent +attention his mind was very obviously elsewhere, and he sat staring into +the fire, mechanically flicking ash from his cigarette. Conversation +languished and at length Miss Craven gave it up, with a wry face, and +sat also silent, drumming with her fingers on the arm of the chair. Her +thoughts, in quest of his, wandered far away until the sudden ringing of +the telephone beside her made her jump violently. + +She answered the call, then handed the receiver to Craven. + +“Your heathen,” she remarked dryly. + +Though the least insular of women she had never grown accustomed to +the Japanese valet. He turned from the telephone with a look of mingled +embarrassment and relief. + +“I sent a message to the convent this morning. Yoshio has just given +me the answer. The Mother Superior will see me this afternoon.” He +endeavoured to make his voice indifferent, pulling down his waistcoat +and picking a minute thread from off his coat sleeve. Miss Craven's +mouth twitched at the evident signs of nervousness while she glanced at +him narrowly. Prompt action in the matter of an uncongenial duty had not +hitherto been a conspicuous trait in his character. + +“You are certainly not letting the grass grow under your feet.” + +He jerked his head impatiently. + +“Waiting will not make the job more pleasant,” he shrugged. “I will see +the child at once and arrange for her removal as soon as possible.” + +Miss Craven eyed him from head to foot with a grim smile that changed to +a whole-hearted laugh of amusement. + +“It's a pity you have so much money, Barry, you would make your fortune +as a model. You are too criminally good looking to go fluttering into +convents.” + +A ghost of the old smile flickered in his eyes. + +“Come and chaperon me, Aunt Caro.” + +She shook her head laughingly. + +“Thank you--no. There are limits. I draw the line at convents. Go and +get it over, and if the child is presentable you can bring her back to +tea. I gather that Mary is anticipating a complete failure on our part +to sustain the situation and is prepared to deputise. She has already +ransacked _Au Paradis Des Enfants_ for suitable bribes wherewith to +beguile her infantile affection. I understand that there was a lively +scene over the purchase of a doll, the cost of which--clad only in its +birthday dress--was reported to me as 'a fair affront.' Even after all +these years Mary jibs at Continental prices. It is her way of keeping +up the prestige of the British Empire, bless her. An overcharge, in her +opinion, is a deliberate twist of the lion's tail.” + +In the taxi he looked through the correspondence he had received that +morning for the lawyer's letter that would establish his claim to John +Locke's child. Then he leaned back and lit a cigarette. He had an absurd +feeling of nervousness and cursed Locke a dozen times before he reached +the convent. He was embarrassed with the awkward situation in which he +found himself--just how awkward he seemed only now fully to appreciate. +The more he thought of it, the less he liked it. The coming interview +with the Mother Superior was not the least of his troubles. The promise +of the morning had not been maintained, overhead the sky was leaden, and +a high wind drove rain in sharp splashes against the glass of the cab. +The pavements were running with water and the leafless trees in the +avenues swayed and creaked dismally. The appearance of the streets was +chill and depressing. Craven shivered. He thought of the warmth and +sunshine that he had left in Japan. The dreariness of the present +outlook contrasted sufficiently with the gay smiling landscape, the +riotous wealth of colour, and the scent-laden air of the land of his +recollections. A feeling almost of nostalgia came to him. But with +the thought came also a vision--a little still body lying on silken +cushions; a small pale face with fast shut eyes, the long lashes a dusky +fringe against the ice-cold cheek. The vision was terribly distinct, +horribly real--not a recollection only, as on the morning that he had +found her dead--and he waited, with the sweat pouring down his face, for +the closed eyes to open and reveal the agony he had read in them that +night, when he had torn her clinging hands away and left her. The faint +aroma of the perfume she had used was in his nostrils, choking him. The +slender limbs seemed to pulsate into life, the little breasts to stir +perceptibly, the parted lips to tremble. He could not define the actual +moment of the change but, as he bent forward, with hands close gripped, +all at once he found himself looking straight into the tortured grey +eyes--for a second only. Then the vision faded, and he was leaning back +in the cab wiping the moisture from his forehead. God, would it never +leave him! It haunted him. In the big bungalow on the Bluff; rising from +the sea as he leaned on the steamer rail; during the long nights on +the ship as he lay sleepless in the narrow brass cot; last night in the +crowded railway carriage--then it had been so vivid that he had held +his breath and glanced around stealthily with hunted eyes at his fellow +passengers looking for the horrified faces that would tell him that they +also saw what he could see. He never knew how long it lasted, minutes +or seconds, holding him rigid until it passed to leave him bathed in +perspiration. Environment seemed to make no difference. It came as +readily in a crowd as when he was alone. He lived in perpetual dread of +betraying his obsession. Once only it had happened--in the bungalow, +the night before he left Japan, and his involuntary cry had brought the +watchful valet. And as he crossed the room Craven had distinctly seen +him pass through the little recumbent figure and, with blazing eyes, had +dragged him roughly to one side, pointing and muttering incoherently. +And Yoshio had seemed to understand. Sceptical as he was about the +supernatural, at first Craven's doubt had been rudely shaken; but with +the steadying of his nerves had come the conviction that the vision +was inward, though at the moment so real that often his confidence +momentarily wavered, as last night in the train. It came with no kind of +regularity, no warning that might prepare him. And recurrence brought +no mitigation, no familiarising that could temper the acute horror it +inspired. To what pitch of actuality might it attain? To what lengths +might it drive him? He dragged his thoughts up sharply. To dwell on it +was fatal, that way lay insanity. He set his teeth and forced himself to +think of other things. There was ample material. There was primarily the +salvage of a wasted life. During the last few weeks he had been forced +to a self-examination that had been drastically thorough. The verdict +had been an adverse one. Personal criticism, once aroused, went far. The +purposeless life that he had led seemed now an insult to his manhood. It +had been in his power to do so much--he had actually done disastrously +little. He had loafed through life without a thought beyond the passing +interest of the moment. And even in the greater interests of his life, +travel and big game, he had failed to exert himself beyond a mediocre +level. He had travelled far and shot a rare beast or two, but so had +many another--and with greater difficulties to contend with than he +who had never wrestled with the disadvantages of inferior equipment and +inadequate attendance. Muscularly and constitutionally stronger than +the average, physically he could have done anything. And he had done +nothing--nothing that others had not done as well or even better. It was +sufficiently humiliating. And the outcome of his reflections had been +a keen desire for work, hard absorbing work, with the hope that bodily +fatigue might in some measure afford mental alleviation. It did not even +need finding. With a certain shame he admitted the fact. It had +waited for him any time these last ten years in his own home. The +responsibility of great possessions was his. And he had shirked. He had +evaded the duty he owed to a trust he had inherited. It was a new view +of his position that recent thought had awakened. It was still not too +late. He would go back like the prodigal--not to eat the fatted calf, +but to sit at the feet of Peters and learn from him the secret of +successful estate management. + +For thirty years Peter Peters had ruled the Craven properties, and they +were all his life. For the last ten years he had never ceased urging +his employer to assume the reins of government himself. His entreaties, +protestations and threats of resignation had been unheeded. Craven felt +sure that he would never relinquish his post, he had grown into the soil +and was as firmly fixed as the Towers itself. He was an institution in +the county, a personality on the bench. He ruled his own domains with +a kindly but absolute autocracy which succeeded perfectly on the Craven +estates and was the envy of other agents, who had not his ability to do +likewise. Well born, original and fearless he was popular in castle and +in cottage, and his advice was respected by all. He neither sought nor +abused a confidence, and in consequence was the depository of most of +the secrets of the countryside. To his sympathetic ears came both +grave offences and minor indiscretions, as to a kindly safety-valve who +advised and helped--and was subsequently silent. His exoneration was +considered final. “I confessed to Peter” became a recognised formula, +instituted by a giddy young Marchioness at the north end of the county, +whose cousin he was. And there, invariably, the matter ended. And for +Craven it was the one bright spot in the darkness before him. Life was +going to be hell--but there would always be Peter. + +At the Convent gates the taxi skidded badly at the suddenly applied +brakes, and then backed jerkily into position. Craven felt an +overwhelming inclination to take to his heels. The portress who admitted +him had evidently received orders, for she silently conducted him to a +waiting room and left him alone. It was sparsely furnished but had on +the walls some fine old rosewood panelling. The narrow heavily leaded +windows overlooked a paved quadrangle, glistening with moisture. For a +few moments the rain had ceased but drops still pattered sharply on +to the flagstones from the branches of two large chestnut trees. The +outlook was melancholy and he turned from the window, shivering. But the +chill austere room was hardly more inspiring. The atmosphere was strange +to him. It was a world apart from anything that had ever touched him. He +marvelled suddenly at the countless lives living out their allotted span +in the confined area of these and similar walls. Surely all could not +submit willingly to such a crushing captivity? Some must agonize and +spend their strength unavailingly, like birds beating their wings +against the bars of a cage for freedom. To the man who had roamed +through all the continents of the world this forced inactivity seemed +appalling--stultifying. The hampering of personal freedom, the forcing +of independent minds into one narrow prescribed channel that admitted +of no individual expansion, the waste of material and the fettering of +intellects, that were heaven-sent gifts to be put out to usury and not +shrouded away in a napkin, revolted him. The conventual system was to +him a survival of medievalism, a relic of the dark ages; the last refuge +of the shirkers of the world. The communities themselves, if he had +thought of them at all, had been regarded as a whole. He had never +troubled to consider them as composed of single individuals. Today he +thought of them as separate human beings and his intolerance increased. +An indefinite distaste never seriously considered seemed, during the +few moments in the bare waiting room, to have grown suddenly into active +dislike. He was wholly out of sympathy with his surroundings, impatient +of the necessity that brought him into contact with what he would have +chosen to avoid. He looked about with eyes grown hard and contemptuous. +The very building seemed to be the embodiment of retrogression and blind +superstition. He was filled with antagonism. His face was grim and his +figure drawn up stiffly to its full height when the door opened to +admit the Mother Superior. For a moment she hesitated, a faint look of +surprise coming into her face. And no antagonism, however intolerant, +could have braved her gentle dignity. “It is--_Monsieur_ Craven?” she +asked, a perceptible interrogation in her soft voice. + +She took the letters he gave her and read them carefully--pausing once +or twice as if searching for the correct translation of a word--then +handed them back to him in silence. She looked at him again, frankly, +with no attempt to disguise her scrutiny, and the perplexity in her eyes +grew greater. One small white hand slid to the crucifix hanging on her +breast, as if seeking aid from the familiar symbol, and Craven saw that +her fingers were trembling. A faint flush rose in her face. + +“_Monsieur_ is perhaps married, or--happily--he has a mother?” she asked +at last, and the flush deepened as she looked up at the big man standing +before her. She made a little gesture of embarrassment but her eyes +did not waver. They would not, he thought with sudden intuition. For he +realised that it was one of his own order who confronted him. It was not +what he had anticipated. The Mother Superior's low voice continuing in +gentle explanation broke into his thoughts. + +“_Monsieur_ will forgive that I catechise him thus but I had expected +one--much older.” Her distress was obvious. And Craven divined that as a +prospective guardian he fell short of expectation. And yet, his lack of +years was apparently to her the only drawback. His lack of years--Good +God, and he felt so old! His youth was a disadvantage that counted for +nothing in the present instance. If she could know the truth, if the +anxious gaze that was fixed so intently on him could look into his heart +with understanding, he knew that she would shrink from him as from a +vile contamination. + +He conceived the horror dawning in her eyes, the loathing in her +attitude, and seemed to hear her passionate protest against his claim to +the child who had been sheltered in the safety of the community that he +had despised. The safety of the community--that had not before occurred +to him. For the first time he considered it a refuge to those who there +sought sanctuary and who were safeguarded from such as--he. He winced, +but did not spare himself. The sin had been only his. The child who had +died for love of him had been as innocent of sin as the birds who loved +and mated among the pine trees in her Garden of Enchantment. She had had +no will but his. Arrogantly he had taken her and she had submitted--was +he not her lord? Before his shadow fell across her path no blameless +soul within these old convent walls had been more pure and stainless +than the soul of O Hara San. It was the sins of such as he that drove +women to this shelter that offered refuge and consolation, to escape +from such as he they voluntarily immured themselves; surrendering the +purpose of their being, seeking in bodily denial the salvation of their +souls. + +The room had grown very dark. A sudden glare of light made Craven +realise that a question asked was still unanswered. He had not, in his +abstraction, been aware of any movement. Now he saw the Mother Superior +walking leisurely back from the electric switch by the door, and guessed +from her placid face that the interval had been momentary and had passed +unnoticed. Some answer was required now. He pulled himself together. + +“I am not married,” his voice was strained, “and I have no mother. But +my aunt--Miss Craven--the sculptor--” he paused enquiringly and she +smiled reassurance. + +“Miss Craven's beautiful work is known to me,” she said with ready tact +that put him more at ease. + +“My aunt has, most kindly, promised to--to co-operate,” he finished +lamely. + +The anxiety faded from the Mother Superior's face and she sat down with +an air of relief, motioning Craven to a chair. But with a curt bow he +remained standing. He had no wish to prolong the interview beyond what +courtesy and business demanded. He listened with a variety of feelings +while the Nun spoke. Her earnestness he could not fail to perceive, but +it required a decided effort to concentrate, and follow her soft well +modulated voice. + +She spoke slowly, with feeling that broke at times the tone she strove +to make dispassionate. + +“I am glad for Gillian's sake that at last, after all these years, there +has come one who will be concerned with her future. She has no vocation +for the conventual life and--I was beginning to become anxious. For +ourselves, we shall miss her more than it is possible to say. She had +been with us so long, she has become very dear to us. I have dreaded +that her father would one day claim her. She has been spared that +contamination--God forgive me that I should speak so.” For a moment she +was silent, her eyes bent on her hands lying loosely clasped in her lap. + +“Gillian is not altogether friendless,” she resumed, “she will go to +you with a little more knowledge of the world than can be gained within +these old walls.” She glanced round the panelled room with half-sad +affection. “She is popular and has spent vacations in the homes of some +of her fellow pupils. She has a very decided personality, and a facility +for attracting affection. She is sensitive and proud--passionate even at +times. She can be led but not driven. I tell you all this, _Monsieur_, +not censoriously but that it may help you in dealing with a character +that is extraordinarily complex, with a nature that both demands and +repels affection, that longs for and yet scorns sympathy.” She looked +at Craven anxiously. His complete attention was claimed at last. A new +conception of his unknown ward was forcing itself upon him, so that +any humour there might have been in the situation died suddenly and the +difficulties of the undertaking soared. The Mother Superior smothered +a sigh. His attitude was baffling, his expression inscrutable. Had her +words touched him, had she said what was best for the welfare of the +girl who was so dear to her, and whose departure she felt so keenly? How +would she fare at this man's hands? What lay behind his stern face and +sombre tragic eyes? Her lips moved in silent prayer, but when she spoke +her voice was serene as before. + +“There is yet another thing that I must speak of. Gillian has an unusual +gift.” A sentence in Locke's letter flashed into Craven's mind. + +“She doesn't _dance_?” he asked, in some dismay. + +“Dance, _Monsieur_--in a convent?” Then she pitied his hot confusion and +smiled faintly. + +“Is dancing so unusual--in the world? No, Gillian sketches--portraits. +Her talent is real. She does not merely draw a faithful likeness, her +studies are revelations of soul. I do not think she knows herself how +her effects are obtained, they grow almost unconsciously, but they +result always in the same strange delineation of character. It was so +impossible to ignore this exceptional gift that we procured for her +the best teacher in Paris, and continued her lessons even after--” She +stopped abruptly and Craven finished the broken sentence. + +“Even after the fees ceased,” he said dryly. “For how many years has my +ward lived on your charity, Reverend Mother?” + +She raised a protesting hand. + +“Ah--charity. It is hardly the word--” she fenced. + +He took out a cheque book. + +“How much is owing, for everything?” he said bluntly. + +She sought for a book in a bureau standing against the rosewood +panelling and, scanning it, gave a sum with evident reluctance. + +“Gillian has never been told, but it is ten years since _Monsieur_ Locke +paid anything.” There was diffidence in her voice. “In an institution +of this kind we are compelled to be businesslike. It is rare that we can +afford to make an exception, though the temptation is often great. +The head and the heart--_voyez, vous, Monsieur_--they pull in contrary +directions.” And she slipped the book back into a pigeon-hole as if the +touch of it was distasteful. She glanced perfunctorily at the cheque he +handed to her, then closer, and the colour rose again to her sensitive +face. + +“But _Monsieur_ has written treble the amount,” she murmured. + +“Will you accept the balance,” he said hurriedly, “in the name of my +ward, for any purpose that you may think fit? There is one stipulation +only--I do not wish her to know that there has been any monetary +transaction between us.” His voice was almost curt, and the Nun +found herself unable to question a condition which, though manifestly +generous, she deemed quixotic. She could only bend to his decision with +mingled thankfulness and apprehension. Despite the problem of the girl's +future she had it in her heart to wish that this singular claimant had +never presented himself. His liberality was obvious but--. She locked +the slip of paper away in the bureau with a feeling of vague uneasiness. +But for good or ill the matter was out of her hands. She had said all +that she could say. The rest lay with God. + +“I do accept it,” she said, “with all gratitude. It will enable us to +carry out a scheme that has long been our hope. Your generosity will +more than pave the way. I will send Gillian to you now.” + +She left him, more embarrassed than he had been at first, more than ever +dreading the task before him. He waited with a nervous impatience that +irritated himself. + +Turning to the window he looked out into the dusk. The old trees in +the courtyard were almost indistinguishable. The rain dripped again +steadily, splashing the creeper that framed the casement. A few lights +showing dimly in the windows on the opposite side of the quadrangle +served only to intensify the gloom. The time dragged. Fretfully he +drummed with his fingers on the leaded panes, his ears alert for any +sound beyond the closed door. The echo of a distant organ stole into the +room and the soft solemn notes harmonised with the melancholy pattering +of the raindrops and the gusts of wind that moaned fitfully around the +house. + +In a sudden revulsion of feeling the life he had mapped out for himself +seemed horrible beyond thought. He could not bear it. It would be tying +his hands and burdening himself with a responsibility that would curtail +his freedom and hamper him beyond endurance. A great restlessness, a +longing to escape from the irksome tie, came to him. Solitude and open +spaces; unpeopled nature; wild desert wastes--he craved for them. +The want was like a physical ache. The desert--he drew his breath +in sharply--the hot shifting sand whispering under foot, the fierce +noontide sun blazing out of a brilliant sky, the charm of it! The +fascination of its false smiling surface, its treacherous beauty luring +to hidden perils called to him imperatively. The curse of Ishmael that +was his heritage was driving him as it had driven him many times +before. He was in the grip of one of the revolts against restraint and +civilisation that periodically attacked him. The wander-hunger was in +his blood--for generations it had sent numberless ancestors into the +lonely places of the world, and against it ties of home were powerless. +In early days to the romantic glamour of the newly discovered Americas, +later to the silence of the frozen seas and to the mysterious depth +of unexplored lands the Cravens had paid a heavy toll. A Craven had +penetrated into the tangled gloom of the Amazon forests, and had never +returned. In the previous century two Cravens had succumbed to the +fascination of the North West Passage, another had vanished in Central +Asia. Barry's grandfather had perished in a dust storm in the Sahara. +And it was to the North African desert that his own thoughts turned +most longingly. Japan had satisfied him for a time--but only for a +time. Western civilisation had there obtruded too glaringly, and he had +admitted frankly to himself that it was not Japan but O Hara San that +kept him in Yokohama. The dark courtyard and the faintly lighted windows +faded. He saw instead a tiny well-remembered oasis in Southern Algeria, +heard the ceaseless chatter of Arabs, the shrill squeal of a stallion, +the peevish grunt of a camel, and, rising above all other sounds, the +whine of the tackling above the well. And the smell--the cloying smell +that goes with camel caravans, it was pungent! He flung up his head +inhaling deeply, then realised that the scent that filled the room was +not the acrid smell of the desert but the penetrating odour of incense +filtering in through the opened door. It shut and he turned reluctantly. + +He saw at first only a pair of great brown eyes, staring almost +defiantly, set in a small pale face, that looked paler by contrast with +the frame of dark brown hair. Then his gaze travelled slowly over the +slender black-clad figure silhouetted against the polished panels. His +fear was substantiated. Not a child who could be relegated to nurses and +governesses, but a girl in the dawn of womanhood. Passionately he cursed +John Locke. + +He felt a fool, idiotically tongue-tied. He had been prepared to adopt +a suitably paternal attitude towards the small child he had expected. A +paternal attitude in connection with this self-possessed young woman was +impossible, in fact ludicrous. For the moment he seemed unable to cope +with the situation. It was the girl who spoke first. She came forward +slowly, across the long narrow room. + +“I am Gillian Locke, _Monsieur_.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +On the cushioned window seat in her bedroom at Craven Towers Gillian +Locke sat with her arms wrapped round her knees waiting for the summons +to dinner. With Miss Craven and her guardian she had left London that +morning, arriving at the Towers in the afternoon, and she was tired and +excited with the events of the day. She leant back against the panelled +embrasure, her mind dwelling on the last three crowded months they had +spent in Paris and London waiting until the house was redecorated and +ready to receive them. It had been for her a wonderful experience. The +novelty, the strangeness of it, left her breathless with the feeling +that years, not weeks, had rushed by. Already in the realisation of the +new life the convent days seemed long ago, the convent itself to have +receded into a far off past. And yet there were times when she wondered +whether she was dreaming, whether waking would be inevitable and she +would find herself once more in the old dormitory to pray passionately +that she might dream again. And until tonight there had scarcely been +time even to think, her days had been full, at night she had gone to bed +to sleep in happy dreamlessness. The hotel bedrooms with their litter +of trunks suggesting imminent flight had held no restfulness. To Gillian +the transitory sensation had strained already over-excited nerves and +heightened the dreamlike feeling that made everything seem unreal. But +here, the visible evidences of travel removed, the deep silence of a +large country house penetrating her mind and conducing to peace, she +could think at last. The surroundings were helpful. There was about the +room an air of permanence which the hotel bedrooms had never given, an +atmosphere of abiding quiet that soothed her. She was sensitive of an +influence that was wholly new to her and very sweet, that brought with +it a feeling of laughter and tears strangely mingled, that made the +room appear as no other room had ever done. It Was her room, and it had +welcomed her. It was like a big friendly silent person offering +mute reception, radiating repose. In a few hours the room had become +intimate, dear to her. She laughed happily--then checked at a guilty +feeling of treason against the grey old walls in Paris that had so long +sheltered her. She was not ungrateful, all her life she would remember +with gratitude the love and care she had received. But the convent had +been prison. Since her father had left her there, a tiny child, she +had inwardly rebelled; the life was abhorrent to her, the restraint +unbearable. With childish pride she had hidden her feelings, living +through a period of acute misery with no hint to those about her of what +she suffered. And the habit of suppression acquired in childhood had +grown with her own development. As the years passed the limitations of +the convent became more perceptible. She felt its cramping influence to +the full, as if the walls were closing in to suffocate her, to bury her +alive before she had ever known a fuller freer life. She had longed for +expansion--ideas she could not formulate, desires she could not express, +crowded, jostled in her brain. She wanted a wider outlook on life than +the narrow convent windows offered. Brief excursions into the world to +the homes of her friends had filled her with a yearning for freedom +and for independence, for a greater range of thought and action. Her +artistic studies had served to foster an unrest she struggled against +bravely and to conceal which she became daily more self-contained. Her +reserve was like a barrier about her. She was sweet and gentle to all +around her, but a little aloof and very silent. To the other girls she +had been a heroine of romance, puzzling mystery surrounded her; to the +Nuns an enigma. The Mother Superior, alone, had arrived at a partial +understanding, more than that even she could not accomplish. Gillian +loved her, but her reserve was stronger than her love. Sitting now +in the dainty English bedroom, revelling in the warm beauty of the +exquisite landscape that, mellowed in the evening light, lay spread out +beneath her eyes, Gillian thought a little sadly of her parting with the +Reverend Mother. She had tried to hide the happiness that the strange +feeling of freedom gave her, to smother any look or word that might +wound the gentle sensibility of the frail robed woman whose eyes were +sad at the approaching separation. Her conscience smote her that her own +heart held no sadness. She had said very little, nothing of the new life +that lay ahead of her. She hid her hopes of the future as jealously as +she had hidden her longings in the past, and she had left the convent as +silently as she had lived in it. She had driven back to the hotel with +a sense of relief predominating that it was all over, breathing deeply +with a sigh of relaxed tension. It seemed to her then as if she had +learned to breathe only within the last few days, as if the air itself +was lighter, more exhilarating. + +From the convent her mind went back to earlier days. She thought of +her father, the handsome dissolute man, whose image had grown dim with +years. As a tiny child she had loved him passionately, the central +figure of her chequered and wandering little life--father and mother +in one, playmate and hero. Her recollection seemed to be of constant +travelling; of long hours spent in railway trains; of arrivals at +strange places in the dark night; of departures in the early dawn, half +awake--but always happy so long as the familiar arms held her weary +little body and there was the shabby old coat on which to pillow her +brown curls. A jumbled remembrance of towns and country villages; of +kind unknown women who looked compassionate and murmured over her in a +dozen different languages. It had all been a medley of impressions and +experiences--everything transient, nothing lasting, but the big untidy +man who was her all. And then the convent. For a few years John Locke +had reappeared at irregular intervals, and on the memory of those brief +visits she had lived until he came again. Then he had ceased to +come and his letters, grown short and few, full of vague +promises--unsatisfying--meagre, had stopped abruptly. At first she had +refused to admit to herself that he had forgotten, that she could mean +so little to him, that he would deliberately put her out of his life. +She had waited, excusing, trusting, until, heart-sick with deferred +hope, she had come to think of him as dead. She was old enough then +to realise her position and in spite of the love and consideration +surrounding her she had learned misery. Her popularity even was a source +of torment, for in the happy homes of her friends she had felt more +cruelly her own destitute loneliness. + +When the lawyer's letter had come enclosing a few scrawled lines +written by her dying father she had felt that life could hold no more +bitterness. She had worshipped him--and he had abandoned her callously. +She was bone of his bone and he had made no effort even for his own +flesh. He had thrown her a burden on the convent that sheltered her so +willingly only for want of will power to conquer the weakness that had +devitalised brain and body. The thought crushed her. As she read his +confession, full of tardy remorse, her proud heart had been sick with +humiliation. She groped blindly through a sea of despair, her faith +broken, her trust gone. She hid her sorrow and her shame, fulfilling +her usual tasks, following the ordinary routine--a little more silent, +a little more reserved--her eyes alone betraying the storm that was +overwhelming her. She had loved him so dearly--that was the sting. +She had guarded her memory of him so tenderly, weaving a thousand +extravagant tales about him, pinnacling him above all men, her hero, her +knight, her _preux chevalier._ And now she realised that her memory was +no memory, that she had built up a fantastic figure of romance whose +origin rested on nothing tangible, whose elevation had been so lofty +that his overthrow was demolition. Her god had feet of clay. Her +superman was nothing. All that she had ever had, memory that was +delusion, was taken from her. Woken abruptly to the brutal truth she +felt that she had nothing left to cling to--a loneliness far greater +than she had known before. Then gradually her own honesty compelled her +to admit her fantasy. The dream man she had evolved had been of her +own making, the virtues with which she had endowed him bred of her own +imagination. Of the real man she knew nothing, and for the real man +there dawned slowly--though love for him had died--pity. It came to her, +passionately endeavouring to understand, that in the sheltered life she +led she had no knowledge of the temptations that beset a man outside +in the great world. Dimly she realised that some win out--and some go +under. He had failed. And it seemed to her that on her had fallen his +debt. She must take the place he had forfeited in the universe, she must +succeed where he had failed. Her strength must rise out of his weakness. +His honour was hers to re-establish, given the opportunity. And the +opportunity had been given. She had waited for the coming of her unknown +guardian with a feeling of dull revolt against the degradation of being +handed over inexorably to the disposal and charity of a stranger. Though +she had not been told she had guessed, years ago, that money for her +maintenance was wanting. The kindly deception of the Mother Superior +had been ineffectual. Gillian knew she was a pauper. The charity of the +convent school had been hard to bear. The charity of a stranger would +be harder. She writhed with the humiliation of it. She was nineteen--for +two years she must go and be and endure at the whim of an unknown. And +what would he be like, this man into whose hands her father had thrust +her! What choice would John Locke be capable of making--what love had he +shown during these last years that he should choose carefully and well? +From among what class of man, of the society into which he had sunk, +would he select one to give his daughter? He had written of “my old +friend, Barry Craven.” The name conveyed nothing--the adjective admitted +of two interpretations. Which? Day and night she was haunted with +visions of old men--recollections of faces seen when driving with her +friends or visiting their homes; old men who had interested her, old men +from whom she had instinctively shrunk. What type of man was it that was +coming for her? There were times when her courage deserted her and the +constantly recurring question made her nearly mad with fear. She was +like a wild creature caught in a trap, listening to the feet of the +keeper nearing--nearing. She had longed for the time when she could +leave the Convent, she clung to it now with dread at the thought of the +future. The London lawyer had written that Mr. Craven was returning +from Japan to assume his guardianship, and she had traced his route with +growing fear as the days slipped by--the keeper's tread coming closer +and closer. She had masked the terror the thought of him inspired, +preserving an outward apathy that seemed to imply complete indifference. +And in the end he had come sooner than she expected, for they thought he +would go first to London. One morning she had learned he was in +Paris, that very afternoon she would know her fate. The day had been +interminable. During his interview with the Mother Superior she had +paced the room where she was waiting as it seemed for hours, her nerves +at breaking point. When the Reverend Mother came back she could have +shrieked aloud and her desperate eyes failed to interpret the expression +on the Nun's face; she tried to speak, a husky whisper that died away +inarticulately. Faintly she heard the gentle words of encouragement and +with an effort of pride she walked quickly to the door of the visitors' +room. There she paused, irresolute, and the low peaceful roll of the +organ echoing from the distant chapel seemed to mock her. So often it +had comforted, giving courage to go forward--today its very peacefulness +jarred; nerve-racked she was out of tune with the atmosphere of calm +tranquillity about her. She felt alien--that more than ever she stood +alone. Then pride flamed afresh. With head held high and lips compressed +she went in. As he turned from the window it was his great height and +broad shoulders that struck her first--men of his physique were rare +in France--and, in the thought of a moment, the well cut conventional +morning coat had seemed absurd, and mentally she had clothed his long +limbs in damascened steel. Then she had seen that he was young, how +young she could not guess, but younger far than she had imagined. As +their eyes met the sombre tragedy in his had hurt her. She divined a +sorrow before which her own paled to nothingness and quick pity killed +fear. The sadness of his face lifted her suddenly into full realisation +of her womanhood. Compassion rose above self. Instinctively she knew +that the interview that was to her so momentous was to him only an +embarrassing interlude. Shyness remained but the terror she had felt +gave place to a feeling she had not then understood. As quickly +as possible he had taken her to the hotel, leaving to his aunt all +explanations that seemed necessary. And since then he had remained +consistently in the background, delegating his authority to Miss Craven. +But from the first his proximity had troubled her--she was always +conscious of his presence. Hypersensitive from her convent upbringing +she knew intuitively when he entered a room or left it. Men were to her +an unknown quantity; the few she had met--brothers and cousins of school +friends--had been viewed from a different standpoint. Hedged about +with rigid French convention there had been no chance of acquaintance +ripening into friendship--she had been merely a schoolgirl among other +girls, touching only the fringe of the most youthful of the masculine +element in the houses where she had stayed. She had been unprepared for +the change to the daily contact with a man like Barry Craven. It would +take time to accustom herself, to become used to the continual masculine +presence. + +Miss Craven, to her nephew's relief, had taken the shy pale-faced +girl to her eccentric heart with a suddenness and enthusiasm that had +surprised herself. + +And Gillian's reserve and pride had been unable to withstand the +whirlwind little lady. Miss Craven's personality took a strong hold on +her; she loved the woman, she admired the artist, and she was quick +to recognise the real feeling and deep kindness that lay under brusque +manner and quizzical speeches. She had good reason. She glanced now +round the big room. Everywhere were evidences of lavish generosity, +showered on her regardless of protest. Gillian's eyes filled slowly with +tears. It was all a fairy story, too wonderful almost to be true. +Why were they so good to her--how would she ever be able to repay the +kindness lavished on her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the latest +gift that rose out of his basket with a sleepy yawn and stretching +luxuriously came and laid his head on her knee, looking up at her with +sad brown eyes. She had always loved animals, the possession of some dog +had been an ardent desire, and she hugged the big black poodle now with +a little sob. + +“Mouston, you pampered person, have you ever been lonely? Can you +imagine what it is like to be made to feel that you _belong_ to somebody +again?” She rubbed her cheek against his satiny head, crooning over him, +the dog thrilling to her touch with jerking limbs and sharp half-stifled +whines. It was her first experience of ownership, of responsibility +for a living creature that was dependent on her and for which she was +answerable. And it was likely to prove an arduous responsibility. He was +single-minded and jealous in his allegiance; Miss Craven he tolerated +indifferently, of Craven he was openly suspicious. He followed Gillian +like a shadow and moped in her absence, yielding to Yoshio, who had +charge of him on such occasions, a resigned obedience he gave to no +other member of the household. Through Mouston Gillian and Yoshio had +become acquainted. + +Mouston's affection this evening became over-enthusiastic and +threatening to fragile silks and laces. Gillian kissed the top of his +head, shook solemnly an insistent paw, and put him on one side. She +moved to the dressing table and inspected herself critically in the big +mirror. She looked with grave amusement. Was that Gillian Locke? She +wondered did a butterfly feel more incongruous when it shed its dull +grub skin. For so many years she had worn the sombre garb of the convent +schoolgirl, the change was still new enough to delight and the natural +woman within her responded to the fascination of pretty clothing. The +dark draperies of the convent had palled, she had craved colour with an +almost starved longing. + +The general reflection in the long glass satisfied, a more detailed +personal survey raised serious doubts. She had never recognised the +grace of her slender figure, the uncommon beauty of her pale oval +face--other types had appealed more, other colouring attracted. She had +studied her face often, disapprovingly. Once or twice, lacking a model, +she had essayed to reproduce her own features. She had failed utterly. +The faithful portraiture she achieved for others was wanting. She was +unable to express in her own likeness the almost startling exposition +of character that distinguished her ordinary work. She had been her +own limitation. Her failure had puzzled her, causing a searching mental +inquiry. She had no knowledge herself of how her special gift took form, +the work grew involuntarily under her hand. She was aware of no definite +impression received, no attempt at soul analysis. Vaguely she supposed +that in some subtle mysterious way the character of her sitter +communicated itself, influencing her; in fact her best work had often +had the least care bestowed upon it. Did her inability to transfer to +canvas a living copy of her own face argue that she herself was +without character--had she failed because there was in truth nothing to +delineate? Or was it because she sought to see something unreal--sought +to control a purely inherent impulse? It was a problem she had never +solved. + +She looked now at the mirrored figure with her usual disapproval, great +brown eyes scowling back at her from the glass, then made a little +obliterating movement with her hand and shook her head. Appearance had +never mattered before, but now she wanted so much to please--to be a +credit to the interest shown, to repay the time and money spent upon +her. Her eyes grew wistful as she leant nearer to see if there were +any tell-tale traces of tears, then danced with sudden amusement as she +picked up a powder puff and dabbed tentatively. + +“Oh, Gillian Locke, what would the Reverend Mother say!” she murmured, +and laughed. + +The poodle, jealous for attention, leaped on to a chair beside her, his +paws on the plate glass slab scattering brushes and bottles, and still +laughing she smothered his damp eager nose with powder until he sneezed +disgusted protest. + +With a conciliatory caress she left him to disarrange the dressing table +further, and went back to the window. Beneath her lawns extended to a +wide terrace, stone balustraded, from the centre of which a long flight +of steps led down to a formal rose garden sheltered by a high yew hedge +and backed by a little copse beyond which the heavily timbered park +stretched indefinitely in the evening light. The sense of space +fascinated her. She had always longed for unimpeded views, for the +stillness of the country. On the smooth shaven lawns great trees were +set like sentinels about the house; fancifully she thought of them as +living vigilant keepers maintaining for centuries a perpetual guard--and +smiled at her childish imagination. Her pleasure in the prospect +deepened. Already the charm of the Towers had taken hold of her, from +the first moment she had loved it. Throughout the long railway journey +and during the five mile drive from the station, she had anticipated, +and the actuality had outstripped her anticipation. The beauty of the +park, the herds of grazing deer, had delighted her; the old grey house +itself had stayed her spellbound. She had not imagined anything half so +lovely, so impressively enduring. She had seen nothing to compare +with its fine proportions, with the luxury of its setting. It differed +utterly from the French Chateaux where she had visited; there toil +obtruded, vineyards and rich fields of crops clustered close to the very +walls of the seigneur's dwellings, a source of wealth simply +displayed; here similar activities were banished to unseen regions, and +scrupulously kept avenues, close cut lawns and immaculate flower-beds +formed evidence of constant labour whose results charmed the eye but +were materially profitless. The formal grandeur appealed to her. She was +not altogether alien, she reflected, with a curious smile--despite his +subsequent downfall John Locke had sprung from just such stock as the +owner of this wonderful house. A sudden panic of lateness interrupted +her pleasure and she turned from the window, calling to the dog. +Her suite opened on to a circular gallery--from which bedrooms +opened--running round the central portion of the house and overlooking +the big square hall which was lit from above by a lofty glazed dome; +eastward and westward stretched long rambling wings, a story higher than +the main block, crowned with the turrets that gave the house its name. + +A low murmur of men's voices came from below, and leaning over the +balustrade she saw Craven and his agent standing talking before the +empty fireplace. Sudden shyness overcame her; her guardian was still +formidable, Peters she had seen for the first time only a few hours +ago when he had met them at the station--a short broad-shouldered man +inclining to stoutness, with thick grey hair and close-pointed beard. To +go down deliberately to them seemed impossible. But while she hesitated +in an agony of self-consciousness Mouston precipitated the inevitable +by dashing on ahead down, the stairs and plunging into the bearskin +hearthrug, ploughing the thick fur with his muzzle and sneezing wildly. +The sense of responsibility outweighed shyness and she hurried after +him, but Peters anticipated her and already had the dog's unwilling head +firmly between his hands. + +“What on earth has he got on his nose, Miss Locke?” he asked, in a tone +of wonder, but the keen blue eyes looking at her from under bushy +grey eyebrows were twinkling and her shyness was not proof against his +friendliness. + +She dropped to her knees and flicked the offended organ with a scrap of +lace and lawn. + +“Powder,” she said gravely. + +“You can have no idea,” she added, looking up suddenly, “how delightful +it is to powder your nose when you have been brought up in a convent. +The Nuns consider it the height of depravity,” and she laughed, a +ringing girlish outburst of amusement that Craven had never yet heard. +He looked at her as she knelt on the rug soothing the poodle's outraged +feelings and smiling at Peters who was offering his own more +adequate handkerchief. That laugh was a revelation--in spite of her +self-possession, of her reserve, she was in reality only a girl, hardly +more than a child, but influenced by her quiet gravity he had forgotten +the fact. + +As he watched her a slight frown gathered on his face. It seemed that +Peters, in a few hours, had penetrated the barrier outside which he, +after months, still remained. With him she was always shyly silent. On +the few rare occasions in Paris and in London when he had found himself +alone with her she had shrunk into herself and avoided addressing him; +and he had wondered, irritably, how much was natural diffidence and +how much due to convent training. But he had made no effort at further +understanding, for the past was always present dominating inclinations +and impulses--perpetual memory, jogging at his elbow. There were days +when the only relief was physical exhaustion and he disappeared for +hours to fight his devils in solitude. And in any case he was not +wanted, it was better in every way for him to efface himself. There +was nothing for him to do--thanks to the improvidence of John Locke +no business connected with the trust. Miss Craven had taken complete +possession of Gillian and he held aloof, not attempting to establish +more intimate relations with his ward. But tonight, with a fine +inconsistency, it piqued him that she should respond so readily +to Peters. He knew he was a fool--it mattered not one particle to +him--Peters' magnetism was proverbial--but, illogically, the frown +persisted. + +As if conscious of his scrutiny Gillian turned and met his searching +gaze. The colour flooded her face and she pushed the dog aside and rose +hastily to her feet. Shyness supervened again and she was thankful for +the arrival of Miss Craven, who was breathless and apologetic. + +“Late as usual! I shall be late when the last trump sounds. But this +time it was really not my fault. Mrs. Appleyard descended upon me!--our +old housekeeper, Gillian--and her tongue has wagged for a solid hour by +the clock. I am now _au fait_ with everything that has happened at the +Towers since I was here last--do your ears burn, Peter?--metaphorically +she has dragged me at her heels from garrets to cellars and back to the +garrets again. She is pathetically pleased to have the house open once +more.” + +Still talking she led the way to the dining room. It was an immense +room, panelled like most of the house, the table an oasis on a desert +of Persian carpet, a huge fireplace predominating, and some of the more +valuable family portraits on the walls. + +As Miss Craven entered she looked instinctively for the portrait of her +brother, which since his death had hung--following a family custom--in a +panel over the high carved mantelpiece. But it had been removed and +for it had been substituted a beautiful painting of Barry's mother. +She stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence. “An innovation?” she +murmured to her nephew, with her shrewd eyes on his face. + +“A reparation,” he answered shortly, as he moved to his chair. And his +tone made any further comment impossible. She sat down thoughtfully and +began her soup in silence, vaguely disturbed at the departure from a +precedent that had held for generations. Unconventional and ultra-modern +as she was she still clung to the traditions of her family, and from +time immemorial the portrait of the last reigning Craven had hung +over the fireplace in the big dining room waiting to give place to its +successor. It all seemed bound up somehow with the terrible change that +had taken place in him since his return from Japan--a change she was +beginning more and more to connect with the man whose portrait had been +banished, as though unworthy, from its prominence. Unworthy indeed--but +how did Barry know? What had he learned in the country that had had +such a fatal attraction for his father? The old shameful story she had +thought buried for ever seemed rising like a horrible phantom from the +grave where it had lain so long hidden. + +With a little shudder she turned resolutely from the painful thoughts +that came crowding in upon her and entered into animated conversation +with Peters. + +Gillian, content to be unnoticed, looked about her with appreciative +interest; the big room, its sombre, rather formal furniture and fine +pictures, appealed to her. The arrangements were in perfect harmony, +nothing clashed or jarred, electric lighting was carefully hidden and +only wax candles burnt in heavy silver candlesticks on the table. + +The fascination of the old house was growing every moment more +insistent, like a spell laid on her. She gave herself up to it, to the +odd happiness it inspired. She felt it curiously familiar. A strange +feeling came to her--it was as if from childhood she had been journeying +and now come home. An absurd thought, but she loved it. She had never +had a home, but for the next two years she could pretend. To pretend +was easy. All her life she had lived in a land of dreams, tenanted with +shadowy inhabitants of her own imagining--puppets who moved obedient to +her will through all the devious paths of make-believe; a spirit world +where she ranged free of the narrow walls that restricted her liberty. +It had been easy to pretend in the convent--how much easier here in +the solid embodiment of a dream castle and stimulated by the real human +affection for which her heart had starved. The love she had hitherto +known had been unsatisfying, too impersonal, too restrained, too +interwoven with mystical devotion. Mass Craven's affection was of a +hardier, more practical nature. Blunt candour and sincerity personified, +she did not attempt to disguise her attachment. She had been attracted, +had approved, and had finally co-opted Gillian into the family. She had, +moreover, great faith in her own judgment. And to justify that faith +Gillian would have gone through fire and water. + +She looked gratefully at the solid little figure sitting at the foot of +the table and a gleam of amusement chased the seriousness from her eyes. +Miss Craven was in the throes of a heated discussion with Peters which +involved elaborate diagrams traced on the smooth cloth with a salt +spoon, and as Gillian watched she completed her design with a fine +flourish and leant back triumphant in her chair, rumpling her hair +fantastically. But the agent, unconvinced, fell upon her mercilessly +and in a moment she was bent forward again in vigorous protest, drumming +impatiently on the table with her fingers as he laughingly altered her +drawing. They were the best of friends and wrangled continually. To +Gillian it was all so fresh, so novel. Then her attention veered. +Throughout dinner Craven had been silent. When once started on a +discussion his aunt and Peters tore the controversy amicably to tatters +in complete absorption. He had not joined in the argument. As always +Gillian was too shy to address him of her own accord, but she was +acutely conscious of his nearness. She deprecated her own attitude, yet +silence was better than the banal platitudes which were all she had to +offer. Her range was so restricted, his--who had travelled the world +over--must be so great. With the exception of one subject her knowledge +was negligible. But he too was an artist--hopeless to attempt that +topic, she concluded with swift contempt for her own limitations; to +offer the opinions of a convent-bred amateur to one who had studied in +famous Paris ateliers and was acquainted with the art of many countries +would be an impertinence. But yet she knew that sometime she must break +through the wall that her own diffidence had built up; in the intimacy +of country house life the continuance of such an attitude would be both +impossible and ridiculous. Contritely she acknowledged that the tension +between them was largely her own fault, a disability due to training. +But she could not go through life sheltering behind that wholly +inadequate plea. If there was anything in her at all she must rise above +the conventions in which she had been reared; she had done with the +narrowness of the past, now she must think broadly, expansively, in all +things--even in the trivial matter of social intercourse. A saving sense +of humour sent a laugh bubbling into her throat which nearly escaped. +It was such a little thing, but she had magnified it so greatly. What, +after all, did it amount to--the awkwardness of a schoolgirl very +properly ignored by a guardian who could not be other than bored with +her society. _Tant pis!_ She could at least try to be polite. She +turned with the heroic intention of breaking the ice and plunging into +conversation, banal though it might be. But her eyes did not arrive +at his face, they were caught and held by his hand, lying on the white +cloth, turning and twisting an empty wine-glass between long strong +fingers. Hands fascinated her. They were indicative of character, +testimonies of individual peculiarities. She was sensitive to the +impression they conveyed. With the limited material available she had +studied them--nuns' hands, priests' hands, hands of the various inmates +of the houses where she had stayed, and the hands of the man who had +taught her. From him she had learned more than the mere rudiments of her +art; under his tuition a crude interest had developed into a definite +study, and as she sat looking at Barry Craven's hand a sentence from one +of his lectures recurred to her--“there are in some hands, particularly +in the case of men, characteristics denoting certain passions and +attributes that jump to the eye as forcibly as if they were expressions +of face.” + +Engaged in present study she forgot her original purpose, noting the +salient points of a fresh type, enumerating details that formed +the composite whole. A strong hand that could in its strength be +merciless--could it equally in its strength be merciful? The strange +thought came unexpectedly as she watched the thin stem of the wineglass +turning rapidly and then more slowly until, with a little tinkle, +it snapped as the hand clenched suddenly, the knuckles showing white +through the tanned skin. Gillian drew a quick breath. Had she been the +cause of the mishap--had she stared noticeably, and he been angry at an +impertinence? Her cheeks burned and in a misery of shyness she forced +her eyes to his face. Her contrition was needless. Heedless of her he +was looking at the splintered glass between his fingers with a faint +expression of surprise, as if his wandering thoughts were but half +recalled by the accident. For a moment he stared at the shattered +pieces--then laid them down indifferently. + +Gillian smothered an hysterical inclination to laugh. He was so totally +negligent of her presence that even this little incident had failed to +make him sensible of her scrutiny. Immersed in his thoughts he was +very obviously miles away from Craven Towers and the vicinity of a +troublesome ward. And suddenly it hurt. She was nothing to him but a +shy _gauche_ girl whose very existence was an embarrassment. The +determination so bravely formed died before his cold detachment. More +than ever was speech impossible. + +She shrugged faintly with a little pout. So, confident of his +preoccupation, she continued to study him. Had the homecoming +intensified the sadness of his eyes and deepened the lines about his +mouth?--were memories of the mother he had adored sharpening tonight +the look of suffering on his face? Or was her imagination, over-excited, +exaggerating what she saw and fancying a great sorrow where there was +only boredom? She pondered, and had almost concluded that the latter was +the saner explanation when--watching--she saw a sudden spasm cross his +face of such agony that she caught her lip fiercely between her teeth +to stifle an exclamation. In the fleeting expression of a moment she +had seen the revelation of a soul in torment. She looked away hastily, +feeling dismayed at having trespassed. She had discovered a secret +wound. She sat tense, and a quick fear came lest the others might have +also seen. She glanced at them furtively. But the argument was +still unsettled, the tablecloth between them scored and creased with +conflicting sketches. She drew a sharp little sigh of relief. Only she +had noticed, and she did not matter. For a few moments her thoughts +ran riot until she pulled them up frowningly. It was no business of +hers--she had no right even to speculate on his affairs. Angry with +herself she turned for distraction to the portraits on the walls--they +at least would offer no disturbing problem. But her determination to +keep her thoughts from her guardian met with a check at the outset for +she found herself staring at Barry Craven as she had visualised him in +that first moment of meeting--steel-clad. It was the picture of a young +man, dressed in the style of the Elizabethan period, wearing a light +inlaid cuirass and leaning negligently against a stone balustrade, +a hooded falcon on his wrist. The resemblance to the owner of Craven +Towers was remarkable--the same build, the same haughty carriage of the +head, the same features and colouring; the mouth only of the painted +gallant differed, for the lips were not set sternly but curved in a +singularly winning smile. The portrait had recently been cleaned and +the colours stood out freshly. The pose of the figure was curiously +unrestrained for the period, a suggestion of energy--barely concealed by +the indolent attitude--broke through the conventional treatment of the +time, as if the painter had responded to an influence that had overcome +tradition. The whole body seemed to pulsate with life. Gillian looked at +it entranced; instinctively her eyes sought the pictured hands. The one +that held the falcon was covered with an embroidered leather glove, but +the other was bare, holding a set of jesses. And even the hands were +similar, the characteristics faithfully transmitted. Peters' voice +startled her. “You are looking at the first Barry Craven, Miss Locke. It +is a wonderful picture. The resemblance is extraordinary, is it not?” + +She looked up and met the agent's magnetic smile across the table. + +“It is--extraordinary,” she said slowly; “it might be a costume portrait +of Mr. Craven, except that in treatment the picture is so different from +a modern painting.” + +Peters laughed. + +“The professional eye, Miss Locke! But I am glad that you admit the +likeness. I should have quarrelled horribly with you if you had failed +to see it. The young man in the picture,” he went on, warming to the +subject as he saw the girl's interest, “was one of the most romantic +personages of his time. He lived in the reign of Elizabeth and was +poet, sculptor, and musician--there are two volumes of his verse in +the library and the marble Hermes in the hall is his work. When he +was seventeen he left the Towers to go to court. He seems to have been +universally beloved, judging from various letters that have come down +to us. He was a close friend of Sir Philip Sidney and one of Spenser's +numerous patrons. A special favourite with Elizabeth--in fact her +partiality seems to have been a source of some embarrassment, according +to entries in his private journal. She knighted him for no particular +reason that has ever transpired, indeed it seems to have been a matter +of surprise to himself, for he records it in his journal thus: + +“'--dubbed knight this day by Gloriana. God He knoweth why, but not I.' +He was an idealist and visionary, with the power of putting his thoughts +into words--his love poems are the most beautiful I have ever read, but +they are quite impersonal. There is no evidence that his love was ever +given to any 'faire ladye.' No woman's name was ever connected with his, +and from his detached attitude towards the tender passion he earned, in +a fantastical court, the euphuistic appellation of _L'amant d' Amour._ +Quite suddenly, after ten years in the queen's household, he fitted out +an expedition to America. He gave no reason. Distaste for the artificial +existence prevailing at Court, sorrow at the death of his friend +Sidney, or a wander-hunger fed on the tales brought home by the numerous +merchant adventurers may have been the cause of this surprising step. +His decision provoked dismay among his friends and brought a furious +tirade from Elizabeth who commanded him to remain near her. But in spite +of royal oaths and entreaties--more of the former than the latter--he +sailed to Virginia on a land expedition. Two letters came from him +during the next few years, but after that--silence. His fate is +not known. He was the first of many Cravens to vanish into oblivion +searching for new lands.” The pleasant voice hesitated and dropped to a +lower, more serious note. And Gillian was puzzled at the sudden anxiety +that clouded the agent's smiling blue eyes. She had listened with eager +interest. It was history brought close and made alive in its intimate +connection with the house. The dream castle was more wonderful even +than she had thought. She smiled her thanks at Peters, and drew a long +breath. + +“I like that,” and looking at the picture again, “the Lover of Love!” + she repeated softly; “it's a very beautiful idea.” + +“A very unsatisfactory one for any poor soul who may have been fool +enough to lose her heart to him.” Miss Craven's voice was caustic. + +“I have often wondered if any demoiselle 'pined in a green and yellow +melancholy for his sake,' she added, rising from the table. + +“Reason enough, if he knew of it, for going to Virginia,” said Craven, +with a hard laugh. “The family traditions have never tended to undue +consideration of the weaker sex.” + +“Barry, you are horrible!” + +“Possibly, my dear aunt, but correct,” he replied coolly, crossing the +room to open the door. “Even Peter, who has the family history at his +fingers' ends, cannot deny it.” His voice was provocative but Peters, +beyond a mildly sarcastic “--thank you for the 'even,' Barry--” refused +to be drawn. + +Her nephew's words would formerly have aroused a storm of indignant +protest from Miss Craven, touched in a tender spot. But now some +intuition warned her to silence. She put her arm through Gillian's and +left the room without attempting to expostulate. + +In the drawing room she sat down to a patience table, lit a cigarette, +rumpled her hair, and laid out the cards frowningly. More than ever +was she convinced that in the two years he had been away some serious +disaster had occurred. His whole character appeared to have undergone +a change. He was totally different. The old Barry had been neither hard +nor cynical, the new Barry was both. In the last few weeks she had had +ample opportunity for judging. She perceived that a heavy shadow +lay upon him darkening his home-coming--she had pictured it so very +differently, and she sighed over the futility of anticipation. His +happiness meant to her so much that she raged at her inability to help +him. Until he spoke she could do nothing. And she knew that he would +never speak. The nightly occupation lost its usual zest, so she shuffled +the cards absently and began a fresh game. + +Gillian was on the hearthrug, Houston's head in her lap. She leant +against Miss Craven's chair, dreaming as she had dreamt in the old +convent until the sudden lifting of the dog's head under her hands made +her aware of Peters standing beside her. He looked down silently on the +card table for a few moments, pointed with a nicotine-stained finger to +a move Miss Craven had missed and then wandered across the room and sat +down at the piano. For a while his hands moved silently over the keys, +then he began to play, and his playing was exquisite. Gillian sat and +marvelled. Peters and music had seemed widely apart. He had appeared +so essentially a sportsman; in spite of the literary tendency that his +sympathetic account of the Elizabethan Barry Craven had suggested +she had associated him with rougher, more physical pursuits. He was +obviously an out-door man; a gun seemed a more natural complement to +his hands than the sensitive keys of a piano, his thick rather clumsy +fingers manifestly incompatible with the delicate touch that was filling +the room with wonderful harmony. It was a check to her cherished theory +which she acknowledged reluctantly. But she forgot to theorise in the +sheer joy of listening. + +“Why did he not make music a career?” she whispered, under cover of some +crashing chords. Miss Craven smiled at her eager face. + +“Can you see Peter kow-towing to concert directors, and grimacing at an +audience?” she replied, rescuing a king from her rubbish heap. + +With an answering smile Gillian subsided into her former position. +Music moved her deeply and her highly strung artistic temperament was +responding to the beauty of Peters' playing. It was a Russian folk song, +plaintive and simple, with a curious minor refrain like the sigh of an +aching heart--wild sad harmony with pain in it that gripped the throat. +Swayed by the sorrow-haunted music a wave of foreboding came over her, a +strange indefinite fear that was formless but that weighed on her like +a crushing burden. The happiness of the last few weeks seemed suddenly +swamped in the recollection of the misery rampant in the world. Who, +if their inmost hearts were known, were truly happy? And her thoughts, +becoming more personal, flitted back over the desolate days of her own +sad girlhood and then drifted to the tragedy of her father. Then, with +a forward leap that brought her suddenly to the present, she thought of +the sorrow she had seen on Craven's face in that breathless moment at +dinner time. Was there only sadness in the world? The brooding brown +eyes grew misty. A passionate prayer welled up in her heart that +complete happiness might touch her once, if only for a moment. + +Then the music changed and with it the girl's mood. She gave her head +a little backward jerk and blinked the moisture from her eyes angrily. +What was the matter with her? Surely she was the most ungrateful girl in +the universe. If there was sorrow in the world for her then it must +be of her own making. She had been shown almost unbelievable kindness, +nothing had been omitted to make her happy. The contrast of her life +only a few weeks ago and now was immeasurable. What more did she want? +Was she so selfish that she could even think of the unhappiness that was +over? Shame filled her, and she raised her eyes to the woman beside her +with a sudden rush of gratitude and love. But Miss Craven, interested at +last in her game, was blind to her surroundings, and with a little smile +Gillian turned her attention to the silent occupant of the chair near +her. Craven had come into the room a few minutes before. He was leaning +back listlessly, one hand shading his face, a neglected cigarette +dangling from the other. She looked at him long and earnestly, +wondering, as she always wondered, what association there had been +between him and such a man as her father--what had induced him to take +upon himself the burden that had been laid upon him. And her cheeks +grew hot again at the thought of the encumbrance she was to him. It was +preposterous that he should be so saddled! + +She stifled a sigh and her eyes grew dreamy as she fell to thinking of +the future that lay before her. And as she planned with eager confidence +her hand moved soothingly over the dog's head in measure to the +languorous waltz that Peters was playing. + +After a sudden unexpected chord the player rose from the piano and +joined the circle at the other end of the room. Miss Craven was +shuffling vigorously. “Thank you, Peter,” she said, with a smiling nod, +“it's like old times to hear you play again. Gillian thinks you have +missed your vocation, she would like to see you at the Queen's Hall.” + +Peters laughed at the girl's blushing protest and sat down near the card +table. Miss Craven paused in a deal to light a fresh cigarette. + +“What's the news in the county?” she asked, adding for Gillian's +benefit: “He's a walking chronicle, my dear.” + +Peters laughed. “Nothing startling, dear lady. We have been a singularly +well-behaved community of late. Old Lacy of Holmwood is dead, Bill Lacy +reigns in his stead and is busy cutting down oaks to pay for youthful +indiscretions--none of 'em very fierce when all's said and done. The +Hamer-Banisters have gone under at last--more's the pity--and Hamer +is let to some wealthy Australians who are possessed apparently of +unlimited cash, a most curious phraseology, and an assurance which is +beautiful to behold. They had good introductions and Alex has taken them +up enthusiastically--there are kindred tastes.” + +“Horses, I presume. How are the Horringfords?” + +“Much as usual,” replied Peters. “Horringford is absorbed in things +Egyptian, and Alex is on the warpath again,” he added darkly. + +Miss Craven grinned. + +“What is it this time?” + +Peters' eyebrows twitched quaintly. + +“Socialism!” he chuckled, “a brand new, highly original conception of +that very elastic term. I asked Alex to explain the principles of this +particular organization and she was very voluble and rather cryptic. It +appears to embrace the rights of man, the elevation of the masses, the +relations between landlord and tenant, the psychological deterioration +of the idle rich--” + +“Alex and psychology--good heavens!” interposed Miss Craven, her hands +at her hair, “and the amelioration of the downtrodden poor,” continued +Peters. “It doesn't sound very original, but I'm told that the +propaganda is novel in the extreme. Alex is hard at work among their own +people,” he concluded, leaning back in his chair with a laugh. + +“But--the downtrodden poor! I thought Horringford was a model landlord +and his estates an example to the kingdom.” + +“Precisely. That's the humour of it. But a little detail like that +wouldn't deter Alex. It will be an interest for the summer, she's always +rather at a loose end when there's no hunting. She had taken up this +socialistic business very thoroughly, organizing meetings and lectures. +A completely new scheme for the upbringing of children seems to be a +special sideline of the campaign. I'm rather vague there--I know I made +Alex very angry by telling her that it reminded me of intensive market +gardening. That Alex has no children of her own presents no difficulty +to her--she is full of the most beautiful theories. But theories don't +seem to go down very well with the village women. She was routed the +other day by the mother of a family who told her bluntly to her face she +didn't know what she was talking about--which was doubtless perfectly +true. But the manner of telling seems to have been disagreeable and +Alex was very annoyed and complained to Thomson, the new agent. He, poor +chap, was between the devil and the deep sea, for the tenants had also +been complaining that they were being interfered with. So he had to go +to Horringford and there was a royal row. The upshot of it was that Alex +rang me up on the 'phone this morning to tell me that Horringford was +behaving like a bear, that he was so wrapped up in his musty mummies +that he hadn't a spark of philanthropy in him, and that she was coming +over to lunch tomorrow to tell me all about it--she's delighted to hear +that the house is open again, and will come on to you for tea, when +you will doubtless get a second edition of her woes. Half-an-hour later +Horringford rang me up to say that Alex had been particularly tiresome +over some new crank which had set everybody by the ears, that Thomson +was sending in a resignation daily, altogether there was the deuce to +pay, and would I use my influence and talk sense to her. It appears he +is working at high pressure to finish a monograph on one of the Pharaohs +and was considerably ruffled at being interrupted.” + +“If he cared a little less for the Pharaohs and a little more for +Alex--” suggested Miss Craven, blowing smoke rings thoughtfully. Peters +shook his head. + +“He did care--that's the pity of it,” he said slowly, “but what can you +expect?--you know how it was. Alex was a child married when she should +have been in the schoolroom, without a voice in the matter. Horringford +was nearly twenty years her senior, always reserved and absorbed in +his Egyptian researches. Alex hadn't an idea in the world outside the +stables. Horringford bored her infinitely, and with Alex-like honesty +she did not hesitate to tell him so. They hadn't a thought in common. +She couldn't see the sterling worth of the man, so they drifted apart +and Horringford retired more than ever into his shell.” + +“And what do you propose to do, Peter?” Craven's sudden question was +startling, for he had not appeared to be listening to the conversation. + +Peters lit a cigarette and smoked for a few moments before answering. +“I shall listen to all Alex has to say,” he said at last, “then I shall +tell her a few things I think she ought to know, and I shall persuade +her to ask Horringford to take her with him to Egypt next winter.” + +“Why?” + +“Because Horringford in Egypt and Horringford in England are two very +different people. I know--because I have seen. It's an idea, it may +work. Anyhow it's worth trying.” + +“But suppose her ladyship does not succumb to your persuasive tongue?” + +“She will--before I've done with her,” replied Peters grimly, and then +he laughed. “I guessed from what she said this morning that she was a +little frightened at the hornet's nest she had raised. I imagine she +won't be sorry to run away for a while and let things settle down. She +can ease off gently in the meantime and give Egypt as an excuse for +finally withdrawing.” + +“You think Alex is more to blame than Horringford?” said Miss Craven, +with a note of challenge in her voice. + +Peters shrugged. “I blame them both. But above all I blame the system +that has been responsible for the trouble.” + +“You mean that Alex should have been allowed to choose her own husband? +She was such a child--” + +“And Horringford was such a devil of a good match,” interposed Craven +cynically, moving from his chair to the padded fireguard. Gillian was +sitting on the arm of Miss Craven's chair, sorting the patience cards +into a leather case. She looked up quickly. “I thought that in +England all girls choose their own husbands, that they marry to please +themselves, I mean,” she said in a puzzled voice. + +“Theoretically they do, my dear,” replied Miss Craven, “in practice +numbers do not. The generality of girls settle their own futures and +choose their own husbands. But there are still many old-fashioned people +who arrogate to themselves the right of settling their daughters' lives, +who have so trained them that resistance to family wishes becomes almost +an impossibility. A good suitor presents himself, parental pressure is +brought to bear--and the deed is done. Witness the case of Alex. In a +few years she probably would have chosen for herself, wisely. As it was, +marriage had never entered her head.” + +“She couldn't have chosen a better man,” said Peters warmly, “if he had +only been content to wait a year or two--” + +“Alex would probably have eloped with a groom or a circus rider before +she reached years of discretion!” laughed Miss Craven. “But it's a +difficult question, the problem of husband choosing,” she went +on thoughtfully. “Being a bachelor I can discuss it with perfect +equanimity. But if in a moment of madness I had married and acquired a +houseful of daughters, I should have nervous prostration every time a +strange man showed his nose inside the door.” + +“You don't set us on a very high plane, dear lady,” said Peters +reproachfully. + +“My good soul, I set you on no plane at all--know too much about you!” + she smiled. Peters laughed. “What's your opinion, Barry?” + +Since his one interruption Craven had been silent, as if the discussion +had ceased to interest him. He did not answer Peters' question for some +time and when at last he spoke his voice was curiously strained. “I +don't think my opinion counts for very much, but it seems to me that +the woman takes a big risk either way. A man never knows what kind of a +blackguard he may prove in circumstances that may arise.” + +An awkward pause followed. Miss Craven kept her eyes fixed on the card +table with a feeling of nervous apprehension that was new to her. Her +nephew's words and the bitterness of his tone seemed fraught with hidden +meaning, and she racked her brains to find a topic that would lessen +the tension that seemed to have fallen on the room. But Peters broke +the silence before it became noticeable. “The one person present whom +it most nearly concerns has not given us her view. What do you say, Miss +Locke?” + +Gillian flushed faintly. It was still difficult to join in a general +conversation, to remember that she might at any moment be called upon to +put forward ideas of her own. + +“I am afraid I am prejudiced. I was brought up in a convent--in France,” + she said hesitatingly. “Then you hold with the French custom of arranged +marriages?” suggested Peters. Her dark eyes looked seriously into his. +“I think it is--safer,” she said slowly. + +“And consequently, happier?” The colour deepened in her face. “Oh, +I don't know. I do not understand English ways. I can speak only +of France. We talked of it in the convent--naturally, since it was +forbidden, _que voulez vous?_” she smiled. “Some of my friends were +married. Their parents arranged the marriages. It seems that--” she +stammered and went on hurriedly--“that there is much to be considered in +choosing a husband, much that--girls do not understand, that only older +people know. So it is perhaps better that they should arrange a matter +which is so serious and so--so lasting. They must know more than we do,” + she added quietly. + +“And are your friends happy?” asked Miss Craven bluntly. + +“They are content.” + +Miss Craven snorted. “Content!” she said scornfully. “Marriage should +bring more than contentment. It's a meagre basis on which to found a +life partnership.” + +A shadow flitted across the girl's face. + +“I had a friend who married for love,” she said slowly. “She belonged +to the old noblesse, and her family wished her to make a great marriage. +But she loved an artist and married him in spite of all opposition. For +six months she was the happiest girl in France--then she found out that +her husband was unfaithful. Does it shock you that I speak of it--we all +knew in the convent. She went to Capri soon afterwards, to a villa her +father had given her, and one morning she went out to swim--it was a +daily habit, she could do anything in the water. But that morning she +swam out to sea--and she did not come back.” The low voice sank almost +to a whisper. Miss Craven looked up incredulously. “Do you mean she +deliberately drowned herself?” Gillian made a little gesture of evasion. +“She was very unhappy,” she said softly. And in the silence that +followed her troubled gaze turned almost unconsciously to her guardian. +He had risen and was standing with his hands in his pockets staring +straight in front of him, rigidly still. His attitude suggested complete +detachment from those about him, as if his spirit was ranging far afield +leaving the big frame empty, impenetrable as a figure of stone. She +was sensitive to his lack of interest. She regretted having expressed +opinions that she feared were immature and valueless. A quick sigh +escaped her, and Miss Craven, misunderstanding, patted her shoulder +gently. “It's a very sad little story, my dear.” + +“And one that serves to confirm your opinion that a girl does well to +accept the husband who is chosen for her, Miss Locke?” asked Peters +abruptly, as he glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. + +Gillian joined in the general move. + +“I think it is--safer,” she said, as she had said before, and stooped to +rouse the sleeping poodle. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Miss Craven was sitting alone in the library at the Towers. She had been +reading, but the book had failed to hold her attention and lay unheeded +on her lap while she was plunged in a profound reverie. + +She sat very still, her usually serene face clouded, and once or twice a +heavy sigh escaped her. + +The short November day was drawing in and though still early afternoon +it was already growing dark. The declining light was more noticeable in +the library than elsewhere in the house--a sombre room once the morning +sun had passed; long and narrow and panelled in oak to a height of +about twelve feet, above which ran a gallery reached by a hammered iron +stairway, it housed a collection of calf and vellum bound books which +clothed the walls from the floor of the gallery to within a few feet of +the lofty ceiling. On the fourth side of the room, whither the gallery +did not extend, three tall narrow windows overlooked the drive. The +furniture was scanty and severely Jacobean, having for more than two +hundred years remained practically intact; a ponderous writing table, +a couple of long low cabinets, and half a dozen cavernous armchairs +recushioned to suit modern requirements of ease. Some fine old bronzes +stood against the panelled walls. There was about the room a settled +peacefulness. The old furniture had a stately air of permanence. +The polished panels, and, above, the orderly ranks of ancient books +suggested durability; they remained--while generations of men came and +passed, transient figures reflected in the shining oak, handling for a +few brief years the printed treasures that would still be read centuries +after they had returned to their dust. + +The spirit of the house seemed embodied in this big silent room that was +spacious and yet intimate, formal and yet friendly. + +It was Miss Craven's favourite retreat. The atmosphere was sympathetic. +Here she seemed more particularly in touch with the subtle influence of +family that seemed to pervade the whole house. In most of the rooms it +was perceptible, but in the library it was forceful. + +The house and the family--they were bound up inseparably. + +For hundreds of years, in an unbroken line, from father to son ... +from father to son.... Miss Craven sat bolt upright to the sound of an +unmistakable sob. She looked with amazement at two tears blistering the +page of the open book on her knee. She had not knowingly cried since +childhood. It was a good thing that she was alone she thought, with a +startled glance round the empty room. She would have to keep a firmer +hold over herself than that. She laughed a little shakily, choked, blew +her nose vigorously, and walked to the middle window. Outside was stark +November. The wind swept round the house in fierce gusts before which +the big bare-branched trees in the park swayed and bowed, and trains +of late fallen leaves caught in a whirlwind eddied skyward to scatter +widely down again. + +Rain lashed the window panes. Yet even when storm-tossed the scene had +its own peculiar charm. At all seasons it was lovely. + +Miss Craven looked at the massive trees, beautiful in their clean +nakedness, and wondered how often she would see them bud again. +Frowning, she smothered a rising sigh and pressing closer to the window +peered out more attentively. Eastward and westward stretched long +avenues that curved and receded soon from sight. The gravelled space +before the house was wide; from it two shorter avenues encircling a +large oval paddock led to the stables, built at some distance facing the +house, but hidden by a belt of firs. + +For some time Miss Craven watched, but only a game-keeper passed, a +drenched setter at his heels, and with a little shiver she turned back +to the room. She moved about restlessly, lifting books to lay them down +immediately, ransacking the cabinets for prints that at a second glance +failed to interest, and examining the bronzes that she had known from +childhood with lengthy intentness as if she saw them now for the first +time. + +A footman came and silently replenished the fire. Her thoughts, +interrupted, swung into a new channel. She sat down at the writing table +and drawing toward her a sheet of paper slowly wrote the date. Beyond +that she did not get. The ink dried on the pen as she stared at the +blank sheet, unable to express as she wished the letter she had intended +to write. + +She laid the silver holder down at last with a hopeless gesture and her +eyes turned to a bronze figure that served as a paper weight. It was a +piece of her own work and she handled it lovingly with a curiously sad +smile until a second hard sob broke from her and pushing it away she +covered her face with her hands. + +“Not for myself, God knows it's not for myself,” she whispered, as if +in extenuation. And mastering herself with an effort she made a second +attempt to write but at the end of half a dozen words rose impatiently, +crumpled the paper in her hand and walking to the fireplace threw it +among the blazing logs. + +She watched it curl and discolour, the writing blackly distinct, +and crumble into ashes. Then from force of habit she searched for +a cigarette in a box on the mantelpiece, but as she lit it a sudden +thought arrested her and after a moment's hesitation the cigarette +followed the half--written letter into the fire. + +With an impatient shrug she went back to an arm chair and again tried to +read, but though her eyes mechanically followed the words on the printed +page she did not notice what she was reading and laying the book down +she gave up all further endeavour to distract her wandering thoughts. +They were not pleasant and when, a little later, the door opened she +turned her head expectantly with a sigh of relief. Peters came in +briskly. + +“I've come to inquire,” he said laughing, “the family pew held me in +solitary state this morning. Time was when I never minded, but this +last year has spoiled me. I was booked for lunch but I came as soon as I +could. Nobody ill, I hope?” + +Miss Craven looked at him for a moment before answering as he stood with +his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him, his face ruddy with +the wind and rain, his keen blue eyes on hers, reliable, unchanging. +It was a curious chance that had brought him--just at that moment. The +temptation to make an unusual confidence rose strongly. She had known +him and trusted him for more years than she cared to remember. How much +to say? Indecision held her. + +“You are always thoughtful, Peter,” she temporised. “I am afraid there +is no excuse,” with a little smile; “Barry rode off somewhere quite +early this morning and Gillian went yesterday to the Horringfords. +I expect her back to-day in time for tea. For myself, I had gout or +rheumatism or the black dog on my back, I forget which! Anyhow, I +stayed at home.” She laughed and pointed to the cigarettes. He took one, +tapping it on his thumbnail. + +“You were alone. Why didn't you 'phone? I should have been glad +to escape the Australians. They are enormously kind, but +somewhat--er--overwhelming,” he added with a quick laugh. + +“My dear man, be thankful I never thought of it. I've been like a bear +with a sore head all day.” She looked past him into the fire, and struck +by a new note in her voice he refrained from comment, smoking slowly and +luxuriating in the warmth after a cold wet drive in an open motor. He +never used a closed car. But some words she had used struck him. “Barry +is riding--?” with a glance at the storm raging outside. + +“Yes. He had breakfast at an unearthly hour and went off early. Weather +seems to make no difference to him, but he will be soaked to the skin.” + +“He's tough,” replied Peters shortly. “I thought he must be out. As I +came in just now Yoshio was hanging about the hall, watching the drive. +Waiting for him, I suppose,” he added, flicking a curl of ash into the +fire. “He's a treasure of a valet,” he supplemented conversationally. +But Miss Craven let the observation pass. She was still staring into the +leaping flames, drumming with her fingers on the arms of the chair. +Once she tried to speak but no words came. Peters waited. He felt +unaccountably but definitely that she wished him to wait, that what was +evidently on her mind would come with no prompting from him. He felt in +her attitude a tension that was unusual--to-day she was totally unlike +herself. Once or twice only in the course of a lifelong friendship she +had shown him her serious side. She had turned to him for help then--he +seemed presciently aware that she was turning to him for help now. +He prided himself that he knew her as well as she knew herself and he +understood the effort it would cost her to speak. That he guessed the +cause of her trouble was no short cut to getting that trouble uttered. +She would take her own time, he could not go half-way to meet her. He +must stand by and wait. When had he ever done anything else at Craven +Towers? His eyes glistened curiously in the firelight, and he rammed his +hands down into his jacket pockets with abrupt jerkiness. Suddenly Miss +Craven broke the silence. + +“Peter--I'm horribly worried about Barry,” the words came with a rush. +He understood her too well to cavil. + +“Dear lady, so am I,” he replied with a promptness that did not console. + +“Peter, what is it?” she went on breathlessly. “Barry is utterly +changed. You see it as well as I. I don't understand--I'm all at sea--I +want your help. I couldn't discuss him with anybody else, but you--you +are one of us, you've always been one of us. Fair weather or foul, +you've stood by us. What we should have done without you God only knows. +You care for Barry, he's as dear to you as he is to me, can't you do +something? The suffering in his face--the tragedy in his eyes--I wake +up in the night seeing them! Peter, can't you _do_ something?” She was +beside him, clutching at the mantel-shelf, shaking with emotion. The +sight of her unnerved, almost incoherent, shocked him. He realised the +depth of the impression that had been made upon her--deep indeed to +produce such a result. But what she asked was impossible. He made a +little negative gesture and shook his head. + +“Dear lady, I can't do anything. And I wonder whether you know how it +hurts to have to say so? No son could be dearer to me than Barry--for +the sake of his mother--” his voice faltered momentarily, “but the fact +remains--he is not my son. I am only his agent. There are certain things +I cannot do and say, no matter how great the wish,” he added with a +twisted smile. + +Miss Craven seemed scarcely to be listening. “It happened in Japan,” she +asserted in fierce low tones. “Japan! Japan!” she continued vehemently, +“how much more sorrow is that country to bring to our family! It +happened in Japan and whatever it was--Yoshio knows! You spoke of him +just now. You said he was hanging about--waiting--watching. Peter, he's +doing it all the time! He watches continually. Barry never has to send +for him--he's always there, waiting to be called. When Barry goes out +the man is restless until he comes in again--haunting the hall--it +gets on my nerves. Yet there is nothing I can actually complain of. He +doesn't intrude, he is as noiseless as a cat and vanishes if he +sees you, but you know that just out of sight he's still +there--waiting--listening. Peter, what is he waiting for? I don't think +that it is apparent to the rest of the household, I didn't notice it +myself at first. But a few months ago something happened and since then +I don't seem able to get away from it. It was in the night, about two +o'clock; I was wakeful and couldn't sleep. I thought if I read I might +read myself sleepy. I hadn't a book in my room that pleased me and I +remembered a half-finished novel I had left in the library. I didn't +take a light--I know every turn in the Towers blindfold. As you know, +to reach the staircase from my room I have to pass Barry's door, and at +Barry's door I fell over something in the darkness--something with hands +of steel that saved me from an awkward tumble and hurried me down the +passage and into the moonlit gallery before I could find a word of +expostulation. Yoshio of course. I was naturally startled and angry +in consequence. I demanded an explanation and after a great deal of +hesitation he muttered something about Barry wanting him--which is +ridiculous on the face of it. If Barry had really wanted him he would +have been inside the room, not crouched outside on the door mat. He +seemed very upset and kept begging me to say nothing about it. I don't +remember how he put it but he certainly conveyed the impression that it +would not be good for Barry to know. I don't understand it--Barry trusts +him implicitly--and yet this.... I'm afraid, and I've never been afraid +in my life before.” The little break in her voice hurt him. He felt +curiously unable to cope with the situation. Her story disturbed him +more than he cared to let her see in her present condition of unwonted +agitation. Twice in the past they had stood shoulder to shoulder through +a crisis of sufficient magnitude and she had showed then a cautious +judgment, a reliability of purpose that had been purely masculine in +its strength and sanity. She had been wholly matter-of-fact and +unimaginative, unswayed by petty trivialities and broad in her decision. +She had displayed a levelness of mind which had almost excluded +feeling and which had enabled him to deal with her as with another man, +confident of her understanding and the unlikelihood of her succumbing +unexpectedly to ordinary womanly weaknesses. He had thought that he +knew her thoroughly, that no circumstance that might arise could alter +characteristics so set and inherent. But to-day her present emotion +which had come perilously near hysteria, showed her in a new light +that made her almost a stranger. He was a little bewildered with the +discovery. It was incredible after all these years, just as if an +edifice that he had thought strongly built of stone had tumbled about +his ears like a pack of cards. He could hardly grasp it. He felt that +there was something behind it all--something more than she admitted. +He was tempted to ask definitely but second reflection brought the +conviction that it would be a mistake, that it would be taking an unfair +advantage. Sufficient unto the day--his present concern was to help her +regain a normal mental poise. And to do that he must ignore half of what +her suggestions seemed to imply. He felt her breakdown acutely, he must +say nothing that would add to her distress of mind. It was better to +appear obtuse than to concur too heartily in fears, a recollection of +which in a saner moment he knew would be distasteful to her. She would +never forgive herself--the less she had to forget the better. She +trusted him or she would never have spoken at all. That he knew and he +was honoured by her confidence. They had always been friends, but in her +weakness he felt nearer to her than ever before. She was waiting for him +to speak. He chose the line that seemed the least open to argument. +He spoke at last, evenly, unwilling alike to seem incredulous or +overanxious, his big steady hand closing warmly over her twitching +fingers. + +“I don't think there is any cause--any reason to doubt Yoshio's +fidelity. The man is devoted to Barry. His behaviour certainly +sounds--curious, but can be attributed I am convinced to +over-zealousness. He is an alien in a strange land, cut off from his +own natural distractions and amusements, and with time on his hands his +devotion to his master takes a more noticeable form than is usual with +an ordinary English man-servant. That he designs any harm I cannot +believe. He has been with Barry a long time--on the several occasions +when he stayed with him at your house in London did you notice anything +in his behaviour then similar to the attitude you have observed +recently? No? Then I take it that it is due to the same anxiety that we +ourselves have felt since Barry's return. Only in Yoshio's case it is +probably based on definite knowledge, whereas ours is pure conjecture. +Barry has undoubtedly been up against something--momentous. Between +ourselves we can admit the fact frankly. It is a different man who has +come back to us--and we can only carry on and notice nothing. He is +trying to forget something. He has worked like a nigger since he came +home, slogging away down at the estate office as if he had his bread to +earn. He does the work of two men--and he hates it. I see him sometimes, +forgetful of his surroundings, staring out of the window, and the look +on his face brings a confounded lump into my throat. Thank God he's +young--perhaps in time--” he shrugged and broke off inconclusively, +conscious of the futility of platitudes. And they were all he had to +offer. There was no suggestion he could make, nothing he could do. It +was repetition of history, again he had to stand by and watch suffering +he was powerless to aid, powerless to relieve. The mother first and now +the son--it would seem almost as if he had failed both. The sense of +helplessness was bitter and his face was drawn with pain as he stared +dumbly at the window against which the storm was beating with renewed +violence. The sight of the angry elements brought almost a feeling of +relief; it would be something that he could contend with and overcome, +something that would go towards mitigating the galling sense of +impotence that chafed him. He felt the room suddenly stifling, he wanted +the cold sting of the rain against his face, the roar of the wind in the +trees above his head. Abruptly he buttoned his jacket in preparation +for departure. Miss Craven pulled herself together. She laid a detaining +hand on his arm. “Peter,” she said slowly, “do you think that Barry's +trouble has any connection with--my brother? The change of pictures in +the dining-room--it was so strange. He said it was a reparation. Do you +think Barry--found out something in Japan?” + +Peter shook his head. “God knows,” he said gruffly. For a moment there +was silence, then with a sigh Miss Craven moved towards a bell. + +“You'll stay for tea?” + +“Thanks, no. I've got a man coming over, I'll have to go. Give my love +to Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon for deserting me +this morning. Has she lost that nasty cough yet?” + +“Almost. I didn't want her to go to the Horringfords, but she promised +to be careful.” Miss Craven paused, then: + +“What did we do without Gillian, Peter?” she said with an odd little +laugh. + +“'You've got me guessing,' as Atherton says. She's a witch, bless her!” + he replied, holding out his hands. Miss Craven took them and held them +for a moment. + +“You're the best pal I ever had, Peter,” she said unsteadily, “and +you've given all your life to us Cravens.” + +The sudden gripping of his hands was painful, then he bent his head and +unexpectedly put his lips to the fingers he held so closely. + +“I'm always here--when you want me,” he said huskily, and was gone. + +Miss Craven stood still looking after him with a curious smile. + +“Thank God for Peter,” she said fervently, and went back to her station +by the window. It was considerably darker than before, but for some +distance the double avenue leading to the stables was visible. As she +watched, playing absently with the blind-cord, her mind dwelt on the +long connection between Peter Peters and her family. Thirty years--the +best of his life. And in exchange sorrow and an undying memory. The +woman he loved had chosen not him but handsome inconsequent Barry Craven +and, for her choice, had reaped misery and loneliness. And because +he had known that inevitably a day would come when she would need +assistance and support he had sunk his own feelings and retained his +post. Her brief happiness had been hard to watch--the subsequent long +years of her desertion a protracted torture. He had raged at his own +helplessness. And ignorant of his love and the motive that kept him at +Craven Towers she had come to lean on him and refer all to him. But for +his care the Craven properties would have been ruined, and the Craven +interests neglected beyond repair. + +For some time before her sister-in-law's death Miss Craven had known, as +only a woman can know, but now for the first time she had heard from +his lips a half-confession of the love that he had guarded jealously for +thirty years. + +The unusual tears that to-day seemed so curiously near the surface rose +despite her and she blinked the moisture from her eyes with a feeling of +irritated shame. + +Then a figure, almost indistinguishable in the gloom, coming from the +stables, caught her eye and she gave a sharp sigh of relief. + +He was walking slowly, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders +hunched against the storm of wind and rain that beat on his broad back. +His movements suggested intense weariness, yet nearing the house his +step lagged even more as if, despite physical fatigue and the inclement +weather, he was rather forcing himself to return than showing a natural +desire for shelter. + +There was in his tread a heaviness that contrasted forcibly with the +elasticity that had formerly been characteristic. As he passed close by +the window where Miss Craven was standing she saw that he was splashed +from head to foot. She thought with sudden compassion of the horse that +he had ridden. She had been in the stables only a few weeks before when +he had handed over another jaded mud-caked brute trembling in every +limb and showing signs of merciless riding to the old head groom who +had maintained a stony silence as was his duty but whose grim face +was eloquent of all he might not say. It was so unlike Barry to +be inconsiderate, toward animals he had been always peculiarly +tender-hearted. + +She hurried out to the hall, almost cannoning with a little dark-clad +figure who gave way with a deep Oriental reverence. “Master very wet,” + he murmured, and vanished. + +“There's some sense in him,” she muttered grudgingly. And quite suddenly +a wholly unexpected sympathy dawned for the inscrutable Japanese +whom she had hitherto disliked. But she had no time to dwell on her +unaccountable change of feeling for through the glass of the inner door +she saw Craven in the vestibule struggling stiffly to rid himself of a +dripping mackintosh. It had been no protection for the driving rain +had penetrated freely, and as he fumbled at the buttons with slow cold +fingers the water ran off him in little trickling streams on to the mat. + +She had no wish to convey the impression that she had been waiting for +him. She met him as if by accident, hailing him with surprise that rang +genuine. + +“Hallo, Barry, just in time for tea! I know you don't usually indulge, +but you can do an act of grace on this one occasion by cheering my +solitude. Peter looked in for ten minutes but had to hurry away for an +engagement, and Gillian is not yet back.” + +His face was haggard but he smiled in reply, “All right. In the library? +Then in five minutes--I'm a little wet.” + +In an incredibly short time he joined her, changed and immaculate. She +looked up from the tea urn she was manipulating, her eyes resting on him +with the pleasure his physical appearance always gave her. “You've been +quick!” + +“Yoshio,” he replied laconically, handing her buttered toast. + +He ate little himself but drank two cups of tea, smoking the while +innumerable cigarettes. Miss Craven chatted easily until the tea table +was taken away and Craven had withdrawn to his usual position on the +hearthrug, lounging against the mantelshelf. + +Then she fell silent, looking at him furtively from time to time, her +hands restless in her lap, nerving herself to speak. What she had to say +was even more difficult to formulate than her confidence to Peters. But +it had to be spoken and she might never find a more favourable moment. +She took her courage in both hands. + +“I want to speak to you of Gillian,” she said hesitatingly. + +He looked up sharply. “What of Gillian?” The question was abrupt, an +accent almost of suspicion in his voice and she moved uneasily. + +“Bless the boy, don't jump down my throat,” she parried, with a nervous +little laugh; “nothing of Gillian but what is sweet and good and dear +... and yet that's not all the truth--it's more than that. I find it +hard to say. It's something serious, Barry, about Gillian's future,” she +paused, hoping that he would volunteer some remark that would make her +task easier. But he volunteered nothing and, stealing a glance at him +she saw on his face an expression of peculiar stoniness to which she had +lately become accustomed. The new taciturnity, which she still found so +strange, seemed to have fallen on him suddenly. She stifled a sigh and +hurried on: + +“I wonder if the matter of Gillian's future has ever occurred to you? It +has been in my mind often and lately I have had to give it more serious +attention. Time has run away so quickly. It is incredible that nearly +two years have passed since she became your ward. She will be twenty-one +in March--of age, and her own mistress. The question is--what is she to +do?” + +“Do? There is no question of her _doing_ anything,” he replied shortly. +“You mean that her coming of age will make no difference--that things +will go on as they are?” Miss Craven eyed him curiously. + +“Yes. Why not?” + +“You know less of Gillian than I thought you did.” The old caustic tone +was sharp in her voice. + +He looked surprised. “Isn't she happy here?” + +“Happy!” Miss Craven laughed oddly. “It's a little word to mean so much. +Yes, she is happy--happy as the day is long--but that won't keep her. +She loves the Towers, she is adored on the estate, she has a corner in +that great heart of hers for all who live here--but still that won't +keep her. In her way of thinking she has a debt to pay, and all these +months, studying, working, hoping, she has been striving to that end. +She is determined to make her own way in the world, to repay what has +been expended on her----” + +“That's dam' nonsense,” he interrupted hotly. + +“It's not nonsense from Gillian's point of view,” Miss Craven answered +quickly, “it's just common honesty. We have argued the matter, she and +I, scores of times. I have told her repeatedly that in view of your +guardianship you stand _in loco parentis_ and, therefore, as long as she +is your ward her maintenance and artistic education are merely her just +due, that there can be no question of repayment. She does not see it in +that light. Personally--though I would not for the world have her know +it--I understand and sympathize with her entirely. Her independence, her +pride, are out of all proportion to her strength. I cannot condemn, I +can only admire--though I take good care to hide my admiration ... +and if you could persuade her to let the past rest, there is still the +question of her future.” + +“That I can provide for.” + +Miss Craven shook her head. + +“That you can not provide for,” she said gravely. + +The flat contradiction stirred him. He jerked upright from his former +lounging attitude and stood erect, scowling down at her from his great +height. “Why not?” he demanded haughtily. + +Miss Craven shrugged. “What would you propose to do?” He caught the +challenge in her tone and for a moment was disconcerted. “There would be +ways--” he said, rather vaguely. “Something could be arranged--” + +“You would offer her--charity?” suggested Miss Craven, wilfully dense. + +“Charity be damned.” + +“Charity generally is damnable to those who have to suffer it. No, +Barry, that won't do.” + +He jingled the keys in his pocket and the scowl on his face deepened. + +“I could settle something on her, something that would be adequate, and +it could be represented that some old investment of her father's had +turned up trumps unexpectedly.” + +But Miss Craven shook her head again. “Clever, Barry, but not clever +enough. Gillian is no fool. She knows her father had no money, that he +existed on a pittance doled out to him by exasperated relatives which +ceased with his death. He told her plainly in his last letter that there +was nothing in the world for her--except your charity. Think of what +Gillian is, Barry, and think what she must have suffered--waiting for +your coming from Japan, and, to a less extent, in the dependence of +these last years.” + +He moved uncomfortably, as if he resented the plainness of his aunt's +words, and having found a cigarette lit it slowly. Then he walked to the +window, which was still unshuttered, and looked out into the darkness, +his back turned uncompromisingly to the room. His inattentive attitude +seemed almost to suggest that the matter was not of vital interest to +him. + +Miss Craven's face grew graver and she waited long before she spoke +again. “There is also another reason why I have strenuously opposed +Gillian's desire to make her own way in the world, a reason of which she +is ignorant. She is not physically strong enough to attempt to earn her +own living, to endure the hard work, the privations it would entail. You +remember how bronchitis pulled her down last year; I am anxious about +her this winter. She is constitutionally delicate, she may grow out +of it--or she may not. Heaven knows what seeds of mischief she has +inherited from such parents as hers. She needs the greatest care, +everything in the way of comfort--she is not fitted for a rough and +tumble life. And, Barry, I can't tell her. It would break her heart.” + +Her eyes were fixed on him intently and she waited with eager +breathlessness for him to speak. But when at length he answered his +words brought a look of swift disappointment and she relaxed in her +chair with an air of weary despondency. He replied without moving. + +“Can't you arrange something, Aunt Caro? You are very fond of Gillian, +you would miss her society terribly; cannot you persuade her that she +is necessary to you--that it would be possible for her to work and still +remain with you? I know that some day you will want to go back to your +own house in London, to take up your own interests again, and to travel. +I can't expect you to take pity much longer on a lonely bachelor. You +have given up much to help me--it cannot go on for ever. For what you +have done I can never thank you, it is beyond thanks, but I must not +trade on your generosity. If you put it to Gillian that you, personally, +do not want to part with her--that she is dear to you--it's true, isn't +it?” he added with sudden eagerness. And in surprise at her silence +he swung on his heel and faced her. She was leaning back in the big +armchair in a listless manner that was not usual to her. + +“I am afraid you cannot count on me, Barry,” she said slowly. He stared +in sheer amazement. + +“What do you mean, Aunt Caro?--you do care for her, don't you?” + +“Care for her?” echoed Miss Craven, with a laugh that was curiously +like a sob, “yes, I do care for her. I care so much that I am going to +venture a great deal--for her sake. But I cannot propose that she should +live permanently with me because all future permanencies have been taken +out of my hands. I hate talking about myself, but you had to know some +day, this only accelerates it. I have not been feeling myself for some +time--a little while ago I went to London for definite information. +The man had the grace to be honest with me--he bade me put my house in +order.” Her tone left no possibility of misunderstanding. He was across +the room in a couple of hasty strides, on his knees beside her, his +hands clasped over hers. + +“Aunt Caro!” The genuine and deep concern in his voice almost broke her +self-control. She turned her head, catching her lip between her teeth, +then with a little shrug she recovered herself and smiled at him. + +“Dear boy, it must come some day--it has come a little sooner than +I expected, that is all. I'm not grumbling, I've had a wonderful +life--I've been able to do something with it. I have not sat altogether +idle in the market-place.” + +“But are you sure? Doctors are not infallible.” + +“Quite sure,” she answered steadily; “the man I went to was very kind, +very thorough. He insisted I should have other opinions. There was a +council of big-wigs and they all arrived at the same conclusion, which +was at least consoling. A diversity of opinion would have torn my nerves +to tatters. I couldn't tell you before, it would have worried me. I hate +a fuss. I don't want it mentioned again. You know--and there's an end of +it.” She squeezed his hands tightly for a moment, then got up abruptly +and went to the fireplace. + +“I have only one regret--Gillian,” she said as he followed her. “You see +now that it is impossible for me to make a definite home for her, even +supposing that she were to agree to such a proposal. They gave me two or +three years at the longest--it might be any time.” + +Craven stood beside her miserable and tongue-tied. Her news affected +him deeply, he was stunned with the suddenness of it and amazed at the +courage she displayed. She might almost have been discoursing on the +probable death of a stranger. And yet, he reflected, it was only in +keeping with her general character. She had been fearless all through +life, and for her death held no terrors. + +He tried to speak but words failed him. And presently she spoke again, +hurriedly, disjointedly. + +“I am helpless. I can do nothing for Gillian. I could have left her +money in my will, despite her pride she would have had to accept it. I +can't even do that. At my death all I have, as you know, goes back into +the estate. I have never saved anything--there never seemed any reason. +And what I made with my work I gave away. There is only you--only one +way--Barry, won't you--Barry!” She was crying undisguisedly, unconscious +even of the unaccustomed tears. “You know what I mean--you must know,” + she whispered entreatingly, struggling with emotion. + +He was standing rigid, to her strained fancy he seemed almost to +have stopped breathing and there was in his attitude something that +frightened her. It came to her suddenly that, after all, he was to all +intents and purposes a stranger to her. Even the intimacy of these +last months, living in close contiguity to him in his own house had +not broken down the barrier that his sojourn in Japan had raised. She +understood him no better than on the day of his arrival in Paris. He had +been uniformly thoughtful and affectionate but had never reverted to the +old Barry whom she had known so well. He had, as it were, retired within +himself. He lived his life apart, with them but not of them, daily +carrying through the arduous work he set himself with a dogged +determination in which there was no pleasure. Yet, beyond a certain +gravity, to the casual observer there was in him no great change. He +entertained frequently and was a popular host, interesting and appearing +interested. Only Miss Craven and Peters, more intimate, saw the +effort that he made. To Miss Craven it seemed sometimes as if he were +deliberately living through a self-appointed period--she had found +herself wondering what cataclysm would end it. She was conscious of the +impression, which she tried vainly to dismiss as absurd, of living over +an active volcano. What would be the result of the upheaval when it +came? She had prayed earnestly for some counter-distraction that might +become powerful enough to surmount the tragic memory with which he +lived--a memory she was convinced and the tragedy was present in his +face. She had cherished a hope, born in the early days of their return +to Craven Towers and maintained in the face of seeming improbability of +fulfilment, that had grown to be an ardent desire. In the realization of +that hope she thought she saw his salvation. With the knowledge of her +own precarious hold on life she clung even more closely to what had +become the strongest wish she had ever known. She had never deluded +herself into imagining the consummation of her wish imminent, she +had frankly acknowledged to herself that his inscrutability was +impenetrable, and now hope seemed almost extinguished. She realized it +with a feeling of helplessness. And yet she had a curious impulse, +an inner conviction that urged with a peremptoriness that over-rode +subterfuge. She would speak plainly, be the consequences what they were. +It was for the ultimate happiness of the two beings whom she loved best +on earth--for that surely she might venture something. She had never +been afraid of plain speaking, it would be strange if she let +convention deter her now. Convention! it had wrecked many a life--so +had interference, she thought with sudden racking indecision. What if +by interference she hindered now, rather than helped? What if speech +did more mischief than silence? Irresolutely she wavered, and to her +indecision there came suddenly the further disturbing thought--if Barry +acceded to her earnest wish what ground had she for pre-supposing that +it would result in his happiness? She had no definite knowledge, no +positive assurance wherewith to press her request. The inmost feelings +of both were hidden from her. Her meddling might only bring more sorrow +to him who seemed already weighed down under a crushing burden of +grief. Gratitude and an intense admiration she knew existed. But between +admiration and any deeper feeling there was a wide gulf. And yet what +might not be hidden behind the grave seriousness of those great dark +eyes that looked with apparently equal frankness at every member of the +household? Months spent in the proximity of an unusually handsome man, +the romance of the tie between them--it was an experience that any +woman, least of all an unsophisticated convent-bred girl, could hardly +pass through unscathed. It was surely enough to gamble on, she reflected +with grim humour that did not amuse. It was a great hazzard, the highest +stakes she had ever played for who had never been afraid of losing. The +thought spurred her. If it was to be the last throw then let there be +no hesitation. A reputation for courage and coolness had gone with her +through life. + +She turned to him abruptly, all indecision gone, complete mistress of +herself again. + +“Barry, don't you understand?” she said with slow distinctness. “I want +you to ask Gillian to marry you.” + +He started as if she had stabbed him. + +“Good God,” he cried violently, “you don't know what you are saying!” + And from his tortured face she averted her eyes hastily, sick at heart. +But she held her ground, aware that retreat was not now possible. + +She answered gently, steadying her voice with difficulty. + +“Is it so extraordinary that I should wish it, should hope for it? I +care for you both so deeply. To know that your mother's place would be +filled by one who is worthy to follow her--how worthy only I, who have +been admitted to her high ideals, appreciate; to know that there would +be the happiness of home ties here for you, to know that I leave Gillian +safe in your hands--it would make my going very easy, Barry.” + +His head was down on his arms on the mantelshelf, his face hidden from +her. “Gillian--safe--in my hands--_my God_!” he groaned, and shuddered +like a man in mortal agony. + +All the deep love she had for him, all the fears she entertained for him +leaped up in her with sudden strength, forcing utterance and breaking +down the reticence she had imposed upon herself. She caught his arm. + +“Barry, what is it--for heaven's sake speak! Do you think I have +been blind all these months, that I have seen nothing? Can't you tell +me--anything?” her voice, quivering with emotion, was strange to him, +strange enough to recall him to himself. He straightened slowly and drew +away from her with a little shiver. “There is nothing I can tell you,” + he replied dully, “nothing that I can explain, only this--I went through +hell in Japan. I don't want any sympathy--it was my own fault, my own +doing.... Just now I made a fool of myself, I was off my guard, your +words startled me. Forget it, you can do me no good by remembering.” + +He made an abrupt movement as if to leave the room but Miss Craven stood +squarely in front of him, her chin raised stubbornly. She knew now that +she was face to face with something even more terrible than she had +imagined. He had avoided a definite answer. By all reasoning she should +have accepted his rebuff but intuition, stronger than reason, impelled +her. If he went now it would be the end. She knew that positively. +The question could never be opened up again. She could not let it pass +without a final effort. It was inconceivable that this shadow could +always lie across his life. Whatever tragical event had occurred +belonged to the past--surely the future might hold some alleviation, +some happiness that might compensate for the sorrow that had lined his +face and brought the silver threads that gleamed in his thick dark hair. +Surely in the care for another life memory might be dulled and +there might dawn for him a new hope, a new peace. Despite his broken +suggestive words her trust in him was still maintained; she had no fear +for Gillian--with him her future would be assured. And there seemed no +other alternative. Her confidence in herself furthermore was not shaken, +she had a deep unalterable conviction that the wish for the union she +so desired was based upon something deeper than mere fancy. It was not +anything that she could put into words or even into concrete thought, +but the belief was strong. It was a vivid assurance that went beyond +reasoning, that made it possible for her to speak again. + +“Are you going to let the past dominate the rest of your life,” she +asked slowly, “is the future to count for nothing? There are, in all +probability, many years ahead of you--cannot you, in them, obliterate +what has gone before?” + +He turned from her with a hopeless gesture and a muttered word she could +not catch. But he did not go as she feared he would. He lingered in the +room, staring into the heart of the glowing fire and Miss Craven played +her last card. + +“And--Gillian?” she said firmly, all the Craven obstinacy in her voice, +and waited long for his answer. When it came it was flat, monotonous. + +“I cannot marry her. I cannot marry--anybody.” + +“Are you married already?” The question escaped before she could bite it +back. With a quickening heartbeat she awaited an outburst, a retort +that would end everything. But he answered quietly, in the same toneless +voice: “No, I am not married.” + +She caught at the loop-hole it seemed to offer. “If there is no bar----” + she began eagerly, but he cut her short. “I have done with all that sort +of thing,” he said harshly. + +“Why?” she persisted, with a doggedness that matched his own. “If you +have known sorrow, does that necessarily mean that you can never again +know happiness? Must you for a--a memory, turn your back irrevocably on +any chance that may restore your peace of mind? I believe that such a +chance is waiting for you.” + +He looked at her with strange intentness. “For me....” he smiled +bitterly. “If you only knew!” + +“I only know that you are hesitating at what most men would jump at,” + she retorted, suddenly conscious of strained nerves and feeling as if +she were battering impotently against a granite rock-face. His hands +clenched but he did not reply and swift contrition fell on her. She +turned to him impulsively. “Forgive me, Barry. I shouldn't have said +that, but I want this thing so desperately. I am convinced that it +would mean happiness for you, for you both. And when I think of +Gillian--alone--fighting against the world----” She broke down +completely and he gripped her hands with a strength that made her wince. + +“She'll never do that if I can help it,” he said swiftly. + +Miss Craven looked up with sudden hope. “You will ask her?” she +whispered expectantly. He put her from him gently. “I can promise +nothing. I must think,” he said deliberately, and there was in his face +a look that held her silent. + +With uncertain feelings she watched him leave the room.... Inevitable +re-action set in, doubts overwhelmed her. Had she done what was best +or had she blundered irretrievably? She went unsteadily to a chair, +extraordinarily tired, exhausted in her new weakness by the emotional +strain through which she had passed. She was beginning to be a little +aghast at what she had done, at the force that she had set moving. +And yet she had been actuated by the highest motives. She believed +implicitly that the joining of the two lives whose future was all her +care would result in the ultimate happiness of both. They had grown +used to each other. A closer relationship than that of guardian and ward +seemed, in view of the comparatively slight difference in age, a natural +outcome of the intimacy into which they had been thrown. It was +not without precedent; similar events had happened before and would +doubtless happen again, she argued, striving to stifle the still +lingering doubt that whispered that she had gone beyond her prerogative. +And what she had done was in a way inexplicable even to herself. All +through she had felt that involuntary forceful impulse that had been +almost fatalistic, she had urged through the prompting of an inward +conviction. She had perhaps attached too much importance to it, her own +wish had been magnified until it assumed the appearance of fate. + +Her closed eyes quivered as she leaned back in the chair. + +She had done it for the best, she kept repeating mechanically to +herself, to try and bring happiness into his life; to insure the safety +of the girl who had become so dear to her. Had it been his thought too, +even before she spoke? His manner had been so strange. He had recoiled +from her suggestion but she had been left with the impression that it +was no new one to him. She had caught a fleeting look, before his face +had taken on that impenetrable mask, that had given the lie to his +emphatic words. He had seemed to be wrestling with himself, she had seen +the moisture thick on his forehead, his set face had looked as if it +could never soften again. When he had gone he had given her no definite +promise and she had no possibility of guessing what his decision would +be. But on reflection she found hope in his deferring reply. It was all +that was left to her. She had done her utmost, the rest lay with him. +She sighed deeply, she had never felt such weariness of mind and body. +As she gave way to a feeling of growing lassitude drowsiness came +over her which she was too tired to combat and for some time she slept +heavily. She awoke with a start to find Gillian, wide-eyed with concern, +kneeling beside her, the girl's slim warm fingers clasped closely round +her sleep-numbed hands. Dazed with sudden waking she looked up without +speaking at the fresh young face that bent over her. Gillian rubbed the +cold hands gently. “Aunt Caro, you were asleep! I've never caught you +napping before,” she laughed, but a hint of anxiety mingled with the +wonder in her voice. Miss Craven slowly smiled reassurance. Her weakness +seemed to have vanished with sleep, she felt herself once more strong +enough to hide from the searching affectionate eyes anything that might +give pain or cause uneasiness. She sat up straighter. + +“Laziness, my dear, sheer laziness,” she said sturdily. Gillian looked +at her gravely. “Sure?” she asked, “you are sure that you are quite +well? You looked so tired--your face was quite white.” + +“Quite sure--unbeliever! And you--did you have a good time; did you +remember to take your tonic, and did you keep warm?” + +Gillian laughed softly and stood up, ticking off the items on her +fingers. “I did have a good time, I did remember to take my tonic, and +this heavenly coat has kept me as warm as pie--Nina Atherton taught me +that. That nice family considerably enlarged my vocabulary,” she added +with enjoyment, slipping out of a heavy fur coat and coming back to +perch on the arm of Miss Craven's chair. + +“Not yours only,” was the answer, “Peter was quoting the husband this +afternoon.” + +They were both silent for a moment thinking of the three charming +Americans who had spent a couple of months at the Towers the previous +summer, bringing with them an adored scrap of humanity and a host of +nurses, valets and maids. + +Then Gillian drew her arm closer around Miss Craven. + +“Alex pressed me to stay until to-morrow, I had the greatest trouble to +get away. But I promised to come back this afternoon, and, do you +know, Aunt Caro, I had the queerest feeling this morning. I thought +you _wanted_ me, wanted me urgently. As if you could ever want anybody +urgently, you self-reliant wonder.” She gave the shoulder she was +caressing an affectionate hug. “But it was odd, wasn't it? I nearly +telephoned, and then I concluded you would think I had taken leave of my +senses.” + +Miss Craven sat very still. + +“I should have,” she replied, and hoped that her voice appeared more +natural than it sounded to herself. Gillian laughed. + +“Anyhow, I'm glad you had Mr. Peters to cheer your solitary tea. I hated +to think of you being alone.” + +“He didn't. He left early. But Barry condescended to take pity on me.” + +“Mr. Craven!” There was the slightest pause before she added: “I thought +he scorned _le five o'clock_. He's not nearly so domesticated as David.” + +“As who, my dear?” asked Miss Craven, staring. Gillian gave another +little laugh. + +“Oh, that's my private name for Mr. Peters--he doesn't mind--he spoils +me dreadfully--'the sweet singer in Israel'--you know. He has got the +most beautiful tenor voice I have ever listened to.” + +“Peter--sing! I've never heard him sing,” said Miss Craven in wonder, +and she looked up with a new curiosity. “I've known him for thirty +years, and in less than that number of months you discover an +accomplishment of which everybody else is ignorant. How did you manage +it, child?” + +“By accident, one evening in the summer. You were dining out, and +Mouston and I had gone for a ramble in the park--it's gorgeous there in +the _crepuscule_--and we were quite close to the Hermitage. I heard him +and I eaves-dropped--is there such a word? It was so lovely that I +had to clap and he came out and found an unexpected audience on the +windowsill. Wasn't it dreadful? He was so dear about it and explained +that it was a very private form of amusement, but since the cat was out +of the bag there was an end of the matter, only he positively declined +to perform in public. I bullied him into singing some more, and then he +walked home with me.” + +“You twist Peter round your little finger and trade on his good nature +shamelessly,” said Miss Craven severely, but her teasing held no +terrors. + +“He's such a dear,” the girl repeated softly, and slipping off the arm +of the chair she went to the fire and knelt down to put back a log that +had fallen on to the hearth and was smouldering uselessly. Miss Craven +looked at her as, the log replaced, she still knelt on the rug and +held her hands mechanically to the blaze. She had an intense and wholly +futile longing to speak what was in her mind and, demanding confidence +for confidence, penetrate the secret of the heart that had confided to +her all but this one thing. Little by little through no pressure but +by mere telepathic sympathy, reserve had melted away and hopes and +aspirations had been submitted and discussed. But of this one thing +there could be no discussion. Miss Craven realised it and stifled a +regretful sigh. Even she, dear as she knew herself to be, might not +intrude so intimately. For by such an intrusion she might lose all that +she had gained. She could not forfeit the confidence that had grown +to mean so much to her, it was too high a price to pay even for the +knowledge she sought. She must have patience, she thought, as she ran +her fingers with the old gesture through her grey curls. But it was hard +to be patient when any moment might bring the summons that would put +her beyond the ken of earthly events. To go, leaving this problem still +unsolved! She set her teeth and sat rigid, gripping the oak rails of the +chair until her fingers ached, battling with herself. She looked again +at the slim kneeling figure, the pale oval face half turned to her, the +thick dark hair piled high on the small proud head glistening in the +firelight. A thing of grace and beauty--in mind and body desirable. How +could he hesitate.... + +“Barry was riding--all day--in this atrocious weather. He came in +soaked,” she said abruptly, almost querulously, unlike her usual +tolerant intonation. There was no immediate answer and for a moment she +thought she had not been heard. The girl had moved slightly, turning +her face away, and with a steady hand was building the dying fire into a +pyramid. She completed the operation carefully and sat back on her heels +flourishing the tiny brass tongs. + +“He's tough,” she said lightly, unconsciously echoing Peters' words and +apparently heedless of the interval between Miss Craven's remark and her +own reply. She seemed more interested in the fire than in her guardian. +Laying the tongs away leisurely she came back to Miss Craven's chair +and settled down on the floor beside her, her arms crossed on the +elder woman's knee. She looked up frankly, a faint smile lightening her +serious brown eyes. + +“I don't think Mr. Craven wants any sympathy, _cherie_,” she said +slowly, “I reserve all mine for Yoshio, he fusses so dreadfully when +the 'honourable master' goes for those tremendous long rides or is out +hunting. Have you noticed that he always waits in the hall, to be ready +at the first moment to rush away and get dry clothes and a hot bath and +all the other Oriental paraphernalia for checking chills and driving +the ache out of sore bones? I don't suppose Mr. Craven has ever had sore +bones--he is so splendidly strong--and Yoshio certainly seems determined +he never shall. Mary thoroughly approves of him, she's a fusser by +nature too; she deplores his heathenism but says he has more sense than +many a Christian. Soon after we came here I found him in the hall one +day staring through the window, looking the picture of misery, his funny +little yellow face all puckered up. He saw me out of the back of his +head, truly he did, for he never turned, and tried to slip away. But I +made him stay and talk to me. I sat on the stairs and he folded himself +up on the mat--I can't describe it any other way--and told me all about +Japan, and California and Algeria and all the other queer places he has +been to with Mr. Craven. He has such a quaint dramatic way of speaking +and lapses into unintelligible Japanese just at the exciting moments--so +tantalising! They seem to have been in some very--what do you +say?--tight corners. We got quite sociable. I was so interested in +listening to his description of the wonderful gardens they make in Japan +that I never heard Mr. Craven come in and did not realise that he was +standing near us until Yoshio suddenly shot up and fled, literally +vanished, and left me _planteel_! I felt so idiotic sitting on the +stairs hugging my knees and Mr. Craven, all splashed and muddy, waiting +for me to let him pass--I was dreadfully frightened of him in those +days,” the faintest colour tinged her cheeks. “I longed for an +earthquake to swallow me up,” she laughed and scrambled to her feet, +gathering the heap of furs into her arms and holding them dark and +silky against her face. “You shouldn't have encouraged in me a love +of beautiful furs, Aunt Caro,” she said inconsequently, with sudden +seriousness. “I've sense enough left to know that I shouldn't indulge +it--and I'm human enough to adore them.” + +“Rubbish! furs suit you--please my sense of the artistic. I would not +encourage you if you had a face like a harvest moon and no carriage--I +can't bear sloppiness in anything,” snapped Miss Craven in quite her old +style. “When do the Horringfords start for Egypt?” she added by way of +definitely changing the subject. + +Gillian rubbed her cheek against the soft sealskin with an understanding +smile. It was hopeless to try and curb Miss Craven's generosity, +hopeless to attempt to argue against it. “Next week,” she answered the +inquiry. “Tuesday, probably. They stay in Paris for a month _en route;_ +Lord Horringford wants some data from the Louvre and also to arrange +some preliminaries with the French Egyptologist who is joining their +party.” + +“Hum! And Alex--still interested in mummies?” + +“More than ever, she is full of enthusiasm. She talks of dynasties and +tribal deities, of kings and _Kas_ and symbols until my head spins. Lord +Horringford teases her but it is easy to see that her interest pleases +him. He says she is the mascot of the expedition, that she brought luck +to the digging last year.” + +“Alex has had many hobbies but never one that ran for two seasons,” said +Miss Craven thoughtfully; “I am glad she has found an interest at last +that promises to be permanent.” + +Gillian gathered the furs closer in her arms and made a few steps toward +the door. “She has found more than that,” she said softly, and the +colour flamed in her sensitive face. Miss Craven nodded. “You mean +that in unearthing the buried treasure of a dead past she has found the +living treasure of a man's love? Yes, and not any too soon, poor silly +child. Men like Horringford don't bear playing with. I wonder whether +she knows how near she has been to making shipwreck of her life.” + +“I think she knows--now,” said Gillian, with a little wise smile as she +left the room. + +The sound of her soft contralto singing an old French nursery rhyme +echoed faintly back to the library: + + “Mon père m'a donné un petit mari, + Mon Dieu, quel homme!” + +And, listening, Miss Craven smiled half-sadly, for the quaint words +carried her back to the days of her own childhood. But the exigencies +of the present thrust aside past memories. She sat on, wrapped in her +thoughts until the dropping temperature of the room sent through her +a sudden chill, so she rose with a shiver and a startled glance at her +watch. + +“Dry bones and love,” she said musingly, “it's a curious combination! +Peter, my man, you gave wise advice there.... But not all your wisdom +can help _my_ trouble.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +December had brought a complete change of weather. It was within a few +days of Christmas, a typical old-fashioned Yuletide with a firm white +mantle of snow lying thick over the country. + +Underneath the ground was iron and for two weeks all hunting had been +stopped. + +Craven was returning to the Towers after an absence of ten days. +The motor crawled through the park for in places the frozen road was +slippery as glass and the chauffeur was a cautious North-countryman +whose faith in the chains locked round the wheels was not unlimited; he +was driving carefully, with a wary eye for the worst patches noted on +the outward run, and, beside him, equally alert, sat Yoshio muffled to +the ears in an immense overcoat, a shapeless bundle. + +It was early afternoon, calm and clear, and in the air the intense +stillness that succeeds a heavy snowfall. The pale sun, that earlier +in the day had iridised the snow, was now too low to affect the dead +whiteness of the scene against which the trees showed magnified and +sharply black. Here and there across the smooth surface stretching on +either side of the road lay the curiously differing tracks of animals. +From the back seat of the car where he sat alone Craven marked them +mechanically. He knew every separate spoor and could have named the +owner of each; ordinarily they would have claimed from him a certain +interest but today he passed them without a second thought. He did not +resent the slow progress of the car, he was in no hurry to reach the +Towers. He had come to a momentous decision but shrank from the action +that must necessarily follow; once at the house he knew that he would +permit himself no further delay, he would put his purpose into effect +at the earliest opportunity--today if possible; here there was still +time--vaguely he wondered for what? Not for reflection, that was +done with. He had striven with all his strength to arrive at a right +determination; he had thought until reasoning became a mere repetition +of fixed ideas moving in a circle and arriving always at an unvaried +starting point. There seemed no consequence that he had not weighed in +his mind, no issue that he had not considered. To ponder afresh would be +to cover again uselessly ground that he had gone over a hundred times. +Three days ago he had made his choice, he had no intention of departing +from it. For good or ill the thing must go forward now. And, after all, +the ultimate decision did not lie with him. Admitting it his thoughts +became introspective. Throughout his deliberations he had put self on +one side, there had been no question of his own wishes; now for the +first time he allowed personal considerations to rise unchecked. For +what did he hope? He knew the reason of his reluctance to reach the +house--he desired success and yet he feared it, feared the consequences +that might result, feared the strength of his own will to persevere in +the course he had chosen. For him there was no other way but, merciful +God, it would be hard! He set his teeth and stared at the frozen +landscape with unseeing eyes. Since her outburst four weeks ago Miss +Craven had not spoken again of the wish that was nearest her heart, but +he knew that she was waiting for an answer, knew that that answer must +be given. One way or the other. Day had succeeded day in torturing +indecision. He had lived, slept with the problem, at no time was it +out of his mind. In the course of the long rides that had become more +frequent, obtruding during the monotonous hours spent in the estate +office, the problem persisted. In the sleepless hours of the night he +wrestled with it. If it had been a matter of personal inclination, if +the past had not risen between them there would have been no hesitation. +He would have gone to her months ago, would have begged the priceless +gift that she alone could give. He wanted her, almost above the hope +of salvation, and the inducement to ignore the past had been all +but overpowering. He loved and desired with all the strength of the +passionate nature he had inherited. He craved for her with an intensity +that was anguish, that set him wondering how far the power of endurance +reached, how much a man could bear. He was torn with the fierce +promptings of primeval forces. To take her, willing or unwilling, +despite honour, despite all that stood between them, to make her his and +hold her in the face of all the world--at times the temptation had been +maddening. There had been days when he had not dared to look on her, +when he had drawn himself more than ever apart from the common life, +fearful of himself, fearful of circumstances that seemed beyond his +ordering. And the thought that another could take what he might not +had engendered an insensate jealousy that was beyond reason. He did not +recognise himself, he had not known the depths of his own nature. If +there had been no bar, if she could have come to him willingly, if there +could indeed have been for him the full ties of home--the thought was +agony. Miss Craven's words had been a sword turning in an open wound. To +the burden he already carried had been added this. + +The future of his ward had been his problem as well as Miss Craven's. +Only a little while ago a way had seemed clear, not a way to his own +happiness--by his own act he had put himself beyond all possibility of +that--but a way that would mean security and happiness for her who had +come to mean more than life to him. For her safety he would have given +his soul. The term of his guardianship was drawing to an end, in a +few months his legal control over her terminated. Miss Craven who had +surrendered her independence for two years would be returning to her own +home, to her old life; it had seemed a foregone conclusion that Gillian +would accompany her. + +But the double shock in the revelation of Miss Craven's precarious state +and Gillian's delicacy had been staggering. He had not been prepared for +a contingency that seemed to cut the ground from under his feet. With +all the will in the world his aunt was powerless to further the plan he +proposed, any day might bring the Great Summons. And Gillian! The little +persistent cough rang in his ears always. Gillian and poverty--by day it +haunted him, he woke in the night sweating at the very thought. It was +intolerable. And yet there appeared no means of escaping it--save one. +For a moment, with a fierce joy, he saw fate aiding him, forcing into +his hands what he yearned to gather to himself, then he recoiled from +even the thought of her purity linked with the stain of his past. He +had racked his brain to discover an alternative. To force upon her an +adequate income that would put her beyond want and the necessity of work +would be easy. To induce her to use the money thus provided he divined +would be impossible, he seemed to know intuitively that her will would +not give way to his. During these last weeks he had looked at her +with new understanding, it seemed incredible that he had never before +recognised the determination that underlay her shy gentleness. +Character shone in the frank brown eyes, there was a firmness that was +unmistakable in the arched lips that were the only patch of colour in +her delicate face. From his wealth she would accept nothing. Would she +accept him--all that he dared offer? It was no new idea, the thought had +been in his mind often but always he resolutely put it from him with a +feeling of abhorrence. It was an insult to her womanhood, an expedient +that nothing could justify. And yet step by step he was forced back +upon it--there seemed no other way to save her from herself. Days of +harrassing indecision, his only thought she, brought him no nearer to +a conclusion. And time was passing. He had reached a point when further +deliberation was beyond his power; when all his strength seemed to turn +into hopeless longing that, to the exclusion of all else, craved even +the mockery of possession; when days were torment and nights a sleepless +horror. Then change of scene had aided final determination. The factor +of the Scotch estate had written of a sudden and unexpected difficulty +for which he asked personal advice. A telegram had stopped his proposed +visit to the Towers and Craven had himself gone instead to Scotland. And +in the solitude of his northern home he had decided on the only course +that seemed open to him. He would go to her with his poor offer, the +poorest surely that ever a man made to a woman, and the rest would lie +with her. But how would she receive it? He had a vision of the soft +brown eyes blazing with scorn, of the slender figure he ached to hold +in his arms turning from him in cold disgust, and he clenched his hands +until the nails bit deep into his wet palms. + +A bad skid that slewed the car half round broke his thoughts and in a +few minutes they were at the house. + +Forbes, the elderly butler who had been an under footman when Peters +first came to the Towers, was waiting for him in the hall, informative +with the garrulousness of an old and privileged servant. A late +luncheon was waiting--he sighed patiently on hearing that it was not +required--Miss Craven had gone to the Vicarage for tea; Mr. Peters was +expected to dinner that night and he had telephoned in the morning to +tell Mr. Craven--Craven cut him short. Peter's message could wait, only +one thing seemed to matter just now. + +“Where is Miss Locke?” he asked curtly. “In the studio, sir,” replied +Forbes with resignation. If Mr. Barry didn't want to hear what Mr. +Peters had got to say he, for one, was not going to press the matter. +Mr. Barry had had his own way of doing things since the days when he sat +on the pantry table kicking his heels and flourishing stolen jam under +Forbes' very nose--a masterful one always, he was. And if it was a case +of Miss Gillian--Forbes retired with an armful of ulster and rugs into +the cloakroom to hide a sympathetic grin. + +Craven crossed the hall and went into the study. He looked without +interest through an accumulation of letters lying on the writing table, +then threw them down indifferently. Walking to the fireplace he lit a +cigarette and stood staring at the cheerful blaze. At last he raised +his head and gazed with deliberation at himself in the glass over the +mantle. He scowled at the stern worn face reflected in the mirror, +looking curiously at its deep cut lines, at the silver patches in the +thick brown hair. Then with a violent exclamation he swung abruptly on +his heel, flung the cigarette into the fire and left the room. He went +upstairs slowly, surprised at the feeling of apathy that had come over +him. In the face of direct action the high tension of the last few +weeks had snapped, leaving him dull, almost inert, and reluctance to +go forward grew with every step. But at the head of the stairs his mood +changed suddenly. All that the coming interview meant to him revealed +itself with startling clearness. With a deep breath he caught at the +rail, for he was shaking uncontrollably, and covered his face with his +hand. + +“God!” he whispered, and again: “God!” + +Then he gripped himself and went quickly across the gallery, turning +down the corridor that led to the west wing. He followed the oddly +twisting passage, contorted at the whim of succeeding generations where +rooms had been enlarged or abolished, passing rows of closed doors and +another staircase. The corridor terminated in the room he was seeking. +It had been the old playroom; at the extreme end of the wing it faced +northward and westward and was well suited for the studio into which it +had been converted. It was Gillian's own domain and he had never asked +to visit it. As he reached the door he heard from within the shrill +treble of a boy's mirth and then a low soft laugh that made his +heart beat quicker. He tapped and went in and for a moment stared in +amazement. He did not recognise the room, it was a totally unexpected +French _atelier_ tucked away in the corner of a typically English house. + +The polished rug-laid floor, the fluted folds of _toile-de-genes_ +clothing the walls, the litter of sketches and pictures, casts and +easels, the familiar lay-figure grotesquely attitudinising in a corner, +above all the atmosphere carried him straight to Paris. It was the +room of an artist, and a French artist. His eyes leaped to her. She was +standing before a big easel looking wonderingly over her shoulder at the +opening door, the brush she was using poised in her hand, her eyes wide +with astonishment, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. + +In the picturesque painter's blouse, her brown hair loosely framing her +face, she seemed altogether different. He could not define wherein lay +the change, he had no time to discriminate, he only knew that seen thus +she was a thousand times more desirable than she had ever been and that +his heart cried out for her more fiercely than before. He looked at her +with hungry longing, then quickly--lest his eyes should betray him--from +her to her model. A boy of ten with an intelligent small brown face, a +mop of black curls, and red lips parted in a mischievous smile, he stood +on the raised platform with the easy assurance of a professional. + +Craven shut the door behind him and came forward. She turned to meet +him and the colour rushed in a crimson wave to the roots of her hair. +“_Monsieur ... vous etes de retour ... mais, soyez le bienvenu_!” she +stammered, with surprise unconsciously lapsing into the language of +childhood. Then she caught herself up with a little laugh of confusion +and hurried on in English: “I am so sorry ... there is nobody in but me. +Will you have some tea? It is only three o'clock,” with a glance at her +wrist, “but I expect you lunched early.” + +“I don't want any tea,” he said bluntly. “I came to see you.” He spoke +in French, mindful of two sharp ears on the platform. The colour in her +face deepened painfully and her eyes fell under his steady gaze. She +moved slowly back to the easel. + +“If you could wait a few moments----” she murmured. + +“I don't want to interrupt,” he said hastily. “Please finish your work. +You don't mind if I stay? I haven't been here since I was a boy; you +have changed the room incredibly. May I look round?” + +She nodded assent over a tube of colour, and returned to her study. + +Left to himself he wandered leisurely round the room, examining the +pictures and sketches that were heaped indiscriminately. He had never +before displayed any interest in her work, and was now amazed at what he +saw. There was power in it that surprised him, that made him wonder what +intuition had given the convent-bred girl the knowledge she exhibited. +The tardy recognition of her talent strengthened his stranger feeling +toward her. He went thoughtfully to the fireplace, and, from the +rug, surveyed the room and its occupants. The atmosphere recalled old +memories--he had studied in Paris after leaving Oxford--only one thing +seemed lacking. + +“May I smoke?” he asked abruptly. + +Gillian turned with a quick smile. + +“But, of course. What need to ask? After Aunt Caro has been here for an +hour the room is blue.” + +For another ten minutes he watched her in silence, free to look as he +would, for her back was toward him and in his position before the fire +he was beyond the range of the little model's inquisitive black eyes. + +Then she laid palette and brushes on a near table and stepped back, +frowning at what she had done until a smile came slowly to chase the +creases from her forehead. She spoke without moving, still looking at +the canvas: “That is all for to-day, Danny. The light has gone.” + +The small boy stretched himself luxuriously, and descending from the +platform, joined her and gazed with evident interest at his portrait. +He peered in unconscious but faithful imitation of her own critical +attitude, his head slanted at the same angle as hers. “It's coming on,” + he announced solemnly, and Craven guessed from the girl's laugh that it +was a repetition of some remark heard and stored up for future use. The +boy grinned in response, and slipping behind her went to the table where +she had laid her tools. “Can I clean palut?” he asked hopefully, his +hand already half-way to the coveted mass of colour. + +“Not to-day, thanks, Danny.” + +“Shall I fetch th' dog, Miss?” more hopefully. Gillian turned to him +quickly. + +“He bit you last time.” + +Danny wriggled his feet and his small white teeth flashed in a wide +smile. “He won't bite I again,” he said confidently. “Mammy said 'twas +'cos he loved you and hated to have folks near you. She said I was to +whisper in his ear I loved you too, 'cos then he wouldn't touch me. Dad +he says 'tis a damned black devil,” he added with candid relish and a +sidelong glance of mischief at his employer. + +Gillian laughed and gave his shoulder a little pat. + +“I'm afraid he is,” she admitted ruefully. The boy threw his head back. +“I ain't afeard o' he,” he said stoutly. “_Shall_ I fetch 'im?” + +“I think we'll leave him where he is, Danny,” she said gravely, as if +in confidence. “He's probably very happy. Now run away and come again on +Saturday.” She waved a paint-stained rag at him and turned again to +the picture. Obediently he started towards the door, then hesitated, +glancing irresolutely at Craven, and tip-toed back to the easel. + +“Them things in the drawer,” he muttered sepulchrally, in a voice not +intended to reach the ears of the rather awe-inspiring personage on the +hearthrug. Gillian whipped round contritely. “Danny, I forgot them!” she +apologised, and tweaking a black curl went to a bureau and produced a +square cardboard box. Danny tucked it under his arm with murmured thanks +and a duck of the head, and crossing the room noiselessly went out, +closing the door behind him softly. Craven came slowly to her. She moved +to give him place before the easel. Craven looked at the small alert +brown face, the odd black eyes dancing with almost unearthly merriment, +the red lips curving upward to an enigmatical smile, and his wonder and +admiration grew. + +“Who is he?” he asked curiously, puzzled by a likeness he seemed to +recognise dimly and yet was unable to place. + +“Danny Major--the son of one of your gamekeepers,” said Gillian; “his +mother has gipsy blood in her.” + +Craven whistled. “I remember,” he said, interested. “Old Major was +head-keeper. Young Major lost his heart to a gipsy lass and his father +kicked him out of doors. Peters, as usual, smoothed things over and kept +the fellow on at his job, in spite of a great deal of opposition--he had +seen the girl and formed his own opinion. I asked once or twice and he +said that it had turned out satisfactorily. So this is the son--he's a +rum-looking little beggar.” + +Gillian was cleaning brushes at the side table. “He's the terror of the +neighbourhood,” she said smiling, “but for some reason he is a perfect +angel when he comes here. It isn't the chocolates,” she added hastily +as she saw a fleeting smile on his face, “he just likes coming. And +he tells me the most wonderful things about the woods and the wood +beasties.” + +“He would,” said Craven significantly, “it's in the blood. What's this?” + he asked, pointing to a smaller board propped face inward against the +big canvas. For a moment she did not answer and the colour flamed into +her face again. She put the brushes away, and wiping her fingers on a +cloth, lifted the board and gave it into his hands. + +“It's Danny as I see him,” she said in an odd voice. And, looking at +it, Craven realised that the cleverness of the painted head on the large +canvas paled to mediocrity beside the brilliance of the sepia sketch he +held. It was the same head--but marvellously different--set on the body +of a faun. The dancing limbs were pulsing with life, the tiny hoofs +stamping the flower-strewn earth in an ecstasy of movement; the head was +thrown forward, bent as though to catch a distant echo, and among the +tossing curls showed two small curving horns; to the enigmatical smile +of the original had been added a subtle touch of mockery, and the wide +eyes held a look of mystical knowledge that was uncanny. Craven held +it silently, it seemed an incredible piece of work for the girl to have +conceived. And, beside him, she waited nervously for his verdict, with +close-locked twitching fingers. He had never come before, had never +shown any interest in the work that meant so much to her. She was hungry +for his praise, fearful of his censure. If he saw nothing in it now +but the immature efforts of an amateur! Her heart tightened. She drew a +little nearer to him, her eyes fixed apprehensively on his intent face, +her breath coming quickly. At length he replaced the sketch carefully. +“You have a wonderful talent,” he said slowly. A little gasp of relief +escaped her and her lips trembled in spite of all efforts to keep them +steady. “You like it?” she whispered eagerly, and was terrified at the +awful pallor that overspread his face. For a moment he could not speak. +The words, the intonation! He was back again in Japan, looking at +the painting of a lonely fir tree clinging to a jutting sea-washed +cliff--the faintest scent of oriental perfume seemed stealing through +the air. He drew his hand across his eyes. “Merciful God ... not here +... not now!” he prayed in silent agony. Then with a desperate effort he +mastered himself and turned to the frightened girl with a forced smile. +“Forgive me--I've a beastly headache--the room went spinning round for +a minute,” he said jerkily, wiping the moisture from his forehead. She +looked at him gravely. “I think you are very tired, and I don't believe +you had any lunch,” she said with quiet decision. “I'm going to make +some coffee. Aunt Caro says my coffee drinking is more vicious than her +smoking,” she went on, purposely giving him time to recover himself, and +crossing the room she collected little cups and a small brass pot. +“Any how it's the real article, and in spite of what she says Aunt Caro +doesn't scorn it. She comes regularly to drink my _cafe noir_ with her +after-lunch cigarette.” + +Craven dropped down heavily on the broad cushioned window seat, his +hands clasped over his throbbing temples, fighting to regain his shaken +nerve. And yet there was a great hope dawning. For the first time the +threatening vision had failed to materialise, and the fact gave him +courage. If a time should come when it would definitely cease to haunt +him! He could never forget, never cease to regret, but he would feel +that in the Land of Understanding the hapless victim of his crime had +forgiven the sin that had robbed her of her young life. + +And as he grew calmer he began to be conscious that in the room where +he sat there was a restfulness that he had not felt in any other part +of the house since his return to Craven Towers. It was acting on him +curiously and he wondered what it portended. And as he pondered it +Gillian came to him with a cup of coffee in either hand. + +_“Monsieur est servi,”_ she said with a little laugh. She seemed to have +suddenly overcome shyness as if, in her own domain, the first surprise +of his visit over, her surroundings gave her confidence. Or, perhaps, +the womanliness that had been called out to meet his passing weakness +had set her on another plane. All signs of giddiness had left him and, +with her usual intuition, she did not trouble him with questions. For +the first time she found it easy to speak to him, and talked as +she would have done to Peters. She spoke of his northern visit and, +following his lead, of her work, freely and without embarrassment. Every +moment the restraint that had been between them seemed growing less. +She marvelled that she had ever found him unapproachable and wondered, +contritely, if her shyness had been alone to blame. She had been always +constrained and silent with him--small wonder that he had avoided +her, she thought humbly. Yet how could it have been otherwise? The tie +between them, the wonderful generosity he had shown, the aloofness +he had maintained, had made it impossible for her to view him as an +ordinary human being. She owed him everything and passionate recognition +and a sense of her indebtedness had grown with equal fervour. She had +almost worshipped him. He had taken her from a life that had grown +unbearable, he had given her the opportunity to follow the career for +which she longed. She could never repay him, she found it difficult to +put into words even to herself just what she felt towards him. From the +first she had raised him to the empty pedestal vacated by that fallen +idol, her father. And out of hero-worship had grown love, at first the +exalted devotion of an immature girl, adoration that was purely sexless +and selfless--a mystical love without passion, spiritual. He had +appeared to her as a being of another sphere and, mentally, she had +knelt at his feet as to a patron saint. But with her own development +love had expanded. She realised that what she felt for him was no longer +childish adoration, but a greater, more wonderful emotion. She had grown +to a full understanding of her own heart, the divinity had become a +man for whose love she yearned. But she loved hopelessly as she +loved deeply, she had no thought that her love could be returned. His +proximity had always troubled her, and to-day as she sat on the window +seat beside him she was conscious of a greater unrest than she had ever +before felt, and her heart throbbed painfully with the vague formless +longings, inexplicable and frightening, that stirred within her until it +seemed impossible that her agitation could pass unnoticed. Shyness fell +on her again, the ready words faltered, and gradually she became silent. +Craven took the empty coffee cups and replaced them on the table by the +fire. Going back to the window he found her kneeling up on the cushioned +seat, her hands clasped before her, looking out at the white world. The +childish attitude that seemed in keeping with the artist's blouse and +tumbled hair made her look singularly young. He stood beside her, so +close that he almost touched her shoulder, and his eyes ranged hungrily +over the whole slim beauty of her, lingering on the little bent brown +head, the soft curve of her girlish bosom, until the yearning for her +grew intolerable and the restraint he put upon himself took all his +resolution. The temptation to gather her into his arms was almost more +than he could resist, he folded them tightly across his chest--he could +not trust them. He could barely trust himself. The unwonted intimacy, +the subtle torture of her nearness set his pulses leaping madly. The +blood beat in his head, his body quivered with the passionate longing, +the fierce desire that rushed over him. In the agony of the moment only +the elemental man existed, and he was sensible alone of the burning +physical need that rose above all higher purer sentiment. To hold her +crushed against his throbbing heart, to bury his face in the fragrance +of her soft hair, to kiss her lips till she should beg his mercy--there +seemed no greater joy on earth. He wanted her as he had wanted nothing +in his life before. And yet, if he gained what he had come to ask he +knew that what he suffered now would be as nothing to what he would have +to endure. To know her his wife, bound in every sense to him--and to +turn his face from the happiness that by all laws was his! Had he the +strength? Almost it seemed that he had not. He was only human--and there +was a limit to human endurance. If circumstances proved too hard.... +The sound of a little smothered cough checked his thoughts abruptly. He +realised that in self-commiseration he had lost sight of the purpose of +his visit. It was only she who mattered; her health, her happiness that +must be considered. He cursed himself and searched vainly for words +to express what he must say. And the more he thought the more utterly +speech evaded him. Then chance aided. She coughed again and with a +little impatient gesture rose to her feet. + +“Aunt Caro has decided to go to Cimiez for the rest of the +winter--because of my cough. She settled it while you were away. I don't +want to go, my cough is nothing. I wouldn't exchange this”--pointing to +the snow-clad park--“for all the warmth and sunshine of the Riviera. +I want to store up all the memories I can. You don't know how I have +learned to love the Towers.” It was as if the last words had escaped +unintentionally for she flushed and turned again abruptly to the +darkening window. His heart gave a sudden leap but he did not move. + +“Then why leave it?” he asked brusquely. + +She leaned her forehead on the frosting glass and her eyes grew misty. + +“You _know_,” she said softly, and her voice trembled. “In all the world +I have only my--my talent and my self-respect. If I were to do what you +and Aunt Caro, in your wonderful generosity, propose--oh, don't stop +me, you _must_ listen--I should only have my talent left. Can't you +see, can't you understand that I must work, that I must prove my +self-respect? For all that you have done, for all that you have given +me I have tried to thank you--often. Always you have stopped me. Do you +grudge me the only way in which I can show my gratitude, the only way +in which I can prove myself worthy of your esteem?” Her voice broke in a +little sob. Then she turned to him quickly, her hands out-stretched and +quivering. “If I could only do something to repay----” she cried, with +a passionate earnestness he had never heard in her before. He caught at +the opening that offered. “You can,” he said quietly, “but it is so big +a thing--it would more than swamp the debt you think you owe me.” + +“Tell me,” she whispered urgently as he paused. + +He turned from her eager questioning face with acute embarrassment. He +hated himself, he hated his task, only the darkness of the room seemed +to make it possible. + +“Gillian,” he said, with constrained gravity. “I came to you to-day +deliberately to ask you what I believe no man has any right to ask a +woman. I have tried all the afternoon to tell you. Something you said +just now makes it easier. You say you love the Towers--do you love it +well enough to stay here as its mistress, on the only terms that I can +offer?” + +The look of incredulous horror that leaped into her startled eyes made +him realise suddenly the interpretation that might be put upon his +words. He caught her hands almost roughly. “Good heavens, child, not +that!” he cried aghast. “What do you take me for? I am asking you to +marry me--but not the kind of marriage that every woman has the right to +expect. If I could offer you that, God knows how willingly I would. But +there has been that in my life which comes between me and the happiness +that other men can look forward to. For me that part of life is over. +I have only friendship to offer. I know I am asking more than it seems +possible for you to grant, more, a thousand times more than I ought to +ask you--but I do ask it, most earnestly. If you can bring yourself to +make so great a sacrifice, if you can accept a marriage that will be a +marriage only in name----” + +She shuddered from him with a bitter cry. “You are offering me +_charity_!” she wailed, struggling to free her hands. But he held them +firmer. “I am asking you to take pity on a very lonely man,” he said +gently. “I am asking you to care for a very lonely house. You have +brought sunshine into the Towers, you have brought sunshine into the +lives of many people living on the estate. I am asking you to stay where +you are so much wanted--so much--loved.” + +Then he let her go and she walked unsteadily to the fireplace. She +stood for a moment, her fingers working convulsively, staring into +the smouldering embers, and then sank into a chair, for her limbs were +shaking under her. He followed slowly and stooped to stir the fire to a +blaze. Covertly she looked at him as the red light illuminated his face +and scalding tears gathered in her eyes. And, curiously, it was not +wholly of herself that she was thinking. She was envying, with a feeling +of hopeless intolerable pain, that other woman whom he had loved. For +his words could only have meant one thing, and the great sorrow she had +imagined seemed all at once explained. She wondered what manner of woman +she had been, if she had died--or if she had proved unworthy. And the +last thought roused a sudden fierce resentment--how could a woman who +had won his love throw it back at his feet, unwanted! The envious tears +welled over and she brushed them furtively away. Then her thoughts +turned in compassion to him. Through death or faithlessness love had +brought no joy to him--he suffered as she was suffering now. She looked +at the silver threads gleaming in his hair, at the deep lines in his +face and the pain in her eyes gave place to a wonderful tenderness. She +had prayed for a chance to show her gratitude; if what he asked could +bring any alleviation to his life, if her presence could bring any sort +of comfort to his loneliness, was not even that more than she had ever +dared to hope? That he should turn to her was understandable. He had men +friends in plenty, but women he openly and undisguisedly avoided. He had +grown used to her presence at the Towers, a marriage such as he proposed +would call for no great alteration in the daily routine to which he had +become accustomed. If by doing this she could in any way repay.... + +The replenished fire was filling the room with soft flickering light, +it cast strange shadows on the curtained walls and revealed the girl's +strained white face pitilessly. Craven had risen and was standing +looking down on her. She grew aware of his scrutiny and flinched, the +hot blood rolling slowly, painfully over her face and neck. He spoke +abruptly, as if the words were forced from him: + +“But I want you to realise fully what this marriage with me would mean, +for it is a very big sacrifice I am asking of you. Whatever happened, +you would be bound to me. If”--his voice faltered momentarily--“if you +were sometime to meet a man--and love him--you would be my wife, you +would not be free to follow your heart.” + +She stared straight before her, her hands clasped tight around her +knees, shivering slightly. “I shall never--want to marry--in that way,” + she said in a strangled voice. He smiled sadly. “You think that now--you +are very young,” he argued, “but we have the future to think of.” + +She did not answer and in the silence that ensued he wondered what had +induced him to put forward an argument that might defeat his purpose. In +any other case it would have been only the honourable thing to do, but +in this it was a risk he should not have taken. He moved impatiently. +Then suddenly he leaned forward and laid his hands on her shoulders, +drawing her gently to her feet. + +“Gillian!” + +Slowly she raised her head. The touch of his hands was almost more than +she could bear, but she steadied her trembling lips and met his gaze +bravely as he spoke again. + +“If you will agree to this--this _mariage de convenance_, I will do +all that lies in my power to make your life happy. You will be free in +everything. I ask nothing but that you will look on me as a friend to +whom you can always come in any difficulty or any trouble. You will be +complete mistress of yourself, your time, your inclinations. I will not +interfere with you in any way.” + +She searched his face, trying to read what lay behind his inscrutable +expression. His eyes were kind, but there was in them a curious +underlying gleam that she could not understand. And his voice puzzled +her. She was bewildered, torn with conflicting doubts. Sensitively she +shrank from his inexplicable suggestion, she could see no reason for his +amazing proposal save an extraordinary generosity that filled her with +gratitude and yet against which she revolted. + +“You are doing this in pity!” she cried miserably. + +“Before God I swear that I am not,” he said, with unexpected fierceness +that startled her, and the sudden painful gripping of the strong hands +on her shoulders made her for the first time aware of his strength. She +thought of it wonderingly. If it had been otherwise, if he had loved +her, how gladly she would have surrendered to it. It would have stood +between her and the unknown world that loomed sometimes in spite of her +confidence with a sinister horror on which she dared not dwell. In the +safety of his arms she would never have known fear, his strength would +have shielded her through life. And, in a lesser degree, his strength +might still be hers to turn to, if she would. A new conception of the +future she had planned rushed over her, the confidence she had felt fell +suddenly away, leaving fear and dread and a terror of loneliness. His +touch had destroyed her faith in herself. It had done more. In some +subtle way it seemed to her he had by his touch claimed her. And with +his hands still pressing her shoulders she felt a strange inability to +oppose him. He had sworn that it was not pity that dictated his offer. +He had said that love did not exist for him. What then could be his +motive? She could find none. + +“You wouldn't lie to me?” she whispered, tormented with doubt, “you wish +this--this marriage--truly?” + +He looked at her steadily. + +“I wish it, truly,” he said firmly. + +“You would let me go on with my work?” she faltered, fighting for time. + +“I have said that I would not interfere with you in any way, that you +would be free in everything,” he answered, and as if in earnest of the +freedom promised his hands slipped from her. + +The fire had died down again, and the room was almost dark, he could +hardly see her where she stood. He waited, hoping she would speak, then +abruptly: “Can you give me an answer, Gillian?” + +He heard the quick intake of her breath, felt her trembling beside him. + +“Oh, if you would give me time,” she murmured entreatingly. “I want to +think. It means so much.” + +“Take all the time you wish,” he said, and went quietly away. And his +going brought a sudden desolation. She longed to call him back, +to promise what he asked, to yield without further struggle. But +uncertainty held her. Motionless she stood staring through the darkness +at the dim outline of the door that had closed behind him, her breast +heaving tumultuously, until tears blinded her and with a gasping sob +she slipped to the floor. She had never dared to hope that he could +love her, but the truth from his own lips was bitter. And for a time the +realisation of that bitterness deadened all other feeling. Overwrought +with the emotion of the last few hours, her nerves strained to breaking +point, she was unable to check the tide of grief that shook her to the +very depths of her being. With her face hidden in the soft rug, her +outflung hands clenching convulsively, she wept in an abandonment of +sorrow. + +If he had never spoken, if he had never made this strange proposal but +had maintained until the end the detached reserve that had seemed to set +so wide a gulf between them, it would have been easier to bear. He would +have passed out of her life, inscrutable as he had always been. But with +his change of attitude, in the intimacy of the few hours they had spent +alone, she had seen him with new eyes. The mysterious unapproachable +guardian had gone for ever, and in his place was a very human man +revealing characteristics she had never imagined to exist, showing an +interest and a gentleness she had never suspected. He had exhibited a +similarity of tastes and ideas that agreed extraordinarily with her +own, he had talked as to a comrade. The companionship had been very +sweet--very sorrowful. She could never think of him again as he had +been, and the new conception of him gave a poignant stab to her grief. +In the brief happiness of the afternoon she had had a fleeting vision of +what might have been “if he had loved me,” she moaned, and it seemed to +her that she had never known until now the real depth of her own love. +What she had felt before was not comparable with the overwhelming +passion that the touch of his hands had quickened. It swept her like +a raging torrent, carrying her beyond the limit of her understanding, +bringing with it strange yearnings that, half-understood, she shuddered +from, ashamed. + +Torn with emotion she wept until she had no tears left, until the hard +racking sobs died away and her tired sorrow-shaken body lay still. +For the moment, exhausted, her agony of mind was dulled and time was +non-existent. She did not move or lift her head from the tear-wet rug. +A great weariness seemed to deaden all faculty. The minutes passed +unnoticed. Then some latent consciousness stirred in her brain and she +looked up startled. + +It was quite dark and she realised, shivering, that the room had grown +very cold. The calm afternoon had given place to a stormy night +and heavy gusts of wind were sweeping round the angle of the house, +shrieking and whistling eerily; from the window came the soft _swish +swish_ of dry hard snow beating against the panes. She started to her +feet. She had no idea of the hour but she knew it must be late. Perhaps +the dinner gong had already sounded and, missed, somebody might come in +search of her. She shrank from being found thus. Feeling her way to a +lamp she turned the switch and the soft light flooding the room made her +wince. A glance at her watch showed that she had still a few moments in +which to gain her room unobserved. + +She felt oddly lightheaded and her feet dragged wearily. The tortuous +passage had never seemed so interminable, the succession of closed doors +appeared unending. Reaching her own room she collapsed on to a sofa +that was drawn up before the fire, her head aching, her limbs shivering +uncontrollably, worn out with emotion. Exhausted in mind and body she +seemed unable even to frame a thought logically or coherently--only an +interrupted medley of unconnected ideas chased through her tired brain +until her temples throbbed agonisingly. She knew that sometime she would +have to rouse herself, that sometime a decision would have to be made, +but not now. Now she could only lie still and make no effort. She was +angry with herself, contemptuous of her weakness. She had disdained +nerves, she was humiliated now by her present lack of control. But even +self-scorn was a passing thought from which she turned wearily. + +One fact only remained, clear and distinct from the confusion in her +mind--he did not love her. He did not love her. It hurt so. She hid her +face in the pillows, writhing with the shame the knowledge of her own +love brought her. The deep booming of the dinner gong awoke her to the +necessity of some kind of action. She rang the bell that hung within +reach of her hand and, by the maid who answered her summons, sent her +excuses to Miss Craven, pleading a headache for remaining upstairs. + +A few minutes later Mary, grim-visaged and big-hearted, appeared with a +tray, headache remedies and multifarious messages from the dining room. +She bathed the girl's aching head, brushing the tumbled brown hair and +piling it afresh into a soft loose knot. Grumbling gently at the long +hours of work to which she attributed the unusual indisposition, she +took full advantage of the rare opportunity of rendering personal +attention and fussed to her heart's content, stripping off the stained +overall and substituting a loose velvet wrapper; and then stood over +her, a kindly martinet, until the light dinner she had brought was +eaten. Afterwards she packed pillows, made up the fire, and administered +a particularly nauseous specific emanating from a homeopathic medicine +chest that was her greatest pride, and then took herself away, still +mildly admonishing. + +Gillian leaned back against the cushions with a feeling of greater +ease and restfulness. Food had given her strength and under Mary's +ministrations her mental poise had steadied. She would not let herself +dwell on the question that must before long be settled, Miss Craven +would be coming soon, and until she had been and gone no definite +settlement could be attempted. + +She lay looking at the fire, endeavouring to keep her mind a blank. It +was odd to be alone, she missed the familiar black form lying on the +hearth-rug, but tonight she could not bear even Mouston's presence, +and Mary had taken a request to Yoshio, to whose room the dog had been +banished from the studio, that he would keep him until the morning. + +A tap at the door and Miss Craven appeared, anxious and questioning. + +“Only a headache?--my dear, I don't believe it!” she protested, plumping +down on the side of the sofa and clutching at her hair, that sure sign +of perturbation. “You've never had a headache like this before. You've +been working too hard. You were painting all the morning and they tell +me you worked throughout the afternoon and had no tea. Gillian, dear, +when will you learn sense? I don't at all approve of you having tea sent +to the studio _only_ when you ring for it. Young people require regular +meals and as often as not neglect 'em; young artists are the worst +offenders--you needn't contradict me, I know all about it. I did it +myself.” She patted the clasped hands lying near her and scrutinised +the girl more closely. “You're as pale as a ghost and your eyes are too +bright. Did Mary take your temperature? No?--the woman must have lost +her senses. I'll telephone to Doctor Harris to come and see you in +the morning. If you looked a fraction more feverish I'd send for you +to-night, storm or no storm. Peter braved it, open car as usual. He sent +his love. Barry turned up from Scotland this afternoon. He looks very +tired--says he had a bothering time and a wretched journey--Gillian!” + she cried sharply as the girl slid from the sofa on to her knees beside +her and raised a quivering piteous face. + +“Aunt Caro, I'm not ill,” the words came in tumbling haste, “there's +nothing bodily the matter with me--I'm only dreadfully unhappy. I know +Mr. Craven is back--he came to me in the studio this afternoon. He asked +me to marry him,” the troubled voice sank to a whisper, “and I--I don't +know what to do.” + +“My dear.” The tenderness of Miss Craven's tone sent a strangling wave +of emotion into Gillian's throat. “Aunt Caro, did you know? Do you wish +it too?” she murmured wistfully. + +Unwilling to admit a previous knowledge which would be difficult to +explain, Miss Craven temporised. “I very greatly hoped for it,” she said +guardedly; “you and Barry are all I have to care for, and you are both +so--alone. I know you think of a very different life, I know you have +dreams of making a career for yourself. But a career is not all that a +woman wants in her life; it can perhaps mean independence and fame, +it can also mean great loneliness and the loss of the full and perfect +happiness that should be every woman's. You mustn't judge all cases +by me. I have been happy in my own way but I want a greater, richer +happiness for you, dear. I want for you the best that the world can +give, and that best I believe to be the shelter and the safety of a +man's love.” + +The brown head dropped on her knee. “You are thinking of me--I am +thinking of him,” came a stifled whisper. + +Miss Craven stroked the soft hair tenderly. “Then why not give him what +he asks, my dear,” she said gently. “He has known sorrow and suffering. +If through you, he can forget the past in a new happiness, will you not +grant it him? Oh, Gillian, I have so hoped that you might care for each +other; that, together, you might make the Towers the perfect home it +should be, a home of mutual trust and love. You and Barry and, please +God, after you--your children.” She choked with unexpected emotion and +brushed the mist from her eyes impatiently. + +And at her knee Gillian knelt motionless, her lip held fast between her +teeth to stop the bitter cry that nearly escaped her, her heart almost +bursting. The picture Miss Craven's words called up was an ideal of +happiness that might have been. The suffering that reality promised +seemed more than she could contemplate. What happiness could come +from such a travesty? The strange yearnings she had experienced seemed +suddenly crystallised into form, and the knowledge was a greater pain +than she had known. What she would have gone down to the gates of death +to give him he did not require--the unutterable joy that Miss +Craven suggested would never be hers. She searched for words, for an +explanation of her silence that must seem strange to the elder woman. +Miss Craven obviously knew nothing of the unusual conditions attached to +his proposal, her words proved it, and Gillian could not tell her. She +could not betray his confidence even if she had so wished. If she could +but speak frankly and show all her difficulty to the friend who +had never yet failed in love and sympathy----She sought refuge in +prevarication. “How can I marry him?” she cried miserably. “You +don't know anything about me. I'm not a fit person to be his wife--my +antecedents----” + +“Bother your antecedents!” interrupted Miss Craven, with a somewhat +shaky laugh. “My dearest girl, Barry isn't going to marry them, he's +going to marry you. They can have been anything you like or imagine but +it does not alter the fact that their daughter is the one woman on earth +I want for Barry's wife.” She stooped and gathered the girl into her +arms. + +“Gillian, can you give us, Barry and me, this great happiness?” + +Gently Gillian disengaged herself and rose slowly to her feet. She made +a little helpless gesture, swaying as she stood. “What can I say?” she +said brokenly. “Do you think it means nothing to me! Don't you know that +what I already owe you and Mr. Craven is almost more than I can bear, +that I would give my life for either of you? But this--oh, you don't +understand--I can't tell you--I can't explain----” She dropped back +on the sofa and her voice came muffled and entreatingly from among the +silken cushions, “If you knew how I long to repay you for your wonderful +goodness, if you knew what your love has meant to me! Oh, dearest, I'd +give the world to please you! But I don't know what to do, I don't know +what is honest--and you can't help me, nobody can help me. I've got to +settle it myself. I've got to think----” + +Miss Craven guessed the crying need for solitude conveyed in the last +faltering words and rose in obedience to the unspoken request. She stood +for a moment, looking tenderly down on the slim prostrate figure, and a +fear that grew momentarily stronger came to her that in her endeavour +to bring happiness to these two lives she had blundered fatally. She +had been a fool, rushing in. And with almost a feeling of dismay she +realised it was beyond her ability now to stay what she had put in +motion. She was as one who, having wantonly released some complex +mechanism, stands aghast and powerless at the consequence of his +rashness. And yet, despite the seeming setback to her hopes, the +conviction that had urged her to this step was still strong in her; +she still had faith in its ultimate achievement. She touched the girl's +shoulder in a quick caress. “You are worn out, child. Go to bed and rest +now, and think to-morrow,” she said soothingly. + +For long after she left the room Gillian lay without moving. Then with +a long shuddering sigh she sat up. She tried to concentrate on +the decision she must make but her thoughts, ungovernable, dwelt +persistently on the unknown woman whom she had convinced herself he must +have loved, and the passionate envy she had felt before swept her again +until the pain of it sent a whispered prayer to her lips for strength to +put it from her. Huddled on the side of the sofa, her head supported on +her hands, she stared fixedly into the fire as if seeking in the leaping +flames the answer to the problem that confronted her. Then in her agony +of mind inaction became impossible and she rose and paced the room with +hurried nervous tread. + +To do what was right--to do what was honourable; to conquer the +clamorous self that cried out for acceptance of this semblance of +happiness that was offered. To bear his name, to have the right to be +near him, to care for him and for his interests as far as she might. +To be his wife--even if only in name. Dear God, did he know how he had +tempted her? But she had no right. The crushing burden of debt she owed +rose like an unsurpassable mountain between her and what she longed +for. Only by repayment could she keep her self-respect. The dreams +of independence, the place she had thought to make for herself in the +world, the re-establishing of her father's name--could she forego what +she had planned? Was it not a nobler aim than the gratification of self +that urged the easier way? Yet would it be the easier way? Was she not +really in her heart shrinking from the difficulty and sadness that this +loveless marriage would bring? Was it not cowardice that prompted a +supposed nobility of thought that now appeared ignoble? She wrung her +hands in desperation. Had she no courage or steadfastness at all? Was +the weakness of purpose that had ruined her father's life to be her +curse as it had been his? + +She felt suddenly very young, very inexperienced. Her early training +that had denied the exercise of individual responsibility and had +inculcated a passivity of mind that precluded self-determination had +bitten deeper than she knew. Her life since leaving the convent had been +smooth and uneventful, there had been no occasion to practise the new +liberty of thought and action that was hers. And now before a decision +that would be so irrevocable, that would involve her whole life--and not +hers alone--she felt to the full the disability of her upbringing. +Alone she must make her choice and she shrank from the burden of +responsibility that fell upon her. She had nobody to turn to for counsel +or advice. In her loneliness she longed for the solace of a mother's +tenderness, the shelter of a mother's arms, and bitterness came to her +as she thought of the parents who had each in their turn abandoned her +so callously. She had been robbed of her birthright of love and care. +She was alone in the world, alone to fight her own battles, alone in the +moment of her direst need. + +Then all at once she seemed to see in the trend of her thoughts only +a supreme selfishness that had lost sight of all but personal +consideration. Was her love of so little worth that in thought +for herself she had forgotten him? He had asked her to pity his +loneliness--and she had had only pity for herself. Her lips quivered as +she whispered his name in an agony of self-condemnation. + +Coming back slowly to the fireside she slipped to the floor and +leaned her head against the sofa listening to the storm that beat with +increasing violence against the house, and the roar of the tempest +without seemed in strange agreement with the tumult that was raging in +her heart. The words he had used came back to her. Did it really lie +in her power to lessen the loneliness of his life? To give him what he +asked--was not that, after all, the true way to pay her debt? With a +little sob she bowed her head on her hands.... An hour later she rose +stiffly, cramped with long sitting, and moving nearer to the fire chafed +her cold hands mechanically. Her face was very sad and her wide eyes +heavy with unshed tears. She drew a long sobbing breath. “Because I love +him,” she murmured. “If I didn't love him I couldn't do it.” A thought +that brought new hope came to her. She loved him so deeply, might not +her love, she wondered wistfully, perhaps some day be strong enough to +heal the wound he had sustained--strong enough even to compel his love? +Then doubt seized hold on her again. Would she, in the limited scope +that she would have, find opportunity--would he ever allow her to get +near enough to him?... She flung her hands out in passionate appeal. + +“Oh, God! if this thing that I am doing is wrong, if it brings sorrow +and unhappiness, let me be the only one to pay!” + +A sudden longing to make retraction impossible came over her. She looked +anxiously at her watch. Was it too late to go to him to-night? Only when +she had told him would she be sure of herself. Her word once given there +could be no withdrawal. + +It was nearly midnight but she knew he rarely left his study until +later. Peters would be gone, he was methodical in his habits and retired +punctually at eleven o'clock with a regularity that was unvarying. She +was sure of finding him alone. She dared not wait until the morning, she +must go now while she had the courage. Delay might bring new doubts, new +uncertainty. Impulsively she started towards the door, then paused on a +sudden thought that sent the warm blood in a painful wave to her +face. Would he misunderstand, think her unwomanly, attribute her hasty +decision to a sordid desire for material gain, for the ease that would +be hers, for the position that his name would give? It was the natural +thought for him who offered so much to one who would give nothing in +return. And not for him alone--in the eyes of the world she would be +only a little adventuress who had skilfully seized the opportunity +that circumstance had given to advantage herself. But the world did not +matter, she thought with scornful curling lip, it was only in his eyes +that she desired to stand well. Then with quick shame she knew that the +sentiments she had ascribed to him were unworthy, the outcome only +of her own strained imagination, and she put them from her. She went +quickly to the gallery, dimly lit from a single lamp left alight in the +hall below--left for Craven as she knew. Silence brooded over the great +house. The storm that earlier had beat tempestuously against the dome +as if striving to shatter the massive glass plates that opposed its fury +had blown itself out and glancing upward Gillian saw the huge cupola +shrouded with snow that gleamed palely in the soft light. The stillness +oppressed her and odd thoughts chased through her mind. She looked to +right and left nervously and in a sudden inexplicable panic sped down +the wide staircase and across the shadowy hall until she reached the +study door. There she halted with wildly beating heart, panting and +breathless. It was a room which she had never before entered, and an +almost paralysing shyness made her shake from head to foot. Nerving +herself with a strong effort she tapped with trembling fingers and, at +the sound of an answering voice, went in. + +Strength seemed all at once to leave her. Physically and mentally +exhausted, a feeling of unreality supervened. The strange room swam +before her eyes. As in a dream she saw him start to his feet and +come swiftly to her across a seemingly unending length of carpet that +billowed and wavered curiously, his big frame oddly magnified until he +appeared a very giant towering above her; as in a dream she felt him +take her ice-cold hands in his. But the warm strong grasp, the grave +eyes bent compellingly on her, dragged her back from the shuddering +abyss into which she was sinking. Far away, as though coming from a +great distance, she heard him speaking. And his voice, gentler than she +had ever known it, gave her courage to whisper, so low that he had to +bend his tall head to catch the fluttering words, the promise she had +come to give. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +On an afternoon in early September eighteen months after her marriage +Gillian was driving across the park toward the little village of Craven +that, old world and quite unspoiled, clustered round a tiny Norman +church two miles distant from the Towers. She leaned back in the +victoria, her hands clasped in her lap, preoccupied and thoughtful. +A scented heap of deep crimson roses and carnations lay at her feet; +beside her, in contrast to her listless attitude, Mouston sat up tense +and watchful, his sharp muzzle thrust forward, his black nose twitching +eagerly at the distracting agitating smells borne on the warm air +tempting him from monotonous inactivity to a soul satisfying scamper +over the short cropped grass but, conscious of the dignity of his +position, ignoring them with a gravity of demeanour that was almost +comical. Once or twice when his wrinkling nostrils caught some +particularly attractive odour his pads kneaded the cushions vigorously +and a snarly gurgle rose in his throat. But no other sign of +restlessness escaped him--it was patience bred of experience. For miles +around he was a well-known figure, sitting grave and motionless on his +accustomed side of the victoria as it rolled through the country lanes. +To the villagers of Craven, all directly or indirectly dependent on +the estate, he was welcome in that he was inseparable from the gentle +tender-hearted girl whom they worshipped, but their welcome was +a qualified one that never descended to the familiar; his strange +appearance and disdainful aloofness made him an object of curiosity +to be viewed with most safety from a respectful distance; time had not +accustomed them to him and tales of his uncanny understanding filtering +through, richly embroidered, to the village from the house, did not tend +to lessen the awe with which he was regarded. They marvelled, without +comprehension, at the partiality of his mistress; he was the “black +French devil” to more households than that of Major, the gamekeeper, an +“unorranary brute” to those of less gifted imagination. + +To Mouston Gillian's periodical visits to the village were a tedium +endured for the sake of the coveted seat beside her. + +The passing of a herd of deer, feeding intently and--save for one or two +more timid hinds who started nervously--too used to the carriage to +heed its approach, roused the poodle, as always, to a high pitch of +excitement; they were old enemies and his annoyance gave vent to a +sharp yelp as he sidled close to Gillian and endeavoured to attract her +attention with an insistent paw. But for once she was heedless of the +hints of her dumb companion, and, whining, he slunk back into his own +corner, curling up on the seat with his forepaws brushing the mass +of scented blossom. And ignorant of the pleading brown eyes fixed +pathetically on her, Gillian followed the train of her own troubled +thoughts. For eighteen months she had been Barry Craven's wife, for +eighteen months she had endeavoured to fulfill her share of the contract +they had made--and to herself she admitted failure. + +The strain was becoming unendurable. + +In the eyes of the world an ideal couple, in reality--she wondered if in +the whole universe there were two more lonely souls than they. She knew +now that the task she had set herself that stormy December night was +beyond her power, that it had been the unattainable dream of an immature +love-sick girl. She had fought to retain her high ideals, to believe +that love--as great, as unselfish as hers--must beget love, but she had +come to realise the utter futility of her dream and to wonder at the +childish ignorance that had inspired it. The sustaining hope that she +might indeed be a comfort to his loneliness had died hard, but +surely. For he gave her no opportunity. Despite unfailing kindness and +overwhelming generosity he maintained always a baffling reserve she +found impossible to penetrate. Of his inner self she knew no more than +she had ever done, she could get no nearer to him. But in all matters +that dealt with their common life he was scrupulously frank and +out-spoken; he had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his +interests and a working idea of his affairs, from which she had shrunk +sensitively, but he had persisted, arguing that in the event of his +death--Peters not being immortal--it was necessary that she should be +able to administer possessions that would be hers--and the thought of +those possessions crushed her. It was only after a long struggle, in +distress that horrified him, that she persuaded him to forego the big +settlement he proposed making. If she had not loved him his liberality +would have hurt her less, but because of her love his money was a +scourge. She hated the wealth to which she felt she had no right, to +herself she seemed an impostor, a cheat. She felt degraded. She would +rather he had bought her, as women have from time immemorial been +bought, that she might have paid the price, as they pay, and so retained +the self-respect that now seemed for ever lost. It would have been a +means of re-establishing herself in her own eyes, of easing the burden +of his bounty that grew daily heavier and from which she could never +escape. It was evident in all about her; in the greater state and +ceremony observed at the Towers since their marriage, which, while +it pleased the household, who rejoiced in the restoration of the old +régime, oppressed her unspeakably; in the charities she dispensed--his +charities that brought her no sense of sacrifice, no joy of self-denial; +in the social duties that poured in upon her. + +His wealth served only to strengthen the barrier between them, but for +that she might have been to him what she longed to be. If the talent +that now seemed so useless could have been used for him she would have +found a measure of happiness even if love had never come to crown her +service. In poverty she would have worked for him, slaved for him, with +the strength and tirelessness that only love can give. But here the +gladness of giving, of serving, was denied, here there was nothing +she might do and the futility of her life choked her. She had +conscientiously endeavoured to assume the responsibilities and duties +of her new position, but there seemed little for her to do, for the big +household ran smoothly on oiled wheels under the capable administration +of Forbes and Mrs. Appleyard, with whom, both honest and devoted to the +interests of the family they had served so long and faithfully, she knew +it was unnecessary and unwise to interfere. In any unusual circumstance +they would refer to her with tactful deference but for the rest she knew +that, perforce, she must be content to remain a figure-head. Even her +work--interrupted constantly by the social duties incumbent on her and +performed from a sense of obligation--failed to comfort and distract. It +was all so utterly useless and purposeless. The gift with which she had +thought to do so much was wasted. She could do nothing with it. She was +no longer Gillian Locke who had dreamed of independence, who had hoped +by toil and endeavour to clear the stain from her father's name. She was +the rich Mrs. Craven--who must smile to hide a breaking heart, who must +play the part expected of her, who must appear always care-free and +happy. And the constant effort was almost more than she could +achieve. In the ceaseless watch she set upon herself, in the rigid +self-suppression she exercised, it seemed to her as if her true self had +died, and her entity faded into an automaton that moved in mechanical +obedience to the driving of her will. Only during the long night hours +or in the safe seclusion of the studio could she relax, could she be +natural for a little while. That Craven might never learn the misery of +her life, that she might not fail him as she had failed herself, was +her one prayer. She welcomed eagerly the advent of guests, of foreign +guests--more exigent in their demands upon her society--particularly; +with the house filled the time of host and hostess was fully occupied +and the difficult days passed more easily, more quickly. The weeks they +spent alone she dreaded; from the morning greeting in the breakfast room +to the moment when he gave her the quiet “Good-night” that might +have come from an undemonstrative brother, she was in terror lest an +unguarded word, a chance expression, might tell him what she sought to +keep from him. But so insensible did his own constant pre-occupation of +mind make him appear of much that passed, that she feared his intuition +less than that of Peters who she was convinced had a very shrewd idea of +the state of affairs existing between them. It was manifested in diverse +ways; not by any spoken word direct or indirect, but by additional +fatherly tenderness of manner, by unfailing tactfulness, by quick +intervention that had saved many awkward situations. It was practically +impossible in view of his almost daily association with the house and +its inmates that he could be unaware of certain facts. But the wise +kindly eyes that she had feared most were closed for ever. + +The Great Summons for which Miss Craven had been so calmly prepared had +come more suddenly, more tragically even than she had anticipated. She +had passed over as she would have wished, had she been given the choice, +not in the awful loneliness of death but one of a company of heroic +souls who had voluntarily and willingly stood aside that others might +have the chance to live. + +A few months after the marriage on which she had set her heart the +family curse had seized her as suddenly and as imperatively as it had +ever done her nephew. An exhibition of statuary in America had served +as an adequate excuse and she had started at comparatively short notice, +accompanied by the faithful Mary, after a stormy interview with her +doctor, whose gloomy warnings she refuted with the undeniable truism +that one land was as good as another to die in. Within a few hours of +the American coast the tragedy, short and overwhelming, had occurred. +From the parent ice a thousand miles away in the north the stupendous +white destruction had moved majestically down its appointed course to +loom out of the pitch-black night with appalling consequence. A sudden +crash, slight enough to be unnoticed by hundreds, a convulsive shudder +of the great ship like the death struggle of a Titan, had been followed +by unquellable panic, confusion of darkness, inadequate boats and +jamming bulkheads. Miss Craven and Mary were among the first on deck and +for the short space of time that remained they worked side by side +among the terror-stricken women and children, their own life-belts early +transferred to dazed mothers who clutched wild-eyed at wailing babes. +Together they had stood back from the overcrowded boats, smiling and +unafraid; together they had gone down into the mystery of the deep, two +gallant women, no longer mistress and maid but sisters in sacrifice and +in the knowledge of that greater love for which they cheerfully laid +down their lives. + +And while Gillian mourned her bitterly she was yet glad that Miss +Craven was spared the sadness of witnessing the complete failure of her +cherished dream. + +In the little Norman church toward which Gillian was driving there had +been added yet another memorial to a Craven who had died tragically +and far from home; a record of disastrous calamity that, beginning four +hundred years before with the Elizabethan gallant, had relentlessly +pursued an ill-starred family. The church lay on the outskirts of the +village and close to the south entrance of the park. + +Gillian stopped the carriage for a few moments to speak to the +anxious-looking woman who had hurried out from the creeper-covered lodge +to open the gates. Behind one of the casements of the cottage a child +was fighting for life, a cripple, with an exquisite face, whom Gillian +had painted. To the sorrowful mother the eager tender words, the soft +impulsive hand that clasped her own work-roughened palm, the wide dark +eyes, misty with sympathy were worth infinitely more than the material +aid, so carefully packed by Mrs. Appleyard, that the footman carried up +the narrow nagged path to the cottage door. + +And as the impatient horses drew the carriage swiftly on again Gillian +leaned back in her seat with a quivering sigh. The woman at the lodge, +despite her burden of sorrow, despite her humbleness, was yet richer +than she and, with intolerable pain, she envied her the crowning joy of +womanhood that would never be her own. The child she longed for would +never by the touch baby hands bring consolation to her starved and +lonely heart. Her thoughts turned to her husband in a sudden passion of +hopeless love and longing. To bear him a child--to hold in her arms a +tiny replica of the beloved figure that was so dear to her, to watch +and rejoice in the dawning resemblance that the ardour of her love would +make inevitable.... Hastily she brushed away the gathering tears as the +carriage stopped abruptly with a jingle of harness at the lichgate. + +Coaxing the reluctant Mouston from the seat where he still sulked she +tied him to the gate, took the armful of flowers from the grave-faced +footman, and dismissing the carriage walked slowly up the lime-bordered +avenue. The orderliness and beauty of the churchyard struck her as it +always did--a veritable garden of sleep, with level close-shorn turf +set thick with standard rose trees, that even the clustering headstones +could not make chill and sombre. + +From the radiant sunshine without she passed into the cool dimness of +the little building. With its tiny proportions, ornate and numerous +Craven memorials and--for its size--curiously large chancel, it seemed +less the parish church it had become than the private chapel for which +it had been built. Then the house had been close by, but during the +troublous years of Mary Tudor was pulled down and rebuilt on the present +site. + +Through the quiet silence Gillian made her way up the short central +aisle until she reached the chancel steps. For a few minutes she knelt, +her face crushed against the flowers she held, in silent passionate +prayer that knew neither form nor words--a soundless supplication that +was an inchoate appeal to a God of infinite understanding. Then rising +slowly she pushed back the iron gate and went into the chancel. Directly +to the left the new monument gleamed cleanly white against the old +dark wall. Simple and bold, as she would herself have designed it, the +sculptor's memorial was the work of the greatest genius of the day who +had willingly come from France at Craven's invitation to perpetuate the +memory of a sister artist who had also been a lifelong friend. + +A rugged pedestal of green bronze--with an inset panel representing the +tragedy--rose upward in the shape of billowing curling waves supporting +a marble Christ standing erect with outstretched pitying hand, majestic +and yet wholly human. + +Gillian gazed upward with quivering lips at the Saviour's inclined +tender face, and opening her arms let the scented mass of crimson +blossom fall slowly to the slab at her feet that bore Miss Craven's name +and Mary's cut side by side. + + _“Greater love hath no man than this, that + a man lay down his life for his friends.”_ + +She read the words aloud, and with a stifled sob slipped down among the +roses and carnations that Caro Craven had loved, and leaned her aching +head against the cool hard bronze. “Dearest,” she whispered, in an agony +of tears, “I wonder can you hear? I wonder are you allowed, where you +are, to know what happens here on earth? Oh, Aunt Caro, _cherie_, do you +know that I have failed--failed to bring him the peace and consolation +I thought my love was strong enough to give, I have tried so hard to +understand, to help ... I have prayed so earnestly that he might turn to +me, that I might be to him what you would have me be ... but I have not +been able ... I have failed him ... failed you ... myself. Oh, dearest, +do you know?” + +Prone among the roses, at the feet of the pitying Christ, she cried +aloud in her desperate loneliness to the dead woman who had given her +the tenderest love she had ever known. The shadows lengthened widely +before she rose and drew the scattered flowers into a fragrant heap. +She stood for a while studying intently the relief of the wreck; it +suggested a train of thought, and with a sudden impulse she traversed +the chancel and sought among the memorials of dead Cravens for the +tablets commemorating those who had disappeared or died tragically. By +chance at first and later by design these had all been placed within the +confines of the chancel that formed so large a part of the tiny church. +Before the florid Italian monument that recorded all that was known of +the short life of the Elizabethan adventurer she paused long, looking +with quickening heart-beat at the graceful kneeling figure whose face +and form were those of the man she loved. + +_Barry Craven ... he set his eyes unto the west_.... Amongst the +calamitous record there were four more of the name--their bodies +scattered widely in distant unknown graves, victims of the spirit of +adventure and unrest. She moved slowly from one to the other, reading +again the tragical inscriptions she knew by heart, cut as deeply in her +memory as on the marble slabs before her. + + _Barry Craven--Lost in the Amazon Forest_. + _Barry Craven--In the silence of the frozen seas_. + _Barry Craven--Perished in a sandstorm in the Sahara_. + _Barry Craven--In Japan_. + _Barry Craven--Barry Craven_. + +The name leaped at her from all sides until, with a shudder, she buried +her face in her hands to shut out the staring capitals that flamed +in black and gold before her eyes. The dread that was with her always +seemed suddenly closer than it had ever been, menacing, inevitable. +Would the fear that haunted her day and night become at some not far +distant time an actual fact? Would the curse that had already led to +ten years' perpetual wandering lay hold of him again--would he, too, in +quest of the peace he had never found, disappear as they had done? Was +it for this that he had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his +affairs? With the quick intuition of love she had come to understand +the deep unrest that beset him periodically, an unrest she recognised +as wholly apart and separate from the other shadow that lay across his +life. With unfailing patience she had learned to discriminate. Covertly +she had watched him, striving to fathom the varying moods that swayed +him, endeavouring to anticipate the alternating frames of mind that made +any definite comprehension of his character so difficult. The charm +of manner and apparent serenity that led others to think of him as one +endowed beyond further desire with all that life could give did not +deceive her. He played a part, as she did, a part that was contrary to +his nature, contrary to his whole inclination. She guessed at the strain +on him, a strain it seemed impossible for him to endure, which some +day she felt must inevitably break. His habitual self-control was +extraordinary--once only during their married life had he lost it when +some event, jarring on his overstrung nerves, had evoked a blaze of +anger that seemed totally out of proportion to the circumstance, that +would have given her proof, had she needed one, of his state of mind. + +His outburst had been a perfectly natural reaction, but while she +admitted the fact she felt a nervous dread of its recurrence. + +She feared anything that might precipitate the upheaval that loomed +always before her like a threatening cloud. For sooner or later the +unrest that filled him would have to be satisfied. The curse of Craven +would claim him again and he would leave her. And she would have to +watch him go and wait in agony for his return as other women of the race +had watched and agonised. And if he went would he ever return? or +would she too know the anguish of suspense, the long drawn horror of +uncertainty, the fading hope that year by year would become slighter +until at last it would vanish altogether and the bitter waters of +despair close over her head? A moan, like the cry of a wounded animal, +broke from her. In vivid self-torturing imagination she saw among the +sinister record around her another tablet--that would mean finality. He +was the last of the Cravens. Did it mean nothing to him--had the sorrow +of that past that was unknown to her but which had become woven into her +own life so inextricably, so terribly, killed in him even the pride +of race? Had he, deep down in the heart that was hidden from her, no +thought of parenthood, no desire to perpetuate the family name, the +family traditions? It would seem that he had not--and yet she wondered. +The woman he had loved--of whose existence she had convinced herself--if +she had lived, or proved faithful, would he still have desired no son? +She shrank from the stabbing thought with a very bitter sob. + +A sudden horror of her environment came over her. Around her were +suggestions from which she shuddered, evidences that raised the haunting +dread with which she lived to a culmination of fear. It had never seemed +so near, so strong. It was stronger than her will to put it from her +and in it, with inherent superstition, she saw a premonition. The little +peaceful church became all at once a place of terror, a grisly charnel +house of vanished hopes and lives. The spirits of countless Cravens +seemed all about her, hostile, malign, triumphing in her weakness, +rejoicing in her fear--spectral figures of the dead crowding, hurrying, +threatening. She seemed to see them, a dense and awful concourse, +closing round her, to hear them whispering, muttering, jibing--at her, +a thing apart, an alien soul whose presence they resented. The clamorous +voices rang in her ears; vague shapes, illusive and shadowy, appeared to +float before her eyes. She shrank from what seemed the contact of actual +bodily forms. Unnerved and overwrought she yielded to the horror of +her own imagination. With a stifled cry she turned and fled, her arms +outstretched to fend from her the invisible host that seemed so real, +not daring even to look again at the pitying Christ whose calm serenity +formed such a striking contrast to her storm-tossed heart. + +Blindly she sped down the chancel steps, along the short central aisle, +out into the timbered porch, where she blundered sharply into somebody +who was on the point of entering. Who, it did not at the moment seem to +matter--enough that it was a human creature, real and tangible, to whom +she clung trembling and incoherent. A strong arm held her, and against +its strength she leaned for a few moments in the weakness of reaction +from the nervous strain through which she had passed. Then as she +slowly regained control of herself she realised the awkwardness of +her position, and her cheeks burned hotly. She drew back, her fingers +uncurling from the tweed coat they clutched so tightly, and, trying +to slip clear of the arm that still lay about her shoulders, looked up +shyly with murmured thanks. + +Then: “David,” she cried. “Oh, David----” and burst into tears. Guiding +her to the bench that rested against the side of the porch Peters drew +her down beside him. “Just David,” he said, with rather a sad little +smile, “I was passing and Mouston told me you were here.” He spoke +slowly, giving her time to recover herself, thanking fate that she +had collapsed into his arms rather than into those of some chattering +village busybody. He had caught a glimpse of her face as she came +through the church door and knew that her agitation was caused by +something more than sorrow for Miss Craven, great as that sorrow was. He +had seen fear in the hunted eyes that looked unrecognisingly into his--a +fear that he somehow resented with a feeling of helpless anger. + +The affection he had for her was such as he would have given the +daughter that might have been his had providence been kinder. And with +the insight that affection gave he had seen, with acute uneasiness, a +steadily increasing change in her during the last eighteen months. The +marriage from which he, as well as Miss Craven, had hoped so much seemed +after all to have brought no joy to either husband or wife. With his +intimate knowledge and close association he saw deeper than the casual +visitor to whom the family life at the Towers appeared an ideal of +domestic happiness and concord. There was nothing he could actually take +hold of, Craven was at all times considerate and thoughtful, Gillian +a model of wifely attention. But there was an atmosphere that, +super-sensitive, he discerned, a vague underlying feeling of tension +that he tried to persuade himself was mere imagination but which at the +bottom of his heart he knew existed. There had been times when he had +seen them both, as it were, off their guard, had read in the face +of each the same bitter pain, the same look of unsatisfied longing. +Possessing in so high a degree everything that life could give they +appeared to have yet missed the happiness that should by all reasoning +have been theirs. Whose was the fault? Caring for them both it was +a question that he turned from in aversion, he had no wish to judge +between them, no desire to probe their hidden affairs. Thrown constantly +into their society while guessing much he shut his eyes to more. But +anxiety remained, fostered by the memory of the tragedy of Barry's +father and mother. Was he fated to see just such another tragedy played +out before him with no power to avert the ruin of two more lives? The +pity of it! He could do nothing and his helplessness galled him. + +To-day as he sat in the little porch with Gillian's hand clasped in his +he felt more than ever the extreme delicacy of his position. Intuitively +he guessed that he was nearer than he had ever been to penetrating the +cloud that shadowed her life and Barry's but with equal intuition he +knew he must convey no hint of his understanding. He gauged her shy +sensitive mind too accurately and his own loyalty debarred him from +forcing such a confidence. Instead he spoke as though the visit to Miss +Craven's memorial must naturally be the cause of her agitation. + +“Why come, my dear, if it distresses you?” he said, in quiet +remonstrance; “she would not misunderstand. She had the sanest, the +healthiest conception of death. She died nobly--willingly. It would +sadden her immeasurably if she knew how you grieved.” Her fingers worked +convulsively in his. “I know--I know,” she whispered, “but, oh, David, +I miss her so--so inexpressibly.” + +“We all do,” he answered; “one cannot lose a friend like Caro Craven +lightly. But while we mourn the dead we have the living to consider--and +you have Barry,” he added, with almost cruel deliberation. She faced him +with steady eyes from which she had brushed all trace of tears. + +“Barry understands,” she said with quick loyalty; “he mourns her +too--but he doesn't _need_ her as I do.” It was an undeniable truth that +reduced Peters to silence and for a while Gillian also was silent. +Then she turned to him again with a little tremulous smile, the colour +flooding her delicate face. + +“I'm glad it was only you, David, just now. Please forget it. I don't +know what's the matter with me to-day, I let my nerves get the upper +hand--I'm tired--the sun was hot----” + +“So of course you sent the carriage away and proposed walking two miles +home by way of a rest cure!” he interrupted, jumping up with alacrity, +and taking advantage of the turn in the conversation. “Luckily I've got +the car. Plenty of room for you and the pampered one.” And waving aside +her protests he tucked her into the little two-seater, bundling Mouston +unceremoniously in after her. + +The village school was near the church, and while Peters steered the car +carefully through groups of children who were loitering in the road she +sat silent beside him, wondering, in miserable self-condemnation, how +much she had betrayed during those few moments of hysterical outburst. +Resolutely she determined that she would be strong, strong enough to put +away the dread that haunted her, strong enough to meet trouble only when +it came. + +Clear of the children and running smoothly through the park Peters +condescended to break the silence. + +“How went Scotland?” he asked, slowing down behind a frightened fawn +who was straying on the carriage road and cantering ahead of the car in +panicky haste. “Your letters were not satisfactory.” + +“I wasn't taught to write letters. I never had any to write,” she said +with a smile that made the sensitive man beside her wince. “I did +my best, David, dear. And there wasn't much to tell. There were only +men--Barry said he couldn't stand women with the guns again after the +bother they were last year. They were nice men, shy silent creatures, +big game hunters mostly, and two doctors who have been doing research +work in Central Africa. When any of them could be induced to talk of +their experiences it was a revelation to me of what men will endure and +yet consider enjoyment. You would have liked them, David. Why didn't you +come? It would have done you more good than that horrid little yacht. +And we were alone the last two weeks--we missed you,” she added +reproachfully. + +Peters had had his own reasons for absenting himself from the Scotch +lodge, reasons that, connected as they were with Craven and his wife, he +could not enlarge upon. He turned the question with a laugh. + +“The yacht was better suited to a crusty old bachelor, my dear,” he +smiled. Then he gave her a searching glance. “And what did you do all +day long by yourself while the men were on the hills?” + +She gave a little shrug. + +“I sketched--and--oh, lots of things,” she answered, rather vaguely. +“There's always plenty to do wherever you are if you take the trouble to +look for it.” + +“Which most people don't,” he replied, bringing the car to a standstill +before the front door. + +“Is Barry back from London?” + +“Coming this afternoon. Thanks for the lift, David, you've been a +Good Samaritan this afternoon. I don't think I could have walked. +Goodbye--and please forget,” she whispered. + +He smile reassuringly and waved his hand as he restarted the car. + +Calling to Mouston, who was rolling happily on the cool grass, she went +slowly into the house. With the poodle rushing round her she mounted +thoughtfully the wide stairs and turned down the corridor leading to +the studio. It seemed of all rooms the one best suited to her mood. She +wanted to be alone, beyond the reach of any chance caller, beyond the +possibility of interruption, and it was understood by all that in the +studio she must not be disturbed. + +In the passage she met her maid and, giving her her hat and gloves, +ordered tea to be sent to her. + +Mouston trotted on ahead into the room with the confident air of a +proprietor, fussily inspecting the contents with the usual canine +interest as if suspicious that some familiar article of furniture had +been removed during his absence and anxious to reassure himself that +all things were as he had left them. Then he curled up with a satisfied +grunt on the chesterfield beside which he knew tea would be placed. +Gillian looked about her with a sigh. The room, much as she loved it, +had never been the same to her since that December afternoon that seemed +so much longer than a bare eighteen months ago. The peace it had given +formerly was gone. Now there was associated with it always the memory +of bitter pain. She had never been able to recapture the old feeling of +freedom and happiness it had inspired. It was her refuge still, +where she came to wrestle with herself in solitude, where she sought +forgetfulness in long hours of work but it was no longer the antechamber +to a castle of dreams. There were no dreams left, only a crushing +numbling reality. She thought of her husband, and the question that was +always in her mind seemed to-day more than ever insistent. Why had +he married her? The reason he had given had been disproved by his +subsequent attitude. He had asked her to take pity on a lonely man--and +he had given her no opportunity. She had tried by every means in her +power to get nearer to him, to be to him what she thought he meant her +to be and all her endeavour had come to nothing. Had she tried enough, +done enough? Miserably she wondered would another have succeeded where +she had failed? And had she failed because, after all, the reason he had +given was no true reason? And suddenly, for the first time, in a vivid +flash of illuminating comprehension she seemed to realise the true +reason and the quixotic generosity that had prompted it. It was as if +a veil had been rudely torn from before her eyes. It explained much, +letting in an entirely new light upon many things that had puzzled her. +It placed her in a new position, changing her whole mental standpoint. +How could she have been so stupidly blind, so dense--how could she +have misunderstood? He had lied to her, a kindly noble lie, but a lie +notwithstanding--he had married her out of pity, to provide for her in +the lack of faith he had in her power to provide for herself. To him, +then, her dreams of independence had been only a childish ambition that +he judged unsubstantial, and in his dilemma he had conceived it his +duty to do what seemed to her now a thing intolerable. A burning wave +of shame went through her. She was humiliated to the very dust, crushed +with the sense of obligation. She was only another burden thrust upon +him by a man who had had no claim to his liberality. Her father--the +superman of her childish dreams! How had he dared? If love for him had +not died years before it would have died at that moment in the fierce +resentment that burned in her. But to the man who had so willingly +accepted such an imposition her heart went out in greater love and +deeper gratitude than she had yet known. + +Yet, how, with this new knowledge searing her soul, could she ever face +him again? She longed to creep away and hide like a stricken animal--and +he was coming home to-day. Within a few hours she would have to meet +him, conscious at last of the full extent of her indebtedness and +conscious also of the impossibility of communicating her discovery. For +she knew that she could never bring herself to refer to it, and she +knew him well enough to be aware that any such reference was out of the +question. The gulf between them was too wide. The two days she had spent +alone at the Towers had seemed interminable, but with a revulsion of +feeling she wished now that his coming could be delayed. She shrank from +even the thought of seeing him. Though she called herself coward she +determined to postpone the meeting she dreaded until dinner, when the +presence of Forbes and a couple of footmen would brace her to meet the +situation and give her time to prepare for the later more difficult +hours when she would be alone with him. For he made a practice, rigidly +adhered to, of sitting with her in the evenings during the short time +she remained downstairs. He was punctilious in that courtesy as in all +other acts of consideration. His own bed-hour was very much later and +she often wondered what he did, what were his thoughts, alone in the +solitary study that was his refuge as the studio was hers. + +But she had come almost to fear the evening hours they spent together, +the feeling of constraint was becoming more and more an embarrassment. +The last two weeks in Scotland had been more difficult than any +preceding them. Craven's restlessness had been more apparent, more +pronounced. And looking back on it now she wondered whether it was +association with the men with whom he had travelled and shot in distant +countries that was stirring in him more acutely the wander-hunger that +was in his blood. During the after dinner reminiscences in the Scotch +shooting lodge he had himself been curiously silent, but he had sat +listening with a kind of fierce intentness that to her anxious watching +eyes had been like the forced calm of a caged animal enduring captivity +with seeming resignation but cherishing always thoughts of escape. + +It was then that her vague dread leaped suddenly into concrete fear. +An incident that had occurred a few days after the big game hunters had +left them had further disquieted her. On going to him for advice on some +domestic difficulty she had found him poring over a large map. He had +rolled it up at her approach and his manner had made it impossible for +her to express an interest that would otherwise have seemed natural. +With the reticence to which she had schooled herself she had made +no comment, but the thought of that rolled up hidden canvas and its +possible significance remained with her. It might mean only a renewed +interest in the scenes of past exploits--fervently she hoped it did. But +it might also mean the projection of new activities.... + +The arrival of a footman bringing tea put a period to her thoughts. +While the man arranged the simple necessaries that were more suited to +the studio than the elaborate display Forbes considered indispensable +downstairs, she crossed the room to an easel where stood a half-finished +picture. She looked at it critically. Was he right--was there, after +all, nothing in her work but the mediocre endeavour of an amateur? She +had been so confident, so sure. And the master in Paris who had taught +her--he also had been confident and sure. Yet as she studied the +uncompleted sketch before her she felt her confidence waver. It had not +satisfied her while she was working on it, it seemed now hopelessly and +utterly bad. With a heavy sigh she stared at it despondently, seeing +in it the failure of all her hopes. Then in quick recoil courage came +again. One piece of bad work did not constitute failure--she would not +admit failure. She had worked on it at a time of extreme depression, +when all the world had seemed black and hopeless, and the deplorable +result was due to lack of concentration. She had allowed her own +disturbed thoughts to intrude too vividly, and her wandering attention, +her unhappiness, had reacted disastrously on her work. It must be +so. Her own judgment she might have doubted, but the word of her +teacher--no. She _had_ to succeed, she had to justify herself, +to justify de Myères. “_Travaillez, travaillez, et puis encore +travaillez_,” she murmured, as she had heard him say a hundred times, +and tore the sketch across and across, tossing the pieces into a large +wicker basket. With a little shrug she turned to the tea table beside +which Mouston was sitting up in eager expectation, watching the dancing +kettle lid with solemn brown eyes. She made tea and then drew the dog +close to her, hugging him with almost passionate fervour. It was not +a frequent event, but there were times when her starved affections, +craving outlet, were expended in default of other medium upon the poodle +who gave in return a devotion that was entirely single-minded. Yoshio +was still the only member of the household who could touch him with +impunity, and toward Craven his attitude was a curious mixture of hatred +and fear. To Mouston--her only confidant--she whispered now the new +projects she had formed during the last two solitary days for a better +understanding of the obscure mind that had hitherto baffled her, for a +further endeavour to break through the barrier existing between them. To +speak, if only to a dog, was relief and she was too engrossed to notice +the sound the poodle's quick ears caught directly. With a growl he +wrenched his head free of her arm and, startled, she looked up expecting +to see a servant. + +She saw instead her husband. His unexpected appearance in a room he +habitually avoided robbed her, all unprepared to meet him as she was, of +the power of speech. White-lipped she stared at him, unable to formulate +even a conventional greeting, her heart beating rapidly as she watched +him cross the room. He, too, seemed to have no words, and she saw with +increased nervousness that his face was dark with obvious displeasure. +The silence that was fast becoming marked was broken by Mouston who with +another angry snarl leaped suddenly at Craven with jealous hostility, +to be caught up swiftly by a pair of powerful hands and flung into a far +corner, where he landed heavily with a shrill yelp of surprise and +pain that died away in a broken whimper as, cowed by the unlooked-for +retribution, he crawled under a big bureau that seemed to offer a safe +retreat. + +“Barry!” Gillian's exclamation of incredulous amazement made Craven +sensible that the punishment he had inflicted must seem to her +unnecessarily severe. She could not be expected to see into his mind, +could not possibly know the feeling of loathing inspired by the sight of +the poodle in her arms. He was jealous--of a dog and in no mood to curb +the temper that his jealousy roused. + +“I am sorry,” he said shortly. “I didn't mind him going for me, it's +perhaps natural that he should--but I hate to see you kiss the dam' +brute,” he added with a sudden violence in his voice that braced her +as a more temperate explanation would not have done. To be deliberately +cruel to an animal, no matter how great the provocation, was unlike +Craven; she felt convinced that Mouston was not the primary cause of +his irritability. Something must have occurred previously to disturb +him--the business, perhaps, for which he had waited in London, and, +seeking her, the scene he had surprised had grated on fretted nerves. +He had never before commented on her affection for the dog who was her +shadow; he had never even remonstrated with her, as Peters had many +times, for spoiling him. His present attitude seemed therefore the more +inexplicable--but she realised the impossibility of remonstrance. The +dog had behaved badly and had suffered for his indiscretion; she could +not defend him--had she wanted to. And she did not want to. At the +moment Mouston hardly seemed to matter--nothing mattered but the +unbearable fact of Craven's displeasure. If she could have known the +real cause of that displeasure it would have made speech easier. She +feared to aggravate his mood but she knew some answer was expected of +her. Silence might be misconstrued. + +With calmness she did not feel she forced her voice to steadiness. + +“Most women make fools of themselves over some animal, _faute de +mieux,”_ she said lightly. “I only follow the crowd.” + +“Is it _faute de mieux_ with you?” The sharp rejoinder struck her like a +physical blow. Unable to trust herself, unable to check the quivering +of her lips, she turned away to get another cup and saucer from a near +cabinet. + +“Answer me, Gillian,” he said tensely. “Is it for want of something +better that you give so much affection to that cringing beast”--he +pointed to the poodle who was crawling abjectly on his stomach toward +her from the bureau where he had taken refuge--“is it a child that your +arms are wanting--not a dog?” His face was drawn, and he stared at +her with fierce hunger smouldering in his eyes. He was hurting himself +beyond belief--was he hurting her too? Could anything that he might +say touch her, stir her from the calm placidity that sometimes, in +contradiction to his own restlessness, was almost more than he could +tolerate? She had fulfilled the terms of their bargain faithfully, +apparently satisfied with its limitation. She appeared content with this +damnable life they were living. But a sudden impulse had come to him +to assure himself that his supposition was a true one, that the outward +content she manifested did not cover longings and desires that she +sought to hide. Yet how would it benefit either of them for him to +wring from her a secret to which he, by his own doing, had no right? +In winning her consent to this divided marriage he had already done +her injury enough--he need not make her life harder. And just now, in +a moment of ungovernable passion, he had said a brutal thing, a thing +beyond all forgiveness. His face grew more drawn as he moved nearer to +her. + +“Gillian, I asked you a question,” he began unsteadily. She confronted +him swiftly. Her eyes were steady under his, though the pallor of her +face was ghastly. + +“You are the one person who has no right to ask me that question, +Barry.” There was no anger in her voice, there was not even reproach, +but a gentle dignity that almost unmanned him. He turned away with a +gesture of infinite regret. + +“I beg your pardon,” he said, in a strangled voice. “I was a cur--what I +said was damnable.” He faced her again with sudden vehemence. “I wish to +God I had left you free. I had no right to marry you, to ruin your life +with my selfishness, to bar you from the love and children that should +have been yours. You might have met a man who would have given you both, +who would have given you the full happy life you ought to have. In my +cursed egoism I have done you almost the greatest injury a man can do a +woman. My God, I wonder you don't hate me!” + +She forced back the words that rushed to her lips. She knew the danger +of an unconsidered answer, the danger of the whole situation. The +durability of their future life seemed to depend on her reply, its +continuance to hang on a slender thread that, perilously strained, +threatened momentarily to snap. She was fearful of precipitating the +crisis she had long realised was pending and which now seemed drawing to +a head. An unconsidered word, an intonation even, might bring about the +catastrophe she feared. + +She sought for time, praying for inspiration to guide her. The waiting +tea table supplied her immediate want. + +Mechanically she filled the cups and cut cake with deliberate precision +while her mind worked feverishly. + +His distress weighed with her more than her own. + +Positive as she now was of the true reason that had prompted him to +marry her she saw in his outburst only another chivalrous attempt to +hide that reason from her. He had purposely endeavoured to misrepresent +himself, and, understanding, a wave of passionate gratitude filled her. + +Her love was clamouring for audible expression. If she could only speak! +If she could only break through the restrictions that hampered her, +tell him all that was in her heart, measure the force of her living love +against the phantom of that dead past that had killed in him all the +joy of life. But she could not speak. Pride kept her silent, and the +knowledge that she could not add to the burden he already bore the +embarrassment of an unsought love. + +But something she must say, and that before he noticed the hesitation +that might rob her words of any worth. Only by refusing to attach an +undue value to the significance of what he had said could she arrest the +dangerous trend of the conversation and bring it to a safer level. + +She sat down slowly, re-arranging the simple tray with ostentatious +care. + +“You didn't force me to marry you, Barry,” she said quietly. “I knew +what I was doing, I realised the difficulties that might arise. But +you have nothing to reproach yourself with. You have been kind and +considerate in everything. I am enormously grateful to you--and I am +very content with my life. Please believe that. There is only one thing +that I could wish changed; you said that we were to be friends--and you +have let me be only a fair weather friend. Won't you let me sometimes +share and help in the difficulties, as well as in the pleasures? Your +interests, your obligations are so great--” she went on hurriedly, lest +he should think she was aiming at deeper, more personal concerns--“I +can't help knowing that there must be difficulties. If you would only +let me take my part--” She looked up, meeting his gloomy stare at last, +and a faint appeal crept into her eyes. “I'm not a child, Barry, to be +shown only the sunny side of life.” + +An indescribable expression flitted across his face, changing it +marvellously. + +“I would never have you know the dark side,” he said briefly, as he took +the cup she held out to him. + +She was conscious that the tension, though lessened had not altogether +disappeared. There was in his manner a constraint that set her heart +throbbing painfully. She glanced furtively from time to time at his +stern worn face, and the weariness in his eyes brought a lump into her +throat. + +He talked spasmodically, of friends whom he had seen in London, of a +hundred and one trivial matters, but of the business that had kept him +in town he said nothing and she wondered what had been in his mind when +he had departed from an established rule and deliberately sought her in +a room that he never entered. Had he come with any express intention, +any confidence that had been thwarted by Mouston's stupid behaviour? She +stifled a sigh of disappointment. He might never again be moved by the +same impulse. + +With growing anxiety she noticed that his restlessness was greater even +than usual. Refusing a second cup of tea he lit a cigarette, pacing up +and down as he talked, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. + +In one of the silences that punctuated his jerky periods he paused by a +little table on which lay a portfolio, and lifting it idly looked at +the sketches it contained. With a sudden look of apprehension Gillian +started and made a half movement as if to rise, then with a shrug she +sank back on the sofa, watching him intently. It was her private sketch +book, and there was in it one portrait in particular, his own, that she +had no wish for him to see. But remonstrance would only call attention +to what she hoped might pass unnoticed. Craven turned over the sketches +slowly. He had seen little of his wife's work since their marriage, she +was shy of submitting it to him, and with the policy of non-interference +he had adopted he had expressed no curiosity. He recognised many faces, +and, recognising, remembered wherein lay her special skill. He found +himself looking for characteristics that were known to him in the +portraits of the men and women he was studying. There was no attempt at +concealment--vices and virtues, liberality of mind, pettiness of soul +were set forth in naked truth. A sympathetic picture of Peters arrested +him, though the name written beneath it puzzled. He looked at the kindly +generous countenance with its friendly half-sad eyes and tender mouth +with a feeling of envy. He would have given years of his life to have +possessed the peace of mind that was manifested in the calm serenity of +his agent's face. + +His lips tightened as he laid the sketch down. With his thoughts +lingering on the last portrait for a second or two he looked at the next +one absently. Then a stifled exclamation broke from him and he peered +at it closer. And, watching, Gillian drew a deep breath, clenching her +hands convulsively. He stood quite still for what seemed an eternity, +then came slowly across the room and stood directly in front of her. And +for the first time she was afraid of meeting his eyes. + +“Do I look like--that?” + +Her head drooped lower, her fingers twining and intertwining nervously, +and her dry lips almost refused their office. + +“I have seen you like that,” very slowly and almost inaudibly, but he +caught the reluctant admission. + +“So--_damnable_?” + +She flinched from the loathing in his voice. + +“I _am_ sorry--” she murmured faintly. + +“Good God!” the profanity was wrung from him, but had he thought of +it he would have considered it justified, for the face at which he was +staring was the beautiful tormented face of a fallen angel. He looked +with a kind of horror at the hungry passionate eyes fierce with +unsatisfied longing, shadowed with terrible memory, tortured, hopeless; +at the set mouth, a straight grim line under the trim golden brown +moustache; at the bitterness and revolt expressed in all the deep cut +lines of the tragic face. He laid it down with a feeling of repulsion. +She saw him like that! The pain of it was intolerable. + +He laughed with a harsh mirthlessness that made her quiver. + +“It is a truer estimation of my character than the one you gave me a +few minutes ago,” he said bitterly, “and you may thank heaven I am your +husband only in name. God keep you from a nearer acquaintance with me.” + And turning on his heel he left her. Long after he had gone she sat on +motionless, her fingers picking mechanically at the chintz cover of the +sofa, staring into space with wide eyes brimming with tears. She knew it +was a cruel sketch, but she had never meant him to see it. It had taken +shape unconsciously under her hand, and while she hated it she had +kept it because of the remarkable likeness and because it was the only +picture she had of him. + +The dreams of a better understanding seemed swept away by her own +thoughtlessness and folly. She had hurt him and she could never explain. +To refer to it, to try and make him understand, would do more harm +than good. With a pitiful sob she covered her face with her hands, and, +beside her, Mouston the pampered cringed and whimpered unheeded and +forgotten. + +She had looked forward to his return with such high hopes and now they +lay shattered at her feet. During a brief hour that might have drawn +them nearer together they had contrived to hurt each other as it must +seem to both by deliberate intent. For herself she knew that she was +innocent of any such intention--but was he? He had never hurt her +before, even in his most difficult moods he had been to her unfailingly +kind and considerate. But to-day--shudderingly she wondered did it mark +a new era in their relations? And in miserable futile longing she wished +that this afternoon had never been. + +After what had occurred the thought of facing him across a table during +an interminable dinner and sitting with him alone for the long hours of +a summer evening drove her to a state bordering on panic. She pushed the +thick hair off her forhead with a little gasp. It was cowardly--but +she could not, would not. Despising herself she crossed the room to the +telephone. + +At the Hermitage Peters was indulging in a well-earned rest after a long +hot day that had been both irksome and tiring. Wearing an old tweed coat +he lounged comfortably in a big chair, a couple of sleepy setters at his +feet, a foul and ancient pipe in full blast. The room, flooded with the +evening sun, was filled with a heterogeneous collection of books and +music manuscript, guns, fishing rods and whips. The homely room had +stamped on it the characteristics of its owner. It was a room to work +in, and equally a room in which to relax. The owner was now relaxing, +but the bodily rest he enjoyed did not extend to his mind, which was +very actively disturbed. His usually genial face was furrowed and he +sucked at the old pipe with an energy that enveloped him in a haze of +blue smoke. The ringing of the telephone in the opposite corner of the +room came as an unwelcome interruption. He glared at it resentfully, +disinclined to move, but at the second ring rose reluctantly with a +grunt of annoyance, pushing the drowsy setters to one side. He took down +the receiver with no undue haste and answered the call gruffly, but his +bored expression changed rapidly as he listened. The soft voice came +clearly but hesitatingly: + +“Is that you, David? Could you come up to dinner--if--if you're not +going anywhere else--I've got a tiresome headache and it will be so +stupid for Barry. I don't want him to be dull the first evening at home. +So if you could--please, David--” + +His face grew grim as he detected the quiver in the faltering indecisive +words, but he answered briskly. + +“Of course I'll come. I'd love to,” he said, with a cheeriness he was +far from feeling. He hung up the receiver with a heavy sigh. But he had +hardly moved when the telephone rang again sharply. + +“Damn the thing!” he muttered irritably. + +This time a very different voice, curt and uncompromising: + +“--that you, Peter?--Yes!--Doing anything tonight?--Not?--Then for God's +sake come up to dinner.” And then the receiver jammed down savagely. + +With grimmer face Peters moved thoughtfully across the room and touched +a bell in the wall by the fireplace. His call was answered with the +usual promptness, and when he had given the necessary orders and the man +had gone he laid aside his pipe, tidied a few papers, and went slowly to +an adjoining room. + +The Hermitage was properly the dower house of the Towers, but for the +last two generations had not been required as such. The room Peters now +entered had originally been the drawing room, but for the thirty years +he had lived in the house he had kept it as a music room. Panelled in +oak, with polished floor and innocent of hangings, the only furniture a +grand piano and a portrait, it was at once a sanctuary and a shrine. And +during those thirty years to only two people had he given the right of +entrance. To the woman whose portrait hung on the wall and, latterly, +to the girl who had succeeded her as mistress of Craven Towers. To this +room, to the portrait and the piano, he brought all his difficulties; it +was here he wrestled with the loneliness and sadness that the world +had never suspected. To-night he felt that only the peace that room +invariably brought would enable him to fulfil the task he had in hand. + + * * * * + +Craven was alone in the hall when he arrived, and it was not until the +gong sounded that Gillian made a tardy appearance, very pale but with a +feverish spot on either cheek. Peters' quick eye noticed the absence of +the black shadow that was always at her heels. “Where is the faithful +Mouston? Not in disgrace, surely--the paragon?” he teased, and was +disconcerted at the painful flush that overspread her face. But she +thrust her arm through his and forced a little laugh. “Mouston is +becoming rather incorrigible, I'm afraid I've spoiled him hopelessly. +I'll tell him you inquired, it will cheer him up, poor darling. He's +doing penance with a bone upstairs. Shall we go in--I'm famished.” + +But as dinner progressed she did not appear to be famished, for she ate +scarcely anything, but talked fitfully with jerky nervousness. Craven, +too, was at first almost entirely silent, and on Peters fell the main +burden of conversation, until by a direct question he managed to start +his host on a topic that was of interest to both and lasted until +Gillian left them. + +In the drawing room, after she had finished her coffee, she opened the +piano and then subsided wearily on to the big sofa. The emotions of the +day and the effort of appearing at dinner had exhausted her, and in +her despondency the future had never seemed so black, so beset with +difficulties. While she was immeasurably thankful for Peters' presence +to-night she knew it was impossible for him to act continually as a +buffer between them. But from the problem of to-morrow, and innumerable +to-morrows, she turned with a fixed determination to live for the +moment. _A chaque jour suffit sa peine_. + +She lay with relaxed muscles and closed eyes. It seemed a long +while before the men joined her. She wondered what they were talking +about--whether to Peters would be imparted the information that had been +withheld from her. For the feeling of a nearly impending calamity was +strong within her. When at last they came she looked with covert anxiety +from one to the other, but their faces told her nothing. For a few +minutes Peters lingered beside her chatting and then gravitated toward +the piano, as she had hoped he would. Arranging the heaped up cushions +more comfortably around her she gave herself up to the delight of his +music and it seemed to her that she had never heard him play so well. + +Near her Craven was standing before the fern-filled fireplace, leaning +against the mantel, a cigarette drooping between his lips. From where +she lay she could watch him unperceived, for his own gaze was directed +through the open French window out on to the terrace, and she studied +his set handsome face with sorrowful attention. He appeared to be +thinking deeply, and, from his detached manner, heedless of the harmony +of sound that filled the room. But her supposition was soon rudely +shaken. Peters had paused in his playing. When a few moments later the +plaintive melody of an operatic air stole through the room she saw her +husband start violently, and the terrible pallor she had witnessed once +before sweep across his face. She clenched her teeth on her lip to keep +back the cry that rose, and breathlessly watched him stride across the +room and drop an arresting hand on Peters' shoulder. “For God's sake +don't play that damned thing!” she heard him say in a voice that was +almost unrecognisable. And then he passed out swiftly, into the garden. + +A spasm of jealous agony shook her from head to foot. With quick +intuition she guessed that the air that was unknown to her must be +connected in some way with the sorrow that darkened his life, and the +spectre of the past she tried to forget seemed to rise and grin at her +triumphantly. She shivered. Would its power last until life ended? Would +it stand between them always, rivalling her, thwarting her every effort? + +For a long time she dared not look at Peters, who had responded without +hesitation to Craven's unceremonious request, but when at length +she summoned courage to glance at him it seemed as if he had already +forgotten the interruption. His face wore the absent, almost spiritual +look that was usual when he was at the piano and his playing gave no +indication of either annoyance or surprise. She breathed a quick sigh of +relief and, slightly altering her position, lay where she could see the +solitary figure on the terrace. Erect by the stone ballustrade, his arms +folded across his chest, staring intently into the night as if his +gaze went far beyond the confines of the great park, he seemed to her a +symbol of incarnate loneliness, and her heart contracted at the thought +of the suffering and solitude she might not share. If he would only turn +to her! If she had only the right to go to him and plead her love, beg +the confidence she craved, and stand beside him in his sorrow! But he +stood alone, beyond her reach, even unaware of her longing. + +The slow tears gathered thick in her eyes. + +For long after the keyboard became an indistinguishable blur Peters +played on untiringly. But at last he rose, closed the piano and turned +on an electric lamp that stood near. + +“Eleven o'clock,” he exclaimed contritely. “Bless my soul, why didn't +you stop me! I forget the time when I'm playing. I've tired you out. Go +to bed, you pale child. I'm walking home, I'll see Barry on the terrace +as I pass.” + +She slid from the sofa and took his outstretched hands. + +“Your playing never tires me!” she answered, with a little upward +glance. “You've magic at the ends of your fingers, David dear.” + +She went to the open window to watch him go, and presently saw him +reappear round the angle of the house and join Craven on the terrace. +They stood talking for a few minutes and then together descended the +long flight of stone steps to the rose garden, from which, by a short +cut through a little copse, could be reached the path that crossing the +park led to the Hermitage. It was the habit of Peters when he had been +dining at the big house to walk home thus and, as to-night, Craven +almost always accompanied him. + +Gillian had long known her husband's propensity for night rambling and +she knew it might be hours before he returned. Was he angry with her +still that he had omitted the punctilious good-night he had never before +forgotten? Her lips quivered like a disappointed child's as she turned +back slowly into the room. But as she passed through the hall and +climbed the long stairs she knew in her heart that she had misjudged +him. He was not capable of petty retaliation. He had only forgotten--why +indeed should he remember? It was a small matter to him, he could not +know what it meant to her. In her bedroom she dismissed her maid +and went to an open window. She was very tired, but restless, and +disinclined for bed. Dropping down on the low seat she stared out over +the moonlit landscape. The repentant Mouston, abject at her continued +neglect, crawled from his basket and crept tentatively to her, and as +absently her hand went out to him gained courage and climbed up beside +her. Inch by inch he sidled nearer, and unrepulsed grew bolder until +he finally subsided with his head across her knees, whining his +satisfaction. Mechanically she caressed him until his shivering starting +body lay quiet under her soothing touch. The night was close and very +silent. No breath of wind came to stir the heavily leafed trees, no +sound broke the stillness. She listened vainly for the cry of an owl, +for the sharp alarm note of a pheasant to pierce the brooding hush that +seemed to have fallen even over nature. A coppery moon hung like a ball +of fire in the sky. At the far end of the terrace a group of tall trees +cast inky black shadows across the short smooth lawn and the white +tracery of the stone balustrade. The faint scent of jasmine drifted +in through the open window and she leaned forward eagerly to catch the +sweet intermittent perfume that brought back memories of the peaceful +courtyard of the convent school. A night of intense beauty, mysterious, +disturbing, called her compellingly. The restlessness that had assailed +her grew suddenly intolerable, and she glanced back into the spacious +room with a feeling of suffocation. + +The four walls seemed closing in about her. She knew that the big white +bed would bring no rest, that she would toss in feverish misery until +the morning, and she turned with dread from the thought of the long +weary hours. Night after night she lay awake in loneliness and longing +until exhaustion brought fitful sleep that, dream-haunted, gave no +refreshment. + +Sleep was impossible--the room that witnessed her nightly vigil a prison +house of dark sad thoughts. Her head throbbed with the heat; she craved +the space, the freshness of the moonlit garden. + +Rousing the slumbering dog she went out on to the gallery and down the +staircase she had climbed so wearily an hour before. By the solitary +light still burning in the hall she knew that Craven had not yet +returned. Through the darkness of the drawing room she groped her way +until her outstretched hands touched shutters. Slipping the bar softly +and unlatching the window she passed out. For a moment she stood still, +breathing deeply, drinking in the beauty of the scene, exhilarated +with the sudden feeling of freedom that came to her. The silent garden, +beautiful always but more beautiful still in the mystery of the night, +appealed to her as never before. It was the same, yet wonderfully, +curiously unlike. A glamour hung over it, a certain settled peace that +soothed the tumult of her mind and calmed her nerves. Surrendering to +the charm of its almost unearthly loveliness she slowly paced the long +length of the terrace, the wondering Mouston pressing close beside her. + +Then when her tired limbs could go no further she halted by the steps +and leant her arms on the coping of the balustrade. Cupping her chin in +her hands she looked down at the rose garden beneath her and smiled at +its quaint formality. Running parallel with the terrace on the one side +the three remaining sides were enclosed by a high yew hedge through +which a door, facing the terrace steps, led to a path that gave access +to the copse that was Peters' short cut. The shadow of the high dense +yew stretched far across the garden and she gazed dreamily into its +dusky depths, conjuring up the past, peopling the solitude about her +with forgotten ghosts who in the silks and satins of a bygone age had +walked those same flagged paths and talked and laughed and wept among +the roses. Poor lonely ghosts--were they lonelier than she? + +The silence broke at last. Far off from the trees in the park an owl +called softly to its mate and the swift answering note seemed to mock +her desolation. Her whole being shuddered into one great soundless cry +of utter longing: “Barry! Oh, Barry, Barry!” + +And as if in answer to her prayer she heard a sound that sent the quick +blood leaping to her heart. + +In the deep shadow of the yew hedge the door that had opened shut with +a sudden clang. Her hands crept to her breast as she strained her eyes +into the darkness. Then the echo of a firm tread, and Craven's tall +figure emerged from the surrounding gloom. With fluttering breath she +watched him slowly cross the bright strip of moonlight lying athwart the +rose garden and mount the steps. Only when he reached the terrace did +he seem aware of her presence, and joined her with an exclamation of +surprise, “You--Gillian?” + +“I couldn't sleep--it was so hot--the garden tempted me,” she faltered, +in sudden fear lest he might think she spied on him. But the fascination +of the night was to Craven too natural to evoke comment. He lit a +cigarette and smoked in a silence she did not know how to break, and a +cold wave of chill foreboding passed over her as she waited with nervous +constraint for him to speak. He turned to her at last with a certain +deliberation and spoke with blunt directness. + +“I have been asked to lead an expedition in Central Africa. It is partly +a hunting trip, partly a scientific mission. They have approached me +because I know the country, and because I am interested in tropical +diseases and am willing to defray a proportion of the expense which will +be necessarily heavy--I should gladly have done so in any case whether +I went with the party or not. The question of leading the expedition I +deferred as long as I could for obvious reasons.--I had not only myself +to consider. But I have been pressed to give a definite answer and have +agreed to go. There are plenty of other men who would do the job better +than myself but, as I said, I happen to know the locality and speak +several of the dialects, so my going may make things easier for them. +But that is not what has weighed with me most, it is you. Do you think I +don't know how completely I have failed you--how difficult your life +is? I do know. And because I know I am going. For I see no other way of +making your life even bearable for you. It has become impossible for us +to go on as we are--and the fault is mine, only mine. You have been +an angel of goodness and patience, you have done all that was humanly +possible for any woman to do, but circumstances were against us. I had +no right to ask you to make such a marriage. I cannot undo it. I cannot +give you your freedom, but I can by my absence make your life easier +than it has been. I have arranged everything with the lawyers in London +and with Peters, here to-night. If I do not return, for there are +of course risks, everything is left in your control--it is the only +satisfaction in my power. If I do return--God give me grace to be kinder +to you than I have been in the past.” + +The blow she had been waiting for had fallen at last, in fulfilment of +her premonition. In her heart she had always known it would come, but +its suddenness paralysed. She had nothing to say. Silently she stood +beside him, her hands tight-locked, numbed with a desperate fear. He +would go--and he would never return. It hammered in her brain, making +her want to shriek. She felt to the full her own powerlessness, nothing +she could say would turn him from his purpose. It was the end she had +always foreseen, the end of all her dreams, the end of everything but +sorrow and pain and loneliness unspeakable. And for him--danger and +possibly death. He had admitted risk, he had set his house in order. +From Craven it meant much. She had learned his complete disregard +for danger from the men who had stayed with them in Scotland; his +recklessness in the hunting field, which was a by-word in the county, +was already known to her. He set no value on his own life--what reason +was there to suppose that, in the mysterious land of sudden and terrible +death, he would take even ordinary precautions? Was he going with a +pre-conceived determination to end a life that had become unbearable? +In agony that seemed to rive her heart she closed her eyes lest he might +see in them the anguish she knew was there. How long a time was left to +her before the parting that would leave her desolate? “When do you go?” + The question burst from her, and Craven glanced at her keenly, trying to +read the colourless face that was like a still white mask. He fancied +he had caught a tremor in her voice, then he called himself a fool as +he noted the composure that seemed to argue indifference. Her calmness +stung while it strengthened him. Why should she care, he asked himself +bitterly. His going could mean to her only relief. And disappointment +made his own voice ring cold and distant. “Within the next few weeks. +The exact date is not yet fixed,” he said evasively. Again she was +silent while he wondered what were her thoughts. Suddenly she turned to +him, words pouring out in stammering haste, “While you are away--may I +go to France--to Paris--to work? This life of idleness is killing me!” + +He looked at her in amazement, startled at her passionate utterance, +dismayed at a suggestion he had never contemplated. To think of her +at the Towers, in the position he would have her fill, watched over by +Peters, was the only comfort he could take away with him. For a second +he meditated a refusal that seemed within his right, arbitrary though it +might be. But the promise he had made to leave her free stayed him. He +could not break that promise now. “As you please,” he said, with forced +unconcern, “you are your own mistress. You can do whatever you wish.” + And with a slight shrug he turned toward the house. She walked beside +him in a tumult of emotion. He would now never know the love she bore +him, the aching passion that throbbed like a living thing within her. +She could not speak, the gulf between them was too wide to bridge, and +he would leave her, thinking her indifferent, callous! Tears blinded her +as she stumbled through the dark drawing room. In the dimly lit hall, +standing at the foot of the staircase with his hand clenched on the +oaken rail, Craven watched with tortured eyes the slender drooping +figure move slowly upward, battling with himself, praying for strength +to let her go--for he knew that if she even turned her head his +self-control would shatter. It was weakening now and the sweat broke out +in heavy drops on his forehead as he strove to crush an insidious inward +voice that bade him forget the past and take what was his. “Only one +life,” it seemed to shout in mocking derision, “live while you can, take +what you can! What is done, is done; only the present matters. Of +what use is regret, of what use an abstinence that mortifies yet feeds +desire? Fool, fool to set aside the chance of happiness!” + +With a deep breath that was almost a groan he sprang forward. Then, in +deadly fear, he checked himself, and wrenching his eyes away from the +woman he craved fled out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +In a little tent pitched in the midst of an Arab camp in the extreme +south of Southern Algeria Craven sat writing. A day of intense heat had +been succeeded by a night airless and suffocating, and he was wet with +perspiration that dripped from his forehead and formed in sticky pools +under his hand, making writing laborious and difficult, impossible +indeed except for the sheet of blotting paper on which his fingers +rested. His thin silk shirt, widely open at the throat, the sleeves +rolled up above his elbows, clung limply to his broad shoulders. A +multitude of tiny flies attracted by the light circled round the lamp +eddying in the heat of the flame, immolating themselves, and falling +thickly on the closely written sheets of paper that strewed the camp +table, smeared the still wet ink and clogged his pen. He swept them away +impatiently from time to time. Squatting on his heels in a corner, +his inscrutable yellow face damp and glistening, Yoshio was cleaning a +revolver with his usual thoroughness and precision. A ragged square of +canvas beside him held the implements necessary to his work, set out in +methodical order, and as he cleaned, and oiled and polished assiduously +without raising his eyes his deft fingers selected unerringly the tool +he required. The weapon appeared already speckless, but for some time he +continued to rub vigorously, handling it with almost affectionate care +as if loth to put it down; at last with a grunt of demur he reluctantly +laid aside the cloth he was using and wrapping the revolver in a silk +handkerchief slid it slowly into a leathern holster which his care had +kept soft and pliable. Placing it noiselessly on the ground before him +he turned his oblique gaze on Craven and watched him for a moment or two +intently. Assured at length that his master was too absorbed in his own +task to notice the doings of his servant he reached his hand behind him +and produced a second revolver, which he began to clean more hurriedly, +more superficially than the first, keeping the while a wary eye on +the stooping figure at the table. When that too was finished to his +satisfaction and restored to his hip pocket, a flicker of almost +childlike amusement crossed his usually immobile features and he started +operations with an air of fine unconsciousness upon one of a couple of +rifles that stood propped against the tent wall near him. Two years of +hardships and danger had left no mark upon him, the deadly climate of +the region through which he had passed had not impaired his powerful +physique, and disease that had ravaged the scientific mission had left +him, like Craven, unscathed. With no care beyond his master's comfort, +indifferent to fatigue and perils, the months spent in Central Africa +had been far more to his taste than the dull monotony of the life at +Craven Towers. But with his face turned, though indirectly, toward +home--the home of his adoption--Yoshio was still cheerful. For him life +held only one incentive--the man who had years before saved his life in +California. Where Craven was Yoshio was content. + +Outside, the Arab camp was in an uproar. Groups of tribesmen passed +the tent continually, conversing eagerly, their raucous voices rising +shrill, shouting, arguing, in noisy excitement. The neighing of horses +came from near by and once a screaming stallion backed heavily against +the canvas wall where Yoshio was sitting, rousing the phlegmatic +Japanese to an unwonted ejaculation of wrath as he ducked and grabbed +into safety the remaining rifle before the animal was hauled clear with +a wealth of detailed Arabic expletives, and he grinned broadly when +an authoritative voice broke into the Arabs' clamour and a subsequent +sudden silence fell in the vicinity of the stranger's tent. + +Regardless of the disturbance resounding from all quarters of the camp +Craven wrote on steadily for some time longer. Then with a short sigh +he shuffled the scattered sheets together, brushed clear the clinging +accumulation of scorched wings and tiny shrivelled bodies, and without +re-reading the closely written pages stuffed them into an envelope, +and having closed and directed it, leaned back with an exclamation of +relief. + +The letter to Peters was finished but there remained still the more +difficult letter he had yet to address to his wife--a letter he dreaded +and yet longed to write. A letter which, reaching her after the death he +confidently expected and earnestly prayed for, would reveal to her fully +the secret of his past and the passion that had driven him, unworthy, +from her. For never during the two years of adventure and peril had +death seemed more imminent than now, and before he died he would give +himself this one satisfaction--he would break the silence of years that +had eaten like a canker into his soul. At last she would know all he +had never dared to tell her, all his hopeless love, all his remorse and +shame, all his passionate desire for her happiness. + +Scores of times during the last two years he had attempted to write +such a letter and had as often refrained, but to-night his need was +imperative. It was his last chance. In the early hours of the dawn he +would ride with his Arab hosts on a punitive expedition from which he +had no intention of returning alive. Death that he had courted openly +since leaving England would surely be easy to find amid the warring +tribes with whom he had thrown in his lot. A curious smile lit his +face for an instant, then passed abruptly at the doubt that shook his +confidence. Would fate again refuse him release from a life that had +become more than ever intolerable? + +Haunted as he was with the memory of O Hara San, tortured with longing +for the woman he had made his wife, the double burden had become +too heavy to bear. He had grasped at the opportunity offered by the +scientific mission. The dangerous nature of the country, the fever that +saturated its swamps and forests, was known to him and he had gone to +Africa courting a death that would free him and yet leave no stain on +the name borne by his wife. And the death that would free him would free +her too! The bitter justice of it made him set his teeth. For he had +left her his fortune and his great possessions unrestrictedly to deal +with as she would. Young, rich and free! Who would claim what he had +surrendered? Even now, after months of mental struggle, the thought was +torment. + +But death that had laid a heavy toll on his companions had turned away +from him. Disease and disaster had dogged the mission from the outset. +The medical and scientific researches had proved satisfactory beyond +expectation, but the attendant loss of life had been terrible, and +himself utterly reckless and heedless of all precautions Craven had +watched tragedy after tragedy with envy he had been hardly able to +hide. Immune from the sudden and deadly fevers that had swept the camps +periodically with fatal results he had worked fearlessly and untiringly +among the stricken members of the mission and the fast dwindling army of +demoralised porters who had succumbed with alarming rapidity. With the +stolid Japanese always beside him he had wrestled entire nights and +days to save the expedition from extermination. And in the intervals of +nursing, and shepherding the unwilling carriers, he had ranged far and +wide in search of fresh food to supply the wants of the camp. The danger +he deliberately sought, with a rashness that had provoked open comment, +had miraculously evaded him. He had borne a charmed life. He had +snatched at every hazardous enterprise, he had exposed himself +consistently to risk until one evening shortly before the expedition +was due to start on the return march to civilization, when a chance word +spoken by the camp fire had brought home to him abruptly the dependence +of the remnant of the mission on him to bring them to the coast +in safety. By some strange dealing of fate it had been among the +non-scientific members of the expedition that mortality had ranged +highest; the big game hunters, though hardier and physically better +equipped than the students of the party for hardship and endurance had, +with the exception of Craven himself, been wiped out to a man. It had +been an unpremeditated remark uttered in all good faith with no ulterior +motive by a shuddering fever-stricken scientist writing up his notes +and diary by the light of the fire with trembling fingers that could +scarcely hold the fountain pen that moved laboriously driven by an +indomitable will. A grim jest, horrible in its significance, had +followed the startling utterance and Craven had looked with perplexity +at the shivering figure with its drawn yellow face from which a pair +of glittering eyes burned with an almost uncanny brilliance until the +meaning of the man's words slowly penetrated. But the true importance of +the suggestion once realised had aroused in him a full understanding +of the duty he owed to the men he had undertaken to lead. Of those +who could have convoyed the expedition on its homeward march only +he remained. Without him the survivors of the once large party might +eventually reach safety but it was made clear to him that night how +completely his companions relied on him for a quick return and for the +management of the train of porters whose frequent mutinies only Craven +seemed able to quell. He had sat far into the night, staring gloomily +into the blazing fire, smoking pipe after pipe, listening to the +multifarious noises of the forest--the sudden distant crash of falling +trees, the incessant hum of insect life, the long-drawn howl of beasts +of prey hovering on the outskirts of the camp, the soft whoo-whoo of +an owl whose cry brought vividly to his mind the cool fragrance of the +garden at Craven Towers and the nearer more ominous sounds of muffled +agony that came from a tent close beside him where yet another victim of +science was gasping his life away. + +Hour after hour he sat thinking. There was no getting away from it--it +was only despicable that he had not himself recognised it earlier. The +narrow path of duty lay before him from which he might not turn aside to +ease the burden of a private grief. He was bound to the men who +trusted him. Honour demanded that he should forego the project he +had formed--until his obligation had been discharged. Loyalty to his +companions must come before every selfish consideration. After all it +was only a postponement, he reflected with a kind of grim satisfaction. +The residue of the mission once safely conducted to the coast his +responsibility would end and he would be free to pursue the course that +would liberate the woman he loved. + +In the chill silence of the hour that precedes the dawn he had risen +cramped and shivering from his seat by the dying fire and too late then +to take the rest he had neglected, had roused Yoshio and started on the +usual foraging expedition that was his daily occupation. And from that +time he had been careful of a life which, though valueless to him, was +invaluable to his companions. From that time, too, the ill-luck that had +pursued them ceased. There had been no more deaths, no more desertions +from the already depleted train of carriers. The work had gone forward +with continuing success and, six months ago, after a hazardous march +through a hostile country, Craven had led the remnant of the expedition +safely to the coast. He had waited for some weeks at the African port +after the mission had returned to England, and then embarking on a small +trading steamer, had made his way northward to an obscure station on the +Moroccan seaboard, when by a leisurely and indirect route he had slowly +crossed the desert to the district where he now was and which he had +reached only a week ago. Twice before he had visited the tribe as the +guest of the Sheik Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's younger son, an officer of +Spahis whom he had met in Paris, and the warm hospitality shown him had +left a deep impression. A sudden unaccountable impulse had led him to +revisit a locality where he had spent some of the happiest months of his +life. He had conceived an intense admiration and liking for the stern +old Arab Chief and his two utterly dissimilar sons; the elder a grave +habitually silent man, who clung to the old traditions with the +rigid tenacity of the orthodox Mohammedan, disdainful of the French +jurisdiction under which he was compelled to live, and occupied solely +with the affairs of the tribe and his beautiful and adored wife who +reigned alone in his harem, despite the fact that she had given him +no child; the younger in total contrast to his brother, a dashing +ultra-modern young Arab as deeply imbued with French tendencies as the +conservative Omar was opposed to them. The wealthy and powerful old +Sheik, whose friendship had been assiduously sought by the French +Administration to ensure the co-operation of a tribe that with its far +reaching influence might have proved a dangerous element in an unsettled +district, shared in his inmost heart the sentiments of his heir, but +with a larger and more discriminating wisdom saw the desirability +of associating at least one of his family with the Government he was +obliged, though grudgingly and half contemptuously, to acknowledge. He +had hovered long between prejudice and policy before he reluctantly gave +his consent for Saïd to be placed on the roll of the regiment of Spahis. +And the unusual love existing between the two brothers had survived a +test that might have proved too strong for its continuance; Omar, bowing +to the decision of the autocratic old Chief, had refrained even from +comment, and Saïd, despite his enthusiasm, had carefully avoided +inflaming his brother's deeply rooted hatred of the nation the younger +man was proud to serve. His easy-going nature adapted itself readily to +the two wholly separate lives he lived, and though secretly preferring +the months spent with his regiment he contrived to extract every +possible enjoyment from the periods of leave for which he returned to +the tribe where, laying aside the picturesque uniform his ardent +soul rejoiced in and scrupulously suppressing every indication of his +Francophile inclinations he resumed with consummate tact the somewhat +invidious position of younger son of the house. + +The meeting of the young Spahi with Craven in Paris had led to the +discovery of similar tastes and ultimately to an intimate friendship. +Together in Algeria they had shot panther and Barbary sheep and +eventually Craven had been induced to visit the tribe, where he had seen +the true life of the desert that appealed strongly to his unconventional +wandering disposition. The heartiness of his reception had been +unqualified, even the taciturn Omar had unbent to the representative of +a nation he felt he could respect with no loss of prestige. To Craven +the weeks passed in the Arab camp had been a time of uninterrupted +enjoyment and a second visit had strengthened mutual esteem. Situated +on the extreme fringe of the Algerian frontier, in the heart of a +perpetually disturbed country, the element of danger prevailing in the +district was to Craven not the least of its attractions. It had been a +source of keen disappointment that during both his visits there had been +a cessation of the intertribal warfare that was carried on in spite of +the Government's endeavours to preserve peace among the great desert +families. For generations the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah had been at +feud with another powerful tribe which, living further to the south and +virtually beyond the suzerainty of the nominal rulers of the country, +harried the border continually. But, aware of the growing power and +resources of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, for many years the marauders had +avoided collision with him and confined their attention to less +dangerous adversaries. The apparent neglect of his hereditary +enemies had not, however, lessened the old Sheik's precautions. With +characteristic oriental distrust he maintained a continual watch upon +them and a well organized system of espionage kept him conversant with +all their movements. Often during his visits Craven had listened to the +stories of past encounters and in the fierce eager faces around him +he had read the deep longing for renewed hostilities that animated the +younger members of the tribe in particular and had wondered what spark +would eventually set ablaze the smouldering fires of hatred and rivalry +that had so long lain dormant. And it had been really a subconscious +presage of such an outbreak that had brought him back to the camp of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah. His presentiment, the outcome of earnest desire, +had been fulfilled, and in its fulfilment attended with horrible details +which, had it not been already his intention, would have driven him to +beg a place in the ranks of the punitive force that was preparing to +avenge an outrage that involved the honour of the tribe. A week ago +he had arrived to find the camp seething with an infuriated and +passion-swayed people who bore no kind of resemblance to the orderly +well-disciplined tribesmen he had seen on his former visits, and the +daily arrival of reinforcements from outlying districts had kept the +tension strained and swelled the excitement that rioted day and night. + +In the barbaric sumptuousness of his big tent and with a calm dignity +that even tragedy could not shake the old Sheik had received him alone, +for the unhappy Omar was hidden in the desolate solitude of his ravished +harem. To the Englishman, before whom he could speak openly the old man +had revealed the whole terrible story with vivid dramatic force and all +the flowery eloquence of which he was master. It was a tale of misplaced +confidence and faithlessness that, detected and punished with oriental +severity, had led to swift and dastardly revenge. A headman of the tribe +whom both the Sheik and his elder son trusted implicitly had proved +guilty of grave indiscretion that undetected might have seriously +impaired the prestige of the ruling house. Deposed from his headmanship, +and deserted with characteristic vacillation by the adherents on whom +he counted, the delinquent had fled to the camp of the rival tribe, with +whom he had already been in secret negotiation. This much Mukair +Ibn Zarrarah's spies had ascertained, but not in time to prevent the +catastrophe that followed. Plans thought to be known only to the Sheik +and his son had been disclosed to the marauding Chief, who had long +sought an opportunity of aiming an effectual blow at his hated rival, +and on one of Omar's periodical tours of inspection to the more remote +encampments of the large and scattered tribe, the little caravan +had been surrounded by an overwhelmingly superior force led by the +hereditary enemy and the renegade tribesman. Hemmed in around the litter +of the dearly loved young wife, from whom he rarely parted, Omar and +his small bodyguard had fought desperately, but the outcome had been +inevitable from the first. Outnumbered they had fallen one by one under +the vigorous onslaughts of the attacking party who, victorious, had +retired southward as quickly as they had come, carrying with them the +beautiful Safiya--the price of the traitor's treachery. Covered with +wounds and left for dead under a heap of dying followers Omar and two +others had alone survived, and with death in his heart the young man had +lived only for the hour when he might avenge his honour. Animated by the +one fierce desire that sustained him he had struggled back to life +to superintend the preparations for retaliation that should be both +decisive and final. To old injuries had been added this crowning insult, +and the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, roused to the highest pitch of +fury, were resolved to a man to exterminate or be exterminated. The +preparations had been almost completed when Craven arrived at the camp, +and tonight, for the first time, at a final war council of all the +principal headmen held in the Sheik's tent, he had seen the stricken man +and had hardly recognized in the gaunt attenuated figure that only an +inflexible will seemed to keep upright, the handsome stalwart Arab who +of all the tribe had most nearly approached his own powerful physique. +The frenzied despair in the dark flashing eyes that met his struck an +answering chord in his own heart and the silent handclasp that passed +between them seemed to ratify a common desire. Here, too, was a man who +for love of a woman sought death that he might escape a life of terrible +memory. A sudden sympathy born of tacit understanding seemed to leap +from one to the other, an affinity of purpose that drew them strangely +close together and brought to Craven an odd sense of kinship that +dispelled the difference he had felt and enabled him to enter reservedly +into the discussions that followed. After this meeting he had gone back +to his tent to make his own final preparations with a feeling almost +of exhilaration. To Yoshio, more than usually stolid, he had given all +necessary instructions for the conveyance of his belongings to England. + +Remained only the letter to his wife--a letter that seemed curiously +hard to begin. Pushing the writing materials from him he leant back +further in his chair, and searching in his pockets found and filled a +pipe with slow almost meticulous deliberation. Another search failed to +produce the match he required, and rising with a prolonged stretch he +bent over the table and lit his pipe at the lamp. Crossing the tent he +stood for a few moments in the doorway, but movements did not seem to +produce inspiration, and with an impatient shrug he returned to his seat +and sat staring gloomily at the blank sheet of paper before him. The +flaring light of the lamp illuminated his deeply tanned face and lean +muscular figure. In perfect physical condition and bronzed with the +African sun, he looked younger than when he had left England. At that +moment death and Barry Craven seemed very widely separated--and yet in a +few hours, he reflected with a curiosity that was oddly impersonal, the +vultures might be congregating round the body that was now so strong and +virile. “Handsome Barry Craven.” He had heard a woman say it in Lagos +with a feeling of contemptuous amusement--a cynical smile crossed his +face as the remark recurred to him and he pictured the loathing that +would succeed admiration in the same woman's eyes if she could see what +would remain of him after the scavengers of the desert had done their +work. The thought gave him personally no feeling of disgust. He had +lived always too near to Nature to shrink from contemplation of her +merciless laws. + +He filled another pipe and strove to collect his wandering thoughts, but +the power of definite expression seemed beyond him as there rose in +him with almost overwhelming force the terrible longing that never left +him--the craving to see her, to hear her voice. Of his own free will he +was putting away all that life could mean or hold for him, and in the +flood of natural reaction that set in he called himself a fool and +revolted at his self-imposed sentence. The old struggle recommenced, the +old temptation gripped him in all its bitterness, and never so bitterly +as to-night. In the revulsion of feeling that beset him it was not death +he shrank from but the thought of eternity--alone. Neither in this world +nor in the life everlasting would she be his, and in an agony of longing +his soul cried out in anguished loneliness. The yearning for her grew +intolerable, a burning physical ache that was torture; but stronger far +rose the finer nobler desire for the perfect spiritual companionship +that he would never know. By his own act it would be denied him. By his +own act he had made this hell in which he lived, of his own making would +be the hell of the hereafter. Always he had recognised the justice of +it, he did not attempt to deny the justice of it now. But if it had been +otherwise--if he had been free to woo her, free to win her to his arms! +It was not the least of his punishment that, deep down in his heart, +he had the firm conviction that despite her assertions to the contrary, +love was lying dormant in her. And that love might have been his, would +have been his, for the strength and tenderness of his own passion would +have compelled it. She must have turned to him at last and in his +love found happiness. And to him her love would have been the crown +of life--a life of exquisite joy and beauty, a union of perfect and +undivided sympathy. Together they might have made the Towers a paradise +on earth; together they might have broken the curse of Craven; together +they might have brought happiness into the lives of many. And in the +dream of what might have been there came to him for the first time the +longing for parenthood, the desire for a child born of the woman he +adored, a child who joining in his tiny personality the essentials of +each would be a tangible proof of their mutual love, a child who would +perpetuate the race he sprang from. Craven's breath came fast with a new +and tremendous emotion. Then with terrible suddenness came a lightning +flash of recollection, a stabbing remembrance that laid his dream in +pieces at his feet. He heard again the low soft sobbing voice, “Are you +not glad?” He saw again O Hara San's pleading tear-filled eyes, felt +again her slender sorrow-shaken body trembling in his arms, and he bowed +his head on his hands in shuddering horror.... + +Numbed with the pain of memory and self-loathing he was unaware of the +renewal of noisy demonstration in the camp that to Yoshio's attentive +and interested ears pointed to the arrival of yet another adherent of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, an adherent of some special standing, judging from +the warmth of his reception. Moved by curiosity the Jap rose noiselessly +and passing unnoticed by his master vanished silently into the night. + +Some little while later the sound of a clear tenor voice calling to him +loudly by name sent Craven stumbling to his feet. He turned quickly +with outstretched hands to meet the tall young Arab, who burst +unceremoniously into the tent and flung himself upon him in boisterous +greeting. Gripped by a pair of muscular arms Craven submitted with +an Englishman's diffidence to the fervid oriental embrace that was +succeeded to his greater liking by a hearty and prolonged English +handshake and a storm of welcoming excited and almost incoherent speech. +“_C'est bien toi, mon vieux_! You are more welcome than you have ever +been--though I could wish you a thousand miles away, _mon ami_, but of +that, more, later. _Dame_, but I have ridden! As though the hosts of +Eblis were behind me. I was on leave when the messenger came for me--he +seems to have been peremptory in his demands, that same Selim. +Telegrams despatched to every likely place--one caught me fortunately +at Marseilles. Yes, I had been in Paris. I hastened to headquarters and +asked for long and indefinite leave on urgent private affairs, all the +lies I thought _mon colonel_ would swallow, but no word of war, _bien +entendu_! Praise be to _Allah_ they put no obstacle in my way and I left +at once. Since then I have ridden almost without stopping, night and +day. Two horses I have killed, the last lies dead of a broken heart +before my father's tent--you remember her?--my little Mimi, a chestnut +with a white star on her forehead, dear to me as the core of my heart. +For none but Omar would I have driven so, for I loved her, look you, +_mon ami_, as I could never love a woman. A woman! Bah! No woman in +the world was worth a toss of my Mimi's head. And I killed her, Craven. +Killed her who loved and trusted me, who never failed me. My little +Mimi! For the love of _Allah_ give me a whisky.” And laughing and crying +together he collapsed with a groan on to Craven's bed but sat up again +immediately to gulp down the prohibited drink that was almost the last +in a nearly depleted flask. + +“The Prophet never tasted whisky or he would not have forbidden it to +the true believer,” he said with a boyish grin, as he handed back the +empty cup. + +“Which you are not,” commented Craven with a faint smile. “In the +sense you mean, no,” replied Saïd, swinging his heels to the ground and +searching in the folds of his burnous for a cigarette, which he lit and +smoked for a few minutes thoughtfully. Then with all trace of his former +excitement gone he began to discuss soberly the exigency of the +moment, revealing a sound judgment and levelness of mind that appeared +incompatible with his seemingly careless and easy-going disposition. +It was a deeper studiously hidden side of his character that Craven had +guessed very early in their acquaintance. + +He talked now with unconcealed seriousness of the gravity of the +situation. In the short time he had been with his father before seeking +his friend he had mastered the particulars of the projected expedition +and, with his European knowledge, had suggested and even--with a +force of personality he had never before displayed in the old Sheik's +presence--insisted on certain alterations which he detailed now for +Craven's benefit, who concurred heartily, for they were identical with +suggestions put forward by himself which had been rejected as impossible +innovations by the conservative headmen, and conscious of his position +as guest he had not pressed them. Then with a sudden change of tone the +young Arab turned to Craven in frowning inquiry. + +“But you, mon cher, what are you doing in this affair? It was that I +meant when I said I wished you a thousand miles away. You are my friend, +the friend of all of us, but friendship does not demand that you ride +with us to-night. That you would offer--yes--it was only to be expected. +But that we should accept your offer--no! a hundred times no! you are an +Englishman, a big man in your own country, what have you to do with the +tribal warfare of minor Arab Chiefs--voyez vous, I have my moments of +modesty! If anything should happen--as happen it very likely will--what +will your paternal British Government say? It will only add to my +father's difficulties with our own over-lords.” There was a laugh in his +eyes though his voice was serious. Craven brushed his objection aside +with an indifferent hand. + +“The British Government will not distress itself about me,” he said +dryly. “I am not of sufficient importance.” + +For a few moments the Arab sat silent, smoking rapidly, then he raised +his dark eyes tentatively to Craven's face. + +“In Paris they told me you were married,” he said slowly, and the remark +was in itself ample indication of his European tendencies. + +Craven turned away with an abrupt movement and bent over the lamp to +light his pipe. “They told you the truth,” he said, with a certain +reluctance, his face hidden by a cloud of smoke. “_Pourtant_, I ride +with you to-night.” There was a note of brusque finality in his voice +that Saïd recognised, and he shrugged acquiescence as he lit another +cigarette. “It is almost certain death,” he said, with nonchalant +oriental calm. But Craven did not answer and Saïd relapsed into a +silence that was protracted. From the midst of the blue haze surrounding +him, his earnest scrutiny hidden by the thick lashes that curved +downwards to his swarthy cheek, he gazed intently through half-closed +eyes at the friend whose presence he found for the first time +embarrassing. Fatalist though he was in all things that concerned +himself, western influence had bitten deep enough to make him realise +that the same doctrine did not extend to Craven. He recognised that +self-determination came more largely into the Englishman's creed than +into his own. Whether he himself lived or died was a matter of no great +moment. But with Craven it was otherwise and he had no liking for the +thought that should the morrow's venture go against them his friend's +blood would, virtually, be upon his hands! So far had his Francophile +tendencies taken him. And the more he dwelt upon the uncomfortable fact +the less he liked it. He turned his attention more directly upon the man +himself and he noted changes that surprised and disturbed him. The stern +weary looking face was not the careless smiling one he remembered. The +man he had known had been vividly alive, care-free and animated; one who +had jested alike at life and death with an indifferent laugh, but one +who though careless of danger even to the extent of foolhardiness had +never given any indication of a desire to quit a life that was obviously +easy and attractive. But this man was different, grave and abrupt of +speech, with an air of tired suffering, and a grim purposefulness in his +determination to ignore his friend's warning that conveyed an impression +of underlying sinister intent that set the Arab wondering what sting had +poisoned his life even to the desire to sacrifice it. For the look on +Craven's face was not new to him, he had seen it before--on the face of +a French officer in Algiers who had subsequently taken his own life, +and again this very evening on the face of his brother Omar. The +personalities of the three men were widely different, but the expression +of each was identical. The deduction was simple and yet to him wholly +inexplicable. A woman--without doubt a woman! In the first two cases it +was certainly so, he seemed to know instinctively that here, too, he was +not mistaken in his supposition. A puzzled look crept into his fine +dark eyes and a cynical smile hovered round his mouth as he viewed +these three dissimilar men from the height of his own contemptuous +indifference towards any and every woman. It was a weakness he did not +understand, a phase of life that held no meaning for him at all. He +had never bestowed a second glance on any woman of his own race, the +attentions of European women in Paris and Algiers had been met with cold +scorn that he masked with racial gravity of demeanour or frank insolence +according to circumstances. For him women did not exist; he lived for +his horses, for his regiment and for sport. To his strangely cold +nature the influence that women exercised over other men was a thing +inconceivable--the houris of the paradise of his fathers' creed were to +him no incentive to enter the realms of the blessed. A character apart, +incomprehensible alike to the warm-blooded Frenchmen with whom he +associated and to his own passionate countrymen, he maintained his +peculiarity tranquilly, undisturbed by the banter of his friends and +the admonitions of his father, who in view of his heir's childlessness +regarded his younger son's temperament with growing uneasiness as the +years advanced. + +The action of the French officer in Algiers had provoked in Saïd only +intolerant contempt but, as he realised tonight, contempt was not +possible in the cases of Craven and his brother. He pondered it with a +curious feeling of irritation. What was it after all, this emotion of +which he was ignorant--this compelling impulse that entered into a +man driving him beyond the power of endurance? It was past his +comprehension. And he wondered suddenly for the first time why he had +been made so different to the generality of men. But introspection +was foreign to him, he had not been in the habit of dissecting his own +personality and his thoughts turned quickly with greater interest to the +man who sat near him plunged like himself into silent reverie. And as +he looked he scowled with angry irritation. The Frenchman in Algiers had +not mattered, but Omar and Craven mattered very much. He resented the +suffering he did not understand--the termination of a friendship he +valued, for it was almost inevitable should Craven persist in his +decision and the loss of a brother who was dearer to him than he would +admit and whose death would mean a greater change in his own life than +he cared to contemplate. That through a woman this should be possible! +With hearty thoroughness and picturesque attention to detail he silently +cursed all women in general and two women in particular. For the +seriousness of the venture lay, at the moment, heavily upon him. He +was tired and his enthusiasm temporarily damped by the unexpected and +incomprehensible attitude of the two men by whom alone he permitted +himself to be influenced. But gradually his natural buoyancy reasserted +itself, and abandoning as insoluble the perplexing problem, he spoke +again eagerly of the impending meeting with his hereditary foes. For +half an hour they talked earnestly and then Saïd rose, announcing his +intention of getting a few hours sleep before the early start. But he +deferred his going, making one pretext after another for remaining, +walking about the little tent in undecided hesitation, plainly +embarrassed. Finally he swung toward Craven with a characteristic +gesture of his long arms. + +“Can I say nothing to deter you from this expedition?” + +“Nothing,” replied Craven; “you always promised me a fight some day--do +you want to do me out of it now, you selfish devil?” he added with a +laugh, to which Saïd did not respond. With an inarticulate grunt +he moved toward the door, pausing as he went out to fling over his +shoulder: “I'll send you a burnous and the rest of the kit.” + +“A burnous--what for?” + +“What for?” echoed Saïd, coming back into the tent, his eyes wide with +astonishment. “_Allah_! to wear, of course, _mon cher_. You can't go as +you are.” + +“Why not?” + +The Arab rolled his eyes heavenward and waved his hands in protest as +he burst out vehemently: “Because they will take you for a Frenchman, +a spy, an agent of the Government, and they will finish you off even +before they turn their attention to us. They hate us, by the Koran! but +they hate a Frenchman worse. You wouldn't have the shadow of a chance.” + +Craven looked at him curiously for a few moments, and then he smiled. +“You're a good fellow, Saïd,” he said quietly, taking the cigarette the +other offered, “but I'll go as I am, all the same. I'm not used to your +picturesque togs, they would only hamper me.” + +For a little while longer Saïd remained arguing and entreating by turns +and then went away suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and for a few +minutes Craven stood in the door of the tent watching his retreating +figure by the light of the newly risen moon with a smile that softened +his face incredibly. + +Then he turned back into the tent and once more drew toward him the +writing materials. + +The difficulty he had before felt had passed away. It seemed suddenly +quite easy to write and he wondered why it had appeared so impossible +earlier in the evening. Words, phrases, leaped to his mind, sentences +seemed to form themselves, and, with rapidly moving pen, he wrote +without faltering for the best part of an hour--all he had never dared +to say, more almost than he had ever dared to think. He did not spare +himself. The tragic history of O Hara San he gave in all its pitifulness +without attempting to extenuate or shield himself in any way; he +sketched frankly the girl's loneliness and childish ignorance, his own +casual and selfish acceptance of the sacrifice she made and the terrible +catastrophe that had brought him to abrupt and horrible conviction of +himself, and his subsequent determination to end the life he had marred +and wasted. He wrote of the coming of John Locke's letter at the moment +of his deepest abasement, and of the chance it had seemed to offer; of +her own entry into his life and the love for her that almost from the +first moment had sprung up within him. + +In its entirety he laid bare the burning hopeless passion that consumed +him, the torturing longing that possessed him, and the knowledge of his +own unworthiness that had driven him from her that she might be free +with a freedom that would be at last absolute. But even in this letter +which tore down so completely the barrier between them he did not admit +to her the true reason of his marriage, he preferred to leave it obscure +as it had always been, even should the motive she might attribute to him +be the wrong one. He must chance that and the impression it might leave +with her. Her future life he alluded to very briefly not caring to dwell +on business that was already cut and dried, but referring her to Peters +who was fully instructed and on whose advice and help she could +count. He expressed no wish with regard to Craven Towers and his +other properties, leaving her free to dispose of or retain them as she +pleased. He shrank from suggesting in any way that she benefited by his +death. + +He saw her before him as he wrote. It seemed almost as if the ardent +passionate wards were spoken to present listening ears, and as with +Peters' letter he did not reread the many closely written sheets. What +use? He did not wish to alter or amend anything he had said. He had +done, and a deeper peace came to him than he had known since those far +away days in Japan. + +He called to Yoshio. Almost before the words had left his lips the man +was beside him. And as the Jap listened to the minute instructions given +him the light that had sprung to his eyes died out of them and his face +became if possible more than usually stolid and inscrutable. + +“You quite understand?” said Craven in conclusion. “You will wait here +until it becomes evident that further waiting is useless. Then you are +to go straight back to England and give those letters into Mrs. Craven's +own hand.” + +With marked reluctance Yoshio slowly took up the two heavy packets and +fingered them for a time silently. Then with a sudden exclamation in his +own language he shook his head and pushed them back across the table. +“Going with master,” he announced phlegmatically, and raised his eyes +with a glance that was at once provocative and stubborn. Craven met his +direct stare with a feeling of surprise. Only once before had the docile +Japanese asserted himself definitely and the memory of it made anger now +impossible. He pointed to the letters lying on the table between them. +“You have your orders,” he said quietly, and cut short further protests +with a quick gesture of authority. “Do as you're told, you obstinate +little devil,” he added, with a short laugh. And like a chidden child +Yoshio pocketed the letters sullenly. Stifling a yawn Craven kicked off +his boots and moved over to the bed with a glance at his watch. He flung +himself down, dressed as he was. + +“Two hours, Yoshio--not a minute longer,” he murmured drowsily, and +slept almost before his head touched the pillow. + +For an hour or more, squatting motionless on his heels in the middle +of the tent, Yoshio watched him, his mask-like face expressionless, his +eyes fixed in an unwavering stare. Then he rose cautiously and glided +from the tent. + +During the last two years Craven had become accustomed to snatching +a few hours of sleep when and how he could. He slept now deeply and +dreamlessly. And when the two hours were passed and Yoshio woke him he +sprang up, wide awake on the instant, refreshed by the short rest. In +silence that was no longer sullen the valet indicated a complete Arab +outfit he had brought back with him to the tent, but Craven waved it +aside with a smile at the thought of Saïd's pertinacity and finished his +dressing quickly. As he concluded his hasty preparations he found time +to wonder at his own frame of mind. He had an odd feeling of aloofness +that precluded even excitement. It was as if his spirit, already freed, +looked down from some immeasurable height with scant interest upon the +doings of a being who wore the earthly semblance of himself but who +mattered not at all. He seemed to be above and beyond actualities. He +heard himself repeating the instructions he had given earlier to Yoshio, +he found himself taking leave of the faithful little Jap and wondering +slightly at the man's apparent unconcern. But outside the little tent +the strange feeling left him suddenly as it had come. The cool wind that +an hour later would usher in the dawn blew about his face dispelling the +visionary sensation that had taken hold of him. He drew a deep breath +looking eagerly at the beauty of the moon-lit night, feeling himself +once more keenly alive, keenly excited at the prospect of the coming +venture. + +Excitement was rife also in the camp and he made his way with difficulty +through the jostling throng of men and horses towards the rallying point +before the old Sheik's tent. The noise was deafening, and trampling +screaming horses wheeled and backed among the crowd pressing around +them. With shouts of acclamation a way was made for the Englishman and +he passed through the dense ranks to the open space where Mukair Ibn +Zarrarah with his two sons and a little group of headmen were standing. +They welcomed him with characteristic gravity and Saïd proffered the +inevitable cigarette with a reproachful glance at his khaki clothing. +For a few moments they conversed and then the Sheik stepped forward with +uplifted hand. The clamour of the people gave way to a deep silence. In +a short impassioned speech the old man bade his tribe go forward in the +name of the one God, Merciful and Beneficent. And as his arm dropped +to his side again a mighty shout broke from the assembled multitude. +_Allah! Allah!_ the fierce exultant cry rose in a swelling volume of +sound as the fighting men leaped to their maddened horses dragging them +back into orderly ranks from among the press of onlookers and tossing +their long guns in the air in frenzied excitement. A magnificent black +stallion was led up to Craven, and the Sheik soothed the beautiful +quivering creature, caressing his shapely head with trembling nervy +fingers. “He is my favourite, he will carry you well,” he murmured with +a proud smile as he watched Craven handling the spirited animal. Mounted +Craven bent down and wrung Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's hand and in another +moment he found himself riding between Omar and Saïd at the head of the +troop as it moved off followed by the ringing shouts of those who +were left behind. He had a last momentary glimpse of the old Sheik, a +solitary upright figure of pathetic dignity, standing before his tent, +and then the camp seemed to slide away behind them as the pace increased +and they reached the edge of the oasis and emerged on to the open +desert. A few minutes more and the fretting horses settled down into +a steady gallop. The dense ranks of tribesmen were silent at last, and +only the rythmical thud of hoofs sounded with a muffled beat against the +soft shifting sand. + +Craven felt himself in strange accordance with the men with whom he +rode. The love of hazardous adventure that was in his blood leaped into +activity and a keen fierce pleasure swept him at the thought of the +coming conflict. The death he sought was the death he had always hoped +for--the crashing clamour of the battlefield, the wild tumultuous impact +of contending forces, with the whining scream of flying bullets in his +ears. To die--and, dying, to atone! + + “_Come to Me all ye who ... are heavy laden + and I will give you rest_.” + +Might that ineffable rest that was promised be even for him? Would his +deep repentance, the agony of spirit he had endured, be payment enough? +Eternal death--the everlasting hell of the Jehovah of the ancients! Not +that, merciful God, but the compassion of Christ: + + “_He that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out_.” + +On that terrible day in Yokohama that seemed so many weary years ago +Craven had laid his sin-stained soul in all sincerity and humbleness +at the feet of the Divine Redeemer, but with no thought or hope of +forgiveness. Always the necessity of personal atonement had remained +with him, without which by his reasoning there could be no salvation. +That offered, but not until then, he would trust in the compassion that +passed man's understanding. And to-night--to-day--he seemed nearer than +he had ever been to the fulfilment of his desire. The mental burden that +had lain like an actual crushing weight upon him seemed to slip away +into nothingness. A long deep sigh of wonderful relief escaped him and +he drew himself straighter in the saddle, a new peace dawning in his +eyes as he raised them to the starlit sky. Out of the past there flashed +into his mind the picture--forgotten since the days of childhood--of +Christian freed of his burden at the foot of the Cross, as represented +in the old copy of the “Pilgrim's Progress” over which he had pored as +a boy, enthralled by the quaint text which he had known nearly by heart +and fascinated by the curious illustrations that had appealed to his +young imagination. + +The years rolled back, he saw himself again a little lad stretched on +the rug before the fire in the library at Craven Towers, the big book +propped open before him, studying with a child's love of the grotesque +the grisly picture of Apollyon whose hideous black-winged form had to +his boyish mind been the actual image of the devil, a tangible demon +whom he had longed to conquer like Christian armed with sword and +shield. The childish idea, a bodily adversary to contend with--it would +have been simpler. But the devil in a man's own heart, the insidious +inward prompting to sin that unrepelled grows imperceptibly stronger +and greater until the realisation of sin committed comes with horrible +suddenness! To Craven, as to many others, came the futile longing to +have his life to live again, to start afresh from the days of innocency +when he had hung, enraptured, over the woodcuts of the “Pilgrim's +Progress.” He forced his thoughts back to the present. Death, not life, +lay before him. Instinctively he glanced at the man who rode at his +right hand. In the cold white moonlight the Arab's face was like a piece +of beautiful carved bronze, still and terrible in its fixed intentness. +Sitting his horse with evident difficulty, animated by mere strength of +will, his wasted frame rigidly upright, his sombre tragic eyes peering +steadfastly ahead, he seemed in his grim purposefulness the very +incarnation of avenging justice. And as Craven looked at him covertly he +wondered what lay hidden behind those set features, what of hope, what +of fear, what of despair was seething in the fierce heart of the desert +man. Of the dearly loved wife who had been ravished from him there had +come no further word, her fate was unknown. Had she died, or did she +still live--in shameful captivity, the slave of the renegade who had +made her the price of his treachery? What additional horror still +awaited the unhappy husband who rode to avenge her? With a slight +shudder Craven turned from the contemplation of a sorrow that seemed to +him even greater than his own and sought his left hand neighbour. With a +quick smile Saïd's eyes met his. With an easy swing of his graceful body +he drew his horse nearer to the spirited stallion Craven was riding +but did not speak. The ready flow of conversation that was habitual had +apparently forsaken him. + +The young Arab's silence was welcome, Craven had himself no desire to +speak. The dawn wind was blowing cool against his forehead, soothing +him. The easy gallop of the horse between his knees, tractable and +steady now he was allowed free rein, was to him the height of physical +enjoyment. He would get from it what he could, he thought with a swift +smile of self mockery--the flesh still urged in contradiction to his +firm resolve. It was a blind country through which they were riding, +though seemingly level the ground rose and fell in a succession of long +undulating sweeps that made a wide outlook impossible. A regiment could +lie hidden in the hollows among the twisting deviating sandy hillocks +and be passed unnoticed. And as he topped each rise at the head of the +Arab troop Craven looked forward eagerly with unfailing interest. He +hardly knew for what he looked for their destination lay many miles +further southward and the possibility of unexpected attack had been +foreseen by Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, whose scouts had ranged the district +for weeks past, but the impression once aroused of an impending +something lingered persistently and fixed his attention. + +From time to time the waiting scouts joined them, solitary horsemen +riding with reckless speed over the broken ground or slipping silently +from the shadow of a side track to make a brief report and then take +their place among the ranks of tribesmen. So far they told no more than +was already known. The wind blew keener as the dawn approached. Far in +the east the first faint pinky streaks were spreading across the +sky, overhead the twinkling stars paled one by one and vanished. The +atmosphere grew suddenly chill. The surrounding desert had before been +strangely silent, not so much as the wailing cry of a jackal had broken +the intense stillness, but now an even deeper hush, mysterious and +pregnant, closed down over the land. For the time all nature seemed to +hang in suspense, waiting, watching. To Craven the wonder of the dawn +was not new, he had seen if often in many countries, but it was a marvel +of which he never tired. And there was about this sunrise a significance +that had been attached to no other he had ever witnessed. Eagerly he +watched the faint flush brighten and intensify, the pale streaks spread +and widen into far flung bars of flaming gold and crimson. Daylight came +with startling suddenness and as the glowing disc of the sun rose +red above the horizon a horseman broke from the galloping ranks, and +spurring in advance of the troop, wheeled his horse and dragged him to +an abrupt standstill. Rising in his stirrups he flung his arms in fervid +ecstasy toward the heavens. Craven recognised in him a young Mullah of +fanatical tendencies who had been particularly active in the camp during +the preceding week. That the opposing tribe was of a different sect, +abhorred by the followers of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had been an original +cause of dissent between them, and the priests had made good use of the +opportunity of fanning religious zeal. + +The cavalcade came to a sudden halt, and as Craven with difficulty +reined in his own horse the sustained and penetrating cry of the muezzin +rose weirdly high and clear on the morning air, “_al-ilah-ilah_.” The +arresting and solemn invocation had always had for Craven a peculiar +fascination, and as the last lingering notes died away it was not purely +from a motive of expediency that he followed the common impulse and +knelt among the prostrate Arabs. His creed differed from theirs but he +worshipped the same God as they, and in his heart he respected their +overt profession of faith. + +As he rose from his knees he caught Saïd's eyes bent on him with a +curious look in them of interrogation that was at once faintly mocking +and yet sad. But the expression passed quickly into a boyish grin as he +waved an unlit cigarette toward the fiery young priest who had seized +the chance to embark on a passionate harangue. + +“When prayer is ended disperse yourselves through the land as ye list,” + he murmured, with a flippant laugh at the perverted quotation. “The holy +man will preach till our tongues blacken with thirst.” And he turned to +his brother to urge him to give the order to remount. Omar was leaning +against his horse, his tall figure sagging with fatigue. He started +violently as Saïd spoke to him, and, staggering, would have fallen but +for the strong arm slipped round him. And, watching Craven saw with +dismay a dark stain mar the whiteness of his robes where a wound had +broken out afresh, and he wondered whether the weakened body would +be able to respond to the urging of the resolute will that drove it +mercilessly, or, when almost within view, the fiercely longed for +revenge would yet be snatched from him. + +But with an effort the Arab pulled himself together and, mounting, +painfully cut short the Mullah's eloquence and gave in a firm tone the +desired order. + +The swift gallop southward was resumed. + +The breeze dropped gradually and finally died away, but for an hour or +more the refreshing coolness lingered. Then as the sun rose higher and +gained in strength the air grew steadily warmer until the heat became +intense and Craven began to look eagerly for the oasis that was to be +their first halting place. In full daylight the landscape that by night +had seemed to possess an eerie charm developed a dull monotony. The +successive rise and fall of the land, always with its limited outlook, +became tedious, and the labyrinthine hillocks with their intricate +windings seemed to enclose them inextricably. But on reaching the summit +of a longer steeper incline that had perceptibly slowed the galloping +horses, he saw spread out before him a level tract of country stretching +far into the distance, with a faint blue smudge beyond of the chain +of hills that Saïd told him marked the boundary of the territory that +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah regarded as his own, the boundary, too, of French +jurisdiction. Through a defile in the hills lay the enemy country. + +The change was welcome to men and horses alike, the latter--aware +with unerring instinct of the nearness of water--of their own accord +increased their pace and thundering down the last long shifting slope +pressed forward eagerly toward the oasis that Craven judged to be +between two and three miles away. In the clear deceptive atmosphere it +appeared much nearer, and yet as they raced onward it seemed to come +no closer but rather to recede as though some malevolent demon of +the desert in wanton sport was conjuring it tantalizingly further and +further from them. The tall feathery palms, seen through the shimmering +heat haze, took an exaggerated height towering fantastically above the +scrub of bushy thorn trees. + +Craven had even a moment's doubt whether the mirage-like oasis actually +existed or was merely a delusion bred of fancy and desire. But the +absurdity of the doubt came home to him as he looked again at the +outline of the distant hills--too conspicuous a landmark to allow of any +error on the part of his companions to whom the country was familiar. + +The prospect of the welcome shade made him more sensitive to the +scorching strength of the sun that up till now he had endured without +more than a passing sensation of discomfort. He was inured to heat, but +to-day's heat was extraordinary, and even the Arabs were beginning to +show signs of distress. It was many hours since they started and the +pace had been killing. His mouth was parched and his eyeballs smarted +with the blinding glare. With the thirst that increased each moment the +last half mile seemed longer than all the preceding ride, and when the +oasis was at length reached he slipped from his sweating horse with an +exclamation of relief. + +The Arabs crowded round the well and in a moment the little peaceful +spot was the scene of noisy confusion; men shouting, scrambling and +gesticulating, horses squealing, and above all the creaking whine of the +tackling over the well droning mournfully as the bucket rose and fell. +Saïd swung himself easily to the ground and held his brother's plunging +horse while he dismounted. For a few moments they conversed together in +a rapid undertone, and then the younger man turned to Craven, a cloud on +his handsome face. “Our communication has broken down. Two scouts should +have met us here,” he said, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “It +disconcerts our scheme for we counted on their report. They may be +late--it is hardly likely. They had ample time. More probably they have +been ambushed--the country is filled with spies--in which event the +advantage lies with the other side. They will know that we have started, +while we shall have no further information. The two men who are missing +were the only ones operating beyond the border. The last scout who +reported himself was in touch with them last night. From them he learned +that two days ago the enemy were forty miles south of the hills yonder. +We had hoped to catch them unawares, but they may have got wind of our +intentions and be nearer than we expect. The curse of _Allah_ on them!” + he added impatiently. + +“What are you going to do?” asked Craven with a backward glance at the +dismounted tribesmen clustering round the well and busily employed in +making preparations for rest and food. Saïd beckoned to a passing Arab +and dispatched him with a hurried order. Then he turned again to Craven. +“The horses must rest though the men would go forward at a word. I +am sending two scouts to reconnoitre the defile and bring back what +information they can,” he said. And as he spoke the two men he had +sent for appeared with disciplined promptness and reined in beside him. +Having received their brief instructions they started off in a cloud of +dust and sand at the usual headlong gallop. Saïd turned away immediately +and disappeared among the jostling crowd, but Craven lingered at the +edge of the oasis looking after the fast receding horsemen who, crouched +low in their saddles, their long white cloaks swelling round them, +were very literally carrying out their orders to ride “swift as the +messengers of Azrael.” He had known them both on his previous visits, +though he had not recognised them in the dark hours of the dawn when +they joined the troop, and remembered them as two of the most dare-devil +and intrepid of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's followers. A moment since they had +grinned at him in cheery greeting, exhibiting almost childlike pleasure +when he had called them by name, and had set off with an obeisance as +deep to him as to their leader. + +Incidents of those earlier visits flashed through his mind as he watched +them speeding across the glaring plain and a feeling almost of regret +came to him that it should be these two particular men who had been +selected for the hazardous mission. For he guessed that their chance of +return was slight. And yet hardly slighter than for the rest of them! +With a shrug he moved away slowly and sought the shadow of a camel +thorn. He lay on his back in the welcome patch of shade, his helmet +tilted over his eyes, drawing vigorously at a cigarette in the vain +hope of lessening the attentions of the swarms of tormenting flies that +buzzed about him, and waiting patiently for the desired water before +he swallowed the dark brown unsavoury mass of crushed dates which, warm +from his pocket and gritty with the sand that penetrated everything, was +the only food available. Saïd was still busy among the throng of men and +horses, but near him Omar sat plunged in gloomy silence, his melancholy +eyes fixed on the distant hills. He had re-adjusted his robes, screening +the ominous stain that revealed what he wished to hide. His hands, +which alone might have betrayed the emotion surging under his outward +passivity, were concealed in the folds of his enveloping burnous. When +the immediate wants of men and horses were assuaged the prevailing +clamour gave place to sudden quiet as the Arabs lay down and, muffling +their heads in their cloaks, seemed to fall instantly asleep. His +supervision ended, Saïd reappeared, and following the example of his +men was soon snoring peacefully. Craven rolled over on his side, and +lighting another cigarette settled himself more comfortably on the warm +ground. For a time he watched the solitary sentinel sitting motionless +on his horse at no great distance from the oasis. Then a vulture winging +its slow heavy way across the heavens claimed his attention and he +followed it with his eyes until it passed beyond his vision. He was +too lazy and too comfortable to turn his head. He lay listening to the +shrill hum of countless insect life, smoking cigarette after cigarette +till the ground around him was littered with stubs and match ends. The +hours passed slowly. When he looked at the guard again the Arab was +varying the monotony by walking his horse to and fro, but he had not +moved further into the desert. And suddenly as Craven watched him he +wheeled and galloped back toward the camp. Craven started up on his arm, +screening his eyes from the sun and staring intently in the direction of +the hills. But there was nothing to be seen in the wide empty plain, and +he sank down again with a smile at his own impatience as the reason of +the man's return occurred to him. Reaching the oasis the Arab led his +horse among the prostrate sleepers and kicked a comrade into wakefulness +to take his place. From time to time the intense stillness was broken +by a movement among the horses, and once or twice a vicious scream came +from a stallion resenting the attentions of a restless neighbour. The +slumbering Arabs lay like sheeted figures of the dead save when some +uneasy dreamer rolled over with a smothered grunt into a different +position. Craven had begun to wonder how much longer the siesta would be +protracted when Omar rose stiffly, and going to his brother's side awoke +him with a hand on his shoulder. Saïd sat up blinking sleepily and then +leaped alertly to his feet. In a few minutes the oasis was once more +filled with noisy activity. But this time there was no confusion. The +men mounted quickly and the troop was reformed with the utmost dispatch. +The horses broke almost immediately into the long swinging gallop that +seemed to eat up the miles under their feet. + +The fiercest heat of the day was passed. The haze that had hung +shimmering over the plain had cleared away and the hills they were +steadily nearing grew more clearly defined. Soon the conformation of +the range was easily discernible, the rocky surface breaking up into +innumerable gullies and ravines, the jagged ridges standing out clean +against the deep blue of the sky. Another mile and Saïd turned to him +with outstretched hand, pointing eagerly. “See, to the right, there, +by that shaft of rock that looks like a minaret, is the entrance to the +defile. It is well masked. It comes upon one suddenly. A stranger would +hardly find the opening until he was close upon it. In the dawn when +the shadows are black I have ridden past it myself once or twice and had +to--_Allah_! Selim--and alone!” he cried suddenly, and shot ahead of +his companions. The troop halted at Omar's shouted command, but Craven +galloped after his friend. He had caught sight of the horseman emerging +from the pass a moment after Saïd had seen him and the same thought had +leaped to the mind of each--the news on which so much depended might +still never reach them. The spy came on toward them slowly, his horse +reeling under him, and man and beast alike were nearly shot to pieces. +As Saïd drew alongside of them the wounded horse collapsed and the dying +man fell with him, unable to extricate himself. In a flash the Arab +Chief was on his feet, and with a tremendous effort pulled the dead +animal clear of his follower's crushed and quivering limbs. Slipping an +arm about him he raised him gently, and bending low to catch the faint +words he could scarcely hear, held him until the fluttering whisper +trailed into silence, and with a convulsive shudder the man died in his +arms. + +Laying the corpse back on the sand he wiped his blood-stained hands on +the folds of his cloak, then swung into the saddle again and turned to +Craven, his eyes blazing with anger and excitement. “They were trapped +in the defile--ten against two--but Selim got through somehow to make +his reconnaissance, and they finished him off on the way back--though +I don't think he left many behind him! Either our plans have been +betrayed--or it may be merely a coincidence. Whichever it is they are +waiting for us yonder, on the other side of the hills. They have saved +us a day's journey--at the very least,” he added with a short laugh that +was full of eager anticipation. + +They waited until Omar and the troop joined them, and after a short +consultation with the headmen it was decided to press forward without +delay. Aware that but few hours of daylight remained, Craven deemed it +a foolhardy decision, but Omar was deeply stirred at the nearness of +the man who had wronged him--for Selim had managed to extract that +information from one of his opponents before killing him--and the +tribesmen were eager for immediate action. The horses, too, were fresh +enough, thanks to the mid-day rest. The troop moved on again, a guard of +fifty picked men slightly in advance of the main body. + +At the foot of the hills they drew rein to reform for the defile only +admitted of three horses walking abreast, and as Craven waited for his +own turn to come to enter the narrow pass he looked curiously at the +bare rock face that rose almost perpendicularly out of the sand and +towered starkly above him. But he had no time for a lengthy inspection, +and in a few minutes, with Omar and Saïd on either hand, he guided his +horse round the jutting spur of rock that masked the opening and rode +into the sombre shade of the defile. The change was startling, and he +shivered with the sudden chill that seemed so much cooler by contrast +with the heat of the plain. Hemmed in by sheer sinister looking cliffs, +which were broken at intervals by lateral ravines, the tortuous track +led over rough slippery ground sprinkled with huge boulders that made +any pace beyond a walk impossible. The horses stumbled continually and +the necessity of keeping a sharp look-out for each succeeding obstacle +drove from Craven's mind everything but the matter in hand. He forgot +to wonder how near or how far from the other side of the hills lay the +opposing force, or whether they would have time to reform before being +attacked or be picked off by waiting marksmen as they emerged from +the pass without any possibility of putting up a fight. For himself it +didn't after all very much matter one way or the other, but it would be +hard luck, he reflected, if Omar did not get a chance at the renegade +and Saïd was shot before the encounter he was aching for--and broke off +to swear at his horse, which had stumbled badly for the sixth time. + +Omar was riding a pace or two in advance, bending forward in the saddle +and occasionally swaying as if from weakness, his burning eyes filled +with an almost mystical light as if he saw some vision that, hidden from +the others, was revealed to him alone. The dark stain on his robe had +spread beyond concealment and he had not spoken since they entered +the defile. To Craven, who had never before traversed it, the pass was +baffling. He did not know its extent and he had no idea of the depth of +the hills. But soon a growing excitement on the part of Saïd made him +aware that the exit must be near and the continued silence argued that +the vanguard had got through unmolested. He slipped the button of his +holster and freed his revolver from the silk handkerchief in which +Yoshio had wrapped it. + +A sharp turn to the right revealed the scene of the ambuscade, where in +one of the lateral openings Selim and his companion had been trapped. +The bodies of men and horses had been pulled clear of the track by the +advance guard as they went by a few minutes earlier. The old sheik's +horse showed the utmost repugnance to the grim pile of corpses, snorting +and rearing dangerously, and Craven wrestled with him for some moments +before he bounded suddenly past them with a clatter of hoofs that sent +the loose stones flying in all directions. + +Another turn to the right, an equally sharp bend to the left, where +the track widened considerably, and they debouched abruptly into open +desert. + +The vanguard was drawn up in order and their leader spurred to Omar's +side in eager haste to communicate what was patent to the eyes of all. A +little ripple of excitement went through Craven as he saw the dense body +of horsemen, still about two miles away, who were galloping steadily +towards them. It had come then. With a curious smile he bent forward and +patted the neck of his fretting horse, which was fidgeting badly. The +opposing force appeared to outnumber them considerably, but he knew +from Saïd that Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's men were better equipped and better +trained. It would be skill against brute force, though it yet remained +to be seen how far Omar's men would respond to their training when +put to the test. Would they be able to control their own headstrong +inclinations or would their zeal carry them away in defiance of +carefully rehearsed orders? + +Word of the near presence of the enemy had been sent back to those who +were still moving up the pass, and so far discipline was holding good. +The men were pouring out from the yawning mouth of the file in a steady +stream, the horses crowded together as closely as possible, and as each +detachment arrived it reformed smartly under its own headman. + +Watching the rapid approach of the hostile tribe, Craven wondered +whether there would be time for their own force to reassemble to enable +them to carry out the agreed tactics. + +Already they were within half a mile. He had reined back to speak to +Omar, when a shout of exultation from Saïd, taken up by his followers +till the rocks above them echoed with the ringing cry, heralded the +arrival of the last party. There was no time to recapitulate orders or +to urge steadiness among the men. With almost no sign from Omar, or +so it seemed to Craven, with another deafening shout that drowned the +yelling of the enemy the whole force leaped forward simultaneously. +Craven's teeth clenched on his lip in sudden fear for Omar's plan of +attack, but a quick glance assured him that the madly galloping horses +were being kept in good formation, and that fast as was the pace the +right and left wing were, according to instructions, steadily opening +out and drawing forward in an extended line. The feeling of excitement +had left him, and, revolver in hand, he sat down firmer in the saddle +with no more emotion than if he were in the hunting field at home. + +They were now close enough to distinguish faces--it would be an almighty +crash when it did come! It was surprising that up till now there had +been no shooting. Accustomed to the Arabs' usually reckless expenditure +of ammunition he had been prepared minutes ago for a hail of bullets. +And with the thought came a solitary whining scream past his ear, +and Saïd, close on his left, flung him a look of reproach and shouted +something of which he only caught the words, “Frenchman ... burnous.” + +But there was no time left to reply. Following rapidly on the single +shot a volley was poured in among them, but the shooting was inaccurate +and did very little damage. That it had been intended to break the +charge and cause confusion in the orderly ranks was apparent from the +further repeated volleys that, nearer, did more deadly execution than +the first one. But, bending low in their saddles, Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's +men swept on in obedience to Omar's command. His purpose was, by the +sheer strength of his onset, to cut through the opposing force with his +centre while the wings closed in on either side. To effect this he had +bidden his men ride as they had never ridden before and reserve their +fire till the last moment, when it would be most effectual. And the +swift silent onslaught seemed to be other than the enemy had expected, +for there were among them signs of hesitation, their advance was +checked, and the firing became wilder and more erratic. Omar and his +immediate companions appeared to bear charmed lives, bullets sang past +them, over and around them, and though here and there a man fell +from the saddle or a horse dropped suddenly, the main body raced on +unscathed, or with wounds they did not heed in the frenzy of the moment. + +The pace was terrific, and when at last Omar gave the signal for which +his men were waiting, the crackling reverberation of their rifles had +not died away when the impact came. But the shattering crash that Craven +had expected did not occur. Giving way before them and scattering to +right and left a break came in the ranks of the opposing force, +through which they drove like a living wedge. Then with fierce yells of +execration the enemy rallied and the next moment Craven found himself +in the midst of a confused mêlée where friends and foes were almost +indistinguishable. The thundering of horses' hoofs, the raucous shouting +of the Arabs, the rattle of musketry, combined in deafening uproar. +The air was dense with clouds of sand and smoke, heavy with the reek of +powder. He had lost sight of Omar, he tried to keep near to Saïd, but in +the throng of struggling men he was carried away, cut off from his own +party, hemmed in on every side, fighting alone. He had forgotten +his desire for death, his heart was leaping with a kind of delirious +happiness that found nothing but fierce enjoyment in the scene around +him. The stench in his nostrils of blood and sulphur seemed to awaken +memories of another existence when he had fought for his life as he was +doing now, unafraid, and caring little for the outcome. He was shooting +steadily, exulting in his markmanship with no thought in his mind +but the passionate wish to kill and kill, and he laughed with almost +horrible pleasure as he emptied his revolver at the raving Arabs who +surrounded him. Drunk with the blood lust of an unremembered past for +the moment he was only a savage like them. And to the superstitious +desert men he seemed possessed, and with sudden awe they had begun to +draw away from him when a further party galloped up to reinforce them. +Craven swung his horse to meet the new-comers and at the same moment +realised that he had no cartridges left. With another reckless laugh he +dashed his empty revolver in the face of the nearest Arab and, wheeling, +spurred forward in an attempt to break through the circle round him. But +he found retreat cut off. Three men bore down upon him simultaneously +with levelled rifles. He saw them fire, felt a sharp searing as of a red +hot wire through his side, and, reeling in the saddle, heard dimly their +howl of triumph as they raced toward him--heard also another yell that +rose above the Arabs' clamour, a piercing yell that sounded strangely +different to the Arabic intonation ringing in his ears. And as he +gripped himself and raised his head he had a vision of another horseman +mounted on a frenzied trampling roan that, apparently out of control +and mad with excitement, was charging down upon them, a horseman whose +fluttering close-drawn headgear shaded features that were curiously +Mongolian--and then he went down in a welter of men and horses. A flying +hoof touched the back of his head and consciousness ceased. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Craven woke to a burning pain in his side, a racking headache and an +intolerable thirst. It was not a sudden waking but a gradual dawning +consciousness in which time and place as yet meant nothing, and only +bodily suffering obtruded on a still partially clouded mind. Fragmentary +waves of thought, disconnected and transitory, passed through his brain, +leaving no permanent impression, and he made no effort to unravel them. +Effort of any kind, mental or physical, seemed for the moment beyond +him. He was too tired even to open his eyes, and lay with them closed, +wondering feebly at the pain and discomfort of his whole body. He had +the sensation of having been battered, he felt bruised from head to +foot. Suffering was new to him. He had never been ill in his life, and +in all his years of travel and hazardous adventure he had sustained only +trivial injuries which had healed readily and been regarded as merely +part of the day's work. + +But now, as his mind grew clearer, he realised that some accident must +have occurred to induce this pain and lassitude that made him lie like +a log with throbbing head and powerless limbs. He pondered it, trying +to pierce the fog that dulled his intellect. He had a subconscious +impression of some strenuous adventure through which he had passed, but +knowledge still hovered on the borderland of fancy and actuality. He +had no recollection of the fight or of events preceding it. That he was +Barry Craven he knew; but of where he had no idea--nor what his life had +been. Of his personality there remained only his name, he was quite sure +about that. And out of the past emerged only one clear memory--a woman's +face. And yet as he dwelt on it the image of another woman's face rose +beside it, mingling with and absorbing it until the two faces seemed +strangely merged the one into the other, alike and yet wholly different. +And the effort to disentangle them and keep them separate was greater +than his tired brain could achieve, and made his head ache more +violently. Confused, and with a sudden feeling of aversion, he stirred +impatiently, and the sharp pain that shot through him brought him +abruptly to a sense of his physical state and forced utterance of his +greatest need. It had not hitherto occurred to him to wonder whether +he were alone, or even where he was. But as he spoke an arm was slipped +under him raising him slightly and a cup held to his lips. He drank +eagerly and, as he was again lowered gently to the pillow, raised his +eyes to the face of the man who bent over him, a puckered yellow face +whose imperturbability for once had given place to patent anxiety. +Craven stared at it for a few moments in perplexity. Where had he +seen it before? Struggling to recall what had happened prior to +this curiously obscured awakening there dawned a dim recollection of +shattering noise and tumult, of blood and death and fierce unbridled +human passion, of a horde of wild-eyed dark-skinned men who surged and +struggled round him--and of a yelling Arab on a fiery roan. Memory +came in a flash. He gave a weak little croaking laugh. “You damned +insubordinate little devil,” he murmured, and drifted once more into +unconsciousness. When he woke again it was with complete remembrance of +everything that had passed. He felt ridiculously weak, but his head did +not ache so badly and his mind was perfectly clear. Only of the time +that had elapsed between the moment when he had gone down under +the Arabs' charge and his awakening a little while ago he had no +recollection. How long had he been unconscious? He found himself mildly +puzzled, but without any great interest as yet. Plenty of time to find +out about that and what had befallen Omar and Saïd. It was not that he +did not care, but that, for the moment, he was too tired and listless to +do more than lie still and endure his own discomfort. His side throbbed +painfully and there was something curious about his left arm, a dead +feeling of numbness that made him wonder whether it was there at all. +He glanced down at it with sudden apprehension--he had no fancy for a +maimed existence--and was relieved to find it still in place but bent +stiffly across his chest wrapped in a multitude of bandages--broken, +presumably. His eyes wandered with growing interest round the little +tent where he lay. It was his own, from which he inferred that the fight +must have gone in favour of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's forces or he would +never have been brought back here to it. He glanced from one familiar +object to another with a drowsy feeling of contentment. + +Presently he became aware that somebody had entered and turning his head +he found Yoshio beside him eyeing him with a look in which solicitude, +satisfaction, and a faint diffidence struggled for supremacy. Craven +guessed the reason of his embarrassment, but he had no mind to refer to +an order given, and disobeyed through overzealousness. That, too, could +wait--or be forgotten. He contented himself with a single question. “How +long?” he asked laconically. With equal brevity the Jap replied: +“Two days,” and postponed further inquiries by slipping a clinical +thermometer into his master's mouth. He had always been useful in +attending on minor camp accidents, and during the last two years in +Central Africa he had picked up a certain amount of rough surgical +knowledge which now stood him in good stead, and which he proceeded to +put into practice with a gravity of demeanour that made Craven, in +his weakened state, want to giggle hysterically. But he suppressed the +inclination and held on to the thermometer until Yoshio solemnly removed +it, studied it intently, and nodded approval. With the exact attention +to detail that was his ruling passion he carefully rinsed the tiny glass +instrument and returned it to its case before leaving the tent. He was +back again in a few minutes with a bowl of steaming soup, and handling +Craven as if he were a child, fed him with the gentleness of a woman. +Then he busied himself about the room, tidying it and reducing its +confusion to order. + +Craven watched him at first idly and then with a more definite desire +to know what had occurred. But to the questions he put Yoshio returned +evasive answers, and, resuming his professional manner, spoke gravely +of the loss of blood Craven had sustained, of the kick on the head from +which he had lain two days insensible, and his consequent need of rest +and sleep, finally departing as if to remove temptation from him. Craven +chafed at the little Jap's caution and swore at his obstinacy, but +a pleasant drowsiness was stealing over him and he surrendered to it +without further struggle. + +It was more than twelve hours before he opened his eyes again, to find +the morning sunlight streaming into the tent. + +Yoshio hovered about him, deft-handed and noiseless of tread, feeding +him and redressing the wounds in his side where the bullet had entered +and passed out. After which he relaxed the faintly superior tone he had +adopted and condescended to consult with his patient as to which of the +scanty drugs in the tiny medicine chest would be the best to administer. +He was disappointed but acquiescent in Craven's decision to trust to his +own hardy constitution as long as the wounds appeared healthy and leave +nature to do her own work. And again recommending sleep he glided away. + +But Craven had no desire or even inclination to sleep. He was +tremendously wide awake, his whole being in revolt, facing once more the +problem he had thought done with for ever. Again fate had intervened to +thwart his determination. For the third time death, for which he longed, +had been withheld, and life that was so bitter, so valueless, restored. +To what end? Why had the peace he craved for been torn from him--why had +he been forced to begin again an existence of hideous struggle? Had he +not repented, suffered as few men suffer, and striven to atone? What +more was required of him, he wondered bitterly. A galling sense +of impotence swept him and he raged at his own nothingness. +Self-determination seemed to have been taken from him and with fierce +resentment he saw himself as merely a pawn in the game of life; a puppet +to fulfil, not his own will, but the will of a greater power than his. +In the black despair that came over him he cursed that greater power +until, shuddering, he realised his own blasphemy, and a broken prayer +burst from his lips. He had come to the end of all things, he was +fighting through abysmal darkness. His need was overwhelming--alone he +could not go forward, and desperately, he turned to the Divine Mercy and +prayed for strength and guidance. + +Too weary in spirit to mark the slow passing of the hours he fought his +last fight. And gradually he grew calmer, calm enough to accept--if not +to understand--the inscrutable rulings of Providence. He had arrogated +to himself the disposal of his life, but it was made clear to him that +a higher wisdom had decreed otherwise. He did not attempt to seek the +purpose of his preservation, enough that for some unfathomable reason it +was once more plainly indicated that there was to be no shirking. He had +to live, and to do what was possible with the life left him. Gillian! +the thought of her was torment. He had tried to free her, and she was +still bound. It would be part of his punishment that, suffering, he +would have to watch her suffer too. With a groan he flung his uninjured +arm across his eyes and lay very still. The day wore on. He roused +himself to take the food that Yoshio brought at regular intervals but +feigned a drowsiness he did not feel to secure the solitude his mood +demanded. And Yoshio, enjoying to the full his state of temporary +authority, sat outside the door of the tent and kept away inquirers. +Listlessly Craven watched the evening shadows deepen and darken. For +hours he had thought, not of himself but of the woman he loved, until +his bruised head ached intolerably. And all his deliberation had taken +him no further than where he had begun. He was to take up anew the +difficult life he had fled from--for that was what it amounted to. He +had deserted her who had in all the world no one but him. It had an ugly +sound and he flinched from the naked truth of it, but he had done with +subterfuges and evasions. He had made her his wife and he had left +her--nothing could alter the fact or mitigate the shame. Past experience +had taught him nothing; once again he had left a woman in her need to +fend for herself. She was his wife, his to shield and to protect, doubly +so in her equivocal position that subjected her to much that would not +affect one happily married. During the few months they had lived at +Craven Towers after their marriage she had shown by every means in her +power her desire to be to him the comrade he had asked her to be. And +he had repelled her. He had feared himself and the strength of his +resolution. Now, as he thought of it with bitter self-reproach, he +realised how much more he could have done to make her life easier, to +smooth the difficulties of their relationship. Instead he had added to +them, and under the strain he had broken down, not she. The egoism +he had thought conquered had triumphed over him again to his undoing. +Crushing shame filled him, but regrets were useless. The past was +past--what of the future? He was going back to her. He was to have the +torturing happiness of seeing her again--but what would his re-entry +into her life mean to her? What had these two years of which he knew +nothing done for her? There had been an accumulated mail waiting for him +at Lagos. She had written regularly--but she had told him nothing. Her +short letters had been filled with inquiries for the mission, +references to Peters' occasional visits to Paris, trivialities of the +weather--stilted laborious communications in which he read effort and +constraint. How would she receive him--would she even receive him +at all? It seemed incredible that she should. He knew her innate +gentleness, the selflessness of her disposition, but he knew also that +there was a limit to all things. Would she not see in his return the +reappearance of a master, a jailer who would curb even that small +measure of freedom that had been hers? For bound to him the freedom he +had promised her was a mockery. And how was he to explain his prolonged +absence? She could not have failed to see some mention of the return of +the medical mission, to have wondered why he still lingered in Africa. +The letter he had written and entrusted to Yoshio could never now be +delivered. She must not learn what he had meant her to know only after +his death. He could not explain, he must leave her to put whatever +interpretation she would upon it. And what but the most obvious could +she put? He writhed in sudden agony of mind, and the physical pain the +abrupt movement caused was easier to bear than the thought of her scorn. +It was all so hopeless, so complicated. He turned from it with a weary +sigh and fell to dreaming of the woman herself. + +The tent had grown quite dark. Outside the camp noises were dying away. +The sound of subdued voices reached him occasionally, and once or twice +he heard Yoshio speak to some passer by. + +Then, not far away, the mournful chant of a singer rose clearly out of +the evening stillness, penetrating and yet curiously soft--a plaintive +little desert air of haunting melancholy, vibrant with passion. It +stopped abruptly as it had begun and Craven was glad when it ended. It +chimed too intimately with his own sad thoughts and longings. He was +relieved when Yoshio came presently to light the lamp and attend to +his wants. The Jap chatted with unusual animation as he went about his +duties and Craven let him talk uninterrupted. The functions of nurse and +valet were quickly carried through and in a short time preparations for +the night were finished and Yoshio, wrapped in a blanket, asleep at +the foot of Craven's bed. He had scarcely closed his eyes since the +day before the punitive force set out, but tonight, conscious that his +vigilance might be relaxed, he slept heavily. + +Craven himself could not sleep. He lay listening to his servant's even +breathing, looking at the tiny flame of the little lamp, which was small +enough not to add to the heat of the tent and too weak to illuminate it +more than partially, thinking deeply. He strove to stem the current +of his thoughts, to keep his mind a blank, or to concentrate on +trivialities--he followed with exaggerated interest the swift erratic +course of a bat that had flown in through the open door flap, counted +the familiar objects around him showing dimly in the flickering light, +counted innumerable sheep passing through the traditional gate, counted +the seconds represented in the periodical silences that punctuated a +cicada's monotonous shrilling. But always he found himself harking back +to the problem of the future that he could not banish from his mind. +His mental distress reacted on his body. He grew restless, but every +movement was still attended by pain and he compelled himself to +lie still, though his limbs twitched almost uncontrollably. He was +infinitely weary of the forced posture that was not habitual with him, +infinitely weary of himself. + +The moon rose late, but when it came its clear white light filled the +tent with a cold brilliance that killed the feeble efforts of the little +lamp and intensified the shadows where its rays did not penetrate. +Craven looked at the silvery beam streaming across the room, and quite +suddenly he thought of the moonlight in Japan--the moonlight filtering +through the tall dark fir trees in the garden of enchantment; he heard +the night wind sighing softly round the tiny screen-built house; the +air became heavy with the cloying smell of pines and languorous scented +flowers, redolent with the well-remembered dreaded fragrance of the +perfume she had used. Bathed in perspiration, shuddering with terrible +prescience, he stared wild-eyed at the moonlit strip where a nebulous +form was rising and gathering into definite shape. An icy chill ran +through him. Suffocated with the rapid pounding of his heart, sick with +horror at the impending vision he knew to be inevitable, he watched +the shadowy figure slowly substantiate into the semblance of a living, +breathing body. Not intangible as she had always appeared before, but +material as she had been in life, she stood erect in the brilliant +pathway of light, facing him. He could see the outline of her slender +limbs, solid against the shimmering background; he could mark the +rise and fall of the bosom on which her delicate hands lay clasped; he +recognised the very obi that she wore--his last gift, sent from Tokio +during his three weeks' absence. The little oval face was placid and +serene, but he waited, with fearful apprehension, for the fast closed +eyes to open and reveal the agony he knew that he would see in them. He +prayed that they might open soon, that his torture might be brief, but +the terrible reality of her presence seemed to paralyse him. He could +not turn his eyes away, could not move a muscle of his throbbing, +shivering body. She seemed to sway, gently, almost imperceptibly, from +side to side--as though she waited for some sign or impellent force to +guide her. Then with horrible dread he became aware that she was coming +slowly, glidingly, toward him and the spell that had kept him motionless +broke and he shrank back among the pillows, his sound hand clenched upon +the covering over him, his parched lips moving in dumb supplication. +Nearer she came and nearer till at last she stood beside him and he +wondered, in the freezing coldness that settled round his heart, did +her coming presage death--had her soul been sent to claim his that +had brought upon her such fearful destruction? A muffled cry that was +scarcely human broke from him, his eyes dilated and the clammy sweat +poured down his face as she bent toward him and he saw the dusky lashes +tremble on her dead white cheek and knew that in a second the anguished +eyes would open to him in all their accusing awfulness. The bed shook +with the spasm that passed through him. Slowly the heavy lids were +raised and Craven looked once more into the misty depths of the great +grey eyes that were the facsimile of his own. Then a tearing sob of +wonderful and almost unbelievable relief escaped him, for the agony he +dreaded was not visible--the face so close to his was the face of the +happy girl who had loved him before the knowledge of despair had touched +her, the tender luminous eyes fixed on him were alight with trust and +adoration. Lower and lower she bent and he saw the parted lips curve +in a smile of exquisite welcome--or was it fare-well? For as he waited, +scarcely breathing and tense with a new wild hope, the definite outline +of her figure seemed to fade and tremble; a cold breath like the impress +of a ghostly kiss lay for an instant on his forehead, he seemed to hear +the faint thin echo of a whispered word--and she was gone. Had she ever +been at all? Exhausted, he had no strength to probe what had passed, he +was only conscious of a firm conviction that he would never see again +the dreaded vision that had haunted him. His rigid limbs relaxed, and +with a gasping prayer of unutterable thankfulness he turned his face to +the darkness and broke down completely, crying like a child, burying his +head in the pillow lest Yoshio should be awakened by the sound of his +terrible sobs. And, presently, worn out, he fell asleep. + +It was nearly mid-day when he woke again, in less pain and feeling +stronger than the day before. + +The vision of the previous night was vivid in his recollection, but he +would not let himself ponder it. It was to him a message from the dead, +an almost sacred sign that the spirit of the woman he had wronged was at +rest and had vouchsafed the forgiveness for which he had never hoped. He +would rather have it so. He shrank from brutally dissecting impressions +that might after all be only the result of remorse working on a fevered +imagination. The peace that had come to him was too precious to be +lightly let go. She had forgiven him though he could never forgive +himself. + +But despite the tranquillizing sense of pardon he felt he knew that the +penalty of his fault was not yet paid, that it would never be paid. The +tragic memory of little O Kara San still rose between him and happiness. +He was still bound, still trapped in the pit he had himself dug. He was +unclean, unfit, debarred by his sin from following the dictates of his +heart. A deep sadness and an overwhelming sense of loss filled him as +he thought of the woman he had married. She was his wife, he loved her +passionately, longed for her with all the strength of his ardent nature, +but, sin-stained, he dared not claim her. In her spotless purity she was +beyond his desire. And because of him she must go through life robbed of +her woman's heritage. In marrying her he had wronged her irreparably. +He had always known it, but at the time there had seemed no other course +open to him. Yet surely there must have been some alternative if he had +set himself seriously to find it. But had he? Doggedly he argued that he +had--that personal consideration had not swayed him in his decision. But +even as he persisted in his assertion accusing conscience rose up and +stripped from him the last shred of personal deception that had blinded +him, and he acknowledged to himself that he had married her that she +might not become the wife of any other man. He had been the meanest kind +of dog in the manger. At the time he had not realised it--he had thought +himself influenced solely by her need, not his. But his selfishness +seemed very patent to him now. And what was to be the end of it? How was +he ever to compensate for the wrong done her? + +Yoshio's entry put a stop to introspection that was both bitter and +painful. And when he left him an hour later Craven was in no mood to +resume speculation that was futile and led nowhere. He had touched +bedrock--he could not think worse of himself than he did. The less he +thought of himself the better. His immediate business seemed to be to +get well as quickly as possible and return to England--beyond that he +could not see. The sound of Saïd's voice outside was a welcome relief. +He appeared to be arguing with Yoshio, who was obstinately refusing him +entrance. Craven cut short the discussion. + +“Let the Sheik come in, Yoshio!” he called, and laughed at the weakness +of his own voice. But it was strong enough to carry as far as the tent +door, and, with a flutter of draperies, the Arab Chief strode in. He +grasped Craven's outstretched hand and stood looking down on him for a +moment with a broad smile on his handsome face. “_Enfin, mon brave_, +I thought I should never see you! Always you were asleep, or so it was +reported to me,” he said with a laugh, dropping to his heels on the mat +and lighting a cigarette. Then he gave a quick searching glance at the +bandaged figure on the bed and laughed again. + +“You ought to be dead, you know, would have been dead if it hadn't been +for that man of yours,” with a backward jerk of his head toward the +door. “You owe him your life, my friend. You know he came with us that +night, borrowed a horse and the burnous you wouldn't wear, and kept out +of sight till the last minute. He was close behind you when we charged, +lost you in the mêlée, and found you again just in the nick of time. I +was cut off from you myself for the moment, but I saw you wounded, saw +him break a way through to you and then saw you both go down. I thought +you were done for. It was just then the tide turned in our favour and +I managed to reach you, with no hope of finding you alive. I was never +more astonished in my life than when I saw that little devil of a +Japanese crawl out from under a heap of men and horses dragging you +after him. He was bruised and dazed, he didn't know friend from foe, +bu he had enough sense left to know that you were alive and he meant +to keep you so. He laid you out on the sand and he sat on you--you can +laugh, but it's true--and blazed away with his revolver at everybody who +came near, howling his national war cry till I wept with laughter. And +after it was all over he snarled like a panther when I tried to touch +you, and, refusing any assistance, carried you back here on the saddle +in front of him--and you were no light weight. A man, by _Allah_!” + he concluded enthusiastically. Craven smiled at the Arab's graphic +description, but he found it in his heart to wish that Yoshio's zeal had +not been so forward and so successful. But there were other lives than +his that had been involved. + +“Omar?” he asked anxiously. The laughter died abruptly from Saïd's eyes +and his face grew grave. + +“Dead,” he said briefly; “he did not try to live. Life held nothing +for him without Safiya,” he added, with an expressive shrug that was +eloquent of his inability to understand such an attitude. + +“And she--?” + +“Killed herself the night she was taken. Her abductor got no pleasure +of her and Omar's honour was unsmirched--though he never knew it, +poor devil. He killed his man,” added Saïd, with a smile of grim +satisfaction. “It made no difference, he was renegade, a traitor, ripe +for death. The Chief fell to my lot. It was from him I learned about +Safiya--he talked before he died.” The short hard laugh that followed +the meaning words was pure Arab. He lit another cigarette and for some +time sat smoking silently, while Craven lay looking into space trying +not to envy the dead man who had found the rest that he himself had been +denied. + +To curb the trend of his thoughts he turned again to Saïd. Animation had +vanished from the Arab's face, and he was staring gloomily at the strip +of carpet on which he squatted. His dejected bearing did not betoken the +conqueror he undoubtedly was. That his brother's death was a deep grief +to him Craven knew without telling, but he guessed that something more +than regret for Omar was at the bottom of his depression. + +“It was decisive, I suppose,” he said, rather vaguely, thinking of the +action of four days ago. Saïd nodded. “It was a rout,” he said with a +hint of contempt in his voice. “Dogs who could plunder and kill when no +resistance was offered, but when it came to a fight they had no stomach +for it. Yet they were men once, and, like fools, we thought they were +men still. They had talked enough, bragged enough, by _Allah_! and it +is true there were a few who rallied round their Chief. But the rank and +file--bah!” He spat his cigarette on to the floor with an air of scorn. +“It promised well enough at first,” he grumbled. “I thought we were +going to have an opportunity of seeing what stuff my men were made of. +But they had no organisation. After the first half hour we did what we +liked with them. It was a walk over,” he added in English, about the +only words he knew. + +Craven laughed at his disgusted tone. + +“And you, who were spoiling for a fight! No luck, Sheik.” + +Saïd looked up with a grin, but it passed quickly, leaving his face +melancholy as before. Craven made a guess at the trouble. + +“It will make a difference to you--Omar's death, I mean,” he suggested. + +Saïd gave a little harsh laugh. + +“Difference!” he echoed bitterly. “It is the end of everything,” and he +made a violent gesture with his hands. “I must give up my regiment,” he +went on drearily, “my comrades, my racing stable in France--all I care +for and that makes life pleasant to me. For what? To rule a tribe who +have become too powerful to have enemies; to listen to interminable +tales of theft and disputed inheritances and administer justice to +people who swear by the Koran and then lie in your face; to marry a wife +and beget sons that the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah may not die out. +_Grand Dieu_, what a life!” The tragic misery of his voice left no +doubt as to his sincerity. And Craven, who knew him, was not inclined +to doubt. The expedient that had been adopted in Saïd's case was +justifiable while he remained a younger son with no immediate prospect +of succeeding to the leadership of the tribe--there had always been the +hope that Omar's wife would eventually provide an heir--but as events +had turned out it had been a mistake, totally unfitting him for the +part he was now called upon to play. His innate European tendencies, +inexplicable both to himself and to his family, had been developed and +strengthened by association with the French officers among whom he had +been thrown, and who had welcomed him primarily as the representative of +a powerful desert tribe and then, very shortly afterwards, for himself. +His personal charm had won their affections and he had very easily +become the most popular native officer in the regiment. Courted and +feted, shown off, and extolled for his liberality of mind and purse, his +own good sense had alone prevented him from becoming completely spoiled. +To the impecunious Frenchmen his wealth was a distinct asset in his +favour, for racing was the ruling passion in the regiment, and the fine +horses he was able to provide insured to them the preservation of the +inter-regimental trophy that had for some years past graced their mess +table. He had thrown himself into the life whole-heartedly, becoming +more and more influenced by western thought and culture, but +without losing his own individuality. He had assimilated the best of +civilization without acquiring its vices. But the experience was not +likely to conduce to his future happiness. Craven thought of the life +led by the Spahi in Algiers, and during periods of leave in Paris, and +contrasted it with the life that was lying before him, a changed and +very different existence. He foresaw the difficulties that would have +to be met, the problems that would arise, and above all he understood +Saïd's chief objection--the marriage from which his misogynous soul +recoiled. Like himself the Arab was facing a crisis that was momentous. +Two widely different cases but analogous nevertheless. While he was +working out his salvation in England Saïd would be doing the same in +his desert fastness. The thought strengthened his friendship for the +despondent young Arab. He would have given much to be able to help +him but his natural reserve kept him silent. He had made a sufficient +failure of his own life. He did not feel himself competent to offer +advice to another. + +“It's a funny world,” he said with a half sigh, “though I suppose it +isn't the world that's at fault but the people who live in it,” and in +his abstraction he spoke in his own language. + +“_Plait-il?_” Saïd's puzzled face recalled him to himself and he +translated, adding: “It's rotten luck for you, Sheik, but it's kismet. +All things are ordained,” he concluded almost shyly, feeling himself +the worst kind of Job's comforter. The Arab shrugged. “To those who +believe,” he repeated gloomily, “and I, my friend, have no beliefs. What +would you? All my life I have doubted, I have never been an orthodox +Mohammedan--though I have had to keep my ideas to myself _bien entendu_! +And the last few years I have lived among men who have no faith, no god, +no thought beyond the world and its pleasures. Islam is nothing to me. +'The will of _Allah_--the peace of _Allah_,' what are they but words, +empty meaningless words! What peace did _Allah_ give to Omar, who was a +strict believer? What peace has _Allah_ given to my father, who sits all +day in his tent mourning for his first-born? I swear myself by _Allah_ +and by the Prophet, but it is from custom, not from any feeling I attach +to the terms. I have read a French translation of a life of Mohammed +written by an American. I was not impressed. It did not tend to make me +look with any more favour on his doctrine. I have my own religion--I +do not lie, I do not steal, I do not break my word. Does the devout +follower of the Prophet invariably do as much? You know, and I know, +that he does not. Wherein then is he a better man than I? And if there +be a future life, which I am quite open to admit, I am inclined to think +that my qualifications will be as good as any true son of the faith,” he +laughed unmirthfully, and swung to his feet. + +“There are--other religions,” said Craven awkwardly. He had no desire to +proselytise and avoided religious discussions as much as possible, but +Saïd's confidence had touched him. He was aware that to no one else +would the Arab have spoken so frankly. But Saïd shook his head. + +“I will keep my own religion. It will serve,” he said shortly. Then he +shrugged again as if throwing aside the troubles that perplexed him and +looked down on Craven with a quick laugh. “And you, my poor friend, who +had so much better have taken the burnous I offered you, you will stay +and watch the metamorphosis of the Spahi, _hein_?” + +“I wish I could,” said Craven with an answering smile, “but I have +my own work waiting for me in England. I'll have to go as soon as I'm +sufficiently patched up.” + +Saïd nodded gravely. He was perfectly well aware of the fact that Craven +had deliberately sought death when he had ridden with the tribe against +their enemies. That a change had come over him since the night of the +raid was plainly visible even to one less astute than the sharp-eyed +Arab, and his expressed intention of returning to England confirmed the +fact. What had caused the change did not seem to matter, enough that, to +Saïd, it marked a return to sanity. For it had been a fit of madness, +of course--in no other light could he regard it. But since it had passed +and his English friend was once more in full possession of his senses +he could only acquiesce in a decision that personally he regretted. He +would like to have kept him with him indefinitely. Craven stood for the +past, he was a link with the life the Francophile Arab was reluctantly +surrendering. But it was not the moment to argue. Craven looked suddenly +exhausted, and Yoshio who had stolen in noiselessly, was standing at +the head of the bed beyond the range of his master's eyes making urgent +signals to the visitor to go. + +With a jest and a cheery word Saïd obediently removed his picturesque +person. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +It was nearly four months before Craven left the camp of Mukair Ibn +Zarrarah. His injuries had healed quickly and he had rapidly regained +his former strength. He was anxious to return to England without delay, +but he had yielded to Saïd's pressing entreaties to wait until they +could ride to Algiers together. There had been much for the young Sheik +to do. He was already virtual leader of the tribe. Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, +elderly when his sons had been born, had aged with startling suddenness +since the death of Omar. He had all at once become an old man, unable to +rally from the shock of his bereavement, bewailing the fate of his elder +and favourite son, and trembling for the future of his beloved tribe +left to the tender mercies of a man he now recognised to be more +Frenchman than Arab. He exaggerated every Francophile tendency he saw in +Saïd and cursed the French as heartily as ever Omar had done, forgetting +that he himself was largely responsible for the inclinations he objected +to. And his terrors were mainly imaginary. A few innovations Saïd +certainly instituted but he was too astute to make any material changes +in the management of his people. They were loyal and attached to the +ruling house and he was clever enough to leave well alone; broad-minded +enough to know that he could not run a large and scattered tribe on the +same plan as a regiment of Spahis; philosophical enough to realise that +he had turned down a page in his life's history and must be content to +follow, more or less, in the footsteps of his forebears. The fighting +men were with him solidly, even those who had been inclined to object +to his European tactics had, in view of his brilliant generalship, been +obliged to concede him the honour that was his due. For his victory had +not been altogether the walkover he had airily described to Craven. The +older men--the headmen in particular--more prejudiced still, who, like +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had centred all their hopes on Omar, were beginning +to comprehend that their fears of Saïd's rule were unfounded and that +his long sojourn among the hated dominant race had neither impaired his +courage nor fostered practices abhorrent to them. Craven watched with +interest the gradual establishment of mutual goodwill between the young +Sheik and his petty Chiefs. Since his recovery he had attended several +of the councils called in consequence of the old Sheik's retirement +from active leadership of the tribe, and he had been struck by Saïd's +restrained and conciliatory attitude toward his headmen. He had met them +half-way, sinking his own inclinations and disarming their suspicions of +him. At the same time he had let it be clearly understood that he meant +to be absolute as his father had been. In spite of the civilisation that +had bitten so deeply he was still too much an Arab, too much the son of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, to be anything but an autocrat at heart. And his +assumption of power had been favourably looked upon by the minor Chiefs. +They were used to being ruled by an iron hand and would have despised a +weak leader. They had feared the effects of foreign influence, dreaded a +régime that might have lessened the prestige of the tribe. Their doubts +set at rest they had rallied with enthusiasm round their new Chief. + +As soon as he had been able to get about again Craven had visited +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah in his darkened tent and been shocked at his changed +appearance. He could hardly believe that the bowed stricken figure who +barely heeded his entrance, but, absorbed in grief, continued to sway +monotonously to and fro murmuring passages from the Koran alternately +with the name of his dead son, was the vigorous alert old man he had +seen only a few weeks before dominating a frenzied crowd with the +strength of his personality and addressing them in tones that had +carried to the furthest extent of the listening multitude. Crushing +sorrow and the weight of years suddenly felt had changed him into a +wreck that was fast falling to pieces. + +Saïd had followed him out into the sunshine. + +“You see how it is with him,” he said. “I cannot leave him now. As soon +as possible I will go to Algiers to give in my resignation and smooth +matters with the Government. We shall not be in very good odour over +this affair. We have kept the peace so long in this quarter of +the country that deliberate action on our part will take a lot of +explaining. They will admit provocation but will blame our mode of +retaliation. They may blame!” he laughed and shrugged. “I shall be +called hasty, ill-advised. The Governor will haul me over the coals +unmercifully--you know him, that fat old Faidherbe? He is always +trembling for his position, seeing an organized revolt in the petty +squabbles of every little tribe, and fearful of an outbreak that might +lead to his recall. A mountain of flesh with the heart of a chicken! He +will rave and shout and talk a great deal about the beneficent French +administration and the ingratitude of Chiefs like myself who add to the +Government's difficulties. But my Colonel will back me up, unofficially +of course, and his word goes with the Governor. A very different man, +by _Allah_! It would be a good thing for this country if he were where +Faidherbe is. But he is only a soldier and no politician, so he is +likely to end his days a simple Colonel of Spahis.” + +As they moved away from the tent they discussed the French methods of +administration as carried out in Algeria, and Craven learned a great +deal that astonished him and would also have considerably astonished +the Minister of the Interior sitting quietly in his office in the Place +Beauveau. Saïd had seen and heard much. His known sympathies had +made him the recipient of many confidences and even his Francophile +tendencies had not blinded him to evils that were rampant, corruption +and double dealing, bribes freely offered and accepted by highly placed +officials, fortunes amassed in crooked speculations with Government +money--the faults of individuals who had abused their official positions +and exploited the country they had been sent to administer. + +As Craven listened to these frank revelations from the only honest Arab +he had ever met he wondered what effect Saïd's intimate knowledge would +have upon his life, how far it would influence him, and what were likely +to be his future relations with the masters of the country. With a Chief +less broadminded and of less innate integrity the result might easily be +disastrous. But Saïd had had larger experience than most Arab Chiefs and +his adherence to the French was due to what he had seen in France rather +than to what had been brought to his notice in Algeria. + +It was early in January when they started on the long ride across the +desert. For some weeks Craven had been impatient to get away, only his +promise to Saïd kept him. + +It was a large cavalcade that left the oasis, for the new Chief required +a bigger escort to support his dignity than the Captain of Spahis had +done. The days passed without incident. Despite Craven's desire to reach +England the journey was in every way enjoyable. When he had actually +started his restlessness decreased, for each successive sunrise meant +a day nearer home. And Saïd, too, had thrown off the depression and new +gravity that had come to him and talked more hopefully of the future. +As they travelled northward they reached a region of greater cultivation +and in their route passed some of the big fruit farms that were +becoming more and more a feature of the country. Spots of beauty in the +wilderness, carved out of arid desert by patience and perseverance and +threatened always by the devastating locust, though no longer subjected +to the Arab raids that had been a daily menace twenty or thirty years +before. The motley gangs of European and native workers toiling more +or less diligently in the vineyards and among the groves of fruit +trees invariably collected to watch the passing of the Sheik's troop, a +welcome break in the monotony of their existence, and once or twice Saïd +accepted the hospitality of farmers he knew. + +Craven stayed only one night in Algiers. When writing home from Lagos he +had given, without expecting to make use of it, an address in Algiers +to which letters might be sent, but when he called at the office the +morning after his arrival he found that owing to the mistake of a clerk +his mail had been returned to England. The lack of news made him uneasy. +He was gripped by a sudden fear that something might have happened to +Gillian, and he wondered whether he should go first to Paris, to the +flat he had taken for her. But second thoughts decided him to adhere to +his original intention of proceeding straight to Craven--surely she must +by this time have returned to the Towers. + +There was nothing to do but telegraph to Peters that he was on his +way home and make arrangements for leaving Africa at the earliest +opportunity. He found there was no steamer leaving for Marseilles for +nearly a week but he was able to secure berths for himself and Yoshio on +a coasting boat crossing that night to Gibraltar, and at sunset he was +on board waving fare-well to Saïd, who had come down to the quay to see +the last of him, and was standing a distinctive figure among the rabble +of loafers and water-side loungers of all nationalities who congregated +night and morning to watch the arrival and departure of steamers. The +tide was out and the littered fore-shore was lined with fishing-boats +drawn up in picturesque confusion, and in the shallow water out among +the rocks bare-legged native women were collecting shell fish and +seaweed into great baskets fastened to their backs, while naked children +splashed about them or stood with their knuckles to their teeth to watch +the thrashing paddle wheels of the little steamer as she churned slowly +away from the quay. Craven leant on the rail of the ship, a pipe +between his teeth--he had existed for the last four months on Saïd's +cigarettes--and waved a response to the young Sheik's final salute, then +watched him stalk through the heterogeneous crowd to where two of his +mounted followers were waiting for him holding his own impatient horse. +He saw him mount and the passers-by scatter as the three riders set off +with the usual Arab impetuosity, and then a group of buildings hid him +from sight. + +The idlers by the waterside held no interest for Craven, he was too used +to them, too familiar with the riff-raff of foreign ports even to glance +at them. But he lingered for a moment to look up at the church of Notre +Dame d'Afrique that, set high above the harbour and standing out sharply +against the skyline, was glowing warmly in the golden rays of the +setting sun. + +Then he went below to the stuffy little cabin where dinner was waiting. + +The next four days he kicked his heels impatiently in Gibraltar waiting +to pick up a passage on a home bound Indian boat. When it came it was +half empty, as was to be expected at that time of year, and the gale +they ran into immediately drove the majority of the passengers into the +saloons, and Craven was able to tramp the deck in comparative solitude +without having to listen to the grumbles of shivering Anglo-Indians +returning home at an unpropitious season. In a borrowed oilskin he spent +hours watching the storm, looking at the white topped waves that piled +up against the ship and threatened to engulf her, then slid astern in +a welter of spray. The savage beauty of the sea fascinated him, and the +heavy lowering clouds that drove rapidly across a leaden sky, and the +stinging whip of the wind formed a welcome change after more than two +years of pitiless African sun and intense heat. + +They passed up the Thames dead slow in a dense fog that grew thicker +and murkier as they neared the docks, but they berthed early enough to +enable Craven to catch a train that would bring him home in time for +dinner. It was better than wasting a night in London. + +He had a compartment to himself and spent the time staring out of the +misty rain-spattered windows, a prey to violent anxiety and impatience. +The five-hour journey had never seemed so long. He had bought a number +of papers and periodicals but they lay unheeded on the seat beside +him. He was out of touch with current events, and had stopped at the +bookstall more from force of habit than from any real interest. He had +wired to Peters again from the docks. Would she be waiting for him at +the station? It was scarcely probable. Their meeting could not be other +than constrained, the platform of a wayside railway station was hardly +a suitable place. And why in heaven's name should she do him so much +honour? He had no right to expect it, no right to expect anything. That +she should be even civil to him was more than he deserved. Would she +be changed in any way? God, how he longed to see her! His heart beat +furiously even at the thought. With his coat collar turned up about his +ears and his cap pulled down over his eyes he shivered in a corner of +the cold carriage and dreamed of her as the hours drew out in maddening +slowness. Outside it was growing dusk and the window panes had become +too steamy for him to recognise familiar landmarks. The train seemed to +crawl. There had been an unaccountable wait at the last stopping place, +and they did not appear to be making up the lost time. + +It was a strange homecoming, he thought suddenly. Stranger even than +when, rather more than six years ago, he had travelled down to Craven +with his aunt and the shy silent girl whom fate and John Locke had made +his ward. Was she also thinking of that time and wishing that a kinder +future had been reserved for her? Was she shrinking from his coming, +deploring the day he had ever crossed her path? It was unlikely that she +could feel otherwise toward him. He had done nothing to make her happy, +everything to make her unhappy. With a stifled groan he leant forward +and buried his face in his hands, loathing himself. How would she meet +him? Suppose she refused to resume the equivocal relationship that +had been fraught with so much misery, refused to surrender the greater +freedom she had enjoyed during his absence, claimed the right to live +her own life apart from him. It would be only natural for her to do so. +And morally he would have no right to refuse her. He had forfeited +that. And in any case it was not a question of his allowing or refusing +anything, it was a question solely of her happiness and her wishes. + +Darkness had fallen when the train drew up with a jerk and he stepped +out on to the little platform. It was a cheerless night and the wind +tore at him as he peered through the gloom and the driving rain, +wondering whether anybody had come to meet him. Then he made out Peters' +sturdy familiar figure standing under the feeble light of a flickering +lamp. Craven hurried toward him with a smile softening his face. His +life had been made up of journeys, it seemed to him suddenly, and always +at the end of them was Peters waiting for him, Peters who stuck to the +job he himself shirked, Peters who stood loyally by an employer he must +in his heart despise, Peters whose boots he was not fit to clean. + +The two men met quietly, as if weeks not years had elapsed since they +had parted on the same little platform. + +“Beastly night,” grumbled the agent, though his indifference to bad +weather was notorious, “must feel it cold after the tropics. I brought +a man to help Yoshio with your kit. Wait a minute while I see that +it's all right.” He started off briskly, and with the uncomfortable +embarrassment he always felt when Peters chose to emphasise their +relative positions, Craven strode after him and grabbed him back with an +iron hand. + +“There isn't any need,” he said gruffly. “I wish you wouldn't always +behave as if you were a kind of upper servant, Peter. It's dam' +nonsense. Yoshio is quite capable of looking after the kit, there's very +little in any case. I left the bulk of it in Algiers, it wasn't worth +bringing along. There are only the gun cases and a couple of bags. We +haven't much more than what we stand up in.” + +Peters acquiesced good-temperedly and led the way to the closed car that +was waiting at the station entrance. As the motor started Craven turned +to him eagerly, with the question that had been on his lips for the last +ten minutes. + +“How is Gillian?” + +Peters shot a sidelong glance at him. + +“Couldn't say,” he said shortly; “she didn't mention her health when she +wrote last--but then she never does.” + +“When she wrote--” echoed Craven, and his voice was dull with +disappointment; “isn't she at the Towers? I missed my mail at +Algiers--some mistake of a fool of a clerk. I haven't had any home news +for nearly a year.” + +“She is still in Paris,” replied Peters dryly, and to Craven his tone +sounded faintly accusing. He frowned and stared out into the darkness +for a few minutes without speaking, wondering how much Peters knew. He +had disapproved of the African expedition, stating his opinion frankly +when Craven had discussed it with him, and it was obvious that since +then his views had undergone no change. Craven understood perfectly what +those views were and in what light he must appear to him. He could not +excuse himself, could give no explanation. He doubted very much whether +Peters would understand if he did explain--his moral code was too +simple, his sense of right and wrong too fine to comprehend or to +countenance suicide. Craven also felt sure that had he been aware of the +circumstances Peters would not have hesitated to oppose his marriage. +Why hadn't he told Peters the whole beastly story when he returned from +Japan? Peters had never failed a Craven, he would not have failed him +then. He stifled a bitter sigh of useless regret and turned again to his +companion. + +“Then I take it the Towers is shut up. Are you giving me a bed at the +Hermitage?” he asked quietly. + +“No. I have kept the house open so that it might be ready if at any time +your wife suddenly decided to come home. I imagined that would be your +wish.” + +“Yes, yes, of course,” said Craven hurriedly, “you did quite right.” + Then he glanced about him and frowned again thoughtfully. “Isn't this +the Daimler Gillian took to France with her--surely that is Phillipe +driving?” he asked abruptly, peering through the window at the +chauffeur's back illuminated by the electric lamp in the roof of the +car. + +“She sent it back a few months afterwards--said she had no need for it,” + replied Peters. “I kept Phillipe on because he was a better mechanic +than the other man. There was no need for two.” + +Craven refrained from comment and relapsed into silence, which was +unbroken until they reached the house. + +During dinner the conversation was mainly of Africa and the scientific +success of the mission, and of local events, topics that could safely +be discussed in the hearing of Forbes and the footmen. From time to time +Craven glanced about the big room with tightened lips. It seemed chill +and empty for lack of the slight girlish figure whose presence had +brought sunshine into the great house. If she chose never to return! It +was unthinkable that he could live in it alone, it would be haunted by +memories, he would see her in every room. And yet the thought of leaving +it again hurt him. He had never known until he had gone to Africa with +no intention of returning how dear the place was to him. He had suddenly +realised that he was a Craven of Craven, and all that it meant. But +without Gillian it was valueless. A shrine without a treasure. An empty +symbol that would stand for nothing. Her personality had stamped itself +on the house, even yet her influence lingered in the huge formal dining +room where he sat. It had been her whim when they were alone to banish +the large table that seemed so preposterously big for two people and +substitute a small round one which was more intimate, and across which +it was possible to talk with greater ease. Forbes was a man of fixed +ideas and devoted to his mistress. Though absent her wishes were +faithfully carried out. Mrs. Craven had decreed that for less than +four people the family board was an archaic and cumbersome piece of +furniture, consequently tonight the little round table was there, and +brought home to Craven even more vividly the sense of her absence. It +seemed almost a desecration to see Peters sitting opposite in her place. +He grew impatient of the lengthy and ceremonious meal the old butler was +superintending with such evident enjoyment, and gradually he became +more silent and heedless, responding mechanically and often inaptly to +Peters' flow of conversation. He wished now he had obeyed the impulse +that had come to him in Algiers to go straight to Paris. By now he would +have seen her, have learned his fate, and the whole miserable business +would have been settled one way or the other. He could not wonder that +she had elected to remain abroad. He had put her in a horrible position. +By lingering in Africa after the return of the rest of the mission he +had made her an object of idle curiosity and speculation. He had left +her as the elder Barry Craven had left his mother, to the mercy of +gossip-mongers and to the pity and compassion of her friends which, +though even unexpressed, she must have felt and resented. He glanced +at the portrait of the beautiful sad woman in the panel over the +mantelpiece and a dull red crept over his face. It was well that his +mother had died before she realised how completely the idolised son was +to follow in the footsteps of the husband who had broken her heart. It +was a tradition in the family. From one motive or another the Cravens +had consistently been pitiless to their womenkind. And he, the last of +them, had gone the way of all the others. A greater shame and bitterness +than he had yet felt came to him, and a passionate longing to undo what +he had done. And what was left for him to do was so pitifully little. +But he would do it without further delay, he would start for Paris the +next day. Even the few hours of waiting seemed almost unbearable. The +thought occurred to him to motor to London that night to catch the +morning boat train from Victoria, but a glance at his watch convinced +him of the impossibility of the idea. Owing to the delay of the train +it had been nine o'clock before he reached the Towers. It was ten now. +Another hour would be wasted before Phillipe and the car would be ready +for the long run. And it was a wicked night to take a man out, the +strain of driving under such conditions at top speed through the +darkness would be tremendous. Reluctantly he abandoned the project. +There was nothing for it but to wait until the morning. + +Forbes at his elbow recalled him to his duties as host. With a murmured +apology to Peters he rose to his feet. + +“Coffee in the study, please,” he said, and left the room. + +In the study, in chairs drawn up to the blazing fire, the two men smoked +for some time in silence. Though consumed with anxiety to hear more of +his wife Craven felt a certain diffident in mentioning her name, and +Peters volunteered nothing. After a time the agent began to speak of the +estate. “I want to give an account of my stewardship,” he said, with an +odd ring in his voice that Craven did not understand. And for the best +part of an hour he talked of farms and leases, of cottage property and +timber, of improvements and alterations carried out during Craven's +absence or in progress, of the conditions under which certain of the +bigger houses scattered about the property were let--a complete history +of the working and management of the estate extending back many years +until Craven grew more and more bewildered as to the reason of this +detailed revelation that seemed to him somewhat unnecessary and +certainly ill-timed. He did not want to be bothered with business the +very moment of his arrival. Peters was punctilious of course, always had +been, but his stewardship had never been called in question and there +was surely no need for this complicated and lengthy narrative of affairs +tonight. + +“And then there are the accounts,” concluded the agent, in the dry +curiously formal voice he had adopted all the evening. Craven made a +gesture of protest. “The accounts can wait,” he said shortly. “I don't +know why on earth you want to bother about all this tonight, Peter. +There will be plenty of time later. Have I ever criticised anything you +did? I'm not such a fool. You've forgotten more than I ever knew about +the estate.” + +“I should like you to see them,” persisted Peters, drawing a big bundle +of papers from his pocket and proceeding to remove and roll up with his +usual precise neatness the tape that confined them. He pushed the typed +sheets across the little table. “I don't think you will find any error. +The estate accounts are all straightforward. But there is an item in the +personal accounts that I must ask you to consider. It is a sum of eight +thousand pounds standing to your credit that I do not know what to do +with. You will remember that when you went to Africa you instructed me +to pay your wife four thousand a year during your absence. I have sent +her the money every quarter, which she has acknowledged. Three months +ago the London bank advised me that eight thousand pounds had been paid +into you account by Mrs. Craven, the total amount of her allowance, in +fact, during the time you have been away.” + +There was a lengthy pause after Peters stopped speaking, and then Craven +looked up slowly. + +“I don't understand,” he said thickly; “all her allowance! What has she +been living on--what the devil does it mean?” + +Peters shrugged. “I don't know any more about it than you do. I am +simply telling you what is the case. It was not for me to question her +on such a matter,” he said coldly. + +“But, Good Heavens, man,” began Craven hotly, and then checked himself. +He felt stunned by Peters' bald statement of fact, unable, quite, +for the moment, to grasp it. Heavens above, how she must hate him! To +decline to touch the money he had assured her was hers, not his! On what +or on whom had she been living? His face became suddenly congested. Then +he put the hateful thought from him. It was not possible to connect such +a thing with Gillian. Only his own foul mind could have imagined it. And +yet, if she had been other than she was, if it had been so, if in her +loneliness and misery she had found love and protection she had been +unable to withstand--the fault would be his, not hers. He would have +driven her to it. He would be responsible. For a moment the room went +black. Then, he pulled himself together. Putting the bundle of accounts +back on to the table he met steadily Peters' intent gaze. “My wife is +quite at liberty to do what she chooses with her own money,” he said +slowly, “though I admit I don't understand her action. Doubtless she +will explain it in due course. Until then the money can continue to lie +idle. It is not such a large sum that you need be in such a fierce hurry +about it. In any case I am going to Paris tomorrow. I can let you know +further when I have seen her.” His voice was harsh with the effort it +cost him to steady it. “And having seen her--what are you going to do +to her?” The question, and the manner of asking it, made Craven look +at Peters in sudden amazement. The agent's face was stern and curiously +pale, high up on his cheek a little pulse was beating visibly and his +eyes were blazing direct challenge. Craven's brows drew together slowly. + +“What do you mean?” + +Peters leant forward, resting one arm on his knee, and the knuckles of +his clenched hand shone white. + +“I asked you in so many words what you were going to do to her,” he +said, in a voice vibrant with emotion. “You will say it is no business +of mine. But I am going to make it my business. Good God, Barry, do you +think I've seen nothing all these years? Do you think I can sit down and +watch history repeat itself and make no effort to avert it for lack of +moral courage? I can't. When you were a boy I had to stand aside and see +your mother's heart broken, and I'm damned if I'm going to keep silent +while you break Gillian's heart. I loved your mother, the light went out +for me when she died. For her sake I carried on here, hoping I might +be of use to you--because you were her son. And then Gillian came +and helped to fill the blank she had left. She honoured me with her +friendship, she brought brightness into my life until gradually she has +become as dear to me as if she were my own daughter. All I care about +is her happiness--and yours. But she comes first, poor lonely child. Why +did you marry her if it was only to leave her desolate again? Wasn't +her past history sad enough? She was happy here at first, before your +marriage. But afterwards--were you blind to the change that came over +her? Couldn't you see that she was unhappy? I could. And I tell you I +was hard put to it sometimes to hold my tongue. It wasn't my place +to interfere, it wasn't my place to see anything, but I couldn't help +seeing what was patent to the eye of anybody who was interested. You +left her, and you have come back. For what? You are her husband, in name +at any rate--oh, yes, I know all about that, I know a great deal more +than I am supposed to know, and do you think I am the only one?--legally +she is bound to you, though I do not doubt she could easily procure her +freedom if she so wished, so I ask you again--what are you going to do? +She is wholly in your power, utterly at your mercy. What more is she to +endure at your hands? I am speaking plainly because it seems to me to +be a time for plain speaking. I can't help what you think, I am afraid I +don't care. You've been like a son to me. I promised your mother on her +death-bed that I would never fail you, I could have forgiven you any +mortal thing on earth--but Gillian. It's Gillian and me, Barry. And if +it's a case of fighting for her happiness--by God, I'll fight! And +now you know why I have told you all that I have tonight, why I have +rendered an account of my stewardship. If you want me to go I shall +quite understand. I know I have exceeded my prerogative but I can't +help it. I've left everything in order, easy for anybody to take over--” + Craven's head had sunk into his hands, now he sprang to his feet unable +to control himself any longer. “Peter--for God's sake--” he cried +chokingly, and stumbling to the window he wrenched back the curtain and +flung up the sash, lifting his face to the storm of wind and rain that +beat in about him, his chest heaving, his arms held rigid to his sides. + +“Do you think I don't care?” he said at last, brokenly. “Do you think +it hasn't nearly killed me to see her unhappiness--to be able to do +nothing. You don't know--I wasn't fit to be near her, to touch her. I +hoped by going to Africa to set her free. But I couldn't die. I tried, +God knows I tried, by every means in my power short of deliberately +blowing my brains out--a suicide's widow--I couldn't brand her like +that. When men were dying around me like flies death passed me by--I +wasn't fit even for that, I suppose.” He gave a ghastly little mirthless +laugh that made Peters wince and came back slowly into the room, +heedless of the window he had left open, and walked to the fireplace +dropping his head on his arm on the mantel. “You asked me just now what +I meant to do to her--it is not a question of me at all but what Gillian +elects to do. I am going to her tomorrow. The future rests with her. +If she turns me down--and you turn me down--I shall go to the devil +the quickest way possible. It's not a threat, I'm not trying to make +bargains, it's just that I'm at the end of my tether. I've made a +damnable mess of my life, I've brought misery to the woman I love. For +I do love her, God help me. I married her because I loved her, because +I couldn't bear to lose her. I was mad with jealousy. And heaven knows +I've been punished for it. My life's been hell. But it doesn't matter +about me--it's only Gillian who matters, only Gillian who counts for +anything.” His voice sank into a whisper and a long shudder passed over +him. + +The anger had died out of Peters' face and the old tenderness crept back +into his eyes as they rested on the tall bowed figure by the fireplace. +He rose and went to the window, shutting it and drawing the curtain back +neatly into position. Then he crossed the room slowly and laid his hand +for an instant on Craven's shoulder with a quick firm pressure that +conveyed more than words. “Sit down,” he said gruffly, and going back to +the little table splashed some whisky into a glass and held it under +the syphon. Craven took the drink from him mechanically but set it +down barely tasted as he dropped again into the chair he had left a few +minutes before. He lit a cigarette, and Peters, as he filled his own +pipe, noticed that his hands were shaking. He was silent for a long +time, the cigarette, neglected, smouldering between his fingers, his +face hidden by his other hand. At last he looked up, his grey eyes +filled with an almost desperate appeal. + +“You'll stay, Peter--for the sake of the place?” he said unsteadily. +“You made it what it is, it would go to pieces if you went. And I can't +go without you--if you chuck me it will about finish me.” + +Peters drew vigorously at his pipe and a momentary moisture dimmed his +vision. He was remembering another appeal made to him in this very room +thirty years before when, after a stormy interview with his employer, +the woman he had loved had begged him to remain and save the property +for the little son who was her only hold on life. It was the mother's +face not the son's he saw before him, the mother's voice that was +ringing in his ears. + +“I'll stay, Barry--as long as you want me,” he said at length huskily +from behind a dense cloud of smoke. A look of intense relief passed over +Craven's worn face. He tried to speak and, failing, gripped Peters' hand +with a force that left the agent's fingers numb. + +There was another long pause. The blaze of the cheerful fire within and +the fury of the storm beating against the house without were the only +sounds that broke the silence. Peters was the first to speak. + +“You say you are going to her tomorrow--do you know where to find her?” + +Craven looked up with a start. + +“Has she moved?” he asked uneasily. Peters stirred uncomfortably and +made a little deprecating gesture with his hand. + +“It was a tallish rent, you know. The flat you took was in the most +expensive quarter of Paris,” he said with reluctance. Craven winced and +his hands gripped the arms of his chair. + +“But you--you write to her, you have been over several times to see +her,” he said, with a new trouble coming into his eyes, and Peters +turned from his steady stare. + +“Her letters, by her own request, are sent to the bank. I was only once +in the flat, shortly after you left. I think she must have given it up +almost immediately. Since then when I have run over for a day--she never +seemed to want me to stay longer--we have met in the Louvre or in the +gardens of the Tuileries, according to weather,” he said hesitatingly. + +Craven stiffened in his chair. + +“The Louvre--the gardens of the Tuileries,” he gasped, “but what on +earth--” he broke off with a smothered word Peters did not catch, and +springing up began to pace the room with his hands plunged deep in +his pockets. His face was set and his lips compressed under the neat +moustache. His mind was in a ferment, he could hardly trust himself to +speak. He halted at last in front of Peters, his eyes narrowing as he +gazed down at him. “Do you mean to tell me that you yourself do not know +where she is?” he said fiercely. Peters shook his head. “I do not. I +wish to heaven I did. But what could I do? I couldn't question her. She +made it plain she had no wish to discuss the subject. The little I did +say she put aside. It was not for me to spy on your wife, or employ a +detective to shadow her movements, no matter how anxious I felt.” + +“No, you couldn't have done that,” said Craven drearily, and turned +away. To pursue the matter further, even with Peters, seemed suddenly +to him impossible. He wanted to be alone to think out this new problem, +though at the same time he knew that no amount of thought would solve +it. He would have to wait with what patience he could until the morning +when he would be able to act instead of think. + +His face was expressionless when he turned to Peters again and sat down +quietly to discuss business. Half an hour later the agent rose to go. +“I'll bring up a checque book and some money in the morning before you +start. You won't have time to go to the bank in London. Wire me your +address in Paris--and bring her back with you, Barry. The whole place +misses her,” he said with a catch in his voice, stuffing the bundle of +papers into his pocket. Craven's reply was inaudible but Peters' heart +was lighter than it had been for years as he went out into the hall to +get his coat. “Yes, I'm walking,” he replied in response to an inquiry, +“bit of rain won't hurt me, I'm too seasoned,” and he laughed for the +first time that evening. + +Going back to the study Craven threw a fresh log on the fire, filled a +pipe, and drew a chair close to the hearth. It was past one but he was +disinclined for bed. Peters' revelations had staggered him. His brain +was on fire. He felt that not until he had found her and got to the +bottom of all this mystery would he be able to sleep again. And perhaps +not even then, he thought with a quickening heart-beat and a sick fear +of what his investigations in Paris might lead to. + +Before leaving England he had snatched time from his African +preparations to superintend personally the arrangements for her stay +in Paris. He had himself selected the flat and installed her with every +comfort and luxury that was befitting his wife. She had demurred once or +twice on the score of extravagance, particularly in the case of the car +he had insisted on sending over for her use, but he had laughed at her +protests and she had ceased to make any further objection, accepting +his wishes with the shy gentleness that marked her usual attitude toward +him. And she must have hated it all! Why? She was his wife, what was his +was hers. He had consistently impressed that on her from the first. But +it was obvious that she had never seen it in that light. He remembered +her passionate refusal--ending in tears that had horrified him--of the +big settlement he had wished to make at the time of their marriage, her +distress in taking the allowance he had had to force upon her. Was it +only his money she hated, or was it himself as well? And to what had +her hatred driven her? A fiercer gust of wind shrieked round the house, +driving the rain in torrents against the window, and as he listened +to it splashing sharply on the glass Craven shivered. Where was she +tonight? What shelter had she found in the pitiless city of contrasts? +Fragile and alone--and penniless? His hand clenched until the stem of +the pipe he was holding snapped between his fingers and he flung the +fragments into the fire, leaning forward and staring into the dying +embers with haggard eyes--picturing, remembering. He was intimately +acquainted with Paris, with two at least of its multifarious +aspects--the brilliant Paris of the rich, and the cruel Paris of the +struggling student. And yet, after all, what did his knowledge of the +latter amount to? It had amused him for a time to live in the Latin +quarter--it was in a disreputable cabaret on the south side of the river +that he had first come across John Locke--he had mixed there with all +and sundry, rubbing shoulders with the riff-raff of nations; he had seen +its vice and destitution, had mingled with its feverish surface +gaiety and known its underlying squalor and ugliness, but always as a +disinterested spectator, a transient passer by. Always he had had money +in his pocket. He had never known the deadly ever present fear that lies +coldly at the heart of even the wildest of the greater number of its +inhabitants. He had seen but never felt starvation. He had never sold +his soul for bread. But he had witnessed such a sale, not once or twice +but many times. In his carelessness he had accepted it as inevitable. +But the recollection stabbed him now with sudden poignancy. Merciful +God, toward what were his thoughts tending! He brushed his hand across +his eyes as though to clear away some hideous vision and rose slowly to +his feet. The expiring fire fell together with a little crash, flared +for an instant and then died down in a smouldering red mass that grew +quickly grey and cold. With a deep sigh Craven turned and went heavily +from the room. He lingered for a moment in the hall, dimly lit by the +single lamp left burning above, listening to the solemn ticking of the +clock, that at that moment chimed with unnatural loudness. + +Mechanically he took out his watch and wound it, and then went slowly up +the wide staircase. At the head of the stairs he paused again. The great +house had never seemed so silent, so empty, so purposeless. The rows of +closed doors opening from the gallery seemed like the portals of some +huge mausoleum, vacant and chill. A house of desolation that cried to +him to fill its emptiness with life and love. With lagging steps he +walked half way along the gallery, passing two of the closed doors +with averted head, but at the third he stopped abruptly, yielding to +an impulse that had come to him. For a moment he hesitated, as though +before some holy place he feared to desecrate, then with a quick drawn +breath he turned the handle and went in. + +In the darkness his hand sought and found the electric switch by the +door, and pressing it the room was flooded with soft shaded light. +Peters had spoken only the truth when he said that the house was kept in +immediate readiness for its mistress's return. Craven had never crossed +the threshold of this room before, and seeing it thus for the first time +he could hardly believe that for two years it had been tenantless. +She might have gone from it ten minutes before. It was redolent of her +presence. The little intimate details were as she had left them. A +bowl of bronze chrysanthemums stood on the dressing table where lay the +tortoise-shell toilet articles given her by Miss Craven. A tiny clock +ticked companionably on the mantelpiece. The pain in his eyes +deepened as they swept the room with hungry eagerness to take in every +particular. Her room! The room from which his unworthiness had barred +him. All that he had forfeited rose up before him, and in overwhelming +shame and misery a wave of burning colour rolled slowly over his face. +Never had the distance between them seemed so wide. Never had her purity +and innocence been brought home to him so forcibly as in this spotless +white chamber. Its simplicity and fresh almost austere beauty seemed +the reflection of her own stainless soul and the fierce passion that was +consuming him seemed by contrast hideous and brutal. It was as if he +had violated the sanctuary of a cloistered Nun. And yet might not even +passion be beautiful if love hallowed it? His arms stretched out in +hopeless longing, her name burst from his lips in a cry of desperate +loneliness, and he fell on his knees beside the bed, burying his face +in the thick soft quilt, his strong brown hands outflung, gripping and +twisting its silken cover in his agony. + +Hours later he raised his tired eyes to the pale light of the wintry +dawn filtering feebly through the close drawn curtains. + + * * * * + +He left that morning for Paris, alone. + +It was still raining steadily and the chill depressing outlook from the +train did not tend to lighten his gloomy thoughts. + +In London the rain poured down incessantly. The roads were greasy and +slippery with mud, the pavements filled with hurrying jostling crowds, +whose dripping umbrellas glistened under the flaring shop lights. Craven +peered at the cheerless prospect as he drove from one station to the +other and shivered at the gloom and wretchedness through which he was +passing. The mean streets and dreary squalid houses took on a greater +significance for him than they had ever done. The sight of a passing +woman, ill-clad and rain-drenched, sent through him a stab of horrible +pain. Paris could be as cruel, as pitiless, as this vaster, wealthier +city. + +He left his bag in the cloakroom at Charing Cross and spent the hours of +waiting for the boat train tramping the streets in the vicinity of the +station. He was in no mood to go to his Club, where he would find a +host of acquaintances eager for an account of his wanderings and curious +concerning his tardy return. + +The time dragged heavily. He turned into a quiet restaurant to get a +meal and ate without noticing what was put before him. At the earliest +opportunity he sought the train and buried himself in the corner of a +compartment praying that the wretched night might lessen the number of +travellers. Behind an evening paper which he did not attempt to read +he smoked in silence, which the two other men in the carriage did not +break. Foreigners both, they huddled in great coats in opposite corners +and were asleep almost before the train pulled out of the station. +Laying down the paper that had no interest for him Craven surveyed them +for a moment with a feeling of envy, and tilting his hat over his eyes, +endeavoured to emulate their good example. But, despite his weariness, +sleep would not come to him. He sat listening to the rattle of the train +and to the peaceful snoring of his companions until his mind ceased to +be diverted by immediate distractions and centred wholly on the task +before him. + +At Dover the weather had not improved and the sea was breaking high over +the landing stage, drenching the few passengers as they hurried on to +the boat and dived below for shelter from the storm. Indifferent to the +weather Craven chose to stay on deck and stood throughout the crossing +under lea of the deckhouse where it was possible to keep a pipe alight. + +Contrary to his expectation he managed to sleep in the train and slept +until they reached Paris. Avoiding a hotel where he was known he drove +to one of the smaller establishments, and engaging a room ordered +breakfast and sat down to think out his next move. + +There were two possible sources of information, the flat, where she +might have left an address when she vacated it, and the bank where +Peters had told him she called for letters. He would try them before +resorting to the expedient of employing a detective, which he was loth +to do until all other means failed. He hated the idea, but there was no +alternative except the police, whose aid he had determined not to invoke +unless it became absolutely necessary. It was imperative that his search +should be conducted as quietly and as secretly as possible. He decided +to visit the flat first, and, having wired to Peters in accordance with +his promise, set out on foot. + +It was not actually raining but the clouds hung low and threatening and +the air was raw. He walked fast, swinging along the crowded streets with +his eyes fixed straight in front of him. And his great height and deeply +tanned face made him a conspicuous figure that excited attention of +which he was ignorant. + +Leaving the narrow street where was his hotel he emerged into the Place +de la Madeleine, and threading his way through the stream of traffic +turned into the Boulevard de Malesherbes, which he followed, cutting +across the Boulevard Haussmann and passing the Church of Saint Augustin, +until the trees in the Parc Monceau rose before him. How often in the +heat of Africa had he pictured her sitting in the shade of those great +spreading planes, reading or sketching the children who played about +her? He had thought of her every hour of the day and night, seeing her +in his mind moving about the flat he had taken and furnished with such +care. How utterly futile had been all his dreams about her. His lips +tightened as he passed up the steps of the house he remembered so well. + +But to his inquiries the concierge, who was a new-comer, could give no +reply. He had no knowledge of any Madame Craven who had lived there, and +was plainly uninterested in a tenant who had left before his time. It +was past history with which he had nothing to do, and with which he made +it clear he did not care to be involved. He was curt and decisive +but, with an eye to Craven's powerful proportions, refrained from the +insolence that is customary among his kind. It was the first check, but +as he walked away Craven admitted to himself that he had not counted +overmuch on obtaining any information from that quarter, taking into +account the short time she had lived there. Remained the bank. He +retraced his steps, walking directly to the Place de l'Opéra. But the +bank, which was also a tourists' agency, could give him no assistance. +The lady called for her letters at infrequent intervals, they had no +idea where she might be found. Would the gentleman care to leave a card, +which would be given to her at the first opportunity? But Craven shook +his head--the chance of her calling was too vague--and passed out again +into the busy streets. There was nothing for it now but a detective +agency, and with his face grown grimmer he went without further delay to +the bureau of a firm he knew by repute. In the private room of the +_Chef de Bureau_ he detailed his requirements with national brevity and +conciseness. His knowledge of the language stood him in good stead and +the painfulness of the interview was mitigated by the businesslike and +tactful manner in which his commission was received. The keen-eyed man +who sat tapping a gold pencil case on his thumbnail in the intervals of +taking notes had a reputation to maintain which he was not unwilling to +increase; foreign clients were by no means rare, but they did not come +every day, nor were they always so apparently full of wealth as this +stern-faced Englishman, who spoke authoritatively as one accustomed to +being obeyed and yet with a turn of phrase and _politesse_ unusual in +his countrymen. + +Followed two days of interminable waiting and suspense, two days that to +Craven seemed like two lifetimes. He hung about the hotel, not daring to +go far afield lest he should lose some message or report. He had no +wish either to advertise his presence in Paris, he had too many friends +there, too many acquaintances whose questions would be difficult to +parry. + +But on the morning of the third day, about eleven o'clock, he was +called to the telephone. A feeling of dread ran through him and he was +conscious of a curious sensation of weakness as he lifted the receiver. +But the voice that hailed him was reassuring and complacently expressive +of a neat piece of work well done. The wife of _Monsieur_ had been +traced, they had taken time--oh, yes, but they had followed _Monsieur's_ +instructions _au pied de la lettre_ and had acted with a discretion +that was above criticism. Then followed an address given minutely. For +a moment he leaned against the side of the telephone box shaking +uncontrollably. Only at this moment did he realise completely how great +his fear had been. There had been times when the recurring thought of +the Morgue and its pitiful occupants had been a foretaste of hell. The +feeling of weakness passed quickly and he went out to the entrance of +the hotel and leaped into a taxi which had just set down a fare. + +He knew well the locality toward which he was driving. Years ago he +could almost have walked to it blindfold, but today time was precious. +And as he sat forward in the jolting cab, his hands locked tightly +together, it seemed to him as if every possible hindrance had combined +to bar his progress. The traffic had never appeared so congested, the +efforts of the agents on point duty so hopelessly futile. Omnibuses and +motors, unwieldy meat carts and fiacres, inextricably jammed, met them +at every turn, until at last swinging round by the corner of the Louvre +the streets became clearer and the car turned sharply to cross the +river. As they approached the address the detective had given him Craven +was conscious of no sensation of any kind. A deadly calm seemed to have +taken possession of him. He had ceased even to speculate on what lay +before him. The house at which they stopped at last was typical of its +kind; in his student days he had rented a studio in a precisely similar +building, and the concierge to whom he applied might have been the twin +sister of the voluble amply proportioned citoyenne of long ago who had +kept a maternal eye on his socks and shirts and a soft spot in her heart +for the _bel Anglais_ who chaffed her unmercifully, but paid his rent +with commendable promptitude. A huge woman, with a shrewd not unkindly +face, she sat in a rocking chair with a diminutive kitten on her +shoulder and a mass of knitting in her lap. As she listened to Craven's +inquiry she tossed the kitten into a basket and bundled the shawl she +was making under her arm, while she rose ponderously to her feet and +favoured the stranger with a stare that was frankly and undisguisedly +inquisitive. A pair of twinkling eyes encased in rolls of fat swept him +from head to foot in leisurely survey, and he felt that there was no +detail about him that escaped attention, that even the texture of his +clothing and the very price of the boots he was wearing were gauged with +accuracy and ease. She condescended to speak at last in a voice that was +curiously soft, and warmed into something almost approaching enthusiasm. +Madame Craven? but certainly, _au quatrieme_. Monsieur was perhaps a +patron of the arts, he desired to buy a picture? It was well, painters +were many but buyers were few. Madame was assuredly at home, she was +in fact engaged at that moment with a model. A model--_Sapristi_!--he +called himself such, but for herself she would have called him _un vrai +apache_! Of a countenance, _mon Dieu_! She paused to wave her hands +in horror and jerk her head toward the staircase, continuing her +confidences in a lowered tone. The door of the studio was open, it +was wiser when such gentry presented themselves, and also did she not +herself always sit in the hall that she might be within call, one never +knew--and Madame was an angel with the heart of a child. A face to +study--and she thought of nothing else. But there were those who +thought for her, the blessed innocent. It was doubtless because she was +English--Monsieur was also English, she observed with another shrewd +glance and a wide smile. Madame would be glad to see a compatriot. If +Monsieur would do himself the trouble of ascending the stairs he could +not mistake the door, it was at the top, and, as she had said, it was +open. + +She beamed on him graciously as with a murmur of thanks Craven turned +to mount the stone staircase. A feeling of relief came to him at the +thought of the warm hearted self-appointed guardian sitting in kindly +vigilance in the big armchair below. Here, too, it would appear, Gillian +had made herself beloved. As he passed quickly upward the unnatural calm +that had come over him gave place to a very different feeling. It was +brought home to him all at once that what he had longed and prayed for +was on the point of taking effect. He realised that the ghastly waiting +time was over, that in a few moments he would see her, and his heart +began to throb violently. Every second that still separated them seemed +an age and he took the last remaining flight two steps at a time. But he +stopped abruptly as he reached the level of the landing. The open door +was within a few feet of him but screened from where he stood. + +It was her voice that had arrested him, speaking with an accent of +weariness he had never heard before that sent a sudden quiver to his +lips. His fingers clenched on the soft hat he held. + +“But it does not do at all,” she was saying, and the racking cough that +accompanied her words struck through Craven's heart like a knife, “it is +the expression that is wrong. If you look like that I can never believe +that you are what you say you are. Think of some of the horrible things +you have told me--try and imagine that you are still tracking down that +brute who took your little Colette from you--” A husky voice interrupted +her. “No use, Madame, when I remember that I can only think of you and +the American doctor who gave her back to me, and our happiness.” + +“You don't deserve her, and she hates the things you do,” came the quick +retort, and the man who had been speaking laughed. + +“But not me,” he answered promptly, “and the things I do keep a roof +over our heads,” he added grimly. “But, see, I will try again--does that +satisfy Madame?” + +Craven moved forward as he heard her eager assent and her injunction to +“hold that for a few minutes,” and in the silence that ensued he reached +the door. For a moment his entrance passed unobserved. + +The stark bareness of the room was revealed to him in a single +comprehensive glance and the chill of it sent a sudden feeling of anger +surging through him. His face was drawn and his eyes almost menacing +with pain as they rested on the slight figure bending forward in +unconscious absorption over the easel propped in the middle of the +rugless floor. Then his gaze travelled slowly beyond her to the model +who stood on the little dais, and he understood in a flash the reason +of the old concierge's vigilance as he saw the manner of man she was +painting. The slender darkly clad youth with head thrust forward and +sunk deep on his shoulders, with close fitting peaked cap pulled +low over his eyes shading his pale sinister face was a typical +representative of the class of criminal who had come to be known in +Paris as _les apaches_; no artist's model masquerading as one of +the dreaded assassins, but the genuine article. Of that Craven was +convinced. The risk she had taken, the quick resentment he felt at the +thought of such a presence near her forced from him an exclamation. + +Artist and model turned simultaneously. There was a moment of tense +silence as husband and wife stared into each other's eyes. Then the +palette and brushes she was holding dropped with a little chatter to the +floor. + +“Barry,” she whispered fearfully, “Barry--” + +Both men sprang forward, but it was Craven who caught her as she fell. +She lay like a featherweight in his strong clasp, and as he gazed at the +delicate face crushed against his breast a deadly fear was knocking at +his heart that he had come too late. Convulsively his arms tightened +round the pitifully light little body and he spoke abruptly to the man +who was scowling beside him. “A doctor--as quick as you can--and tell +the concierge to come up.” Anxiety roughened his voice and he turned +away without waiting to see his orders carried out. For a second the +apache glowered at him under narrowing lids, his sullen face working +strangely, then he jerked the black cap further over his eyes and +slipped away with noiseless tread. + +With a broken whisper Craven caught his frail burden closer, as though +seeking by the strength and warmth of his own body to animate the +fragile limbs lying so cold and lifeless in his arms, and he bent low +over the pallid lips he craved and yet did not dare to kiss. They were +not for him to take, he reflected bitterly, and in her unconsciousness +they were sacred. + +His eyes were dark with misery as he raised his head and looked about +quickly for some couch on which to lay her. But the bare studio was +devoid of any such luxury, and with his face set rigidly he carried +her across the room and pushed open a door leading to an inner sleeping +apartment. Barer it was and colder even than the studio, and its bleak +poverty formed a horrible contrast to the big white bedroom at Craven +Towers. He laid her on the narrow comfortless bed with a smothered groan +that seemed to tear his heart to pieces. And as he knelt beside +her chafing her icy hands in helpless agony there burst in on him a +tempestuous fury who raved and stormed and called on heaven to witness +the iniquity of men. “_Bete! animal!_” she raged, “what have you done +to her--you and that rat-faced devil!” and she thrust her bulky figure +between him and the bed. Then with a sudden change of manner, her voice +grown soft and caressing, she bent over the fainting girl and slipped a +plump arm under her, crooning, over her and endeavouring to restore her +to consciousness. She snapped an enquiry at Craven and he explained +as best he could, and his explanation brought down on him a wealth of +biting sarcasm. The husband of _cet ange la_! In the name of heaven! was +there no limit to the blundering stupidity of men--had he no more sense +than to present himself with such unexpectedness, after so long an +absence? Small wonder _la pauvre petite_ had fainted. What folly! And +lashing him with her tongue she renewed her fruitless efforts. But +Craven scarcely heeded her. His eyes were fixed on the little white face +on the pillow, and he was praying desperately that she might be spared +to him, that his punishment might not take so terrible a form. For the +change in her appalled him. Slight and delicate always, she was now a +mere shadow of what she had been. If she died!--he clenched his teeth to +keep silent--must he be twice a murderer? O Hara San's blood was on his +hands, would hers also-- + +He turned quickly as a tall, loosely made man swung into the room. The +new-comer shot a swift glance at him and moved past to the bedside, +addressing the concierge in fluent French that was marked by a +pronounced American accent. He cut short her eager communication as he +bent over the bed and made a rapid examination. + +“Light a fire in the stove, bring all the blankets you can find, and +make some strong coffee. I have been waiting for this, the marvel is +it hasn't happened before,” he said brusquely. And as the woman hurried +away with surprising meekness to do his bidding he turned again to +Craven. “Friend of Mrs. Craven's?” he asked with blunt directness. “Pity +her friends haven't looked her up sooner. Guess you can wait in the +other room until I'm through here--that is if you are sufficiently +interested. It will probably be a long job and the fewer people she sees +about her when she comes to, the better.” + +The blood flamed into Craven's face and an angry protest rose to his +lips, but his better judgment checked it. It was not the time for +explanations or to press the claim he had to remain in the room. And had +he a claim at all, he wondered with a dull feeling of pain. “I'll wait,” + he said quietly, fighting an intolerable jealousy as he watched the +doctor's skilful hands busy about her. Strangers might tend her, but the +husband she had evidently never spoken of, was banished to an outer room +to wait “if sufficiently interested.” He winced and passed slowly into +the studio. And yet he had brought it on himself. She could have had +little wish to mention him situated as she was, the bare garret he was +pacing monotonously was evidence in itself that she had determined to +cut adrift from everything that was connected with the life and the man +she had obviously loathed. His surroundings left no doubt on that score. +She had plainly preferred to struggle independently for existence rather +than be beholden to him who was her natural protector. He recalled with +an aching heart the swift look of fear that had leapt into her eyes +during that long moment before she had lost consciousness, and the +memory of it went with him, searing cruelly, as he tramped up and down +in restless anxiety that would not allow him to keep still. To see that +look in her eyes again would be more than he could endure. + +From time to time the concierge passed through the room bearing the +various necessaries the doctor had demanded, but her mouth was grimly +shut and he did not ask for information that she did not seem inclined +to vouchsafe. She did unbend so far at last as to light a fire in the +stove, but she let it be clearly understood that it was not for his +benefit. “It will help to warm the other room, and it has been empty +long enough,” she said, with a glance and a shrug that were full of +meaning. But as she saw the misery of his face her manner softened and +she spoke confidently of the skill of the American doctor, who from +motives of pure philanthropy had practised for some years in a quarter +that offered much experience but little pecuniary profit. + +Then she left him to wait again alone. + +He could not bring himself to look at the canvases propped against the +bare walls, they were witnesses of her toil, witnesses perhaps of a +failure that hurt him even more than it must have hurt her. And to +him who knew the spirit-crushing efforts of the unknown artist to win +recognition, her failure was both natural and intelligible. He guessed +at a pride that scorning patronage had not sought assistance but had +striven to succeed by merit alone, only to learn the bitter lesson that +falls to the lot of those who fight against established convention. She +had pitted her strength against a system and the system had broken her. +Her studies might be--they were--marked with genius, but genius without +advertisement had gone unrecognised and unrewarded. + +But before the portrait of the strange model he had found with her he +paused for a long time. Still unfinished it was brilliantly clever. The +lower part of the face had evidently not satisfied her, for it was wiped +out, but the upper part was completed, and Craven looked at the +deep-set eyes of the apache staring back at him with almost the fire +of life--melancholy sinister eyes that haunted--and wondered again what +circumstance had brought such a man across her path. He remembered the +fragmentary conversation he had heard, remembered too that mention had +been made of the man who was even now with her in the adjoining room, +and he sighed as he realised how utterly ignorant he was of the life she +had led during his absence. + +Had she meditated a complete severance from him, formed ties that would +bind her irrevocably to the life she had chosen? He turned from the +picture wearily. It was all a tangle. He could only wait, and waiting, +suffer. + +He went to the window and leant his arms unseeingly on the high narrow +sill that looked out over the neighbouring housetops, straining to hear +the faintest sound from the inner room. It seemed to him that he must +have waited hours when at last the door opened and shut quietly and the +American came leisurely toward him. He faced him with swift unspoken +inquiry. The doctor nodded, moving toward the stove. “She's all right +now,” he said dryly, “but I don't mind telling you she gave me the +fright of my life. I have been wondering when this was going to happen, +I've seen it coming for a long time.” He paused, and looked at Craven +frowningly while he warmed his hands. + +“May I ask if you are an intimate friend of Mrs. Craven's--if you know +her people? Can you put me in communication with them? She is not in +a fit state to be alone. She should have somebody with her--somebody +belonging to her, I mean. I gather there is a husband somewhere +abroad--though frankly I have always doubted his existence--but that is +no good. I want somebody here, on the spot, now. Mrs. Craven doesn't +see the necessity. I do. I'm not trying to shunt responsibility. I've +shouldered a good deal in my time and I'm not shirking now--but this +is a case that calls for more than a doctor. I should appreciate any +assistance you could give me.” + +The fear he had felt when he held her in his arms was clutching anew at +Craven and his face grew grey under the deep tan. “What is the matter +with her?” Something in his voice made the doctor look at him more +closely. + +“That, my dear sir,” he parried, “is rather a leading question.” + +“I have a right to know,” interrupted Craven quickly. + +“You will pardon me if I ask--what right?” was the equally quick +rejoinder. + +The blood surged back hotly into Craven's face. + +“The right of the man whose existence you very justly doubted,” he said +heavily. The doctor straightened himself with a jerk. “You are Mrs. +Craven's husband! Then you will forgive me if I say that you have not +come back any too soon. I am glad for your wife's sake that the myth is +a reality,” he said gravely. Craven stood rigidly still, and it seemed +to him that his heart stopped beating. “I know my wife is delicate, +that her lungs are not strong, but what is the cause of this +sudden--collapse?” he said slowly, his voice shaking painfully. For a +moment the other hesitated and shrugged in evident embarrassment. +“There are a variety of causes--I find it somewhat difficult to say--you +couldn't know, of course--” + +Craven cut him short. “You needn't spare my feelings,” he said hoarsely. +“For God's sake speak plainly. + +“In a word then--though I hate to have to say it--starvation.” The keen +eyes fixed on him softened into sudden compassion but Craven did not see +them. He saw nothing, for the room was spinning madly round him and he +staggered back against the window catching at the woodwork behind him. + +“Oh, my God!” he whispered, and wiped the blinding moisture from his +eyes. If it had been possible for her gentle nature to contemplate +revenge she could have planned no more terrible one than this. But in +his heart he knew that it was not revenge. For a moment he could +not speak, then with an effort he mastered himself. He could give no +explanation to this stranger, that lay between him and her alone. + +“There was no need,” he said at last dully, forcing the words with +difficulty; “she misunderstood--I can't explain. Only tell me what I can +do--anything that will cure her. There isn't any permanent injury, is +there--I haven't really come too late?” he gasped, with an agony of +appeal in his voice. The American shook his head. “You ran it very +fine,” he said, with a quick smile, “but I guess you've come in time, +right enough. There isn't anything here that money can't cure. Her lungs +are not over strong, her heart is temporarily strained, and her nerves +are in tatters. But if you can take her to the south--or better still, +Egypt--?” he hesitated with a look of enquiry, and as Craven nodded, +continued with more assurance, “Good! then there's no reason why she +shouldn't be a well woman in time. She's constitutionally delicate but +there's nothing organically wrong. Take her away as soon as possible, +feed her up--and keep her happy. That's all she wants. I'll look in +again this evening.” And with another reassuring smile and a firm +handclasp he was gone. + +As his footsteps died away Craven turned slowly toward the adjoining +room with strangely contending emotions. “... keep her happy.” The +bitter irony of the words bit into him as he crossed to the door and, +tapping softly, went in. + +She was waiting for him, lying high on the pillows that were no whiter +than her face, toying nervously with the curling ends of the thick plait +of soft brown hair that reached almost to her waist. Her eyes were fixed +on him appealingly, and as he came toward her her face quivered suddenly +and again he saw the look of fear that had tortured him before. “Oh, +Barry,” she moaned, “don't be angry with me.” + +It was all that he could do to keep his hungry arms from closing round +her, to keep back the passionate torrent of love that rushed to his +lips. But he dared not give way to the weakness that was tempting him. +Controlling himself with an effort of will he sat down on the edge of +the bed and covered her twitching fingers with his lean muscular hands. + +“I'm not angry, dear. God knows I've no right to be,” he said gently. “I +just don't understand. I never dreamt of anything like this. Can't you +tell me--explain--help me to understand?” + +She dragged her hands from his, and covering her face gave way to bitter +weeping. Her tears crucified him and his heart was breaking as he looked +at her. “Gillian, have a little pity on me,” he pleaded. “Do you think +I'm a stone that I can bear to see you cry?” + +“What can I say?” she whispered sobbingly. “You wouldn't understand. You +have never understood. How should you? You were too generous. You gave +me your name, your wealth, you sacrificed your freedom to save me from +a knowledge of the callousness and cruelty of the world. You saw further +than I did. You knew that I would fail--as I have failed. And because of +that you married me in pity. Did you think I would never guess? I +didn't at first. I was a stupid ignorant child, I didn't realise what a +marriage like ours would mean. But when I did--oh, so soon--and when +I knew that I could never repay you--I think I nearly died with shame. +When I asked you to let me come to Paris it was not to lead the life you +purposed for me but because my burden of debt had grown intolerable. +I thought that if I worked here, paid my own way, got back my lost +self-respect, that it would be easier to bear. When you took the flat +I tried to make you understand but you wouldn't listen and I couldn't +trouble you when you were going away. And then later when they told me +at the convent what you had done, when I learned how much greater was +my debt than I had ever dreamt, and when I heard of the money you gave +them--the money you still give them every year--the money they call the +Gillian Craven Fund--” + +“They had no right, I made it a stipulation--” + +“They didn't realise, they thought because we were married that I must +surely know. I couldn't go on living in the flat, taking the allowance +you heaped on me. All you gave,--all you did--your generosity--I +couldn't bear it! Oh, can't you see--your money _choked_ me!” she +wailed, with a paroxysm of tears that frightened him. He caught her +hands again, holding them firmly. “Your money as much as mine, Gillian. +I have always tried to make you realise it. What is mine is yours. +You're my wife--” + +“I'm not, I'm not,” she sobbed wildly. “I'm only a burden thrust on +you.” + +A cry burst from his lips. “A burden, my God, a burden!” he groaned. And +suddenly he reached the end of his endurance. With the agony of death in +his eyes he swept her into his arms, holding her to him with passionate +strength, his lips buried in the fragrance of her hair. “Oh, my dear, my +dear,” he murmured brokenly, “I'm not fit to touch you, but I've loved +you always, worshipped you, longed for you until the longing grew too +great to bear, and I left you because I knew that if I stayed I should +not have the strength to leave you free. I married you because I loved +you, because even this damnable mockery of a marriage was better than +losing you out of my life--I was cur enough to keep you when I knew I +might not take you. And I've wanted you, God knows how I've wanted you, +all these ghastly years. I want you now, I'd give my hope of heaven to +have your love, to hold you in my arms as my wife, to be a husband +to you not only in name--but I'm not fit. You don't know what I've +done--what I've been. I had no right to marry you, to stain your purity +with my sin, to link you with one who is fouled as I am. If you knew +you'd never look at me again.” With a terrible sob he laid her back on +the pillows and dropped on his knees beside her. Into her tear-wet eyes +there came suddenly a light that was almost divine, her quivering face +became glorious in its pitiful love. Trembling, she leant towards him, +and her slender hands went out in swift compassion, drawing the bowed +shamed head close to her tender breast. + +“Tell me,” she whispered. And with her soft arms round him he told her, +waiting in despair for the moment when she would shrink from him, repel +him with the horror and disgust he dreaded. But she lay quite still +until he finished, though once or twice she shuddered and he felt the +quickened beating of her heart. And for long after his muffled voice had +died away she remained silent. Then her thin hand crept quiveringly +up to his hair, touching it shyly, and two great tears rolled down +her face. “Barry, I've been so lonely”--it was the cry of a frightened +desolate child--“if you have no pity on yourself, will you have no pity +on me?” + +“Gillian!” he raised his head sharply, staring at her with desperate +unbelieving eyes, “You care?” + +“Care?” she gave a tremulous little sobbing laugh. “How could I help +but care! I've loved you since the day you came to me in the convent +parlour. You're all I have, and if you leave me now”--she clung to him +suddenly--“Barry, Barry, I can't bear any more. I haven't any strength +or courage left. I'm afraid! I can't face the world alone--it's +cruel--pitiless. I love you, I want you, I can't live without you,” and +with a piteous sob she strained him to her, hiding her face against +his breast, beseeching and distraught. His lips were trembling as he +gathered the shuddering little body closely in his arms, but still he +hesitated. + +“Think, dear, think,” he muttered hoarsely, “I'm not fit to stay with +you. I've done that which is unforgivable.” + +“I'm your wife, I've the right to share your burden,” she cried +passionately. “You didn't know, you couldn't know when you did that +dreadful thing. And if God punishes you let Him punish me too. But God +is love, He knows how you have suffered, and for those who repent His +punishment is forgiveness.” + +“But can you forgive--can you bear to come to me?” he faltered, still +only half believing. + +“I love you,” she said simply, “and life without you is death,” and +lifting her face to his she gave him the lips he had not dared to take. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. Hull + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + +***** This file should be named 8143-0.txt or 8143-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8143/ + +Produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Shadow of the East + +Author: E. M. Hull + + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8143] +This file was first posted on June 19, 2003 +Last Updated: May 30, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE SHADOW OF THE EAST + + +By E. M. Hull + +1921 + + + + "_The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's + teeth are set on edge_." + + _Ezekiel xviii 2_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The American yacht lying off the harbour at Yokohama was brilliantly lit +from stem to stern. Between it and the shore the reflection of the +full moon glittered on the water up to the steps of the big black +landing-stage. The glamour of the eastern night and the moonlight +combined to lend enchantment to a scene that by day is blatant and +tawdry, and the countless coloured lamps twinkling along the sea wall +and dotted over the Bluff transformed the Japanese town into fairyland. + +The night was warm and still, and there was barely a ripple on the +water. The Bay was full of craft--liners, tramps, and yachts swinging +slowly with the tide, and hurrying to and fro sampans and electric +launches jostled indiscriminately. + +On board the yacht three men were lying in long chairs on the deck. +Jermyn Atherton, the millionaire owner, a tall thin American whose keen, +clever face looked singularly youthful under a thick crop of iron-grey +hair, sat forward in his chair to light a fresh cigar, and then turned +to the man on his right. "I guess I've had every official in Japan +hunting for you these last two days, Barry. If I hadn't had your wire +from Tokio this morning I should have gone to our Consul and churned up +the whole Japanese Secret Service and made an international affair of +it," he laughed. "Where in all creation were you? I should hardly have +thought it possible to get out of touch in this little old island. The +authorities, too, knew all about you, and reckoned they could lay their +hands on you in twelve hours. I rattled them up some," he added, with +evident satisfaction. + +The Englishman smiled. + +"You seem to have done," he said dryly. "When I got into Tokio this +morning I was fallen on by a hysterical inspector of police who implored +me with tears to communicate immediately with an infuriated American who +was raising Cain in Yokohama over my disappearance. As a matter of fact +I was in a little village twenty miles inland from Tokio--quite off +the beaten track. There's an old Shinto temple there that I have been +wanting to sketch for a long time." + +"Atherton's luck!" commented the American complacently. "It generally +holds good. I couldn't leave Japan without seeing you, and I must sail +tonight." + +"What's your hurry--Wall Street going to the dogs without you?" + +"No. I've cut out from Wall Street. I've made all the money I want, and +I'm only concerned with spending it now. No, the fact is I--er--I left +home rather suddenly." + +A soft chuckle came from the recumbent occupant of the third chair, but +Atherton ignored it and hurried on, twirling rapidly, as he spoke, a +single eyeglass attached to a thin black cord. + +"Ever since Nina and I were married last year we've been going the devil +of a pace. We had to entertain every one who had entertained us--and a +few more folk besides. There was something doing all day and every day +until at last it seemed to me that I never saw my wife except at the +other end of a dining table with a crowd of silly fools in between us. +I reckoned I'd just about had enough of it. Came on me just like a flash +sitting in my office down town one morning, so I buzzed home right away +in the auto and told her I was sick of the whole thing and that I wanted +her to come away with me and see what real life was like--out West or +anywhere else on earth away from that durned society crowd. I'll admit I +lost my temper and did some shouting. Nina couldn't see it from my point +of view. + +"My God, Jermyn! I should think not," drawled a sleepy voice from +the third chair, and a short, immensely stout man struggled up into a +sitting position, mopping his forehead vigorously. "You've the instincts +of a Turk rather than of an enlightened American citizen. You've not +seen my sister-in-law yet, Mr. Craven," he turned to the Englishman. +"She's a peach! Smartest little girl in N'York. Leader of +society--dollars no object--small wonder she didn't fall in with +Jermyn's prehistoric notions. You're a cave man, elder brother--I put my +money on Nina every time. Hell! isn't it hot?" He sank down again full +length, flapping his handkerchief feebly at a persistent mosquito. + +"We argued for a week," resumed Jermyn Atherton when his brother's +sleepy drawl subsided, "and didn't seem to get any further on. At last +I lost my temper completely and decided to clear out alone if Nina +wouldn't come with me. Leslie was not doing anything at the time, so I +persuaded him to come along too." + +Leslie Atherton sat up again with a jerk. + +"_Persuaded_!" he exploded, "A dam' queer notion of persuasion. +Shanghaied, I call it. Ran me to earth at the club at five o'clock, and +we sailed at eight. If my man hadn't been fond of the sea and keen on +the trip himself, I should have left America for a cruise round the +world in the clothes I stood up in--and Jermyn's duds would be about +as useful to me as a suit of reach-me-downs off the line. Persuasion? +Shucks! Jermyn thought it was kind of funny to start right off on an +ocean trip at a moment's notice and show Nina he didn't care a durn. +Crazy notion of humour." He lay back languidly and covered his face with +a large silk handkerchief. + +Barry Craven turned toward his host with amused curiosity in his grey +eyes. + +"Well?" He asked at length. + +Atherton returned his look with a slightly embarrassed smile. + +"It hasn't been so blamed funny after all," he said quietly. "A Chinese +coffin-ship from 'Frisco would be hilarious compared with this trip," +rapped a sarcastic voice from behind the silk handkerchief. + +"I've felt a brute ever since we lost sight of Sandy Hook," continued +Atherton, looking away toward the twinkling lights on shore, "and as +soon as we put in here I couldn't stand it any longer, so I cabled to +Nina that I was returning at once. I'm quite prepared to eat humble pie +and all the rest of it--in fact I shall relish it," with a sudden shy +laugh. + +His brother heaved his vast bulk clear of the deck chair with a mighty +effort. + +"Humble pie! Huh!" he snorted contemptuously. "She'll kill the fatted +calf and put a halo of glory round your head and invite in all the +neighbours 'for this my prodigal husband has returned to me!'" He ducked +with surprising swiftness to avoid a book that Atherton hurled at his +head and shook a chubby forefinger at him reprovingly. + +"Don't assault the only guide, philosopher and friend you've got who has +the courage to tell you a few home truths. Say, Jermyn, d'y'know why I +finally consented to come on this crazy cruise, anyway? Because Nina +got me on the phone while you were hammering away at me at the club +and ordered me to go right along with you and see you didn't do any dam +foolishness. Oh, she's got me to heel right enough. Well! I guess I'll +turn in and get to sleep before those fool engines start chump-chumping +under my pillow. You boys will want a pow-wow to your two selves; there +are times when three is a crowd. Good-bye, Mr. Craven, pleased to have +met you. Hope to see you in the Adirondacks next summer--a bit more +crowded than the Rockies, which are Jermyn's Mecca, but more home +comforts--appeal to a man of my build." He slipped away with the +noiseless tread that is habitual to heavy men. + +Jermyn Atherton looked after his retreating figure and laughed +uproariously. + +"Isn't he the darndest? A clam is communicative compared with Leslie. +Fancy him having that card up his sleeve all the while. Nina's had the +bulge on me right straight along." + +He pushed a cigar-box across the wicker table between them. + +"No, thanks," said Craven, taking a case from his pocket. "I'll have a +cigarette, if you don't mind." + +The American settled himself in his chair, his hands clasped behind his +head, staring at the harbour lights, his thoughts very obviously some +thousands of miles away. Craven watched him speculatively. Atherton +the big game-hunter, Atherton the mine-owner, he knew perfectly--but +Atherton the New York broker, Atherton married, he was unacquainted with +and he was trying to adjust and consolidate the two personalities. + +It was the same Atherton--but more human, more humble, if such a word +could be applied to an American millionaire. He felt a sudden curiosity +to see the woman who had brought that new look into his old friend's +keen blue eyes. He was conscious of an odd feeling of envy. Atherton +became aware at last of his attentive gaze and grinned sheepishly. + +"Must seem a bit of a fool to you, old man, but I feel like a boy going +home for the holidays and that's the truth. But I've been yapping about +my own affair all evening. What about you--staying on in Japan? Been +here quite a while now, haven't you?" + +"Just over a year." + +"Like it?" + +"Yes, Japan has got into my bones." + +"Lazy kind of life, isn't it?" + +There was no apparent change in Atherton's drawl, but Craven turned his +head quickly and looked at him before answering. + +"I'm a lazy kind of fellow," he replied quietly. + +"You weren't lazy in the Rockies," said Atherton sharply. + +"Oh, yes I was. There are grades of laziness." + +Atherton flung the stub of his cigar overboard and selecting a fresh +one, cut the end off carefully. + +"Still got that Jap boy who was with you in America?" + +"Yoshio? Yes. I picked him up in San Francisco ten years ago. He'll +never leave me now." + +"Saved his life, didn't you? He spun me a great yarn one day in camp." + +Craven laughed and shrugged. "Yoshio has an Oriental imagination and +quite a flair for romance. I did pull him out of a hole in 'Frisco but +he was putting up a very tidy little show on his own account. He's +the toughest little beggar I've ever come across and doesn't know the +meaning of fear. If I'm ever in a big scrap I hope I shall have Yoshio +behind me." + +"You seem to be pretty well known over yonder," said Atherton with a +vague movement of his head toward the shore. + +"It is not a big town and the foreign population is not vast. +Besides, there are traditions. I am the second Barry Craven to live in +Yokohama--my father lived several years and finally died here. He was +obsessed with Japan." + +"And with the Japanese?" + +"And with the Japanese." + +Atherton frowned at the glowing end of his cigar. + +"Nina and I ran down to see Craven Towers when we were on our wedding +trip in England last year," he said at length with seeming irrelevance. +"Your agent, Mr. Peters, ran us round." + +"Good old Peters," murmured Craven lazily. "The place would have gone to +the bow-wows long ago if it hadn't been for him. He adored my mother +and has the worst possible opinion of me. But he's a loyal old bird, he +probably endowed me with all the virtues for your benefit." + +But Atherton ignored the comment. He polished his eyeglass vigorously +and screwed it firmly into position. + +"If I was an Englishman with a place like Craven Towers that had been in +my family for generations," he said soberly, "I should go home and marry +a nice girl and settle down on my estate." + +"That's precisely Peters' opinion," replied Craven promptly with a +good-tempered laugh. "I get reams from him to that effect nearly every +mail--with detailed descriptions of all the eligible debutantes whom he +thinks suitable. I often wonder whether he runs the estate on the same +lines and keeps a matrimonial agency for the tenants." + +Atherton laughed with him but persisted. + +"If your own countrywomen don't appeal to you, take a run out to the +States and see what we can do for you." + +The laugh died out of Craven's eyes and he moved restlessly in his +chair. + +"It's no good, Jermyn. I'm not a marrying man," he said shortly. + +Atherton smiled grimly at the recollection of a similar remark +emphatically uttered by himself at their last meeting. + +For a time neither spoke. Each was conscious of a vague difference in +the other, developed during the years that had elapsed since their last +meeting--an intangible barrier checking the open confidence of earlier +days. + +It was growing late. The sampans had nearly all disappeared and only an +occasional launch skimmed across the harbour. + +A neighbouring yacht's band that had been silent for the last hour +began to play again--appropriately to the vicinity--Puccini's well-known +opera. The strains came subdued but clear across the water on the +scent-laden air. Craven sat forward in his chair, his heels on the +ground, his hands loosely clasped between his knees, whistling softly +the Consul's solo in the first act. From behind a cloud of cigar smoke +Atherton watched him keenly, and as he watched he was thinking rapidly. +He was used to making decisions quickly--he was accustomed to accepting +risks at which others shied, but the risk he was now contemplating meant +the taking of an unwarranted liberty that might be resented and might +result in the loss of a friendship that he valued. But he was going to +take the risk--as he had taken many another--he had known that from the +first. He screwed his eyeglass firmer into his eye, a characteristic +gesture well-known on the New York stock market. + +"Ever see _Madame Butterfly_? he asked abruptly. + +"Yes." + +Atherton blew another big cloud of smoke. + +"Damn fool, Pinkerton," he said gruffly, "Never could see the attraction +myself--dancing girls--almond eyes--and all that sort of thing." + +Craven made no answer but his whistling stopped suddenly and the +knuckles of his clasped hands whitened. Atherton looked away quickly and +his eyeglass fell with a little tinkle against a waistcoat button. There +was another long pause. Finally the music died away and the stillness +was broken only by the soft slap-slap of the water against the ship's +side. + +Atherton scowled at his immaculate deck shoes and then seized his +eyeglass again decisively. + +"Say, Barry, you saved my life in the Rockies that trip and I guess a +fellow whose life you've saved has a pull on you no one else has. Anyhow +I'll chance it, and if I'm a damned interfering meddler it's up to you +to say so and I'll apologise--handsomely. Are you in a hole?" + +Craven got up, walked away to the side of the yacht and leaning on the +rail stared down into the water. A solitary sampan was passing the +broad streak of moonlight and he watched it intently until it passed and +merged into the shadows beyond. + +"I've been the usual fool," he said at last quietly. + +"Oh, hell!" came softly from behind him. "Chuck it, Barry. Clear out +right now--with us. I'll put off sailing until tomorrow." + +"I--can't." + +Atherton rose and joined him, and for a moment his hand rested on the +younger man's shoulder. + +"I'm sorry--dashed sorry," he murmured. "Gee!" he added with a half shy, +half humorous glance, wiping his forehead frankly, "I'd rather face a +grizzly than do that again. Leslie keeps telling me that my habit of +butting in will land me in the family vault before my time." + +Craven smiled wryly. + +"It's all right. I'm grateful--really. But I must hoe my own row." + +The American swung irresolutely on his heels. + +"That's so, that's so," he agreed reluctantly. "Oh damn it all," he +burst out, "have a drink!" and going back to the table he pounded in the +stopper of a soda-water-bottle savagely. + +Craven laughed constrainedly as he tilted the whisky into a glass. + +"Universal panacea," he said a little bitterly, "but it's not my method +of oblivion." + +He put the peg tumbler down with a smothered sigh. + +"I must be off, Jermyn. It's time you were getting under way. It's been +like the old days to have had a yarn with you again. Good luck and a +quick run home--you lucky devil." + +Atherton walked with him to the head of the gangway and watched him into +the launch. + +"We shall count on you for the Adirondacks in the summer," he called out +cheerily, leaning far over the rail. + +Craven looked up with a smile and waved his hand, but did not answer and +the motor boat shot away toward the shore. + +He landed on the big pier and lingered for a moment to watch the launch +speeding back to the yacht. Then he walked slowly down the length of the +stage and at the entrance found his rickshaw waiting. The two men who +were squatting on the ground leaped up at his approach and one hurriedly +lit a great dragon-painted paper lantern while the other held out a +light dustcoat. Craven tossed it into the rickshaw and silently pointing +toward the north, climbed in. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. The +men sprang away in a quick dog-trot along the Bund, and then started +to climb the hillside at the back of the town. They wound slowly up the +narrow tortuous roads, past numberless villas, hung with lights, from +which voices floated out into the quiet air. + +The moon was brilliant and the night wonderfully light, but Craven paid +no attention to the beauty of the scene or to the gaily lit villas. +Atherton's invitation had been curiously hard to decline and even now +an almost overpowering desire came over him to bid his men retrace +their steps to the harbour. Then hard on the heels of that desire came +thoughts that softened the hard lines that had gathered about his mouth. +He pitched his cigarette away as if with it he threw from him an +actual temptation, and resolutely put out of his mind Atherton and the +suggestion of flight. + +Still climbing upward the rickshaw passed the last of the outlying +European villas and turned down a side road where there were no houses. +For a couple of miles the men raced along a level track cut on the side +of a hill that rose steeply on the one hand and on the other fell away +precipitously down to the sea until they halted with a sudden jerk +beside a wooden gateway with a creeper-covered roof on either side of +which two matsu trees stood like tall sentinels. + +Waiting by the open gate was a short, powerful looking Japanese dressed +in European clothes. He came forward as Craven alighted and gathering up +the coat and hat from the floor of the rickshaw, dismissed the Japanese +who vanished further along the road into the shadows. Then he turned +and waited for his master to precede him through the gateway, but Craven +signed to him to go on, and as the man disappeared up the garden path +he crossed the road and standing on the edge of the cliff looked down +across the harbour. The American yacht was the biggest craft of her kind +in the roads and easily discernible in the moonlight. The brilliant deck +illumination had been shut off and only a few lights showed. He gave a +quick sigh. Atherton's coming had been like a bar drawn suddenly across +the stream down which he was drifting. If Jermyn had only come last +year! The envy he had felt earlier in the evening increased. He thought +of the look he had seen in Atherton's eyes and the intonation of his +voice when the American spoke of the wife to whom he was returning. What +did love like that mean to a man? What factor in Atherton's strenuous +and adventurous life had affected him as this had done? What +were the ethics of a love that rose purely above physical +attraction--environment--temperament; a love that grew and strengthened +and absorbed until it ceased to be a part of life and became life +itself--the main issue, the fundamental essence? + +And as Craven watched he saw the yacht steam slowly down the bay. He +drew a deep breath. + +"You lucky, lucky devil," he whispered again and swung on his heel. He +paused for a moment just within the gateway where on the only level part +of the garden lay a miniature lake, hedged round with bamboo, clumps +of oleander, fed by a little twisting stream that came tumbling and +splashing down the hillside in a series of tiny waterfalls, its banks +fringed with azalea bushes and slender cherry trees. Then he walked +slowly along the path that led upward, winding to and fro through +clusters of pines and cedars and over mossy slopes to the little house +which stood in a clearing at the top of the garden surrounded by fir +trees and backed by a high creeper-clad palisade. + +From the wide verandah, built out on piles over the terrace, there was +an uninterrupted view of the harbour. He climbed the four wooden stairs +and on the top step turned and looked again down on to the bay. The +yacht was now invisible, but in his mind he followed her slipping down +toward the open sea. And Atherton--what were his thoughts while pacing +the broad deck or lying in his cabin listening to the screw whose every +revolution was taking him nearer the centre of his earthly happiness? +Were they anything like his own, he wondered, as he stood there +bareheaded in the moonlight, looking strangely big and incongruous on +the balcony of the little fairylike doll's house? + +He shrugged impatiently. The comparison was an insult, he thought +bitterly. Again he stared out to sea, straining his eyes; trying vainly +to pick up the yacht's lights far down the bay. It was very still, a +tiny breeze whispered in the pines and drifted across his face the sweet +perfume of a flowering shrub. A cicada chirped in the grass at his feet. + +Then behind him came a faint rustle of silk. He heard the soft sibilant +sound of a breath drawn quickly in. + +"Will my lord honourably be pleased to enter?" the voice was very low +and sweet and the English very slow and careful. + +Craven did not move. + +"Try again, O Hara San." + +A low bubble of girlish laughter rippled out. + +"Please to come in, Bar-ree." + +He turned slowly, looking bigger than ever by contrast with the slender +little Japanese girl who faced him. She was barely seventeen, dainty +and fragile as a porcelain figure, wholly in keeping with her exquisite +setting and yet the flush on her cheeks--free from the thick disfiguring +white paste used by the women of her country--and the vivid animation +of her face were oddly occidental, and the eyes raised so eagerly to +Craven's were as grey as his own. + +He held out his arms and she fluttered into them with a little +breathless murmur, clinging to him passionately. + +"Little O Hara San," he said gently as she pressed closer to him. He +tilted her head, stooping to kiss the tiny mouth that trembled at the +touch of his lips. She closed her eyes and he felt an almost convulsive +shudder shake her. + +"Have you missed me, O Hara San?" + +"It is a thousand moons since you are gone," she whispered unsteadily. + +"Are you glad to see me?" + +Her grey eyes opened suddenly with a look of utter content and +happiness. + +"You know, Bar-ree. Oh, Bar-ree!" + +His face clouded, the teasing word that rose to his lips died away +unspoken and he pressed her head against him almost roughly to hide the +look of trusting devotion that suddenly hurt him. For a few moments she +lay still, then slipped free of his arms and stood before him, swaying +slightly from side to side, her hands busily patting her hair into order +and smiling up at him happily. + +"Being very rude. Forgetting honourable hospitality. You please +forgive?" + +She backed a few steps toward the doorway and her pliant figure bent for +an instant in the prescribed form of Japanese courtesy and salutation. +Then she clasped both hands together with a little cry of dismay. +"Oh, so sorree," she murmured in contrition, "forgot honourable lord +forbidding that." + +"Your honourable lord will beat you with a very big stick if you forget +again," said Craven laughing as he followed her into the little room. +O Hara San pouted her scarlet lips at him and laughed softly as she +subsided on to a mat on the floor and clapped her hands. Craven sat down +opposite her more slowly. In spite of the months he had spent in Japan +he still found it difficult to adapt his long legs to the national +attitude. + +In answer to the summons an old armah brought tea and little rice cakes +which O Hara San dispensed with great dignity and seriousness. She drank +innumerable cupfuls while Craven took three or four to please her and +then lit a cigarette. He smoked in silence watching the dainty little +kneeling figure, following the quick movements of her hands as she +manipulated the fragile china on the low stool before her, the restraint +she imposed upon herself as she struggled with the excited happiness +that manifested itself in the rapid heaving of her bosom, and the +transient smile on her lips, and a heavy frown gathered on his face. She +looked up suddenly, the tiny cup poised in her hand midway to her mouth. + +"You happy in Tokio?" + +"Yes." + +It was not the answer for which she had hoped and her eyes dropped at +the curt monosyllable. She put the cup back on the tray and folded her +hands in her lap with a faint little sigh of disappointment, her head +drooping pensively. Craven knew instinctively that he had hurt her and +hated himself. It was like striking a child. But presently she looked +up again and gazed at him soberly, wrinkling her forehead in unconscious +imitation of his. + +"O Hara San very bad selfish girl. Hoping you very _un_happy in Tokio," +she said contritely. + +He laughed at the naive confession and the gloom vanished from his face +as he stood up, his long limbs cramped with the uncongenial attitude. + +"What have you been doing while I was away?" he asked, crossing the room +to look at a new kakemono on the wall. + +She flitted away silently and returned in a few moments carrying a small +panel. She put it into his hands, drawing near to him within the arm +he slipped round her and slanted her head against him, waiting for his +criticism with the innate patience of her race. + +Craven looked long at the painting. It was a study of a solitary fir +tree, growing at the edge of a cliff--wind-swept, rugged. The high +precipice on which it stood was only suggested and far below there was a +hint of boundless ocean--foam-crested. + +It was the tree that gripped attention--a lonely outpost, clinging +doggedly to its jutting headland, rearing its head proudly in its +isolation; the wind seemed to rustle through its branches, its gnarled +trunk showed rough and weather-beaten. It was a poem of loneliness and +strength. + +At last Craven laid it down carefully, and gathering up the slender +clasped hands, kissed them silently. The mute homage was more to her +than words. The colour rushed to her cheeks and her eyes devoured his +face almost hungrily. + +"You like it?" she whispered wistfully. + +"Like it?" he echoed, "Gad! little girl, it's wonderful. It's more than +a fir tree--it's power, tenacity, independence. I know that all your +work is symbolical to you. What does the tree mean--Japan?" + +She turned her head away, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her fingers +gripping his. + +"It means--more to me than Japan," she murmured. "More to me than +life--it means--you," she added almost inaudibly. + +He swept her up into his arms and carrying her out on to the verandah, +dropped into a big cane chair that was a concession to his western +limbs. + +"You make a god of me, O Hara San," he said huskily. + +"You are my god," she answered simply, and as he expostulated she laid +her soft palm over his mouth and nestled closer into his arms. + +"I talk now," she said quaintly. "I have much to tell." + +But the promised news did not seem forthcoming for she grew silent +again, lying quietly content, rubbing her head caressingly from time +to time against his arm and twisting his watch-chain round her tiny +fingers. + +The night was very quiet. No sound came from within the house, and +without only the soft wind murmuring in the trees, cicadas chirping +unceasingly and the little river dashing down the hillside, splashing +noisily, broke the stillness. Nature, the sleepless, was awake making +her influence felt with the kindly natural sounds that mitigate the awe +of absolute silence--sounds that harmonized with the peacefulness of the +little garden. Tonight the contrast between Yokohama, with its pitiful +western vulgarity obtruding at every turn, and the quiet beauty of +his surroundings struck Craven even more sharply than usual. It seemed +impossible that only two miles away was Theatre Street blazing and +rioting with all its tinsel tawdriness, flaring lights and whining +gramophones. Here was another world--and here he had found more +continuous contentment than he had known in the last ten years. The +garden was an old one, planned by a master hand. By day it was lovely, +but by night it took on a weird beauty that was almost unreal. The +light of the moon cast strong black shadows, deep and impenetrable, that +hovered among the trees like sinister spirits lurking in the darkness. + +The trees themselves, contorted in the moonlight, assumed strange +forms--vague shapes played in and out among them--the sombre bushes +seemed alive with peeping faces. It was the Garden of Enchantment, +peopled with a thousand djinns and demons of Old Japan. The atmosphere +was mysterious, the air was saturated with sweet heavy scents. + +Craven was a passionate lover of the night. The darkness, the silence, +the mystery of it appealed to him. He was familiar with its every phase +in many climates. It enticed him for long solitary rambles in all the +countries he had visited during the ten years of his wanderings. Nature, +always fascinating, was then to him doubly attractive, doubly alluring. +To the night he went for sympathy. To the night he went for inspiration. +It was during his midnight wanderings that he seemed to get nearer +the fundamental root of things. It was to the night he turned for +consolation in times of need. It was then that he exorcised the demon of +unrest that entered into him periodically. All his life the charm of the +night had called to him and all his life he had responded obediently. As +a tiny boy one of his earliest recollections was of slipping out of bed +and, evading nurses and servants, stealing out into the park at Craven +Towers to seek the healing of the night for some childish heartache. He +had crept down the long avenue and climbing the iron fence had perched +on the rail and watched the deer feeding by the light of the moon until +all the sorrow had been chased away and his baby heart was singing with +a kind of delirious happiness that he did not understand and that gave +way in its turn to a natural childish enjoyment of an adventure that +was palpably forbidden. He had slid down from the fence and retraced +his steps up the avenue until he came to the path that led to the rose +garden and eventually to the terrace near the house. He had trotted +along on his little bare feet, shivering now and then, but more from +excitement than from cold, until he had come to the long flight of stone +steps that led to the terrace. He had laboriously climbed them one foot +at a time, his toes curling at the contact with the chill stone, and at +the top he had halted suddenly, holding his breath. Close to him was +a tall indistinct figure wrapped in dark draperies. For a moment fear +gripped him and then an immense curiosity swamped every other feeling +and he moved forward cautiously. The tall figure had turned suddenly and +it was his mother's sad girlish face that looked down at him. She had +lifted him up into her arms, wrapping her warm cloak round his slightly +clad little body--she had asked no questions and she had not scolded. +She had seemed to understand, even though he gave no explanation, and +it was the beginning of a sympathy between them that had developed to an +unusual degree and lasted until her death, ten years ago. She had hugged +him tightly and he had always remembered, without fully understanding in +his childhood, the half incredulous, half regretful whisper in his ear, +"Has it come to you so soon, little son?" + +The hereditary instinct, born thus, had grown with his own growth from +boyhood to manhood until it was an integral part of himself. + +And the lure of the eastern nights--more marvellous and compelling even +than in colder climates--had become almost an obsession. + +Little O Hara San, firm believer in all devils, djinns and midnight +workers of mischief, had grown accustomed to the eccentricities of the +man who was her whole world. If it pleased him to spend long hours of +the night sitting on the verandah when ordinary folk were sensibly shut +up in their houses she did not care so long as she might be with him. No +demon in Japan could harm her while she lay securely in his strong arms. +And if unpleasant shadows crept uncomfortably near the little house she +resolutely turned her head and hiding her face against him shut out all +disagreeable sights and slept peacefully, confident in his ability +to keep far from her all danger. Her love was boundless and her trust +absolute. But tonight there was no thought of sleep. For three long +weeks she had not seen him and during that time for her the sun had +ceased to shine. She had counted each hour until his return and she +could not waste the precious moments now that he had really come. The +djinns and devils in the garden might present themselves in all their +hideousness if it so pleased them but tonight she was heedless of them. +She had eyes for nothing but the man she worshipped. Even in his silent +moods she was content. It was enough to feel his arms about her, to hear +his heart beating rhythmically beneath her head and, lying so, to look +up and see the firm curve of his chin and the slight moustache golden +brown against his tanned cheek. + +She stirred slightly in his arms with a little sigh of happiness, and +the faint movement woke him from his abstraction. + +"Sleepy?" he asked gently. + +She laughed gaily at the suggestion and sat up to show how wide awake +she was. The light from a lantern fell full on her face and Craven +studied it with an intensity of which he was hardly aware. She bore his +scrutiny in silence for a few moments and then looked away with a little +grimace. + +"Thinking me very ugly?" she hazarded tentatively. + +"No. Very pretty," he replied truthfully. She leaned forward and laid +her cheek for a second against his, then cuddled down into his arms +again with a happy laugh. He lit a cigarette and tossed the match over +the verandah rail. + +"What is your news, O Hara San?" + +She did not speak for a moment, and when she did it was no answer to his +question. She reached up her hands and drawing his head down toward her, +looked earnestly into his eyes. + +"You loving me?" she asked a little tremulously. + +"You know I love you," he answered quietly. + +"Very much?" + +"Very much." + +Her eyes flickered and her hands released their hold. + +"Men not loving like women," she murmured at length wistfully. And +then suddenly, with her face hidden against him, she told him--of the +fulfilling of all her hope, the supreme desire of eastern women, pouring +out her happiness in quick passionate sentences, her body shaking with +emotion, her fingers gripping his convulsively. + +Craven sat aghast. It was a possibility of which he had always been +aware but which with other unpleasant contingencies he had relegated +to the background of his mind. He had put it from him and had drifted, +careless and indifferent. And now the shadowy possibility had become a +definite reality and he was faced with a problem that horrified him. +His cigarette, neglected, burnt down until it reached his fingers and +he flung it away with a sharp exclamation. He did not speak and the girl +lay motionless, chilled with his silence, her happiness slowly dying +within her, vaguely conscious of a dim fear that terrified her. Was +the link that she had craved to bind them closer together to be useless +after all? Was this happiness that he had given her, the culminating +joy of all the goodness and kindness that he had lavished on her, no +happiness to him? The thought stabbed poignantly. She choked back a sob +and raised her head, but at the sight of his face the question she would +have asked froze on her lips. + +"Bar-ree! you are not angry with me?" she whispered desperately. + +"How could I be angry with you?" he replied evasively. She shivered and +clenched her teeth, but the question she feared must be asked. + +"Are you not glad?" it was a cry of entreaty. He did not speak and with +a low moan she tried to free herself from him but she was powerless +in his hold, and soon she ceased to struggle and lay still, sobbing +bitterly. He drew her closer into his arms and laid his cheek on her +dark hair, seeking for words of comfort, and finding none. She had read +the dismay in his face, had in vain waited for him to speak and no tardy +lie would convince her now. He had wounded her cruelly and he could make +no amends. He had failed her at the one moment when she had most need +of him. He cursed himself bitterly. Gradually her sobs subsided and her +hand slipped into his clutching it tightly. She sat up at last with +a little sigh, pushing the heavy hair off her forehead wearily, and +forcing herself to meet his eyes--looked at him sorrowfully, with +quivering lips. + +"Please forgive, Bar-ree," she whispered humbly and her humility hurt +him more even than her distress. + +"There is nothing to forgive, O Hara San," he said awkwardly, and as she +sought to go this time he did not keep her. She walked to the edge of +the verandah and stared down into the garden. Problematical ghosts and +demons paled to insignificance before this real trouble. She fought +with herself gallantly, crushing down her sorrow and disappointment and +striving to regain the control she had let slip. Her feminine code Was +simple--complete abnegation and self-restraint. And she had broken down +under the first trial! He would despise her, the daughter of a race +trained from childhood to conceal suffering and to suppress all signs of +emotion. He would never understand that it was the alien blood that ran +in her veins and the contact with himself that had caused her to abandon +the stoicism of her people, that had made her reveal her sorrow. He had +laughed at her undemonstrativeness, demanding expressions and proofs +of her affection that were wholly foreign to her upbringing until her +Oriental reserve had slipped from her whose only wish was to please him. +She had adopted his manners, she had made his ways her ways, forgetting +the bar that separated them. But tonight the racial difference of +temperament had risen up vividly between them. Her joy was not his +joy. If he had been a Japanese he would have understood. But he did not +understand and she must hide both joy and sorrow. It was his contentment +not hers that mattered. All through these last months of wonderful +happiness there had lurked deep down in her heart a fear that it would +not last, and she had dreaded lest any unwitting act of hers might +hasten the catastrophe. + +She glanced back furtively over her shoulder. Craven was leaning +forward in the cane chair with his head in his hands and she looked away +hastily, blinded with tears. She had troubled him--distressed him. +She had "made a scene"--the phrase, read in some English book, +flashed through her mind. Englishmen hated scenes. She gripped herself +resolutely and when he left his chair and joined her she smiled at him +bravely. + +"See, all the djinns are gone, Bar-ree," she said with a little nervous +laugh. + +He guessed the struggle she was making and chimed in with her mood. + +"Sensible fellows," he said lightly, tapping a cigarette on the verandah +rail. "Gone home to bed I expect. Time you went to bed too. I'll just +smoke this cigarette." But as she turned away obediently, he caught her +back, with a sudden exclamation: + +"By Jove! I nearly forgot." + +He took a tiny package from his pocket and gave it to her. Girlishly +eager her fingers shook with excitement as she ripped the covering from +a small gold case attached to a slender chain. She pressed the spring +and uttered a little cry of delight. The miniature of Craven had +been painted by a French artist visiting Yokohama and was a faithful +portrait. + +"Oh, Bar-ree," she gasped with shining eyes, lifting her face like +a child for his kiss. She leaned against him studying the painting +earnestly, appreciating the mastery of a fellow craftsman, ecstatically +happy--then she slipped the chain over her head and closing the case +tucked it away inside her kimono. + +"Now I have two," she murmured softly. + +"Two?" said Craven pausing as he lighted his cigarette. "What do you +mean?" + +"Wait, I show," she replied and vanished into the house. She was back +in a moment holding in her hand another locket. He took it from her +and moved closer under the lantern to look at it. It hung from a thick +twisted cable of gold, and set round with pearls it was bigger and +heavier than the dainty case O Hara San had hidden against her heart. +For a moment he hesitated, overcoming an inexplicable reluctance to open +it--then he snapped the spring sharply. + +"Good God!" he whispered slowly through dry lips. And yet he had known, +known intuitively before the lid flew back, for it was the second time +that he had handled such a locket--the first he had seen and left lying +on his dead mother's breast. + +He stood as if turned to stone, staring with horror at the replica of +his own face lying in the hollow of his hand. The thick dark hair, the +golden brown moustache, the deep grey eyes--all were the same. Only the +chin in the picture was different for it was hidden by a short pointed +beard; so was it in the miniature that was buried with his mother, +so was it in the big portrait that hung in the dining-room at Craven +Towers. + +"Who gave you this?" he asked thickly, and O Hara San stared at him in +bewilderment, frightened at the strangeness of his voice. + +"My mother," she said wonderingly. "He was Bar-ree, too. See," she added +pointing with a slender forefinger to the name engraved inside the case. + +A nightbird shrieked weirdly close to the house and a sudden gust of +wind moaned through the pine trees. The sweat stood out on Craven's +forehead in great drops and the cigarette, fallen from his hand, lay +smouldering on the matting at his feet. + +He pulled the girl to him and turning her face up stared down into +the great grey eyes, piteous now with unknown fear, and cursed his +blindness. Often the unrecognised likeness had puzzled him. He dropped +the miniature and ground it savagely to powder with his heel, heedless +of O Hara San's sharp cry of distress, and turned to the railing +gripping it with shaking hands. + +"Damn him, damn him!" + +Why had instinct never warned him? Why had he, knowing the girl's mixed +parentage and knowing his own family history, made no inquiries? A wave +of sick loathing swept over him. His head reeled. He turned to O Hara +San crouched sobbing on the matting over the little heap of crushed gold +and pearls. Was there still a loop-hole? + +"What was he to you?" he said hoarsely, and he did not recognise his own +voice. + +She looked up fearfully, then shrank back with a cry--hiding her eyes to +shut out the distorted face that bent over her. + +"He was my father," she whispered almost inaudibly. But it sounded to +Craven as if she had shouted it from the housetop. Without a word he +turned from her and stumbled toward the verandah steps. He must get +away, he must be alone--alone with the night to wrestle with this +ghastly tangle. + +O Hara San sprang to her feet in terror. She did not understand what had +happened. Her mother had rarely spoken of the man who had first betrayed +and then deserted her--she had loved him too faithfully; with the girl's +limited experience all western faces seemed curiously alike and the +similarity of an uncommon name conveyed nothing to her for she did not +realize that it was uncommon. She could not comprehend this terrible +change in the man who had never been anything but gentle with her. She +only knew that he was going, that something inexplicable was taking him +from her. A wild scream burst from her lips and she sprang across the +verandah, clinging to him frantically, her upturned face beseeching, +striving to hold him. + +"Bar-ree, Bar-ree! you must not go. I die without you. Bar-ree! my +love--" Her voice broke in a frightened whisper as he caught her head in +his hands and stared down at her with eyes that terrified her. + +"Your--love?" he repeated with a strange ring in his voice, and then he +laughed--a terrible laugh that echoed horribly in the silent night and +seemed to snap some tension in his brain. He tore away her hands and +fled down the steps into the garden. He ran blindly, instinctively +turning to the hillside track that led further into the country, +climbing steadily upward, seeking the solitary woods. He did not hear +the girl's shriek of despair, did not see her fall unconscious on the +matting, he did not see a lithe figure that bounded from the back of the +house nor hear the feet that tracked him. He heard and saw nothing. His +brain was dulled. His only impulse was that of the wounded animal--to +hide himself alone with nature and the night. He plunged on up the +hillside climbing fiercely, tirelessly, wading mountain streams and +forcing his way through thick brushwood. He had taken, off his coat +earlier in the evening and his silk shirt was ripped to ribbons. His +hair lay wet against his forehead and his cheek dripped blood where a +splintered bamboo had torn it, but he did not feel it. He came at last +to a tiny clearing in the forest where the moon shone through a break in +the trees. There he halted, rocking unsteadily on his feet, passing his +hand across his face to clear the blood and perspiration from his eyes, +and then dropped like a log. The next moment the bushes parted and his +Japanese servant crept noiselessly to his side. He bent down over him +for an instant. Craven lay motionless with his face hidden in his arms, +but as the Jap watched a shudder shook him from head to foot and the man +backed cautiously, disappearing among the bushes as silently as he had +come. + +The breeze died away and it was quite still within the moonlit clearing. +A broad shaft of cold white light fell directly on the prone figure. +He was morally stunned and for a long time the agony of his mind was +blunted. But gradually the first shock passed and full realization +rushed over him. His hands dug convulsively into the soft earth and he +writhed at his helplessness. What he had done was irremediable. It was +a sudden thunderbolt that had flashed across his clear sky. This morning +the sun had shone as usual and everything had seemed serene to him whose +life had always been easy--tonight he was wrestling in a hell of his +own making. Why had it come to him? He knew that his life had been +comparatively blameless. Why should this one sin, so common throughout +the world, recoil on him so terribly? Why should he, among all the +thousands of men who had sinned similarly, be reserved for such a +nemesis? Why of him alone should such a reckoning be demanded? Surely +the fault was not his. Surely it lay with the man who had wrecked his +mother's life and broken her heart, the man who had neglected his duties +and repudiated his responsibilities and who had been faithful to neither +wife nor mistress. He was to blame. At the thought of his father an +access of rage passed over Craven and he cursed him in a kind of dull +fury. His fingers gripped the ground as if they were about the throat of +the man whom he hated with all the strength of his being. The mystery +of his father had always lain like a shadow across his life. It was a +subject that his mother had refused to discuss. He shivered now when he +realized the agony his perpetual boyish questions must have caused her. +His petulance because "other fellows' fathers" could be produced when +necessary and were not shrouded away in unexplained obscurity. He +remembered her unfailing patience with him, the consistent loyalty she +had shown toward the husband who had failed her so utterly, the courage +with which she had taken the absent father's place with the son whom +she idolized. He understood now her intolerant hatred of Japan and +the Japanese, an intolerance for which--in his ignorance--he had often +teased her. One memory came to him with striking vividness--a winter +evening, in the dawn of his early manhood, when they had been sitting +after dinner in the library at Craven Towers--his mother lying on the +sofa that had been rolled up before the fire, and himself sprawled on +the hearthrug at her feet. Already tall and strong beyond his years and +confident in the full flush of his adolescence he had launched into a +glowing anticipation of the life that lay before him. He had noticed +that his mother's answers were monosyllabic and vague, and then when he +had broken off, hurt at her seeming lack of interest, she had suddenly +spoken--telling him what she had all the evening nerved herself to say. +Her voice had faltered once or twice but she had steadied it bravely +and gone on to the end, shirking nothing, evading nothing, dealing +faithfully with the whole sex problem as far as she was able--outraging +her own reserve that her son might learn the pitfalls and temptations +that would assuredly lie in wait for him, sacrificing her own modesty +that he might remain chaste. He remembered the vivid flush that had +risen to his face and the growing sense of hot discomfort with which he +had listened to her low voice; his half grateful, half shocked feeling. +But it was not until he had glanced furtively at her through his thick +lashes and seen her shamed scarlet cheeks and quivering downcast eyes +that he had realized what it cost her and the courage that had made it +possible for her to speak. He had mumbled incoherently, his face hidden +against her knee, and with innate chivalry had kissed the little white +hand he held between his own great brown ones--"Keep clean, Barry," +she had whispered tremulously, her hand on his ruffled hair--"only keep +clean." + +And later on in the same evening she had spoken to him of the woman who +would one day inevitably enter his life. "Be gentle to her, Barry-boy, +you are such a great strong fellow, and women, even the strongest women, +are weak compared with men. We are poor creatures, the best of us, we +_bruise_ so easily," she had said with a laugh that was more than half +a sob. And for his mother's sake he had vowed to be gentle to all women +who might cross his path. And how had he kept his vow? Tonight his +egoism had swallowed his oath and he had fled like a coward to be alone +with his misery. A great sob rose in his throat. Craven by name and +craven by nature he thought bitterly and he cursed again the father +who had bequeathed him such an inheritance, but as he did so he stopped +suddenly for a soft clear voice sounded close to his ear. "No man need +be fettered for life by an inherited weakness. Every man who is worthy +of the name can rise above hereditary deficiencies." He lay tense and +his heart gave a great throb and then he remembered. The voice was +inward--it was only another memory, an echo of the young mother who had +died, ten years before. Overwhelming shame filled him. "Mother, Mother!" +he whispered chokingly, and deep tearing sobs shook his broad shoulders. +The moon had passed beyond the break in the trees and it was dark now in +the little clearing and to the man who lay stripped of all his illusions +the blackness was merciful. He saw himself as he was clearly--his +selfishness, his arrogance, his pride, and a nausea of self-hatred +filled him. The eagerness with which he had sought to lay on his father +the blame of his own sin now seemed to him despicable. He would always +hate the memory of the man whose neglect had killed his mother, but the +responsibility for this horror rested on himself. He had made his own +hell and the burden of it lay with him only. That he had never known +the manner of his father's life in Japan and that during the time he had +himself been living in Yokohama he had cared to make no inquiries was no +excuse. He alone was to blame. + +The air seemed suddenly stifling, his head throbbed and he panted +breathlessly. Then as suddenly the sensation passed and he rolled over +on his back with a deep sigh, his limbs relaxed, too weary to move. For +a long time he lay until the first pale streaks of early dawn showed +above the tree tops, then he sat up with a shiver and looked around +curiously at the silent trees and bamboo clumps that had witnessed his +agony. His head ached intolerably, his mouth was parched and the cut +in his cheek was stiff and sore. He staggered to his feet and stood +a moment holding his head in his hands and the thought of O Hara +San persisted urgently. He shivered again as the image of the girl's +distraught face and pleading eyes rose before him--in a few hours he +would have to go to her and the thought of the interview sickened him. +But he could not go now, his appearance would terrify her, she might be +asleep and he could not wake her if nature had mercifully obliterated +her sorrow for a few hours. In his mad flight he had lost all sense of +distance and locality, but as the dawn grew stronger he recognised his +surroundings and started to tramp to his own bungalow at the top of the +Bluff. He stumbled through the woods, hurrying wearily to reach home +before the full light. It was still dusk when he arrived and crossing +the verandah went into his bedroom and flung himself, dressed as he was, +on to the bed. And the stealthy footsteps that had tracked him through +the night followed softly and stopped outside the open doorway. The Jap +stood for a few moments listening intently. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Craven woke abruptly a few hours later with a spasmodic muscular +contraction that jerked him into a sitting position. Half dazed as yet +with sleep he swung his heels to the floor and sat on the edge of the +bed looking stupidly at his dusty boots and earth-stained fingers. Then +remembrance came and he clenched his hands with a stifled groan. He +drank thirstily the tea that was on a table beside him and went to the +open window. As he crossed the room the reflection of his blood-stained +haggard face, seen in a mirror, startled him. A bath and clean clothes +were indispensable before he went back to the lonely little house on the +hillside. He lingered for a few minutes by the window, glad of the +cool morning breeze blowing against his face, trying to pull himself +together, trying to brace himself to meet the consequences of his +folly, trying to drag his disordered thoughts into something approaching +coherence. He stared down over the bay and the sunlit waters mocked him +with their dancing ripples sliding lightheartedly one after the other +toward the shore. The view that he looked upon had been until this +morning a never-failing source of pleasure, now it moved him to nothing +but the recollection of the hackneyed line in the old hymn--"where only +man is vile," and he was vile--with all power of compensation taken from +him. To some was given the chance of making reparation. For him there +was no chance. He could do nothing to mitigate the injury he had done. +She whom he had wronged must suffer for him and he was powerless to +avert that suffering. His helplessness overwhelmed him. O Hara San, +little O Hara San, who had given unstintingly, with eager generous +hands. His face was set as he turned from the window and, starting +to pull off his torn shirt, called for Yoshio. But no Yoshio was +forthcoming and at his second impatient shout another Japanese servant +bowed himself in, and, kowtowing, intimated that Yoshio had already gone +on the honourable lord's errand and would there await him, and that +in the meantime his honourable bath was prepared and his honourable +breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. + +Craven paused with his shirt half off. + +"What errand?" he said, perplexed, unaware that he was asking the +question audibly. + +The man bowed again, with hands outspread, and gravely shook his head +conveying his total ignorance of a matter that was beyond his province, +but the pantomime was lost on Craven who was wrestling with his shirt +and not even aware that he had spoken aloud. It was the first time in +ten years' service that Yoshio had failed to answer a call and Craven +wondered irritably what could have taken him away at that time in the +morning, and concluded that it was some order given by himself the day +before, now forgotten, so dismissing Yoshio and his affairs from his +mind he signed to the still gently explaining servant to go. + +His brain felt dull and tired, his thoughts were chaotic. He saw before +him no clear course. Whichever way he looked at it the horrible +tangle grew more horrible. There was a recurring sense of unreality, a +visionary feeling of detachment which enabled him to view the situation +from an impersonal standpoint, as one criticises a nightmare, confident +in the knowledge that it is only a dream. But in this case the +confidence was based on nothing tangible and the illusion faded as +quickly as it rose and left him confronted with the brutal truth from +which there was no escape. + +In the dressing room everything that he needed had been laid out in +readiness for him, and he dressed mechanically with a feverish haste +that struggled ineffectually with a refractory collar stud, and caused +him to execrate heartily the absent valet and his enigmatical errand. +Another ten minutes was lost while he hunted for his watch and cigarette +case which he suddenly remembered were in the coat that he had left +at the little house. Or had he searched genuinely? Had he not rather +been--perhaps unconsciously--procrastinating, shrinking from the task he +had in hand, putting off the evil moment? He swung on his heel violently +and passed out on to the verandah. But at the head of the steps a +vigilant figure rose up, bowing obsequiously, announcing blandly that +breakfast was waiting. + +Craven frowned at him a moment until the meaning of the words filtered +through to his tired brain, then he pushed him aside roughly. + +"Oh, damn breakfast!" he cried savagely, and cramming his sun helmet +on his head ran down the garden path to the waiting rickshaw. It never +occurred to him to wonder how it came to be there at an unusual hour. +He huddled in the back of the rickshaw, his helmet over his eyes. His +nerves were raw, his mind running in uncontrollable riot. The way +had never seemed so long. He looked up impatiently. The rickshaw was +crawling. The slow progress and the forced inaction galled him and +a dozen times he was on the point of calling to the men to stop and +jumping out, but he forced himself to sit quietly, watching the play +of their abnormally developed muscles showing plainly through the thin +cotton garments that clung to their sweat-drenched bodies, while they +toiled up the steep roads. And today the sight of the men's straining +limbs and heaving chests moved him more than usual. He used a rickshaw +of necessity, and had never overcome his distaste for them. + +Emerging from a grove of pines they neared the little gateway and as the +men flung themselves backward with a deep grunt at the physical exertion +of stopping, Craven leaped out and dashed up the path, panic-driven. He +took the verandah steps in two strides and then stopped abruptly, his +face whitening under the deep tan. + +Yoshio stood in the doorway of the outer room, his arms outstretched, +barring the entrance. His face had gone the grey leaden hue of the +frightened Oriental and his eyes held a curious look of pity. His +attitude put the crowning touch to Craven's anxiety. He went a step +forward. + +"Stand aside," he said hoarsely. + +But Yoshio did not move. + +"Master not going in," he said softly. + +Craven jerked his head. + +"Stand aside," he repeated monotonously. + +For a moment longer the Jap stood obstinately, then his eyes fell under +Craven's stare and he moved reluctantly, with a gesture of mingled +acquiescence and regret. Craven passed through into the room. It was +empty. He stood a moment hesitating--indefinite anxiety giving place to +definite fear. + +"O Hara San," he whispered, and the whisper seemed to echo mockingly +from the empty room. He listened with straining ears for her answer, +for her footstep--and he heard nothing but the heavy beating of his own +heart. Then a moan came from the inner room and he followed the sound +swiftly. The room was darkened and for a moment he halted in the +doorway, seeing nothing in the half light. The moaning grew louder and +as he became accustomed to the darkness he saw the old armah crouching +beside a pile of cushions. + +In a second he was beside her and at his coming she scrambled to her +feet with a sharp cry, staring at him wildly, then fled from the room. + +He stood alone looking down on the cushions. His heart seemed to stop +beating and for a moment he reeled, then he gripped himself and knelt +down slowly. + +"O Hara San--" he whispered again, with shaking lips, "little O Hara +San--little--" the whisper died away in a terrible gasping sob. + +She lay as if asleep--one arm stretched out along her side, the other +lying across her breast with her small hand clenched and tucked under +her chin, her head bent slightly and nestled naturally into the +cushion. The attitude was habitual. A hundred times Craven had seen her +so--asleep. It was impossible that she could be dead. + +He spoke to her again--crying aloud in agony--but the heavily fringed +eyelids did not open, no glad cry of welcome broke from the parted lips, +the little rounded bosom that had always heaved tumultuously at his +coming was still under the silken kimono. He bent over her with ashen +face and laid his hand gently on her breast, but the icy coldness struck +into his own heart and his touch seemed a profanation. He drew back with +a terrible shudder. + +How dared he touch her? Murderer! For it was murder. His work as surely +as if he had himself driven a knife into that girlish breast or squeezed +the breath from that slender throat. He was under no delusion. He +understood the Japanese character too well and he knew O Hara San too +thoroughly to deceive himself. He knew the passionate love that she had +given him, a love that had often troubled him with its intensity. He had +been her god, her everything. She had worshipped him blindly. And he +had left her--left her alone with the memory of his strangeness and his +harshness, alone with her heart breaking, alone with her fear. And she +had been so curiously alone. She had had nobody but him. She had trusted +him--and he had left her. She had trusted him. Oh, God, she had trusted +him! + +His quick imagination visualised what must have happened. Frantic with +despair and desperate at the seeming fulfilment of her fears she had not +stopped to reason nor waited for calmer reflection but with the curious +Oriental blending of impetuosity and stolid deliberation she had killed +herself, seeking release from her misery with the aid of the subtle +poison known to every Japanese woman. He flung his arm across the little +still body and his head fell on the cushion beside hers as his soul went +down into the depths. + + * * * * * + +An hour of unspeakable bitterness passed before he regained his lost +control. + +Then he forced himself to look at her again. The poison had been swift +and merciful. There was no distortion of the little oval face, no +discoloration on the fair skin. She was as beautiful as she had always +been. And with death the likeness had become intensified until it seemed +to him that he must have been blind beyond belief to have failed to +detect it earlier. + +He looked for the last time through a blur of tears. It seemed horrible +to leave her to the ministrations of others, he longed to gather up the +slender body in his arms and with his own hands lay her in the loveliest +corner of the garden she had loved so much. He tried to stammer a +prayer but the words stuck in his throat. No intercession from him was +possible, nor did she need it. She had passed into the realm of Infinite +Understanding. + +He rose to his feet slowly and lingered for a moment looking his last +round the little room that was so familiar. Here were a few of her most +treasured possessions, some that had come to her from her mother, some +that he had given her. He knew them all so well, had handled them so +often. A spasm crossed his face. It had been the home of the enchanted +princess, shut off from all the world--until he had come. And his coming +had brought desolation. Near him a valuable vase, that she had prized, +lay smashed on the floor, overturned by the old armah in the first +frenzy of her grief. It was symbolical and Craven turned from it with +quivering lips and went out heavily. + +He winced at the strong light and shaded his eyes for a moment with his +hand. + +Yoshio was waiting where he had left him. Craven walked to the edge of +the verandah and stood for a few moments in silence, steadying himself. + +"Where were you last night, Yoshio?" he asked at length, in a flat and +tired voice. + +The Jap shrugged. + +"In town," he said, with American brevity learned in California. + +"Why did you come here this morning?" + +Yoshio raised eyes of childlike surprise. + +"Master's watch. Came here to find it," he said nonchalantly, with an +air that expressed pride at his own astuteness. But it did not impress +Craven. He looked at him keenly, knowing that he was lying but not +understanding the motive and too tired to try and understand. He felt +giddy and his head was aching violently--for a moment everything seemed +to swim before his eyes and he caught blindly at the verandah rail. But +the sensation passed quickly and he pulled himself together, to find +Yoshio beside him thrusting his helmet into his hands. + +"Better Master going back to bungalow. I make all arrangements, +understanding Japanese ways," he said calmly. + +His words, matter-of-fact, almost brutal, brought Craven abruptly to +actualities. There was necessity for immediate action. This was the +East, where the grim finalities must unavoidably be hastened. But he +resented the man's suggestion. To go back to the bungalow seemed a +shirking of the responsibility that was his, the last insult he could +offer her. But Yoshio argued vehemently, blunt to a degree, and Craven +winced once or twice at the irrefutable reasons he put forward. It was +true that he could do no real good by staying. It was true that he was +of no use in the present emergency, that his absence would make things +easier. But that it was the truth made it no less hard to hear. He gave +in at last and agreed to all Yoshio's proposals--a curious compound of +devotion to his master, shrewd commonsense and knowledge of the laws +of the country. He went quickly down the winding path to the gate. The +garden hurt him. The careless splashing of the tiny waterfall jarred +poignantly--laughing water caring nothing that the hand that had planted +much of the beauty of its banks was stilled for ever. It had always +seemed a living being tumbling joyously down the hillside, it seemed +alive now--callous, self-absorbed. + +Craven had no clear impression of the run back into Yokohama and he +looked up with surprise when the men stopped. He stood outside the gate +for a moment looking over the harbour. He stared at the place in the +roadstead where the American yacht had been anchored. Only last night +had he laughed and chatted with the Athertons? It was a lifetime ago! +In one night his youth had gone from him. In one night he had piled up a +debt that was beyond payment. He gave a quick glance up at the brilliant +sky and then went into the house. In the sitting-room he started slowly +to pace the floor, his hands clasped behind him, an unlit cigarette +clenched between his teeth. The mechanical action steadied him and +enabled him to concentrate his thoughts. Monotonously he tramped up and +down the long narrow room, unconscious of time, until at last he dropped +on to a chair beside the writing table and laid his head down on his +arms with a weary sigh. The little still body seemed present with him. O +Hara San's face continually before him--piteous as he had seen it last, +joyous as she had greeted him and thoughtful as when he had first seen +it. + +That first time--the memory of it rose vividly before him. He had been +in Yokohama about a month and was settled in his bungalow. He had gone +to the woods to sketch and had found her huddled at the foot of a steep +rock from which she had slipped. Her ankle was twisted and she could not +move. He had offered his assistance and she had gazed at him, without +speaking, for a few moments, with serious grey eyes that looked oddly +out of place in her little oval face. Then she had answered him in slow +carefully pronounced English. He had laughingly insisted on carrying +her home and had just gathered her up into his arms when the old armah +arrived, voluble with excitement and alarm for her charge. But the girl +had explained to her in rapid Japanese and the woman had hurried on to +the house to prepare for them, leaving Craven to follow more slowly +with his light burden. He had stayed only a few minutes, drinking the +ceremonial tea that was offered so shyly. + +The next day he had convinced himself that it was only polite for him +to enquire about the injured foot. Then he had gone again, hoping to +relieve the tedium of her forced inactivity, until the going had become +a habit. The acquaintance had ripened quickly. From the first she had +trusted him, quickly losing her awe of him and accepting his coming with +the simplicity of a child. She had early confided to him the story of +her short life--of her solitude and friendlessness; of the mother who +had died five years before, bequeathing to her the little house which +had been the last gift of the Englishman who had been O Hara San's +father and who had tired of her mother and left her two years after +her own birth; of the poverty against which they had struggled--for the +Englishman had left no provision for them; of the faithful old servant, +who had been her mother's nurse; of O Hara San's discovery of her own +artistic talent which had enabled her to provide for the simple wants +of the little household. She had grown up alone--apart from the world, +watched over by the old woman, her mind a tangle of fairy-tales and +romance--living for her art, content with her solitude. And into her +secluded life had come Barry Craven and swept her off her feet. Child of +nature that she was she had been unable to hide from him the love that +quickly overwhelmed her. And to Craven the incident of O Hara San had +come merely as a relief to the monotony of lotus-eating, he had drifted +into the connection from sheer ennui. And then had come interest. No +woman had ever before interested him. He had never been able to define +the attraction she had had for him, the odd tenderness he had felt for +her. He had treated her as a plaything, a fragile toy to be teased and +petted. And in his hands she had developed from an innocent child into a +woman--with a woman's capacity for devotion and self-sacrifice. She +had given everything, with trust and gladness. And he had taken all +she gave, with colossal egoism, as his right--accepting lightly all +she surrendered with no thought for the innocence he contaminated, the +purity he soiled. He had stained her soul before he had killed her +body. His hands clenched and unclenched convulsively with the agony of +remorse. Recollection was torture. Repentance came too late. _Too late! +Too late!_ he words kept singing in his head as if a demon from hell was +howling them in his ear. Nothing on earth could undo what he had done. +No power could animate that little dead body. And if she had lived! He +shuddered. But she had not lived, she had died--because of him. Because +of him, Merciful God, because of him! And he could make no restitution. +What was there left for him to do? A life of expiation was not atonement +enough. There seemed only one solution--a life for a life. And that was +no reparation, only justice. He put no value on his own life--he wished +vaguely that the worth of it were greater--he had merely wasted it and +now he had forfeited it. Remained only to end it--now. There was no +reason for delay. He had no preparations to make. His affairs were all +in order. His heir was his aunt, his father's only sister, who would be +a better guardian of the Craven estates and interests than he had ever +been. Peters was independent and Yoshio provided for. There was nothing +to be done. He rose and opening a drawer in the table took out +a revolver and held it a moment in his hand, looking at it +dispassionately. It was not the ultimate purpose for which it had been +intended. He had never imagined a time when he might end his own life. +He had always vaguely connected suicide with cowardice. Was it the +coward's way? Perhaps! Who can say what cowardice or courage is required +to take the blind leap into the Great Unknown? That did not trouble him. +It was no question of courage or cowardice but he felt convinced that +his death was the only payment possible. + +But as his finger pressed the trigger there was a slight sound beside +him, his wrist and arm were caught in a vice-like grip and the weapon +exploded harmlessly in the air as he staggered back, his arm almost +broken with the jiu-jitsu hold against which even his great strength +could do nothing. He struggled fruitlessly until he was released, +then reeled against the table, with teeth set, clasping his wrenched +wrist--the sudden frustration of his purpose leaving him, shaking. He +turned stiffly. Yoshio was standing by him, phlegmatic as usual, showing +no signs of exertion or emotion as he proffered a lacquer tray, with the +usual formula: "Master's mail." + +Craven's eyes changed slowly from dull suffering to blazing wrath. +Uncontrolled rage filled him. How dared Yoshio interfere? How dared +he drag him back into the hell from which he had so nearly escaped? He +caught the man's shoulder savagely. + +"Damn you!" he cried chokingly. "What the devil do you mean--" But +the Jap's very impassiveness checked him and with an immense effort he +regained command of himself. And imperturbably Yoshio advanced the tray +again. + +"Master's mail," he repeated, in precisely the same voice as before, but +this time he raised his veiled glance to Craven's face. For a moment +the two men stared at each other, the grey eyes tortured and drawn, the +brown ones lit for an instant with deep devotion. Then Craven took the +letters mechanically and dropped heavily into a chair. The Jap picked up +the revolver and, quietly replacing it in the drawer from which it had +been taken, left the room, noiseless as he had entered it. He seemed to +know intuitively that it would be left where he put it. + +Alone, Craven leaned forward with a groan, burying his face in his +hands. + +At last he sat up wearily and his eyes fell on the letters lying +unopened on the table beside him. He fingered them listlessly and then +threw them down again while he searched his pockets absently for the +missing cigarette case. Remembering, he jerked himself to his feet with +an exclamation of pain. Was all life henceforward to be a series of +torturing recollections? He swore, and flung his head up angrily. +Coward! whining already like a kicked cur! + +He got a cigarette from a near table and picking up the letters carried +them out on to the verandah to read. There were two, both registered. +The handwriting on one envelope was familiar and his eyes widened as he +looked at it. He opened it first. It was written from Florence and dated +three months earlier. With no formal beginning it straggled up and down +the sides of various sheets of cheap foreign paper, the inferior violet +ink almost indecipherable in places. + +"I wonder in what part of the globe this letter will find you? I have +been trying to write to you for a long time--and always putting it +off--but they tell me now that if I am to write at all there must be no +more _maana_. They have cried 'wolf' so often in the last few months +that I had grown sceptical, but even I realise now that there must be +no delay. I have delayed because I have procrastinated all my life and +because I am ashamed--ashamed for the first time in all my shameless +career. But there is no need to tell you what I am--you told me candidly +enough yourself in the old days--it is sufficient to say that it is the +same John Locke as then--drunkard and gambler, spendthrift and waster! +And I don't think that my worst enemy would have much to add to this +record, but then my worst enemy has always been myself. Looking back now +over my life--queer what a stimulating effect the certainty of death has +to the desire to find even one good action wherewith to appease one's +conscience--it is a marvel to me that Providence has allowed me to +cumber the earth so long. However, it's all over now--they give me a +few days at the outside--so I must write at once or never. Barry, I'm in +trouble, the bitterest trouble I have ever experienced--not for myself, +God knows I wouldn't ask even your help, but for another who is dearer +to me than all the world and for whose future I can do nothing. You +never knew that I married. I committed that indiscretion in Rome with +a little Spanish dancer who ought to have known better than to be +attracted by my _beaux yeux_--for I had nothing else to offer her. We +existed in misery for a couple of years and then she left me, for a more +gilded position. But I had the child, which was all I cared about. Thank +God, for her sake, that I was legally married to poor little Lola, +she has at least no stain on her birth with which to reproach me. The +officious individual who is personally conducting me to the Valley of +the Shadow warns me that I must be brief--I kept the child with me as +long as I could, people were wonderfully kind, but it was no life for +her. I've come down in the social scale even since you knew me, Barry, +and at last I sent her away, though it broke my heart. Still even +that was better than seeing her day by day lose all respect for me. My +miserable pittance dies with me and she is absolutely unprovided for. My +family cast off me and all my works many years ago, but I put my pride +in my pocket and appealed for help for Gillian and they suggested--a +damned charitable institution! I was pretty nearly desperate until I +thought of you. I know no one else. For God's sake, Barry, don't fail +me. I can and I do trust Gillian to you. I have made you her guardian, +it is all legally arranged and my lawyer in London has the papers. He is +a well-known man and emanates respectability--my last claim to decency! +Gillian is at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Paris. My only +consolation is that you are so rich that financially she will be no +embarrassment to you. I realize what I am asking and the enormity of it, +but I am a dying man and my excuse is--Gillian. Oh, man, be good to my +little girl. I always hoped that something would turn up, but it didn't! +Perhaps I never went to look for it, _quien sabe?_ I shall never have +the chance again...." + +The signature was barely recognisable, the final letter terminating in a +wandering line as if the pen had dropped from nerveless fingers. + +Craven stared at the loose sheets in his hands for some time in +horrified dismay, at first hardly comprehending, then as the full +significance of John Locke's dying bequest dawned on him he flung them +down and, walking to the edge of the verandah, looked over the harbour, +tugging his moustache and scowling in utter perplexity. A child--a girl +child! How could he with his soiled hands assume the guardianship of +a child? He smiled bitterly at the irony of it. Providence was dealing +hard with the child in the Paris convent, from dissolute father +to criminal guardian. And yet Providence had already that morning +intervened on her behalf--two minutes later and there would have been +no guardian to take the trust. Providence clearly held the same views as +John Locke on charitable institutions. + +He thought of Locke as he had known him years ago, in Paris, a +man twenty years his senior--penniless and intemperate but with an +irresistible charm, rolling stone and waster but proud as a Spaniard; +a man of the world with the heart of a boy, the enemy of nobody but +himself, weak but lovable; a ragged coat and the manners of a prince; +idealist and failure. + +Craven read the letter through again. Locke had forced his hand--he had +no option but to take up the charge entrusted to him. What a legacy! +Surely if John Locke had known he would have rather committed his +daughter to the tender mercies even of the "institution." But he had not +known and he had trusted him. The thought was a sudden spur, urging +him as nothing else could have done, bringing out all that was best and +strongest in his nature. In a few hours he had crashed from the pinnacle +on which he had soared in the blindness of egoism down into depths of +self-realisation that seemed bottomless, and at the darkest moment when +his world was lying in pieces under his feet--this had come. Another +chance had been given to him. Craven's jaw set squarely as he thrust +Locke's dying appeal into his pocket. + +He ripped open the second letter. It was, as he guessed, from the lawyer +and merely confirmed Locke's letter, with the additional information +that his client had died a few hours after writing the said letter and +that he had forwarded the news to the Mother Superior of the Convent +School in Paris. + +Craven went back into the sitting-room to write cables. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Owing to a breakdown on the line the boat-train from Marseilles crawled +into the Gare du Lyon a couple of hours late. Craven had not slept. He +had given his berth in the waggon-lit to an invalid fellow passenger and +had sat up all night in an overcrowded, overheated carriage, choked with +the stifling atmosphere, his long legs cramped for lack of space. + +It was early March, and the difference between the temperature of the +train and the raw air of the station struck him unpleasantly as he +climbed down on to the platform. + +Leaving Yoshio, equally at home in Paris as in Yokohama, to collect +luggage, he signalled to a waiting taxi. He had the hood opened and, +pushing back his hat, let the keen wind blow about his face. The +cab jerked over the rough streets, at this early hour crowded with +people--working Paris going to its daily toil--and he watched them +hurrying by with the indifference of familiarity. Gradually he ceased +even to look at the varied types, the jostling traffic, the bizarre +posters and the busy newspaper kiosks. His thoughts were back +in Yokohama. It had been six weeks before he could get away, six +interminable weeks of misery and self-loathing. He had shirked nothing +and evaded nothing. Much had been saved him by the discreet courtesy +of the Japanese officials, but the ordeal had left him with jangling +nerves. Fortunately the ship was nearly empty and the solitude he +sought obtainable. He felt an outcast. To have joined as he had always +previously done in the light-hearted routine of a crowded ship bent on +amusements and gaiety would have been impossible. + +He sought mental relief in action and hours spent tramping the lonely +decks brought, if not relief, endurance. + +And, always in the background, Yoshio, capable and devoted, stood +between him and the petty annoyances that inevitably occur in +travelling--annoyances that in his overwrought state would have been +doubly annoying--with a thoughtfulness that was silently expressed in a +dozen different devices for his comfort. That the Jap knew a great deal +more than he himself did of the tragedy that had happened in the +little house on the hill Craven felt sure, but no information had been +volunteered and he had asked for none. He could not speak of it. And +Yoshio, the inscrutable, would continue to be silent. The perpetual +reminder of all that he could wish to forget Yoshio became, illogically, +more than ever indispensable to him. At first, in his stunned condition, +he had scarcely been sensible of the man's tact and care, but gradually +he had come to realize how much he owed to his Japanese servant. And yet +that was the least of his obligation. There was a greater--the matter of +a life; whatever it might mean to Craven, to Yoshio the simple payment +of a debt contracted years ago in California. That more than this had +underlain the Japanese mind when it made its quick decision Craven could +not determine; the code of the Oriental is not that of the Occidental, +the demands of honour are interpreted and satisfied differently. Life +in itself is nothing to the Japanese, the disposal of it merely the +exigency of a moment and withal a personal prerogative. By all the +accepted canons of his own national ideals Yoshio should have stood on +one side--but he had chosen to interfere. Whatever the motive, Yoshio +had paid his debt in full. + +The weeks at sea braced Craven as nothing else could have done. As the +ship neared France the perplexities of the charge he was preparing to +undertake increased. His utter unfitness filled him with dismay. On +receipt of John Locke's amazing letter he had both cabled and written to +his aunt in London explaining his dilemma, giving suitable extracts from +Locke's appeal, and imploring her help. And yet the thought of his aunt +in connection with the upbringing of a child brought a smile to his +lips. She was about as unsuited, in her own way, as he. Caro Craven was +a bachelor lady of fifty--spinster was a term wholly inapplicable to the +strong-minded little woman who had been an art student in Paris in the +days when insular hands were lifted in horror at the mere idea, and was +a designation, moreover, deprecated strongly by herself as an insult to +one who stood--at least in her own sphere--on an equality with the lords +of creation. She was a sculptor, whose work was known on both sides of +the channel. When at home she lived in a big house in London, but she +travelled much, accompanied by an elderly maid who had been with her +for thirty years. And it was of the maid as much as of the mistress that +Craven thought as the taxi bumped over the cobbled streets. + +"If we can only interest Mary." There was a gleam of hope in the +thought. "She will be the saving of the situation. She spoiled me +thoroughly when I was a nipper." And buoyed with the recollection +of grim-visaged angular Mary, who hid a very tender heart beneath a +somewhat forbidding exterior, he overpaid the chauffeur cheerfully. + +There was an accumulation of letters waiting for him at the hotel, but +he shuffled them all into his overcoat pocket, with the exception of one +from Peters which he tore open and read immediately, still standing in +the lounge. + +An hour later he set out on foot for the quiet hotel which had been his +aunt's resort since her student days, and where she was waiting for +him now, according to a telegram that he had received on his arrival at +Marseilles. The hall door of her private suite was opened by the elderly +maid, whose face lit up as she greeted him. + +"Miss Craven is waiting in the salon, sir. She has been tramping the +floor this hour or more, expecting you," she confided as she preceded +him down the corridor. + +Miss Craven was standing in a characteristic attitude before an open +fireplace, her feet planted firmly on the hearthrug, her short plump +figure clothed in a grey coat and skirt of severe masculine cut, her +hands plunged deep into her jacket pockets, her short curly grey hair +considerably ruffled. She bore down on her nephew with out-stretched +hands. + +"My dear boy, there you are at last! I have been waiting _hours_ for +you. Your train must have been very late--abominable railway service! +Have you had any breakfast? Yes? Good. Then take a cigarette--they are +in that box at your elbow--and tell me about this amazing thunderbolt +that you have hurled at me. What a preposterous proposition for two +bachelors like you and me! To be sure your extraordinary friend did not +include me in his wild scheme--though no doubt he would have, had he +known of my existence. Was the man mad? Who was he, anyhow? John Locke +of where? There are dozens of Lockes. And why did he select you of all +people? What fools men are!" She subsided suddenly into an easy chair +and crossed one neat pump over the other. "All of 'em!" she added +emphatically, flicking cigarette ash into the fire with a vigorous +sidelong jerk. Her eyes were studying his face attentively, seeking for +themselves the answer to the more personal inquiries that would have +seemed necessary to a less original woman meeting a much-loved nephew +after a lapse of years. Craven smiled at the characteristically peculiar +greeting and the well remembered formula. He settled his long limbs +comfortably into an opposite chair. + +"Even Peter?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. + +Miss Craven laughed good temperedly. + +"Peter," she rejoined succinctly, "is the one brilliant exception that +proves the rule. I have an immense respect for Peter." He looked at her +curiously. "And--me, Aunt Caro?" he asked with an odd note in his voice. +Miss Craven glanced for a moment at the big figure sprawled in the chair +near her, then looked back at the fire with pursed lips and wrinkled +forehead, and rumpled her hair more thoroughly than before. + +"My dear boy," she said at last soberly, "you resemble my unhappy +brother altogether too much for my peace of mind." + +He winced. Her words probed the still raw wound. But unaware of the +appositeness of her remark Miss Craven continued thoughtfully, still +staring into the fire: + +"The Supreme Sculptor, when He made me, denied me the good looks that +are proverbial in our family--but in compensation he endowed me with a +solid mind to match my solid body. The Family means a great deal to me, +Barry--more than anybody has ever realised--and there are times when I +wonder why the solidity of mind was given to the one member of the race +who could not perpetuate it in the direct line." She sighed, and then as +if ashamed of unwonted emotion, jerked her dishevelled grey head with a +movement that was singularly reminiscent of her nephew. Craven flushed. + +"You're the best man of the family, Aunt Caro." + +"So your mother used to say--poor child." Her voice softened suddenly. +She got up restlessly and resumed her former position before the fire, +her hands back in the pockets of her mannish coat. + +"What about your plans, Barry? What are you going to do?" she said +briskly, with an evident desire to avoid further moralising. He joined +her on the hearthrug, leaning against the mantelpiece. + +"I propose to settle down--at any rate for a time, at the Towers," he +replied. "I intend to interest myself in the estates. Peter insists +that I am wanted, and though that is nonsense and he is infinitely more +necessary than I am, still I am willing to make the trial. I owe him +more than I can even repay--we all do--and if my presence is really any +help to him--he's welcome to it. I shall be about as much real use as +the fifth wheel of a coach--a damned rotten wheel at that," he added +bitterly. And for some minutes he seemed to forget that there was more +to say, staring silently into the fire and from time to time putting +together the blazing logs with his foot. + +Miss Craven was possessed of the unfeminine attribute of holding her +tongue and reserving her comments. She refrained from comment now, +rocking gently backward and forward on her heels--a habit associated +with mental concentration. + +"I shall take the child to the Towers," he continued at length, +"and there I shall want your help, Aunt Caro." He paused stammering +awkwardly--"It's an infernal impertinence asking you to--to--" + +"To turn nursemaid at my time of life," she interrupted. "It is +certainly a career I never anticipated. And, candidly, I have doubts +about its success," she laughed and shrugged, with a comical grimace. +Then she patted his arm affectionately--"You had much better take +Peter's advice and marry a nice girl who would mother the child and give +her some brothers and sisters to play with." + +He stiffened perceptibly. + +"I shall never marry," he said shortly. Her eyebrows rose the fraction +of an inch but she bit back the answer that rose to her lips. + +"Never--is a long day," she said lightly. "The Cravens are an old +family, Barry. One has one's obligations." + +He did not reply and she changed the conversation hastily. She had a +horror of forcing a confidence. + +"Remains--Mary," she said, with the air of proposing a final expedient. +Craven's tense face relaxed. + +"Mary had also occurred to me," he admitted with an eagerness that was +almost pathetic. + +Miss Craven grunted and clutched at her hair. + +"Mary!" she repeated with a chuckle, "Mary, who has gone through life +with Wesley's sermons under her arm--and a child out of a Paris convent! +There are certainly elements of humour in the idea. But I must have some +details. Who was this Locke person?" + +When Craven had told her all he knew she stood quite still for a long +while, rolling a cigarette tube between her firm hands. + +"Dissolute English father--and Spanish mother of doubtful morals. My +poor Barry, your hands will be full." + +"Our hands," he corrected. + +"Our hands! Good heavens, the bare idea terrifies me!" She shrugged +tragically and was dumb until Mary came to announce lunch. + +Across the table she studied her nephew with an attention that she was +careful to conceal. She was used to his frequent coming and going. +Since the death of his mother he had travelled continually and she was +accustomed to his appearing more or less unexpectedly, at longer or +shorter intervals. They had always been great friends, and it was to +her house in London that he invariably went first on returning to +England--sure of his welcome, sure of himself, gay, easy-going and +debonair. She was deeply attached to him. But, with something akin to +terror, she had watched the likeness to the older Barry Craven growing +from year to year, fearful lest the moral downfall of the father might +repeat itself in the son. The temptation to speak frankly, to warn, +had been great. Natural dislike of interference, and a promise given +reluctantly to her dying sister-in-law, had kept her silent. She had +loved the tall beautiful woman who had been her brother's wife and a +promise made to her was sacred--though she had often doubted the wisdom +of a silence that might prove an incalculable danger. She respected the +fine loyalty that demanded such a promise, but her own views were more +comprehensive. She was strong enough to hold opinions that were contrary +to accepted traditions. She admitted a loyalty due to the dead, she was +also acutely conscious of a loyalty due to the living. A few minutes +before when Miss Craven had, somewhat shamefacedly, owned to a love +of the family to which they belonged she had but faintly expressed her +passionate attachment thereto. Pride of race was hers to an unusual +degree. All that was best and noblest she craved for the clan. And Barry +was the last of the Cravens. Her brother had failed her and dragged her +high ideals in the dust. Her courage had restored them to endeavour +a second time. If Barry failed her too! Hitherto her fears had had +no definite basis. There had been no real ground for anxiety, only a +developing similarity of characteristics that was vaguely disquieting. +But now, as she looked at him, she realised that the man from whom she +had parted nearly two years before was not the man who now faced her +across the table. Something had happened--something that had changed him +utterly. This man was older by far more than the actual two years. This +was a man whom she hardly recognised; hard, stern, with a curiously +bitter ring at times in his voice, and the shadow of a tragedy lying +in the dark grey eyes that had changed so incredibly for lack of their +habitual ready smile. There were lines about his mouth and a glint +of grey in his hair that she was quick to observe. Whatever had +happened--he had suffered. That was written plainly on his face. And +unless he chose to speak she was powerless to help him. She refused +to intrude, unbidden, into another's private concerns. That he was +an adored nephew, that the intimacy between them was great made no +difference, the restriction remained the same. But she was woman enough +to be fiercely jealous for him. She resented the change she saw--it +was not the change she had desired but something far beyond her +understanding that left her with the feeling that she was confronting a +total stranger. But she was careful to hide her scrutiny, and though her +mind speculated widely she continued to chatter, supplementing the home +news her scanty letters had afforded and retailing art gossip of the +moment. One question only she allowed herself. There had come a silence. +She broke it abruptly, leaning forward in her chair, watching him +keen-eyed. + +"Have you been ill--out there?"--her hand fluttered vaguely in an +easterly direction. Craven looked up in surprise. + +"No," he said shortly, "I never am ill." + +Miss Craven's nod as she rose from the table might have been taken for +assent. It was in reality satisfaction at her own perspicacity. She had +not supposed for one moment that he had been ill but in no other way +could she express what she wanted to know. It was in itself an innocuous +and natural remark, but the sudden gloom that fell on him warned her +that her ingenuity was, perhaps, not so great as she imagined. + +"Triple idiot!" she reflected wrathfully, as she poured out coffee, "you +had better have held your tongue," and she set herself to charm away the +shadow from his face and dispel any suspicion he might have formed of +her desire to probe into his affairs. She had an uncommon personality +and could talk cleverly and well when she chose. And today she did +choose, exerting all her wit to combat the taciturn fit that emphasized +so forcibly the change in him. But though he listened with apparent +attention his mind was very obviously elsewhere, and he sat staring into +the fire, mechanically flicking ash from his cigarette. Conversation +languished and at length Miss Craven gave it up, with a wry face, and +sat also silent, drumming with her fingers on the arm of the chair. Her +thoughts, in quest of his, wandered far away until the sudden ringing of +the telephone beside her made her jump violently. + +She answered the call, then handed the receiver to Craven. + +"Your heathen," she remarked dryly. + +Though the least insular of women she had never grown accustomed to +the Japanese valet. He turned from the telephone with a look of mingled +embarrassment and relief. + +"I sent a message to the convent this morning. Yoshio has just given +me the answer. The Mother Superior will see me this afternoon." He +endeavoured to make his voice indifferent, pulling down his waistcoat +and picking a minute thread from off his coat sleeve. Miss Craven's +mouth twitched at the evident signs of nervousness while she glanced at +him narrowly. Prompt action in the matter of an uncongenial duty had not +hitherto been a conspicuous trait in his character. + +"You are certainly not letting the grass grow under your feet." + +He jerked his head impatiently. + +"Waiting will not make the job more pleasant," he shrugged. "I will see +the child at once and arrange for her removal as soon as possible." + +Miss Craven eyed him from head to foot with a grim smile that changed to +a whole-hearted laugh of amusement. + +"It's a pity you have so much money, Barry, you would make your fortune +as a model. You are too criminally good looking to go fluttering into +convents." + +A ghost of the old smile flickered in his eyes. + +"Come and chaperon me, Aunt Caro." + +She shook her head laughingly. + +"Thank you--no. There are limits. I draw the line at convents. Go and +get it over, and if the child is presentable you can bring her back to +tea. I gather that Mary is anticipating a complete failure on our part +to sustain the situation and is prepared to deputise. She has already +ransacked _Au Paradis Des Enfants_ for suitable bribes wherewith to +beguile her infantile affection. I understand that there was a lively +scene over the purchase of a doll, the cost of which--clad only in its +birthday dress--was reported to me as 'a fair affront.' Even after all +these years Mary jibs at Continental prices. It is her way of keeping +up the prestige of the British Empire, bless her. An overcharge, in her +opinion, is a deliberate twist of the lion's tail." + +In the taxi he looked through the correspondence he had received that +morning for the lawyer's letter that would establish his claim to John +Locke's child. Then he leaned back and lit a cigarette. He had an absurd +feeling of nervousness and cursed Locke a dozen times before he reached +the convent. He was embarrassed with the awkward situation in which he +found himself--just how awkward he seemed only now fully to appreciate. +The more he thought of it, the less he liked it. The coming interview +with the Mother Superior was not the least of his troubles. The promise +of the morning had not been maintained, overhead the sky was leaden, and +a high wind drove rain in sharp splashes against the glass of the cab. +The pavements were running with water and the leafless trees in the +avenues swayed and creaked dismally. The appearance of the streets was +chill and depressing. Craven shivered. He thought of the warmth and +sunshine that he had left in Japan. The dreariness of the present +outlook contrasted sufficiently with the gay smiling landscape, the +riotous wealth of colour, and the scent-laden air of the land of his +recollections. A feeling almost of nostalgia came to him. But with +the thought came also a vision--a little still body lying on silken +cushions; a small pale face with fast shut eyes, the long lashes a dusky +fringe against the ice-cold cheek. The vision was terribly distinct, +horribly real--not a recollection only, as on the morning that he had +found her dead--and he waited, with the sweat pouring down his face, for +the closed eyes to open and reveal the agony he had read in them that +night, when he had torn her clinging hands away and left her. The faint +aroma of the perfume she had used was in his nostrils, choking him. The +slender limbs seemed to pulsate into life, the little breasts to stir +perceptibly, the parted lips to tremble. He could not define the actual +moment of the change but, as he bent forward, with hands close gripped, +all at once he found himself looking straight into the tortured grey +eyes--for a second only. Then the vision faded, and he was leaning back +in the cab wiping the moisture from his forehead. God, would it never +leave him! It haunted him. In the big bungalow on the Bluff; rising from +the sea as he leaned on the steamer rail; during the long nights on +the ship as he lay sleepless in the narrow brass cot; last night in the +crowded railway carriage--then it had been so vivid that he had held +his breath and glanced around stealthily with hunted eyes at his fellow +passengers looking for the horrified faces that would tell him that they +also saw what he could see. He never knew how long it lasted, minutes +or seconds, holding him rigid until it passed to leave him bathed in +perspiration. Environment seemed to make no difference. It came as +readily in a crowd as when he was alone. He lived in perpetual dread of +betraying his obsession. Once only it had happened--in the bungalow, +the night before he left Japan, and his involuntary cry had brought the +watchful valet. And as he crossed the room Craven had distinctly seen +him pass through the little recumbent figure and, with blazing eyes, had +dragged him roughly to one side, pointing and muttering incoherently. +And Yoshio had seemed to understand. Sceptical as he was about the +supernatural, at first Craven's doubt had been rudely shaken; but with +the steadying of his nerves had come the conviction that the vision +was inward, though at the moment so real that often his confidence +momentarily wavered, as last night in the train. It came with no kind of +regularity, no warning that might prepare him. And recurrence brought +no mitigation, no familiarising that could temper the acute horror it +inspired. To what pitch of actuality might it attain? To what lengths +might it drive him? He dragged his thoughts up sharply. To dwell on it +was fatal, that way lay insanity. He set his teeth and forced himself to +think of other things. There was ample material. There was primarily the +salvage of a wasted life. During the last few weeks he had been forced +to a self-examination that had been drastically thorough. The verdict +had been an adverse one. Personal criticism, once aroused, went far. The +purposeless life that he had led seemed now an insult to his manhood. It +had been in his power to do so much--he had actually done disastrously +little. He had loafed through life without a thought beyond the passing +interest of the moment. And even in the greater interests of his life, +travel and big game, he had failed to exert himself beyond a mediocre +level. He had travelled far and shot a rare beast or two, but so had +many another--and with greater difficulties to contend with than he +who had never wrestled with the disadvantages of inferior equipment and +inadequate attendance. Muscularly and constitutionally stronger than +the average, physically he could have done anything. And he had done +nothing--nothing that others had not done as well or even better. It was +sufficiently humiliating. And the outcome of his reflections had been +a keen desire for work, hard absorbing work, with the hope that bodily +fatigue might in some measure afford mental alleviation. It did not even +need finding. With a certain shame he admitted the fact. It had +waited for him any time these last ten years in his own home. The +responsibility of great possessions was his. And he had shirked. He had +evaded the duty he owed to a trust he had inherited. It was a new view +of his position that recent thought had awakened. It was still not too +late. He would go back like the prodigal--not to eat the fatted calf, +but to sit at the feet of Peters and learn from him the secret of +successful estate management. + +For thirty years Peter Peters had ruled the Craven properties, and they +were all his life. For the last ten years he had never ceased urging +his employer to assume the reins of government himself. His entreaties, +protestations and threats of resignation had been unheeded. Craven felt +sure that he would never relinquish his post, he had grown into the soil +and was as firmly fixed as the Towers itself. He was an institution in +the county, a personality on the bench. He ruled his own domains with +a kindly but absolute autocracy which succeeded perfectly on the Craven +estates and was the envy of other agents, who had not his ability to do +likewise. Well born, original and fearless he was popular in castle and +in cottage, and his advice was respected by all. He neither sought nor +abused a confidence, and in consequence was the depository of most of +the secrets of the countryside. To his sympathetic ears came both +grave offences and minor indiscretions, as to a kindly safety-valve who +advised and helped--and was subsequently silent. His exoneration was +considered final. "I confessed to Peter" became a recognised formula, +instituted by a giddy young Marchioness at the north end of the county, +whose cousin he was. And there, invariably, the matter ended. And for +Craven it was the one bright spot in the darkness before him. Life was +going to be hell--but there would always be Peter. + +At the Convent gates the taxi skidded badly at the suddenly applied +brakes, and then backed jerkily into position. Craven felt an +overwhelming inclination to take to his heels. The portress who admitted +him had evidently received orders, for she silently conducted him to a +waiting room and left him alone. It was sparsely furnished but had on +the walls some fine old rosewood panelling. The narrow heavily leaded +windows overlooked a paved quadrangle, glistening with moisture. For a +few moments the rain had ceased but drops still pattered sharply on +to the flagstones from the branches of two large chestnut trees. The +outlook was melancholy and he turned from the window, shivering. But the +chill austere room was hardly more inspiring. The atmosphere was strange +to him. It was a world apart from anything that had ever touched him. He +marvelled suddenly at the countless lives living out their allotted span +in the confined area of these and similar walls. Surely all could not +submit willingly to such a crushing captivity? Some must agonize and +spend their strength unavailingly, like birds beating their wings +against the bars of a cage for freedom. To the man who had roamed +through all the continents of the world this forced inactivity seemed +appalling--stultifying. The hampering of personal freedom, the forcing +of independent minds into one narrow prescribed channel that admitted +of no individual expansion, the waste of material and the fettering of +intellects, that were heaven-sent gifts to be put out to usury and not +shrouded away in a napkin, revolted him. The conventual system was to +him a survival of medievalism, a relic of the dark ages; the last refuge +of the shirkers of the world. The communities themselves, if he had +thought of them at all, had been regarded as a whole. He had never +troubled to consider them as composed of single individuals. Today he +thought of them as separate human beings and his intolerance increased. +An indefinite distaste never seriously considered seemed, during the +few moments in the bare waiting room, to have grown suddenly into active +dislike. He was wholly out of sympathy with his surroundings, impatient +of the necessity that brought him into contact with what he would have +chosen to avoid. He looked about with eyes grown hard and contemptuous. +The very building seemed to be the embodiment of retrogression and blind +superstition. He was filled with antagonism. His face was grim and his +figure drawn up stiffly to its full height when the door opened to +admit the Mother Superior. For a moment she hesitated, a faint look of +surprise coming into her face. And no antagonism, however intolerant, +could have braved her gentle dignity. "It is--_Monsieur_ Craven?" she +asked, a perceptible interrogation in her soft voice. + +She took the letters he gave her and read them carefully--pausing once +or twice as if searching for the correct translation of a word--then +handed them back to him in silence. She looked at him again, frankly, +with no attempt to disguise her scrutiny, and the perplexity in her eyes +grew greater. One small white hand slid to the crucifix hanging on her +breast, as if seeking aid from the familiar symbol, and Craven saw that +her fingers were trembling. A faint flush rose in her face. + +"_Monsieur_ is perhaps married, or--happily--he has a mother?" she asked +at last, and the flush deepened as she looked up at the big man standing +before her. She made a little gesture of embarrassment but her eyes +did not waver. They would not, he thought with sudden intuition. For he +realised that it was one of his own order who confronted him. It was not +what he had anticipated. The Mother Superior's low voice continuing in +gentle explanation broke into his thoughts. + +"_Monsieur_ will forgive that I catechise him thus but I had expected +one--much older." Her distress was obvious. And Craven divined that as a +prospective guardian he fell short of expectation. And yet, his lack of +years was apparently to her the only drawback. His lack of years--Good +God, and he felt so old! His youth was a disadvantage that counted for +nothing in the present instance. If she could know the truth, if the +anxious gaze that was fixed so intently on him could look into his heart +with understanding, he knew that she would shrink from him as from a +vile contamination. + +He conceived the horror dawning in her eyes, the loathing in her +attitude, and seemed to hear her passionate protest against his claim to +the child who had been sheltered in the safety of the community that he +had despised. The safety of the community--that had not before occurred +to him. For the first time he considered it a refuge to those who there +sought sanctuary and who were safeguarded from such as--he. He winced, +but did not spare himself. The sin had been only his. The child who had +died for love of him had been as innocent of sin as the birds who loved +and mated among the pine trees in her Garden of Enchantment. She had had +no will but his. Arrogantly he had taken her and she had submitted--was +he not her lord? Before his shadow fell across her path no blameless +soul within these old convent walls had been more pure and stainless +than the soul of O Hara San. It was the sins of such as he that drove +women to this shelter that offered refuge and consolation, to escape +from such as he they voluntarily immured themselves; surrendering the +purpose of their being, seeking in bodily denial the salvation of their +souls. + +The room had grown very dark. A sudden glare of light made Craven +realise that a question asked was still unanswered. He had not, in his +abstraction, been aware of any movement. Now he saw the Mother Superior +walking leisurely back from the electric switch by the door, and guessed +from her placid face that the interval had been momentary and had passed +unnoticed. Some answer was required now. He pulled himself together. + +"I am not married," his voice was strained, "and I have no mother. But +my aunt--Miss Craven--the sculptor--" he paused enquiringly and she +smiled reassurance. + +"Miss Craven's beautiful work is known to me," she said with ready tact +that put him more at ease. + +"My aunt has, most kindly, promised to--to co-operate," he finished +lamely. + +The anxiety faded from the Mother Superior's face and she sat down with +an air of relief, motioning Craven to a chair. But with a curt bow he +remained standing. He had no wish to prolong the interview beyond what +courtesy and business demanded. He listened with a variety of feelings +while the Nun spoke. Her earnestness he could not fail to perceive, but +it required a decided effort to concentrate, and follow her soft well +modulated voice. + +She spoke slowly, with feeling that broke at times the tone she strove +to make dispassionate. + +"I am glad for Gillian's sake that at last, after all these years, there +has come one who will be concerned with her future. She has no vocation +for the conventual life and--I was beginning to become anxious. For +ourselves, we shall miss her more than it is possible to say. She had +been with us so long, she has become very dear to us. I have dreaded +that her father would one day claim her. She has been spared that +contamination--God forgive me that I should speak so." For a moment she +was silent, her eyes bent on her hands lying loosely clasped in her lap. + +"Gillian is not altogether friendless," she resumed, "she will go to +you with a little more knowledge of the world than can be gained within +these old walls." She glanced round the panelled room with half-sad +affection. "She is popular and has spent vacations in the homes of some +of her fellow pupils. She has a very decided personality, and a facility +for attracting affection. She is sensitive and proud--passionate even at +times. She can be led but not driven. I tell you all this, _Monsieur_, +not censoriously but that it may help you in dealing with a character +that is extraordinarily complex, with a nature that both demands and +repels affection, that longs for and yet scorns sympathy." She looked +at Craven anxiously. His complete attention was claimed at last. A new +conception of his unknown ward was forcing itself upon him, so that +any humour there might have been in the situation died suddenly and the +difficulties of the undertaking soared. The Mother Superior smothered +a sigh. His attitude was baffling, his expression inscrutable. Had her +words touched him, had she said what was best for the welfare of the +girl who was so dear to her, and whose departure she felt so keenly? How +would she fare at this man's hands? What lay behind his stern face and +sombre tragic eyes? Her lips moved in silent prayer, but when she spoke +her voice was serene as before. + +"There is yet another thing that I must speak of. Gillian has an unusual +gift." A sentence in Locke's letter flashed into Craven's mind. + +"She doesn't _dance_?" he asked, in some dismay. + +"Dance, _Monsieur_--in a convent?" Then she pitied his hot confusion and +smiled faintly. + +"Is dancing so unusual--in the world? No, Gillian sketches--portraits. +Her talent is real. She does not merely draw a faithful likeness, her +studies are revelations of soul. I do not think she knows herself how +her effects are obtained, they grow almost unconsciously, but they +result always in the same strange delineation of character. It was so +impossible to ignore this exceptional gift that we procured for her +the best teacher in Paris, and continued her lessons even after--" She +stopped abruptly and Craven finished the broken sentence. + +"Even after the fees ceased," he said dryly. "For how many years has my +ward lived on your charity, Reverend Mother?" + +She raised a protesting hand. + +"Ah--charity. It is hardly the word--" she fenced. + +He took out a cheque book. + +"How much is owing, for everything?" he said bluntly. + +She sought for a book in a bureau standing against the rosewood +panelling and, scanning it, gave a sum with evident reluctance. + +"Gillian has never been told, but it is ten years since _Monsieur_ Locke +paid anything." There was diffidence in her voice. "In an institution +of this kind we are compelled to be businesslike. It is rare that we can +afford to make an exception, though the temptation is often great. +The head and the heart--_voyez, vous, Monsieur_--they pull in contrary +directions." And she slipped the book back into a pigeon-hole as if the +touch of it was distasteful. She glanced perfunctorily at the cheque he +handed to her, then closer, and the colour rose again to her sensitive +face. + +"But _Monsieur_ has written treble the amount," she murmured. + +"Will you accept the balance," he said hurriedly, "in the name of my +ward, for any purpose that you may think fit? There is one stipulation +only--I do not wish her to know that there has been any monetary +transaction between us." His voice was almost curt, and the Nun +found herself unable to question a condition which, though manifestly +generous, she deemed quixotic. She could only bend to his decision with +mingled thankfulness and apprehension. Despite the problem of the girl's +future she had it in her heart to wish that this singular claimant had +never presented himself. His liberality was obvious but--. She locked +the slip of paper away in the bureau with a feeling of vague uneasiness. +But for good or ill the matter was out of her hands. She had said all +that she could say. The rest lay with God. + +"I do accept it," she said, "with all gratitude. It will enable us to +carry out a scheme that has long been our hope. Your generosity will +more than pave the way. I will send Gillian to you now." + +She left him, more embarrassed than he had been at first, more than ever +dreading the task before him. He waited with a nervous impatience that +irritated himself. + +Turning to the window he looked out into the dusk. The old trees in +the courtyard were almost indistinguishable. The rain dripped again +steadily, splashing the creeper that framed the casement. A few lights +showing dimly in the windows on the opposite side of the quadrangle +served only to intensify the gloom. The time dragged. Fretfully he +drummed with his fingers on the leaded panes, his ears alert for any +sound beyond the closed door. The echo of a distant organ stole into the +room and the soft solemn notes harmonised with the melancholy pattering +of the raindrops and the gusts of wind that moaned fitfully around the +house. + +In a sudden revulsion of feeling the life he had mapped out for himself +seemed horrible beyond thought. He could not bear it. It would be tying +his hands and burdening himself with a responsibility that would curtail +his freedom and hamper him beyond endurance. A great restlessness, a +longing to escape from the irksome tie, came to him. Solitude and open +spaces; unpeopled nature; wild desert wastes--he craved for them. +The want was like a physical ache. The desert--he drew his breath +in sharply--the hot shifting sand whispering under foot, the fierce +noontide sun blazing out of a brilliant sky, the charm of it! The +fascination of its false smiling surface, its treacherous beauty luring +to hidden perils called to him imperatively. The curse of Ishmael that +was his heritage was driving him as it had driven him many times +before. He was in the grip of one of the revolts against restraint and +civilisation that periodically attacked him. The wander-hunger was in +his blood--for generations it had sent numberless ancestors into the +lonely places of the world, and against it ties of home were powerless. +In early days to the romantic glamour of the newly discovered Americas, +later to the silence of the frozen seas and to the mysterious depth +of unexplored lands the Cravens had paid a heavy toll. A Craven had +penetrated into the tangled gloom of the Amazon forests, and had never +returned. In the previous century two Cravens had succumbed to the +fascination of the North West Passage, another had vanished in Central +Asia. Barry's grandfather had perished in a dust storm in the Sahara. +And it was to the North African desert that his own thoughts turned +most longingly. Japan had satisfied him for a time--but only for a +time. Western civilisation had there obtruded too glaringly, and he had +admitted frankly to himself that it was not Japan but O Hara San that +kept him in Yokohama. The dark courtyard and the faintly lighted windows +faded. He saw instead a tiny well-remembered oasis in Southern Algeria, +heard the ceaseless chatter of Arabs, the shrill squeal of a stallion, +the peevish grunt of a camel, and, rising above all other sounds, the +whine of the tackling above the well. And the smell--the cloying smell +that goes with camel caravans, it was pungent! He flung up his head +inhaling deeply, then realised that the scent that filled the room was +not the acrid smell of the desert but the penetrating odour of incense +filtering in through the opened door. It shut and he turned reluctantly. + +He saw at first only a pair of great brown eyes, staring almost +defiantly, set in a small pale face, that looked paler by contrast with +the frame of dark brown hair. Then his gaze travelled slowly over the +slender black-clad figure silhouetted against the polished panels. His +fear was substantiated. Not a child who could be relegated to nurses and +governesses, but a girl in the dawn of womanhood. Passionately he cursed +John Locke. + +He felt a fool, idiotically tongue-tied. He had been prepared to adopt +a suitably paternal attitude towards the small child he had expected. A +paternal attitude in connection with this self-possessed young woman was +impossible, in fact ludicrous. For the moment he seemed unable to cope +with the situation. It was the girl who spoke first. She came forward +slowly, across the long narrow room. + +"I am Gillian Locke, _Monsieur_." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +On the cushioned window seat in her bedroom at Craven Towers Gillian +Locke sat with her arms wrapped round her knees waiting for the summons +to dinner. With Miss Craven and her guardian she had left London that +morning, arriving at the Towers in the afternoon, and she was tired and +excited with the events of the day. She leant back against the panelled +embrasure, her mind dwelling on the last three crowded months they had +spent in Paris and London waiting until the house was redecorated and +ready to receive them. It had been for her a wonderful experience. The +novelty, the strangeness of it, left her breathless with the feeling +that years, not weeks, had rushed by. Already in the realisation of the +new life the convent days seemed long ago, the convent itself to have +receded into a far off past. And yet there were times when she wondered +whether she was dreaming, whether waking would be inevitable and she +would find herself once more in the old dormitory to pray passionately +that she might dream again. And until tonight there had scarcely been +time even to think, her days had been full, at night she had gone to bed +to sleep in happy dreamlessness. The hotel bedrooms with their litter +of trunks suggesting imminent flight had held no restfulness. To Gillian +the transitory sensation had strained already over-excited nerves and +heightened the dreamlike feeling that made everything seem unreal. But +here, the visible evidences of travel removed, the deep silence of a +large country house penetrating her mind and conducing to peace, she +could think at last. The surroundings were helpful. There was about the +room an air of permanence which the hotel bedrooms had never given, an +atmosphere of abiding quiet that soothed her. She was sensitive of an +influence that was wholly new to her and very sweet, that brought with +it a feeling of laughter and tears strangely mingled, that made the +room appear as no other room had ever done. It Was her room, and it had +welcomed her. It was like a big friendly silent person offering +mute reception, radiating repose. In a few hours the room had become +intimate, dear to her. She laughed happily--then checked at a guilty +feeling of treason against the grey old walls in Paris that had so long +sheltered her. She was not ungrateful, all her life she would remember +with gratitude the love and care she had received. But the convent had +been prison. Since her father had left her there, a tiny child, she +had inwardly rebelled; the life was abhorrent to her, the restraint +unbearable. With childish pride she had hidden her feelings, living +through a period of acute misery with no hint to those about her of what +she suffered. And the habit of suppression acquired in childhood had +grown with her own development. As the years passed the limitations of +the convent became more perceptible. She felt its cramping influence to +the full, as if the walls were closing in to suffocate her, to bury her +alive before she had ever known a fuller freer life. She had longed for +expansion--ideas she could not formulate, desires she could not express, +crowded, jostled in her brain. She wanted a wider outlook on life than +the narrow convent windows offered. Brief excursions into the world to +the homes of her friends had filled her with a yearning for freedom +and for independence, for a greater range of thought and action. Her +artistic studies had served to foster an unrest she struggled against +bravely and to conceal which she became daily more self-contained. Her +reserve was like a barrier about her. She was sweet and gentle to all +around her, but a little aloof and very silent. To the other girls she +had been a heroine of romance, puzzling mystery surrounded her; to the +Nuns an enigma. The Mother Superior, alone, had arrived at a partial +understanding, more than that even she could not accomplish. Gillian +loved her, but her reserve was stronger than her love. Sitting now +in the dainty English bedroom, revelling in the warm beauty of the +exquisite landscape that, mellowed in the evening light, lay spread out +beneath her eyes, Gillian thought a little sadly of her parting with the +Reverend Mother. She had tried to hide the happiness that the strange +feeling of freedom gave her, to smother any look or word that might +wound the gentle sensibility of the frail robed woman whose eyes were +sad at the approaching separation. Her conscience smote her that her own +heart held no sadness. She had said very little, nothing of the new life +that lay ahead of her. She hid her hopes of the future as jealously as +she had hidden her longings in the past, and she had left the convent as +silently as she had lived in it. She had driven back to the hotel with +a sense of relief predominating that it was all over, breathing deeply +with a sigh of relaxed tension. It seemed to her then as if she had +learned to breathe only within the last few days, as if the air itself +was lighter, more exhilarating. + +From the convent her mind went back to earlier days. She thought of +her father, the handsome dissolute man, whose image had grown dim with +years. As a tiny child she had loved him passionately, the central +figure of her chequered and wandering little life--father and mother +in one, playmate and hero. Her recollection seemed to be of constant +travelling; of long hours spent in railway trains; of arrivals at +strange places in the dark night; of departures in the early dawn, half +awake--but always happy so long as the familiar arms held her weary +little body and there was the shabby old coat on which to pillow her +brown curls. A jumbled remembrance of towns and country villages; of +kind unknown women who looked compassionate and murmured over her in a +dozen different languages. It had all been a medley of impressions and +experiences--everything transient, nothing lasting, but the big untidy +man who was her all. And then the convent. For a few years John Locke +had reappeared at irregular intervals, and on the memory of those brief +visits she had lived until he came again. Then he had ceased to +come and his letters, grown short and few, full of vague +promises--unsatisfying--meagre, had stopped abruptly. At first she had +refused to admit to herself that he had forgotten, that she could mean +so little to him, that he would deliberately put her out of his life. +She had waited, excusing, trusting, until, heart-sick with deferred +hope, she had come to think of him as dead. She was old enough then +to realise her position and in spite of the love and consideration +surrounding her she had learned misery. Her popularity even was a source +of torment, for in the happy homes of her friends she had felt more +cruelly her own destitute loneliness. + +When the lawyer's letter had come enclosing a few scrawled lines +written by her dying father she had felt that life could hold no more +bitterness. She had worshipped him--and he had abandoned her callously. +She was bone of his bone and he had made no effort even for his own +flesh. He had thrown her a burden on the convent that sheltered her so +willingly only for want of will power to conquer the weakness that had +devitalised brain and body. The thought crushed her. As she read his +confession, full of tardy remorse, her proud heart had been sick with +humiliation. She groped blindly through a sea of despair, her faith +broken, her trust gone. She hid her sorrow and her shame, fulfilling +her usual tasks, following the ordinary routine--a little more silent, +a little more reserved--her eyes alone betraying the storm that was +overwhelming her. She had loved him so dearly--that was the sting. +She had guarded her memory of him so tenderly, weaving a thousand +extravagant tales about him, pinnacling him above all men, her hero, her +knight, her _preux chevalier._ And now she realised that her memory was +no memory, that she had built up a fantastic figure of romance whose +origin rested on nothing tangible, whose elevation had been so lofty +that his overthrow was demolition. Her god had feet of clay. Her +superman was nothing. All that she had ever had, memory that was +delusion, was taken from her. Woken abruptly to the brutal truth she +felt that she had nothing left to cling to--a loneliness far greater +than she had known before. Then gradually her own honesty compelled her +to admit her fantasy. The dream man she had evolved had been of her +own making, the virtues with which she had endowed him bred of her own +imagination. Of the real man she knew nothing, and for the real man +there dawned slowly--though love for him had died--pity. It came to her, +passionately endeavouring to understand, that in the sheltered life she +led she had no knowledge of the temptations that beset a man outside +in the great world. Dimly she realised that some win out--and some go +under. He had failed. And it seemed to her that on her had fallen his +debt. She must take the place he had forfeited in the universe, she must +succeed where he had failed. Her strength must rise out of his weakness. +His honour was hers to re-establish, given the opportunity. And the +opportunity had been given. She had waited for the coming of her unknown +guardian with a feeling of dull revolt against the degradation of being +handed over inexorably to the disposal and charity of a stranger. Though +she had not been told she had guessed, years ago, that money for her +maintenance was wanting. The kindly deception of the Mother Superior +had been ineffectual. Gillian knew she was a pauper. The charity of the +convent school had been hard to bear. The charity of a stranger would +be harder. She writhed with the humiliation of it. She was nineteen--for +two years she must go and be and endure at the whim of an unknown. And +what would he be like, this man into whose hands her father had thrust +her! What choice would John Locke be capable of making--what love had he +shown during these last years that he should choose carefully and well? +From among what class of man, of the society into which he had sunk, +would he select one to give his daughter? He had written of "my old +friend, Barry Craven." The name conveyed nothing--the adjective admitted +of two interpretations. Which? Day and night she was haunted with +visions of old men--recollections of faces seen when driving with her +friends or visiting their homes; old men who had interested her, old men +from whom she had instinctively shrunk. What type of man was it that was +coming for her? There were times when her courage deserted her and the +constantly recurring question made her nearly mad with fear. She was +like a wild creature caught in a trap, listening to the feet of the +keeper nearing--nearing. She had longed for the time when she could +leave the Convent, she clung to it now with dread at the thought of the +future. The London lawyer had written that Mr. Craven was returning +from Japan to assume his guardianship, and she had traced his route with +growing fear as the days slipped by--the keeper's tread coming closer +and closer. She had masked the terror the thought of him inspired, +preserving an outward apathy that seemed to imply complete indifference. +And in the end he had come sooner than she expected, for they thought he +would go first to London. One morning she had learned he was in +Paris, that very afternoon she would know her fate. The day had been +interminable. During his interview with the Mother Superior she had +paced the room where she was waiting as it seemed for hours, her nerves +at breaking point. When the Reverend Mother came back she could have +shrieked aloud and her desperate eyes failed to interpret the expression +on the Nun's face; she tried to speak, a husky whisper that died away +inarticulately. Faintly she heard the gentle words of encouragement and +with an effort of pride she walked quickly to the door of the visitors' +room. There she paused, irresolute, and the low peaceful roll of the +organ echoing from the distant chapel seemed to mock her. So often it +had comforted, giving courage to go forward--today its very peacefulness +jarred; nerve-racked she was out of tune with the atmosphere of calm +tranquillity about her. She felt alien--that more than ever she stood +alone. Then pride flamed afresh. With head held high and lips compressed +she went in. As he turned from the window it was his great height and +broad shoulders that struck her first--men of his physique were rare +in France--and, in the thought of a moment, the well cut conventional +morning coat had seemed absurd, and mentally she had clothed his long +limbs in damascened steel. Then she had seen that he was young, how +young she could not guess, but younger far than she had imagined. As +their eyes met the sombre tragedy in his had hurt her. She divined a +sorrow before which her own paled to nothingness and quick pity killed +fear. The sadness of his face lifted her suddenly into full realisation +of her womanhood. Compassion rose above self. Instinctively she knew +that the interview that was to her so momentous was to him only an +embarrassing interlude. Shyness remained but the terror she had felt +gave place to a feeling she had not then understood. As quickly +as possible he had taken her to the hotel, leaving to his aunt all +explanations that seemed necessary. And since then he had remained +consistently in the background, delegating his authority to Miss Craven. +But from the first his proximity had troubled her--she was always +conscious of his presence. Hypersensitive from her convent upbringing +she knew intuitively when he entered a room or left it. Men were to her +an unknown quantity; the few she had met--brothers and cousins of school +friends--had been viewed from a different standpoint. Hedged about +with rigid French convention there had been no chance of acquaintance +ripening into friendship--she had been merely a schoolgirl among other +girls, touching only the fringe of the most youthful of the masculine +element in the houses where she had stayed. She had been unprepared for +the change to the daily contact with a man like Barry Craven. It would +take time to accustom herself, to become used to the continual masculine +presence. + +Miss Craven, to her nephew's relief, had taken the shy pale-faced +girl to her eccentric heart with a suddenness and enthusiasm that had +surprised herself. + +And Gillian's reserve and pride had been unable to withstand the +whirlwind little lady. Miss Craven's personality took a strong hold on +her; she loved the woman, she admired the artist, and she was quick +to recognise the real feeling and deep kindness that lay under brusque +manner and quizzical speeches. She had good reason. She glanced now +round the big room. Everywhere were evidences of lavish generosity, +showered on her regardless of protest. Gillian's eyes filled slowly with +tears. It was all a fairy story, too wonderful almost to be true. +Why were they so good to her--how would she ever be able to repay the +kindness lavished on her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the latest +gift that rose out of his basket with a sleepy yawn and stretching +luxuriously came and laid his head on her knee, looking up at her with +sad brown eyes. She had always loved animals, the possession of some dog +had been an ardent desire, and she hugged the big black poodle now with +a little sob. + +"Mouston, you pampered person, have you ever been lonely? Can you +imagine what it is like to be made to feel that you _belong_ to somebody +again?" She rubbed her cheek against his satiny head, crooning over him, +the dog thrilling to her touch with jerking limbs and sharp half-stifled +whines. It was her first experience of ownership, of responsibility +for a living creature that was dependent on her and for which she was +answerable. And it was likely to prove an arduous responsibility. He was +single-minded and jealous in his allegiance; Miss Craven he tolerated +indifferently, of Craven he was openly suspicious. He followed Gillian +like a shadow and moped in her absence, yielding to Yoshio, who had +charge of him on such occasions, a resigned obedience he gave to no +other member of the household. Through Mouston Gillian and Yoshio had +become acquainted. + +Mouston's affection this evening became over-enthusiastic and +threatening to fragile silks and laces. Gillian kissed the top of his +head, shook solemnly an insistent paw, and put him on one side. She +moved to the dressing table and inspected herself critically in the big +mirror. She looked with grave amusement. Was that Gillian Locke? She +wondered did a butterfly feel more incongruous when it shed its dull +grub skin. For so many years she had worn the sombre garb of the convent +schoolgirl, the change was still new enough to delight and the natural +woman within her responded to the fascination of pretty clothing. The +dark draperies of the convent had palled, she had craved colour with an +almost starved longing. + +The general reflection in the long glass satisfied, a more detailed +personal survey raised serious doubts. She had never recognised the +grace of her slender figure, the uncommon beauty of her pale oval +face--other types had appealed more, other colouring attracted. She had +studied her face often, disapprovingly. Once or twice, lacking a model, +she had essayed to reproduce her own features. She had failed utterly. +The faithful portraiture she achieved for others was wanting. She was +unable to express in her own likeness the almost startling exposition +of character that distinguished her ordinary work. She had been her +own limitation. Her failure had puzzled her, causing a searching mental +inquiry. She had no knowledge herself of how her special gift took form, +the work grew involuntarily under her hand. She was aware of no definite +impression received, no attempt at soul analysis. Vaguely she supposed +that in some subtle mysterious way the character of her sitter +communicated itself, influencing her; in fact her best work had often +had the least care bestowed upon it. Did her inability to transfer to +canvas a living copy of her own face argue that she herself was +without character--had she failed because there was in truth nothing to +delineate? Or was it because she sought to see something unreal--sought +to control a purely inherent impulse? It was a problem she had never +solved. + +She looked now at the mirrored figure with her usual disapproval, great +brown eyes scowling back at her from the glass, then made a little +obliterating movement with her hand and shook her head. Appearance had +never mattered before, but now she wanted so much to please--to be a +credit to the interest shown, to repay the time and money spent upon +her. Her eyes grew wistful as she leant nearer to see if there were +any tell-tale traces of tears, then danced with sudden amusement as she +picked up a powder puff and dabbed tentatively. + +"Oh, Gillian Locke, what would the Reverend Mother say!" she murmured, +and laughed. + +The poodle, jealous for attention, leaped on to a chair beside her, his +paws on the plate glass slab scattering brushes and bottles, and still +laughing she smothered his damp eager nose with powder until he sneezed +disgusted protest. + +With a conciliatory caress she left him to disarrange the dressing table +further, and went back to the window. Beneath her lawns extended to a +wide terrace, stone balustraded, from the centre of which a long flight +of steps led down to a formal rose garden sheltered by a high yew hedge +and backed by a little copse beyond which the heavily timbered park +stretched indefinitely in the evening light. The sense of space +fascinated her. She had always longed for unimpeded views, for the +stillness of the country. On the smooth shaven lawns great trees were +set like sentinels about the house; fancifully she thought of them as +living vigilant keepers maintaining for centuries a perpetual guard--and +smiled at her childish imagination. Her pleasure in the prospect +deepened. Already the charm of the Towers had taken hold of her, from +the first moment she had loved it. Throughout the long railway journey +and during the five mile drive from the station, she had anticipated, +and the actuality had outstripped her anticipation. The beauty of the +park, the herds of grazing deer, had delighted her; the old grey house +itself had stayed her spellbound. She had not imagined anything half so +lovely, so impressively enduring. She had seen nothing to compare +with its fine proportions, with the luxury of its setting. It differed +utterly from the French Chateaux where she had visited; there toil +obtruded, vineyards and rich fields of crops clustered close to the very +walls of the seigneur's dwellings, a source of wealth simply +displayed; here similar activities were banished to unseen regions, and +scrupulously kept avenues, close cut lawns and immaculate flower-beds +formed evidence of constant labour whose results charmed the eye but +were materially profitless. The formal grandeur appealed to her. She was +not altogether alien, she reflected, with a curious smile--despite his +subsequent downfall John Locke had sprung from just such stock as the +owner of this wonderful house. A sudden panic of lateness interrupted +her pleasure and she turned from the window, calling to the dog. +Her suite opened on to a circular gallery--from which bedrooms +opened--running round the central portion of the house and overlooking +the big square hall which was lit from above by a lofty glazed dome; +eastward and westward stretched long rambling wings, a story higher than +the main block, crowned with the turrets that gave the house its name. + +A low murmur of men's voices came from below, and leaning over the +balustrade she saw Craven and his agent standing talking before the +empty fireplace. Sudden shyness overcame her; her guardian was still +formidable, Peters she had seen for the first time only a few hours +ago when he had met them at the station--a short broad-shouldered man +inclining to stoutness, with thick grey hair and close-pointed beard. To +go down deliberately to them seemed impossible. But while she hesitated +in an agony of self-consciousness Mouston precipitated the inevitable +by dashing on ahead down, the stairs and plunging into the bearskin +hearthrug, ploughing the thick fur with his muzzle and sneezing wildly. +The sense of responsibility outweighed shyness and she hurried after +him, but Peters anticipated her and already had the dog's unwilling head +firmly between his hands. + +"What on earth has he got on his nose, Miss Locke?" he asked, in a tone +of wonder, but the keen blue eyes looking at her from under bushy +grey eyebrows were twinkling and her shyness was not proof against his +friendliness. + +She dropped to her knees and flicked the offended organ with a scrap of +lace and lawn. + +"Powder," she said gravely. + +"You can have no idea," she added, looking up suddenly, "how delightful +it is to powder your nose when you have been brought up in a convent. +The Nuns consider it the height of depravity," and she laughed, a +ringing girlish outburst of amusement that Craven had never yet heard. +He looked at her as she knelt on the rug soothing the poodle's outraged +feelings and smiling at Peters who was offering his own more +adequate handkerchief. That laugh was a revelation--in spite of her +self-possession, of her reserve, she was in reality only a girl, hardly +more than a child, but influenced by her quiet gravity he had forgotten +the fact. + +As he watched her a slight frown gathered on his face. It seemed that +Peters, in a few hours, had penetrated the barrier outside which he, +after months, still remained. With him she was always shyly silent. On +the few rare occasions in Paris and in London when he had found himself +alone with her she had shrunk into herself and avoided addressing him; +and he had wondered, irritably, how much was natural diffidence and +how much due to convent training. But he had made no effort at further +understanding, for the past was always present dominating inclinations +and impulses--perpetual memory, jogging at his elbow. There were days +when the only relief was physical exhaustion and he disappeared for +hours to fight his devils in solitude. And in any case he was not +wanted, it was better in every way for him to efface himself. There +was nothing for him to do--thanks to the improvidence of John Locke +no business connected with the trust. Miss Craven had taken complete +possession of Gillian and he held aloof, not attempting to establish +more intimate relations with his ward. But tonight, with a fine +inconsistency, it piqued him that she should respond so readily +to Peters. He knew he was a fool--it mattered not one particle to +him--Peters' magnetism was proverbial--but, illogically, the frown +persisted. + +As if conscious of his scrutiny Gillian turned and met his searching +gaze. The colour flooded her face and she pushed the dog aside and rose +hastily to her feet. Shyness supervened again and she was thankful for +the arrival of Miss Craven, who was breathless and apologetic. + +"Late as usual! I shall be late when the last trump sounds. But this +time it was really not my fault. Mrs. Appleyard descended upon me!--our +old housekeeper, Gillian--and her tongue has wagged for a solid hour by +the clock. I am now _au fait_ with everything that has happened at the +Towers since I was here last--do your ears burn, Peter?--metaphorically +she has dragged me at her heels from garrets to cellars and back to the +garrets again. She is pathetically pleased to have the house open once +more." + +Still talking she led the way to the dining room. It was an immense +room, panelled like most of the house, the table an oasis on a desert +of Persian carpet, a huge fireplace predominating, and some of the more +valuable family portraits on the walls. + +As Miss Craven entered she looked instinctively for the portrait of her +brother, which since his death had hung--following a family custom--in a +panel over the high carved mantelpiece. But it had been removed and +for it had been substituted a beautiful painting of Barry's mother. +She stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence. "An innovation?" she +murmured to her nephew, with her shrewd eyes on his face. + +"A reparation," he answered shortly, as he moved to his chair. And his +tone made any further comment impossible. She sat down thoughtfully and +began her soup in silence, vaguely disturbed at the departure from a +precedent that had held for generations. Unconventional and ultra-modern +as she was she still clung to the traditions of her family, and from +time immemorial the portrait of the last reigning Craven had hung +over the fireplace in the big dining room waiting to give place to its +successor. It all seemed bound up somehow with the terrible change that +had taken place in him since his return from Japan--a change she was +beginning more and more to connect with the man whose portrait had been +banished, as though unworthy, from its prominence. Unworthy indeed--but +how did Barry know? What had he learned in the country that had had +such a fatal attraction for his father? The old shameful story she had +thought buried for ever seemed rising like a horrible phantom from the +grave where it had lain so long hidden. + +With a little shudder she turned resolutely from the painful thoughts +that came crowding in upon her and entered into animated conversation +with Peters. + +Gillian, content to be unnoticed, looked about her with appreciative +interest; the big room, its sombre, rather formal furniture and fine +pictures, appealed to her. The arrangements were in perfect harmony, +nothing clashed or jarred, electric lighting was carefully hidden and +only wax candles burnt in heavy silver candlesticks on the table. + +The fascination of the old house was growing every moment more +insistent, like a spell laid on her. She gave herself up to it, to the +odd happiness it inspired. She felt it curiously familiar. A strange +feeling came to her--it was as if from childhood she had been journeying +and now come home. An absurd thought, but she loved it. She had never +had a home, but for the next two years she could pretend. To pretend +was easy. All her life she had lived in a land of dreams, tenanted with +shadowy inhabitants of her own imagining--puppets who moved obedient to +her will through all the devious paths of make-believe; a spirit world +where she ranged free of the narrow walls that restricted her liberty. +It had been easy to pretend in the convent--how much easier here in +the solid embodiment of a dream castle and stimulated by the real human +affection for which her heart had starved. The love she had hitherto +known had been unsatisfying, too impersonal, too restrained, too +interwoven with mystical devotion. Mass Craven's affection was of a +hardier, more practical nature. Blunt candour and sincerity personified, +she did not attempt to disguise her attachment. She had been attracted, +had approved, and had finally co-opted Gillian into the family. She had, +moreover, great faith in her own judgment. And to justify that faith +Gillian would have gone through fire and water. + +She looked gratefully at the solid little figure sitting at the foot of +the table and a gleam of amusement chased the seriousness from her eyes. +Miss Craven was in the throes of a heated discussion with Peters which +involved elaborate diagrams traced on the smooth cloth with a salt +spoon, and as Gillian watched she completed her design with a fine +flourish and leant back triumphant in her chair, rumpling her hair +fantastically. But the agent, unconvinced, fell upon her mercilessly +and in a moment she was bent forward again in vigorous protest, drumming +impatiently on the table with her fingers as he laughingly altered her +drawing. They were the best of friends and wrangled continually. To +Gillian it was all so fresh, so novel. Then her attention veered. +Throughout dinner Craven had been silent. When once started on a +discussion his aunt and Peters tore the controversy amicably to tatters +in complete absorption. He had not joined in the argument. As always +Gillian was too shy to address him of her own accord, but she was +acutely conscious of his nearness. She deprecated her own attitude, yet +silence was better than the banal platitudes which were all she had to +offer. Her range was so restricted, his--who had travelled the world +over--must be so great. With the exception of one subject her knowledge +was negligible. But he too was an artist--hopeless to attempt that +topic, she concluded with swift contempt for her own limitations; to +offer the opinions of a convent-bred amateur to one who had studied in +famous Paris ateliers and was acquainted with the art of many countries +would be an impertinence. But yet she knew that sometime she must break +through the wall that her own diffidence had built up; in the intimacy +of country house life the continuance of such an attitude would be both +impossible and ridiculous. Contritely she acknowledged that the tension +between them was largely her own fault, a disability due to training. +But she could not go through life sheltering behind that wholly +inadequate plea. If there was anything in her at all she must rise above +the conventions in which she had been reared; she had done with the +narrowness of the past, now she must think broadly, expansively, in all +things--even in the trivial matter of social intercourse. A saving sense +of humour sent a laugh bubbling into her throat which nearly escaped. +It was such a little thing, but she had magnified it so greatly. What, +after all, did it amount to--the awkwardness of a schoolgirl very +properly ignored by a guardian who could not be other than bored with +her society. _Tant pis!_ She could at least try to be polite. She +turned with the heroic intention of breaking the ice and plunging into +conversation, banal though it might be. But her eyes did not arrive +at his face, they were caught and held by his hand, lying on the white +cloth, turning and twisting an empty wine-glass between long strong +fingers. Hands fascinated her. They were indicative of character, +testimonies of individual peculiarities. She was sensitive to the +impression they conveyed. With the limited material available she had +studied them--nuns' hands, priests' hands, hands of the various inmates +of the houses where she had stayed, and the hands of the man who had +taught her. From him she had learned more than the mere rudiments of her +art; under his tuition a crude interest had developed into a definite +study, and as she sat looking at Barry Craven's hand a sentence from one +of his lectures recurred to her--"there are in some hands, particularly +in the case of men, characteristics denoting certain passions and +attributes that jump to the eye as forcibly as if they were expressions +of face." + +Engaged in present study she forgot her original purpose, noting the +salient points of a fresh type, enumerating details that formed +the composite whole. A strong hand that could in its strength be +merciless--could it equally in its strength be merciful? The strange +thought came unexpectedly as she watched the thin stem of the wineglass +turning rapidly and then more slowly until, with a little tinkle, +it snapped as the hand clenched suddenly, the knuckles showing white +through the tanned skin. Gillian drew a quick breath. Had she been the +cause of the mishap--had she stared noticeably, and he been angry at an +impertinence? Her cheeks burned and in a misery of shyness she forced +her eyes to his face. Her contrition was needless. Heedless of her he +was looking at the splintered glass between his fingers with a faint +expression of surprise, as if his wandering thoughts were but half +recalled by the accident. For a moment he stared at the shattered +pieces--then laid them down indifferently. + +Gillian smothered an hysterical inclination to laugh. He was so totally +negligent of her presence that even this little incident had failed to +make him sensible of her scrutiny. Immersed in his thoughts he was +very obviously miles away from Craven Towers and the vicinity of a +troublesome ward. And suddenly it hurt. She was nothing to him but a +shy _gauche_ girl whose very existence was an embarrassment. The +determination so bravely formed died before his cold detachment. More +than ever was speech impossible. + +She shrugged faintly with a little pout. So, confident of his +preoccupation, she continued to study him. Had the homecoming +intensified the sadness of his eyes and deepened the lines about his +mouth?--were memories of the mother he had adored sharpening tonight +the look of suffering on his face? Or was her imagination, over-excited, +exaggerating what she saw and fancying a great sorrow where there was +only boredom? She pondered, and had almost concluded that the latter was +the saner explanation when--watching--she saw a sudden spasm cross his +face of such agony that she caught her lip fiercely between her teeth +to stifle an exclamation. In the fleeting expression of a moment she +had seen the revelation of a soul in torment. She looked away hastily, +feeling dismayed at having trespassed. She had discovered a secret +wound. She sat tense, and a quick fear came lest the others might have +also seen. She glanced at them furtively. But the argument was +still unsettled, the tablecloth between them scored and creased with +conflicting sketches. She drew a sharp little sigh of relief. Only she +had noticed, and she did not matter. For a few moments her thoughts +ran riot until she pulled them up frowningly. It was no business of +hers--she had no right even to speculate on his affairs. Angry with +herself she turned for distraction to the portraits on the walls--they +at least would offer no disturbing problem. But her determination to +keep her thoughts from her guardian met with a check at the outset for +she found herself staring at Barry Craven as she had visualised him in +that first moment of meeting--steel-clad. It was the picture of a young +man, dressed in the style of the Elizabethan period, wearing a light +inlaid cuirass and leaning negligently against a stone balustrade, +a hooded falcon on his wrist. The resemblance to the owner of Craven +Towers was remarkable--the same build, the same haughty carriage of the +head, the same features and colouring; the mouth only of the painted +gallant differed, for the lips were not set sternly but curved in a +singularly winning smile. The portrait had recently been cleaned and +the colours stood out freshly. The pose of the figure was curiously +unrestrained for the period, a suggestion of energy--barely concealed by +the indolent attitude--broke through the conventional treatment of the +time, as if the painter had responded to an influence that had overcome +tradition. The whole body seemed to pulsate with life. Gillian looked at +it entranced; instinctively her eyes sought the pictured hands. The one +that held the falcon was covered with an embroidered leather glove, but +the other was bare, holding a set of jesses. And even the hands were +similar, the characteristics faithfully transmitted. Peters' voice +startled her. "You are looking at the first Barry Craven, Miss Locke. It +is a wonderful picture. The resemblance is extraordinary, is it not?" + +She looked up and met the agent's magnetic smile across the table. + +"It is--extraordinary," she said slowly; "it might be a costume portrait +of Mr. Craven, except that in treatment the picture is so different from +a modern painting." + +Peters laughed. + +"The professional eye, Miss Locke! But I am glad that you admit the +likeness. I should have quarrelled horribly with you if you had failed +to see it. The young man in the picture," he went on, warming to the +subject as he saw the girl's interest, "was one of the most romantic +personages of his time. He lived in the reign of Elizabeth and was +poet, sculptor, and musician--there are two volumes of his verse in +the library and the marble Hermes in the hall is his work. When he +was seventeen he left the Towers to go to court. He seems to have been +universally beloved, judging from various letters that have come down +to us. He was a close friend of Sir Philip Sidney and one of Spenser's +numerous patrons. A special favourite with Elizabeth--in fact her +partiality seems to have been a source of some embarrassment, according +to entries in his private journal. She knighted him for no particular +reason that has ever transpired, indeed it seems to have been a matter +of surprise to himself, for he records it in his journal thus: + +"'--dubbed knight this day by Gloriana. God He knoweth why, but not I.' +He was an idealist and visionary, with the power of putting his thoughts +into words--his love poems are the most beautiful I have ever read, but +they are quite impersonal. There is no evidence that his love was ever +given to any 'faire ladye.' No woman's name was ever connected with his, +and from his detached attitude towards the tender passion he earned, in +a fantastical court, the euphuistic appellation of _L'amant d' Amour._ +Quite suddenly, after ten years in the queen's household, he fitted out +an expedition to America. He gave no reason. Distaste for the artificial +existence prevailing at Court, sorrow at the death of his friend +Sidney, or a wander-hunger fed on the tales brought home by the numerous +merchant adventurers may have been the cause of this surprising step. +His decision provoked dismay among his friends and brought a furious +tirade from Elizabeth who commanded him to remain near her. But in spite +of royal oaths and entreaties--more of the former than the latter--he +sailed to Virginia on a land expedition. Two letters came from him +during the next few years, but after that--silence. His fate is +not known. He was the first of many Cravens to vanish into oblivion +searching for new lands." The pleasant voice hesitated and dropped to a +lower, more serious note. And Gillian was puzzled at the sudden anxiety +that clouded the agent's smiling blue eyes. She had listened with eager +interest. It was history brought close and made alive in its intimate +connection with the house. The dream castle was more wonderful even +than she had thought. She smiled her thanks at Peters, and drew a long +breath. + +"I like that," and looking at the picture again, "the Lover of Love!" +she repeated softly; "it's a very beautiful idea." + +"A very unsatisfactory one for any poor soul who may have been fool +enough to lose her heart to him." Miss Craven's voice was caustic. + +"I have often wondered if any demoiselle 'pined in a green and yellow +melancholy for his sake,' she added, rising from the table. + +"Reason enough, if he knew of it, for going to Virginia," said Craven, +with a hard laugh. "The family traditions have never tended to undue +consideration of the weaker sex." + +"Barry, you are horrible!" + +"Possibly, my dear aunt, but correct," he replied coolly, crossing the +room to open the door. "Even Peter, who has the family history at his +fingers' ends, cannot deny it." His voice was provocative but Peters, +beyond a mildly sarcastic "--thank you for the 'even,' Barry--" refused +to be drawn. + +Her nephew's words would formerly have aroused a storm of indignant +protest from Miss Craven, touched in a tender spot. But now some +intuition warned her to silence. She put her arm through Gillian's and +left the room without attempting to expostulate. + +In the drawing room she sat down to a patience table, lit a cigarette, +rumpled her hair, and laid out the cards frowningly. More than ever +was she convinced that in the two years he had been away some serious +disaster had occurred. His whole character appeared to have undergone +a change. He was totally different. The old Barry had been neither hard +nor cynical, the new Barry was both. In the last few weeks she had had +ample opportunity for judging. She perceived that a heavy shadow +lay upon him darkening his home-coming--she had pictured it so very +differently, and she sighed over the futility of anticipation. His +happiness meant to her so much that she raged at her inability to help +him. Until he spoke she could do nothing. And she knew that he would +never speak. The nightly occupation lost its usual zest, so she shuffled +the cards absently and began a fresh game. + +Gillian was on the hearthrug, Houston's head in her lap. She leant +against Miss Craven's chair, dreaming as she had dreamt in the old +convent until the sudden lifting of the dog's head under her hands made +her aware of Peters standing beside her. He looked down silently on the +card table for a few moments, pointed with a nicotine-stained finger to +a move Miss Craven had missed and then wandered across the room and sat +down at the piano. For a while his hands moved silently over the keys, +then he began to play, and his playing was exquisite. Gillian sat and +marvelled. Peters and music had seemed widely apart. He had appeared +so essentially a sportsman; in spite of the literary tendency that his +sympathetic account of the Elizabethan Barry Craven had suggested +she had associated him with rougher, more physical pursuits. He was +obviously an out-door man; a gun seemed a more natural complement to +his hands than the sensitive keys of a piano, his thick rather clumsy +fingers manifestly incompatible with the delicate touch that was filling +the room with wonderful harmony. It was a check to her cherished theory +which she acknowledged reluctantly. But she forgot to theorise in the +sheer joy of listening. + +"Why did he not make music a career?" she whispered, under cover of some +crashing chords. Miss Craven smiled at her eager face. + +"Can you see Peter kow-towing to concert directors, and grimacing at an +audience?" she replied, rescuing a king from her rubbish heap. + +With an answering smile Gillian subsided into her former position. +Music moved her deeply and her highly strung artistic temperament was +responding to the beauty of Peters' playing. It was a Russian folk song, +plaintive and simple, with a curious minor refrain like the sigh of an +aching heart--wild sad harmony with pain in it that gripped the throat. +Swayed by the sorrow-haunted music a wave of foreboding came over her, a +strange indefinite fear that was formless but that weighed on her like +a crushing burden. The happiness of the last few weeks seemed suddenly +swamped in the recollection of the misery rampant in the world. Who, +if their inmost hearts were known, were truly happy? And her thoughts, +becoming more personal, flitted back over the desolate days of her own +sad girlhood and then drifted to the tragedy of her father. Then, with +a forward leap that brought her suddenly to the present, she thought of +the sorrow she had seen on Craven's face in that breathless moment at +dinner time. Was there only sadness in the world? The brooding brown +eyes grew misty. A passionate prayer welled up in her heart that +complete happiness might touch her once, if only for a moment. + +Then the music changed and with it the girl's mood. She gave her head +a little backward jerk and blinked the moisture from her eyes angrily. +What was the matter with her? Surely she was the most ungrateful girl in +the universe. If there was sorrow in the world for her then it must +be of her own making. She had been shown almost unbelievable kindness, +nothing had been omitted to make her happy. The contrast of her life +only a few weeks ago and now was immeasurable. What more did she want? +Was she so selfish that she could even think of the unhappiness that was +over? Shame filled her, and she raised her eyes to the woman beside her +with a sudden rush of gratitude and love. But Miss Craven, interested at +last in her game, was blind to her surroundings, and with a little smile +Gillian turned her attention to the silent occupant of the chair near +her. Craven had come into the room a few minutes before. He was leaning +back listlessly, one hand shading his face, a neglected cigarette +dangling from the other. She looked at him long and earnestly, +wondering, as she always wondered, what association there had been +between him and such a man as her father--what had induced him to take +upon himself the burden that had been laid upon him. And her cheeks +grew hot again at the thought of the encumbrance she was to him. It was +preposterous that he should be so saddled! + +She stifled a sigh and her eyes grew dreamy as she fell to thinking of +the future that lay before her. And as she planned with eager confidence +her hand moved soothingly over the dog's head in measure to the +languorous waltz that Peters was playing. + +After a sudden unexpected chord the player rose from the piano and +joined the circle at the other end of the room. Miss Craven was +shuffling vigorously. "Thank you, Peter," she said, with a smiling nod, +"it's like old times to hear you play again. Gillian thinks you have +missed your vocation, she would like to see you at the Queen's Hall." + +Peters laughed at the girl's blushing protest and sat down near the card +table. Miss Craven paused in a deal to light a fresh cigarette. + +"What's the news in the county?" she asked, adding for Gillian's +benefit: "He's a walking chronicle, my dear." + +Peters laughed. "Nothing startling, dear lady. We have been a singularly +well-behaved community of late. Old Lacy of Holmwood is dead, Bill Lacy +reigns in his stead and is busy cutting down oaks to pay for youthful +indiscretions--none of 'em very fierce when all's said and done. The +Hamer-Banisters have gone under at last--more's the pity--and Hamer +is let to some wealthy Australians who are possessed apparently of +unlimited cash, a most curious phraseology, and an assurance which is +beautiful to behold. They had good introductions and Alex has taken them +up enthusiastically--there are kindred tastes." + +"Horses, I presume. How are the Horringfords?" + +"Much as usual," replied Peters. "Horringford is absorbed in things +Egyptian, and Alex is on the warpath again," he added darkly. + +Miss Craven grinned. + +"What is it this time?" + +Peters' eyebrows twitched quaintly. + +"Socialism!" he chuckled, "a brand new, highly original conception of +that very elastic term. I asked Alex to explain the principles of this +particular organization and she was very voluble and rather cryptic. It +appears to embrace the rights of man, the elevation of the masses, the +relations between landlord and tenant, the psychological deterioration +of the idle rich--" + +"Alex and psychology--good heavens!" interposed Miss Craven, her hands +at her hair, "and the amelioration of the downtrodden poor," continued +Peters. "It doesn't sound very original, but I'm told that the +propaganda is novel in the extreme. Alex is hard at work among their own +people," he concluded, leaning back in his chair with a laugh. + +"But--the downtrodden poor! I thought Horringford was a model landlord +and his estates an example to the kingdom." + +"Precisely. That's the humour of it. But a little detail like that +wouldn't deter Alex. It will be an interest for the summer, she's always +rather at a loose end when there's no hunting. She had taken up this +socialistic business very thoroughly, organizing meetings and lectures. +A completely new scheme for the upbringing of children seems to be a +special sideline of the campaign. I'm rather vague there--I know I made +Alex very angry by telling her that it reminded me of intensive market +gardening. That Alex has no children of her own presents no difficulty +to her--she is full of the most beautiful theories. But theories don't +seem to go down very well with the village women. She was routed the +other day by the mother of a family who told her bluntly to her face she +didn't know what she was talking about--which was doubtless perfectly +true. But the manner of telling seems to have been disagreeable and +Alex was very annoyed and complained to Thomson, the new agent. He, poor +chap, was between the devil and the deep sea, for the tenants had also +been complaining that they were being interfered with. So he had to go +to Horringford and there was a royal row. The upshot of it was that Alex +rang me up on the 'phone this morning to tell me that Horringford was +behaving like a bear, that he was so wrapped up in his musty mummies +that he hadn't a spark of philanthropy in him, and that she was coming +over to lunch tomorrow to tell me all about it--she's delighted to hear +that the house is open again, and will come on to you for tea, when +you will doubtless get a second edition of her woes. Half-an-hour later +Horringford rang me up to say that Alex had been particularly tiresome +over some new crank which had set everybody by the ears, that Thomson +was sending in a resignation daily, altogether there was the deuce to +pay, and would I use my influence and talk sense to her. It appears he +is working at high pressure to finish a monograph on one of the Pharaohs +and was considerably ruffled at being interrupted." + +"If he cared a little less for the Pharaohs and a little more for +Alex--" suggested Miss Craven, blowing smoke rings thoughtfully. Peters +shook his head. + +"He did care--that's the pity of it," he said slowly, "but what can you +expect?--you know how it was. Alex was a child married when she should +have been in the schoolroom, without a voice in the matter. Horringford +was nearly twenty years her senior, always reserved and absorbed in +his Egyptian researches. Alex hadn't an idea in the world outside the +stables. Horringford bored her infinitely, and with Alex-like honesty +she did not hesitate to tell him so. They hadn't a thought in common. +She couldn't see the sterling worth of the man, so they drifted apart +and Horringford retired more than ever into his shell." + +"And what do you propose to do, Peter?" Craven's sudden question was +startling, for he had not appeared to be listening to the conversation. + +Peters lit a cigarette and smoked for a few moments before answering. +"I shall listen to all Alex has to say," he said at last, "then I shall +tell her a few things I think she ought to know, and I shall persuade +her to ask Horringford to take her with him to Egypt next winter." + +"Why?" + +"Because Horringford in Egypt and Horringford in England are two very +different people. I know--because I have seen. It's an idea, it may +work. Anyhow it's worth trying." + +"But suppose her ladyship does not succumb to your persuasive tongue?" + +"She will--before I've done with her," replied Peters grimly, and then +he laughed. "I guessed from what she said this morning that she was a +little frightened at the hornet's nest she had raised. I imagine she +won't be sorry to run away for a while and let things settle down. She +can ease off gently in the meantime and give Egypt as an excuse for +finally withdrawing." + +"You think Alex is more to blame than Horringford?" said Miss Craven, +with a note of challenge in her voice. + +Peters shrugged. "I blame them both. But above all I blame the system +that has been responsible for the trouble." + +"You mean that Alex should have been allowed to choose her own husband? +She was such a child--" + +"And Horringford was such a devil of a good match," interposed Craven +cynically, moving from his chair to the padded fireguard. Gillian was +sitting on the arm of Miss Craven's chair, sorting the patience cards +into a leather case. She looked up quickly. "I thought that in +England all girls choose their own husbands, that they marry to please +themselves, I mean," she said in a puzzled voice. + +"Theoretically they do, my dear," replied Miss Craven, "in practice +numbers do not. The generality of girls settle their own futures and +choose their own husbands. But there are still many old-fashioned people +who arrogate to themselves the right of settling their daughters' lives, +who have so trained them that resistance to family wishes becomes almost +an impossibility. A good suitor presents himself, parental pressure is +brought to bear--and the deed is done. Witness the case of Alex. In a +few years she probably would have chosen for herself, wisely. As it was, +marriage had never entered her head." + +"She couldn't have chosen a better man," said Peters warmly, "if he had +only been content to wait a year or two--" + +"Alex would probably have eloped with a groom or a circus rider before +she reached years of discretion!" laughed Miss Craven. "But it's a +difficult question, the problem of husband choosing," she went +on thoughtfully. "Being a bachelor I can discuss it with perfect +equanimity. But if in a moment of madness I had married and acquired a +houseful of daughters, I should have nervous prostration every time a +strange man showed his nose inside the door." + +"You don't set us on a very high plane, dear lady," said Peters +reproachfully. + +"My good soul, I set you on no plane at all--know too much about you!" +she smiled. Peters laughed. "What's your opinion, Barry?" + +Since his one interruption Craven had been silent, as if the discussion +had ceased to interest him. He did not answer Peters' question for some +time and when at last he spoke his voice was curiously strained. "I +don't think my opinion counts for very much, but it seems to me that +the woman takes a big risk either way. A man never knows what kind of a +blackguard he may prove in circumstances that may arise." + +An awkward pause followed. Miss Craven kept her eyes fixed on the card +table with a feeling of nervous apprehension that was new to her. Her +nephew's words and the bitterness of his tone seemed fraught with hidden +meaning, and she racked her brains to find a topic that would lessen +the tension that seemed to have fallen on the room. But Peters broke +the silence before it became noticeable. "The one person present whom +it most nearly concerns has not given us her view. What do you say, Miss +Locke?" + +Gillian flushed faintly. It was still difficult to join in a general +conversation, to remember that she might at any moment be called upon to +put forward ideas of her own. + +"I am afraid I am prejudiced. I was brought up in a convent--in France," +she said hesitatingly. "Then you hold with the French custom of arranged +marriages?" suggested Peters. Her dark eyes looked seriously into his. +"I think it is--safer," she said slowly. + +"And consequently, happier?" The colour deepened in her face. "Oh, +I don't know. I do not understand English ways. I can speak only +of France. We talked of it in the convent--naturally, since it was +forbidden, _que voulez vous?_" she smiled. "Some of my friends were +married. Their parents arranged the marriages. It seems that--" she +stammered and went on hurriedly--"that there is much to be considered in +choosing a husband, much that--girls do not understand, that only older +people know. So it is perhaps better that they should arrange a matter +which is so serious and so--so lasting. They must know more than we do," +she added quietly. + +"And are your friends happy?" asked Miss Craven bluntly. + +"They are content." + +Miss Craven snorted. "Content!" she said scornfully. "Marriage should +bring more than contentment. It's a meagre basis on which to found a +life partnership." + +A shadow flitted across the girl's face. + +"I had a friend who married for love," she said slowly. "She belonged +to the old noblesse, and her family wished her to make a great marriage. +But she loved an artist and married him in spite of all opposition. For +six months she was the happiest girl in France--then she found out that +her husband was unfaithful. Does it shock you that I speak of it--we all +knew in the convent. She went to Capri soon afterwards, to a villa her +father had given her, and one morning she went out to swim--it was a +daily habit, she could do anything in the water. But that morning she +swam out to sea--and she did not come back." The low voice sank almost +to a whisper. Miss Craven looked up incredulously. "Do you mean she +deliberately drowned herself?" Gillian made a little gesture of evasion. +"She was very unhappy," she said softly. And in the silence that +followed her troubled gaze turned almost unconsciously to her guardian. +He had risen and was standing with his hands in his pockets staring +straight in front of him, rigidly still. His attitude suggested complete +detachment from those about him, as if his spirit was ranging far afield +leaving the big frame empty, impenetrable as a figure of stone. She +was sensitive to his lack of interest. She regretted having expressed +opinions that she feared were immature and valueless. A quick sigh +escaped her, and Miss Craven, misunderstanding, patted her shoulder +gently. "It's a very sad little story, my dear." + +"And one that serves to confirm your opinion that a girl does well to +accept the husband who is chosen for her, Miss Locke?" asked Peters +abruptly, as he glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. + +Gillian joined in the general move. + +"I think it is--safer," she said, as she had said before, and stooped to +rouse the sleeping poodle. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Miss Craven was sitting alone in the library at the Towers. She had been +reading, but the book had failed to hold her attention and lay unheeded +on her lap while she was plunged in a profound reverie. + +She sat very still, her usually serene face clouded, and once or twice a +heavy sigh escaped her. + +The short November day was drawing in and though still early afternoon +it was already growing dark. The declining light was more noticeable in +the library than elsewhere in the house--a sombre room once the morning +sun had passed; long and narrow and panelled in oak to a height of +about twelve feet, above which ran a gallery reached by a hammered iron +stairway, it housed a collection of calf and vellum bound books which +clothed the walls from the floor of the gallery to within a few feet of +the lofty ceiling. On the fourth side of the room, whither the gallery +did not extend, three tall narrow windows overlooked the drive. The +furniture was scanty and severely Jacobean, having for more than two +hundred years remained practically intact; a ponderous writing table, +a couple of long low cabinets, and half a dozen cavernous armchairs +recushioned to suit modern requirements of ease. Some fine old bronzes +stood against the panelled walls. There was about the room a settled +peacefulness. The old furniture had a stately air of permanence. +The polished panels, and, above, the orderly ranks of ancient books +suggested durability; they remained--while generations of men came and +passed, transient figures reflected in the shining oak, handling for a +few brief years the printed treasures that would still be read centuries +after they had returned to their dust. + +The spirit of the house seemed embodied in this big silent room that was +spacious and yet intimate, formal and yet friendly. + +It was Miss Craven's favourite retreat. The atmosphere was sympathetic. +Here she seemed more particularly in touch with the subtle influence of +family that seemed to pervade the whole house. In most of the rooms it +was perceptible, but in the library it was forceful. + +The house and the family--they were bound up inseparably. + +For hundreds of years, in an unbroken line, from father to son ... +from father to son.... Miss Craven sat bolt upright to the sound of an +unmistakable sob. She looked with amazement at two tears blistering the +page of the open book on her knee. She had not knowingly cried since +childhood. It was a good thing that she was alone she thought, with a +startled glance round the empty room. She would have to keep a firmer +hold over herself than that. She laughed a little shakily, choked, blew +her nose vigorously, and walked to the middle window. Outside was stark +November. The wind swept round the house in fierce gusts before which +the big bare-branched trees in the park swayed and bowed, and trains +of late fallen leaves caught in a whirlwind eddied skyward to scatter +widely down again. + +Rain lashed the window panes. Yet even when storm-tossed the scene had +its own peculiar charm. At all seasons it was lovely. + +Miss Craven looked at the massive trees, beautiful in their clean +nakedness, and wondered how often she would see them bud again. +Frowning, she smothered a rising sigh and pressing closer to the window +peered out more attentively. Eastward and westward stretched long +avenues that curved and receded soon from sight. The gravelled space +before the house was wide; from it two shorter avenues encircling a +large oval paddock led to the stables, built at some distance facing the +house, but hidden by a belt of firs. + +For some time Miss Craven watched, but only a game-keeper passed, a +drenched setter at his heels, and with a little shiver she turned back +to the room. She moved about restlessly, lifting books to lay them down +immediately, ransacking the cabinets for prints that at a second glance +failed to interest, and examining the bronzes that she had known from +childhood with lengthy intentness as if she saw them now for the first +time. + +A footman came and silently replenished the fire. Her thoughts, +interrupted, swung into a new channel. She sat down at the writing table +and drawing toward her a sheet of paper slowly wrote the date. Beyond +that she did not get. The ink dried on the pen as she stared at the +blank sheet, unable to express as she wished the letter she had intended +to write. + +She laid the silver holder down at last with a hopeless gesture and her +eyes turned to a bronze figure that served as a paper weight. It was a +piece of her own work and she handled it lovingly with a curiously sad +smile until a second hard sob broke from her and pushing it away she +covered her face with her hands. + +"Not for myself, God knows it's not for myself," she whispered, as if +in extenuation. And mastering herself with an effort she made a second +attempt to write but at the end of half a dozen words rose impatiently, +crumpled the paper in her hand and walking to the fireplace threw it +among the blazing logs. + +She watched it curl and discolour, the writing blackly distinct, +and crumble into ashes. Then from force of habit she searched for +a cigarette in a box on the mantelpiece, but as she lit it a sudden +thought arrested her and after a moment's hesitation the cigarette +followed the half--written letter into the fire. + +With an impatient shrug she went back to an arm chair and again tried to +read, but though her eyes mechanically followed the words on the printed +page she did not notice what she was reading and laying the book down +she gave up all further endeavour to distract her wandering thoughts. +They were not pleasant and when, a little later, the door opened she +turned her head expectantly with a sigh of relief. Peters came in +briskly. + +"I've come to inquire," he said laughing, "the family pew held me in +solitary state this morning. Time was when I never minded, but this +last year has spoiled me. I was booked for lunch but I came as soon as I +could. Nobody ill, I hope?" + +Miss Craven looked at him for a moment before answering as he stood with +his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him, his face ruddy with +the wind and rain, his keen blue eyes on hers, reliable, unchanging. +It was a curious chance that had brought him--just at that moment. The +temptation to make an unusual confidence rose strongly. She had known +him and trusted him for more years than she cared to remember. How much +to say? Indecision held her. + +"You are always thoughtful, Peter," she temporised. "I am afraid there +is no excuse," with a little smile; "Barry rode off somewhere quite +early this morning and Gillian went yesterday to the Horringfords. +I expect her back to-day in time for tea. For myself, I had gout or +rheumatism or the black dog on my back, I forget which! Anyhow, I +stayed at home." She laughed and pointed to the cigarettes. He took one, +tapping it on his thumbnail. + +"You were alone. Why didn't you 'phone? I should have been glad +to escape the Australians. They are enormously kind, but +somewhat--er--overwhelming," he added with a quick laugh. + +"My dear man, be thankful I never thought of it. I've been like a bear +with a sore head all day." She looked past him into the fire, and struck +by a new note in her voice he refrained from comment, smoking slowly and +luxuriating in the warmth after a cold wet drive in an open motor. He +never used a closed car. But some words she had used struck him. "Barry +is riding--?" with a glance at the storm raging outside. + +"Yes. He had breakfast at an unearthly hour and went off early. Weather +seems to make no difference to him, but he will be soaked to the skin." + +"He's tough," replied Peters shortly. "I thought he must be out. As I +came in just now Yoshio was hanging about the hall, watching the drive. +Waiting for him, I suppose," he added, flicking a curl of ash into the +fire. "He's a treasure of a valet," he supplemented conversationally. +But Miss Craven let the observation pass. She was still staring into the +leaping flames, drumming with her fingers on the arms of the chair. +Once she tried to speak but no words came. Peters waited. He felt +unaccountably but definitely that she wished him to wait, that what was +evidently on her mind would come with no prompting from him. He felt in +her attitude a tension that was unusual--to-day she was totally unlike +herself. Once or twice only in the course of a lifelong friendship she +had shown him her serious side. She had turned to him for help then--he +seemed presciently aware that she was turning to him for help now. +He prided himself that he knew her as well as she knew herself and he +understood the effort it would cost her to speak. That he guessed the +cause of her trouble was no short cut to getting that trouble uttered. +She would take her own time, he could not go half-way to meet her. He +must stand by and wait. When had he ever done anything else at Craven +Towers? His eyes glistened curiously in the firelight, and he rammed his +hands down into his jacket pockets with abrupt jerkiness. Suddenly Miss +Craven broke the silence. + +"Peter--I'm horribly worried about Barry," the words came with a rush. +He understood her too well to cavil. + +"Dear lady, so am I," he replied with a promptness that did not console. + +"Peter, what is it?" she went on breathlessly. "Barry is utterly +changed. You see it as well as I. I don't understand--I'm all at sea--I +want your help. I couldn't discuss him with anybody else, but you--you +are one of us, you've always been one of us. Fair weather or foul, +you've stood by us. What we should have done without you God only knows. +You care for Barry, he's as dear to you as he is to me, can't you do +something? The suffering in his face--the tragedy in his eyes--I wake +up in the night seeing them! Peter, can't you _do_ something?" She was +beside him, clutching at the mantel-shelf, shaking with emotion. The +sight of her unnerved, almost incoherent, shocked him. He realised the +depth of the impression that had been made upon her--deep indeed to +produce such a result. But what she asked was impossible. He made a +little negative gesture and shook his head. + +"Dear lady, I can't do anything. And I wonder whether you know how it +hurts to have to say so? No son could be dearer to me than Barry--for +the sake of his mother--" his voice faltered momentarily, "but the fact +remains--he is not my son. I am only his agent. There are certain things +I cannot do and say, no matter how great the wish," he added with a +twisted smile. + +Miss Craven seemed scarcely to be listening. "It happened in Japan," she +asserted in fierce low tones. "Japan! Japan!" she continued vehemently, +"how much more sorrow is that country to bring to our family! It +happened in Japan and whatever it was--Yoshio knows! You spoke of him +just now. You said he was hanging about--waiting--watching. Peter, he's +doing it all the time! He watches continually. Barry never has to send +for him--he's always there, waiting to be called. When Barry goes out +the man is restless until he comes in again--haunting the hall--it +gets on my nerves. Yet there is nothing I can actually complain of. He +doesn't intrude, he is as noiseless as a cat and vanishes if he +sees you, but you know that just out of sight he's still +there--waiting--listening. Peter, what is he waiting for? I don't think +that it is apparent to the rest of the household, I didn't notice it +myself at first. But a few months ago something happened and since then +I don't seem able to get away from it. It was in the night, about two +o'clock; I was wakeful and couldn't sleep. I thought if I read I might +read myself sleepy. I hadn't a book in my room that pleased me and I +remembered a half-finished novel I had left in the library. I didn't +take a light--I know every turn in the Towers blindfold. As you know, +to reach the staircase from my room I have to pass Barry's door, and at +Barry's door I fell over something in the darkness--something with hands +of steel that saved me from an awkward tumble and hurried me down the +passage and into the moonlit gallery before I could find a word of +expostulation. Yoshio of course. I was naturally startled and angry +in consequence. I demanded an explanation and after a great deal of +hesitation he muttered something about Barry wanting him--which is +ridiculous on the face of it. If Barry had really wanted him he would +have been inside the room, not crouched outside on the door mat. He +seemed very upset and kept begging me to say nothing about it. I don't +remember how he put it but he certainly conveyed the impression that it +would not be good for Barry to know. I don't understand it--Barry trusts +him implicitly--and yet this.... I'm afraid, and I've never been afraid +in my life before." The little break in her voice hurt him. He felt +curiously unable to cope with the situation. Her story disturbed him +more than he cared to let her see in her present condition of unwonted +agitation. Twice in the past they had stood shoulder to shoulder through +a crisis of sufficient magnitude and she had showed then a cautious +judgment, a reliability of purpose that had been purely masculine in +its strength and sanity. She had been wholly matter-of-fact and +unimaginative, unswayed by petty trivialities and broad in her decision. +She had displayed a levelness of mind which had almost excluded +feeling and which had enabled him to deal with her as with another man, +confident of her understanding and the unlikelihood of her succumbing +unexpectedly to ordinary womanly weaknesses. He had thought that he +knew her thoroughly, that no circumstance that might arise could alter +characteristics so set and inherent. But to-day her present emotion +which had come perilously near hysteria, showed her in a new light +that made her almost a stranger. He was a little bewildered with the +discovery. It was incredible after all these years, just as if an +edifice that he had thought strongly built of stone had tumbled about +his ears like a pack of cards. He could hardly grasp it. He felt that +there was something behind it all--something more than she admitted. +He was tempted to ask definitely but second reflection brought the +conviction that it would be a mistake, that it would be taking an unfair +advantage. Sufficient unto the day--his present concern was to help her +regain a normal mental poise. And to do that he must ignore half of what +her suggestions seemed to imply. He felt her breakdown acutely, he must +say nothing that would add to her distress of mind. It was better to +appear obtuse than to concur too heartily in fears, a recollection of +which in a saner moment he knew would be distasteful to her. She would +never forgive herself--the less she had to forget the better. She +trusted him or she would never have spoken at all. That he knew and he +was honoured by her confidence. They had always been friends, but in her +weakness he felt nearer to her than ever before. She was waiting for him +to speak. He chose the line that seemed the least open to argument. +He spoke at last, evenly, unwilling alike to seem incredulous or +overanxious, his big steady hand closing warmly over her twitching +fingers. + +"I don't think there is any cause--any reason to doubt Yoshio's +fidelity. The man is devoted to Barry. His behaviour certainly +sounds--curious, but can be attributed I am convinced to +over-zealousness. He is an alien in a strange land, cut off from his +own natural distractions and amusements, and with time on his hands his +devotion to his master takes a more noticeable form than is usual with +an ordinary English man-servant. That he designs any harm I cannot +believe. He has been with Barry a long time--on the several occasions +when he stayed with him at your house in London did you notice anything +in his behaviour then similar to the attitude you have observed +recently? No? Then I take it that it is due to the same anxiety that we +ourselves have felt since Barry's return. Only in Yoshio's case it is +probably based on definite knowledge, whereas ours is pure conjecture. +Barry has undoubtedly been up against something--momentous. Between +ourselves we can admit the fact frankly. It is a different man who has +come back to us--and we can only carry on and notice nothing. He is +trying to forget something. He has worked like a nigger since he came +home, slogging away down at the estate office as if he had his bread to +earn. He does the work of two men--and he hates it. I see him sometimes, +forgetful of his surroundings, staring out of the window, and the look +on his face brings a confounded lump into my throat. Thank God he's +young--perhaps in time--" he shrugged and broke off inconclusively, +conscious of the futility of platitudes. And they were all he had to +offer. There was no suggestion he could make, nothing he could do. It +was repetition of history, again he had to stand by and watch suffering +he was powerless to aid, powerless to relieve. The mother first and now +the son--it would seem almost as if he had failed both. The sense of +helplessness was bitter and his face was drawn with pain as he stared +dumbly at the window against which the storm was beating with renewed +violence. The sight of the angry elements brought almost a feeling of +relief; it would be something that he could contend with and overcome, +something that would go towards mitigating the galling sense of +impotence that chafed him. He felt the room suddenly stifling, he wanted +the cold sting of the rain against his face, the roar of the wind in the +trees above his head. Abruptly he buttoned his jacket in preparation +for departure. Miss Craven pulled herself together. She laid a detaining +hand on his arm. "Peter," she said slowly, "do you think that Barry's +trouble has any connection with--my brother? The change of pictures in +the dining-room--it was so strange. He said it was a reparation. Do you +think Barry--found out something in Japan?" + +Peter shook his head. "God knows," he said gruffly. For a moment there +was silence, then with a sigh Miss Craven moved towards a bell. + +"You'll stay for tea?" + +"Thanks, no. I've got a man coming over, I'll have to go. Give my love +to Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon for deserting me +this morning. Has she lost that nasty cough yet?" + +"Almost. I didn't want her to go to the Horringfords, but she promised +to be careful." Miss Craven paused, then: + +"What did we do without Gillian, Peter?" she said with an odd little +laugh. + +"'You've got me guessing,' as Atherton says. She's a witch, bless her!" +he replied, holding out his hands. Miss Craven took them and held them +for a moment. + +"You're the best pal I ever had, Peter," she said unsteadily, "and +you've given all your life to us Cravens." + +The sudden gripping of his hands was painful, then he bent his head and +unexpectedly put his lips to the fingers he held so closely. + +"I'm always here--when you want me," he said huskily, and was gone. + +Miss Craven stood still looking after him with a curious smile. + +"Thank God for Peter," she said fervently, and went back to her station +by the window. It was considerably darker than before, but for some +distance the double avenue leading to the stables was visible. As she +watched, playing absently with the blind-cord, her mind dwelt on the +long connection between Peter Peters and her family. Thirty years--the +best of his life. And in exchange sorrow and an undying memory. The +woman he loved had chosen not him but handsome inconsequent Barry Craven +and, for her choice, had reaped misery and loneliness. And because +he had known that inevitably a day would come when she would need +assistance and support he had sunk his own feelings and retained his +post. Her brief happiness had been hard to watch--the subsequent long +years of her desertion a protracted torture. He had raged at his own +helplessness. And ignorant of his love and the motive that kept him at +Craven Towers she had come to lean on him and refer all to him. But for +his care the Craven properties would have been ruined, and the Craven +interests neglected beyond repair. + +For some time before her sister-in-law's death Miss Craven had known, as +only a woman can know, but now for the first time she had heard from +his lips a half-confession of the love that he had guarded jealously for +thirty years. + +The unusual tears that to-day seemed so curiously near the surface rose +despite her and she blinked the moisture from her eyes with a feeling of +irritated shame. + +Then a figure, almost indistinguishable in the gloom, coming from the +stables, caught her eye and she gave a sharp sigh of relief. + +He was walking slowly, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders +hunched against the storm of wind and rain that beat on his broad back. +His movements suggested intense weariness, yet nearing the house his +step lagged even more as if, despite physical fatigue and the inclement +weather, he was rather forcing himself to return than showing a natural +desire for shelter. + +There was in his tread a heaviness that contrasted forcibly with the +elasticity that had formerly been characteristic. As he passed close by +the window where Miss Craven was standing she saw that he was splashed +from head to foot. She thought with sudden compassion of the horse that +he had ridden. She had been in the stables only a few weeks before when +he had handed over another jaded mud-caked brute trembling in every +limb and showing signs of merciless riding to the old head groom who +had maintained a stony silence as was his duty but whose grim face +was eloquent of all he might not say. It was so unlike Barry to +be inconsiderate, toward animals he had been always peculiarly +tender-hearted. + +She hurried out to the hall, almost cannoning with a little dark-clad +figure who gave way with a deep Oriental reverence. "Master very wet," +he murmured, and vanished. + +"There's some sense in him," she muttered grudgingly. And quite suddenly +a wholly unexpected sympathy dawned for the inscrutable Japanese +whom she had hitherto disliked. But she had no time to dwell on her +unaccountable change of feeling for through the glass of the inner door +she saw Craven in the vestibule struggling stiffly to rid himself of a +dripping mackintosh. It had been no protection for the driving rain +had penetrated freely, and as he fumbled at the buttons with slow cold +fingers the water ran off him in little trickling streams on to the mat. + +She had no wish to convey the impression that she had been waiting for +him. She met him as if by accident, hailing him with surprise that rang +genuine. + +"Hallo, Barry, just in time for tea! I know you don't usually indulge, +but you can do an act of grace on this one occasion by cheering my +solitude. Peter looked in for ten minutes but had to hurry away for an +engagement, and Gillian is not yet back." + +His face was haggard but he smiled in reply, "All right. In the library? +Then in five minutes--I'm a little wet." + +In an incredibly short time he joined her, changed and immaculate. She +looked up from the tea urn she was manipulating, her eyes resting on him +with the pleasure his physical appearance always gave her. "You've been +quick!" + +"Yoshio," he replied laconically, handing her buttered toast. + +He ate little himself but drank two cups of tea, smoking the while +innumerable cigarettes. Miss Craven chatted easily until the tea table +was taken away and Craven had withdrawn to his usual position on the +hearthrug, lounging against the mantelshelf. + +Then she fell silent, looking at him furtively from time to time, her +hands restless in her lap, nerving herself to speak. What she had to say +was even more difficult to formulate than her confidence to Peters. But +it had to be spoken and she might never find a more favourable moment. +She took her courage in both hands. + +"I want to speak to you of Gillian," she said hesitatingly. + +He looked up sharply. "What of Gillian?" The question was abrupt, an +accent almost of suspicion in his voice and she moved uneasily. + +"Bless the boy, don't jump down my throat," she parried, with a nervous +little laugh; "nothing of Gillian but what is sweet and good and dear +... and yet that's not all the truth--it's more than that. I find it +hard to say. It's something serious, Barry, about Gillian's future," she +paused, hoping that he would volunteer some remark that would make her +task easier. But he volunteered nothing and, stealing a glance at him +she saw on his face an expression of peculiar stoniness to which she had +lately become accustomed. The new taciturnity, which she still found so +strange, seemed to have fallen on him suddenly. She stifled a sigh and +hurried on: + +"I wonder if the matter of Gillian's future has ever occurred to you? It +has been in my mind often and lately I have had to give it more serious +attention. Time has run away so quickly. It is incredible that nearly +two years have passed since she became your ward. She will be twenty-one +in March--of age, and her own mistress. The question is--what is she to +do?" + +"Do? There is no question of her _doing_ anything," he replied shortly. +"You mean that her coming of age will make no difference--that things +will go on as they are?" Miss Craven eyed him curiously. + +"Yes. Why not?" + +"You know less of Gillian than I thought you did." The old caustic tone +was sharp in her voice. + +He looked surprised. "Isn't she happy here?" + +"Happy!" Miss Craven laughed oddly. "It's a little word to mean so much. +Yes, she is happy--happy as the day is long--but that won't keep her. +She loves the Towers, she is adored on the estate, she has a corner in +that great heart of hers for all who live here--but still that won't +keep her. In her way of thinking she has a debt to pay, and all these +months, studying, working, hoping, she has been striving to that end. +She is determined to make her own way in the world, to repay what has +been expended on her----" + +"That's dam' nonsense," he interrupted hotly. + +"It's not nonsense from Gillian's point of view," Miss Craven answered +quickly, "it's just common honesty. We have argued the matter, she and +I, scores of times. I have told her repeatedly that in view of your +guardianship you stand _in loco parentis_ and, therefore, as long as she +is your ward her maintenance and artistic education are merely her just +due, that there can be no question of repayment. She does not see it in +that light. Personally--though I would not for the world have her know +it--I understand and sympathize with her entirely. Her independence, her +pride, are out of all proportion to her strength. I cannot condemn, I +can only admire--though I take good care to hide my admiration ... +and if you could persuade her to let the past rest, there is still the +question of her future." + +"That I can provide for." + +Miss Craven shook her head. + +"That you can not provide for," she said gravely. + +The flat contradiction stirred him. He jerked upright from his former +lounging attitude and stood erect, scowling down at her from his great +height. "Why not?" he demanded haughtily. + +Miss Craven shrugged. "What would you propose to do?" He caught the +challenge in her tone and for a moment was disconcerted. "There would be +ways--" he said, rather vaguely. "Something could be arranged--" + +"You would offer her--charity?" suggested Miss Craven, wilfully dense. + +"Charity be damned." + +"Charity generally is damnable to those who have to suffer it. No, +Barry, that won't do." + +He jingled the keys in his pocket and the scowl on his face deepened. + +"I could settle something on her, something that would be adequate, and +it could be represented that some old investment of her father's had +turned up trumps unexpectedly." + +But Miss Craven shook her head again. "Clever, Barry, but not clever +enough. Gillian is no fool. She knows her father had no money, that he +existed on a pittance doled out to him by exasperated relatives which +ceased with his death. He told her plainly in his last letter that there +was nothing in the world for her--except your charity. Think of what +Gillian is, Barry, and think what she must have suffered--waiting for +your coming from Japan, and, to a less extent, in the dependence of +these last years." + +He moved uncomfortably, as if he resented the plainness of his aunt's +words, and having found a cigarette lit it slowly. Then he walked to the +window, which was still unshuttered, and looked out into the darkness, +his back turned uncompromisingly to the room. His inattentive attitude +seemed almost to suggest that the matter was not of vital interest to +him. + +Miss Craven's face grew graver and she waited long before she spoke +again. "There is also another reason why I have strenuously opposed +Gillian's desire to make her own way in the world, a reason of which she +is ignorant. She is not physically strong enough to attempt to earn her +own living, to endure the hard work, the privations it would entail. You +remember how bronchitis pulled her down last year; I am anxious about +her this winter. She is constitutionally delicate, she may grow out +of it--or she may not. Heaven knows what seeds of mischief she has +inherited from such parents as hers. She needs the greatest care, +everything in the way of comfort--she is not fitted for a rough and +tumble life. And, Barry, I can't tell her. It would break her heart." + +Her eyes were fixed on him intently and she waited with eager +breathlessness for him to speak. But when at length he answered his +words brought a look of swift disappointment and she relaxed in her +chair with an air of weary despondency. He replied without moving. + +"Can't you arrange something, Aunt Caro? You are very fond of Gillian, +you would miss her society terribly; cannot you persuade her that she +is necessary to you--that it would be possible for her to work and still +remain with you? I know that some day you will want to go back to your +own house in London, to take up your own interests again, and to travel. +I can't expect you to take pity much longer on a lonely bachelor. You +have given up much to help me--it cannot go on for ever. For what you +have done I can never thank you, it is beyond thanks, but I must not +trade on your generosity. If you put it to Gillian that you, personally, +do not want to part with her--that she is dear to you--it's true, isn't +it?" he added with sudden eagerness. And in surprise at her silence +he swung on his heel and faced her. She was leaning back in the big +armchair in a listless manner that was not usual to her. + +"I am afraid you cannot count on me, Barry," she said slowly. He stared +in sheer amazement. + +"What do you mean, Aunt Caro?--you do care for her, don't you?" + +"Care for her?" echoed Miss Craven, with a laugh that was curiously +like a sob, "yes, I do care for her. I care so much that I am going to +venture a great deal--for her sake. But I cannot propose that she should +live permanently with me because all future permanencies have been taken +out of my hands. I hate talking about myself, but you had to know some +day, this only accelerates it. I have not been feeling myself for some +time--a little while ago I went to London for definite information. +The man had the grace to be honest with me--he bade me put my house in +order." Her tone left no possibility of misunderstanding. He was across +the room in a couple of hasty strides, on his knees beside her, his +hands clasped over hers. + +"Aunt Caro!" The genuine and deep concern in his voice almost broke her +self-control. She turned her head, catching her lip between her teeth, +then with a little shrug she recovered herself and smiled at him. + +"Dear boy, it must come some day--it has come a little sooner than +I expected, that is all. I'm not grumbling, I've had a wonderful +life--I've been able to do something with it. I have not sat altogether +idle in the market-place." + +"But are you sure? Doctors are not infallible." + +"Quite sure," she answered steadily; "the man I went to was very kind, +very thorough. He insisted I should have other opinions. There was a +council of big-wigs and they all arrived at the same conclusion, which +was at least consoling. A diversity of opinion would have torn my nerves +to tatters. I couldn't tell you before, it would have worried me. I hate +a fuss. I don't want it mentioned again. You know--and there's an end of +it." She squeezed his hands tightly for a moment, then got up abruptly +and went to the fireplace. + +"I have only one regret--Gillian," she said as he followed her. "You see +now that it is impossible for me to make a definite home for her, even +supposing that she were to agree to such a proposal. They gave me two or +three years at the longest--it might be any time." + +Craven stood beside her miserable and tongue-tied. Her news affected +him deeply, he was stunned with the suddenness of it and amazed at the +courage she displayed. She might almost have been discoursing on the +probable death of a stranger. And yet, he reflected, it was only in +keeping with her general character. She had been fearless all through +life, and for her death held no terrors. + +He tried to speak but words failed him. And presently she spoke again, +hurriedly, disjointedly. + +"I am helpless. I can do nothing for Gillian. I could have left her +money in my will, despite her pride she would have had to accept it. I +can't even do that. At my death all I have, as you know, goes back into +the estate. I have never saved anything--there never seemed any reason. +And what I made with my work I gave away. There is only you--only one +way--Barry, won't you--Barry!" She was crying undisguisedly, unconscious +even of the unaccustomed tears. "You know what I mean--you must know," +she whispered entreatingly, struggling with emotion. + +He was standing rigid, to her strained fancy he seemed almost to +have stopped breathing and there was in his attitude something that +frightened her. It came to her suddenly that, after all, he was to all +intents and purposes a stranger to her. Even the intimacy of these +last months, living in close contiguity to him in his own house had +not broken down the barrier that his sojourn in Japan had raised. She +understood him no better than on the day of his arrival in Paris. He had +been uniformly thoughtful and affectionate but had never reverted to the +old Barry whom she had known so well. He had, as it were, retired within +himself. He lived his life apart, with them but not of them, daily +carrying through the arduous work he set himself with a dogged +determination in which there was no pleasure. Yet, beyond a certain +gravity, to the casual observer there was in him no great change. He +entertained frequently and was a popular host, interesting and appearing +interested. Only Miss Craven and Peters, more intimate, saw the +effort that he made. To Miss Craven it seemed sometimes as if he were +deliberately living through a self-appointed period--she had found +herself wondering what cataclysm would end it. She was conscious of the +impression, which she tried vainly to dismiss as absurd, of living over +an active volcano. What would be the result of the upheaval when it +came? She had prayed earnestly for some counter-distraction that might +become powerful enough to surmount the tragic memory with which he +lived--a memory she was convinced and the tragedy was present in his +face. She had cherished a hope, born in the early days of their return +to Craven Towers and maintained in the face of seeming improbability of +fulfilment, that had grown to be an ardent desire. In the realization of +that hope she thought she saw his salvation. With the knowledge of her +own precarious hold on life she clung even more closely to what had +become the strongest wish she had ever known. She had never deluded +herself into imagining the consummation of her wish imminent, she +had frankly acknowledged to herself that his inscrutability was +impenetrable, and now hope seemed almost extinguished. She realized it +with a feeling of helplessness. And yet she had a curious impulse, +an inner conviction that urged with a peremptoriness that over-rode +subterfuge. She would speak plainly, be the consequences what they were. +It was for the ultimate happiness of the two beings whom she loved best +on earth--for that surely she might venture something. She had never +been afraid of plain speaking, it would be strange if she let +convention deter her now. Convention! it had wrecked many a life--so +had interference, she thought with sudden racking indecision. What if +by interference she hindered now, rather than helped? What if speech +did more mischief than silence? Irresolutely she wavered, and to her +indecision there came suddenly the further disturbing thought--if Barry +acceded to her earnest wish what ground had she for pre-supposing that +it would result in his happiness? She had no definite knowledge, no +positive assurance wherewith to press her request. The inmost feelings +of both were hidden from her. Her meddling might only bring more sorrow +to him who seemed already weighed down under a crushing burden of +grief. Gratitude and an intense admiration she knew existed. But between +admiration and any deeper feeling there was a wide gulf. And yet what +might not be hidden behind the grave seriousness of those great dark +eyes that looked with apparently equal frankness at every member of the +household? Months spent in the proximity of an unusually handsome man, +the romance of the tie between them--it was an experience that any +woman, least of all an unsophisticated convent-bred girl, could hardly +pass through unscathed. It was surely enough to gamble on, she reflected +with grim humour that did not amuse. It was a great hazzard, the highest +stakes she had ever played for who had never been afraid of losing. The +thought spurred her. If it was to be the last throw then let there be +no hesitation. A reputation for courage and coolness had gone with her +through life. + +She turned to him abruptly, all indecision gone, complete mistress of +herself again. + +"Barry, don't you understand?" she said with slow distinctness. "I want +you to ask Gillian to marry you." + +He started as if she had stabbed him. + +"Good God," he cried violently, "you don't know what you are saying!" +And from his tortured face she averted her eyes hastily, sick at heart. +But she held her ground, aware that retreat was not now possible. + +She answered gently, steadying her voice with difficulty. + +"Is it so extraordinary that I should wish it, should hope for it? I +care for you both so deeply. To know that your mother's place would be +filled by one who is worthy to follow her--how worthy only I, who have +been admitted to her high ideals, appreciate; to know that there would +be the happiness of home ties here for you, to know that I leave Gillian +safe in your hands--it would make my going very easy, Barry." + +His head was down on his arms on the mantelshelf, his face hidden from +her. "Gillian--safe--in my hands--_my God_!" he groaned, and shuddered +like a man in mortal agony. + +All the deep love she had for him, all the fears she entertained for him +leaped up in her with sudden strength, forcing utterance and breaking +down the reticence she had imposed upon herself. She caught his arm. + +"Barry, what is it--for heaven's sake speak! Do you think I have +been blind all these months, that I have seen nothing? Can't you tell +me--anything?" her voice, quivering with emotion, was strange to him, +strange enough to recall him to himself. He straightened slowly and drew +away from her with a little shiver. "There is nothing I can tell you," +he replied dully, "nothing that I can explain, only this--I went through +hell in Japan. I don't want any sympathy--it was my own fault, my own +doing.... Just now I made a fool of myself, I was off my guard, your +words startled me. Forget it, you can do me no good by remembering." + +He made an abrupt movement as if to leave the room but Miss Craven stood +squarely in front of him, her chin raised stubbornly. She knew now that +she was face to face with something even more terrible than she had +imagined. He had avoided a definite answer. By all reasoning she should +have accepted his rebuff but intuition, stronger than reason, impelled +her. If he went now it would be the end. She knew that positively. +The question could never be opened up again. She could not let it pass +without a final effort. It was inconceivable that this shadow could +always lie across his life. Whatever tragical event had occurred +belonged to the past--surely the future might hold some alleviation, +some happiness that might compensate for the sorrow that had lined his +face and brought the silver threads that gleamed in his thick dark hair. +Surely in the care for another life memory might be dulled and +there might dawn for him a new hope, a new peace. Despite his broken +suggestive words her trust in him was still maintained; she had no fear +for Gillian--with him her future would be assured. And there seemed no +other alternative. Her confidence in herself furthermore was not shaken, +she had a deep unalterable conviction that the wish for the union she +so desired was based upon something deeper than mere fancy. It was not +anything that she could put into words or even into concrete thought, +but the belief was strong. It was a vivid assurance that went beyond +reasoning, that made it possible for her to speak again. + +"Are you going to let the past dominate the rest of your life," she +asked slowly, "is the future to count for nothing? There are, in all +probability, many years ahead of you--cannot you, in them, obliterate +what has gone before?" + +He turned from her with a hopeless gesture and a muttered word she could +not catch. But he did not go as she feared he would. He lingered in the +room, staring into the heart of the glowing fire and Miss Craven played +her last card. + +"And--Gillian?" she said firmly, all the Craven obstinacy in her voice, +and waited long for his answer. When it came it was flat, monotonous. + +"I cannot marry her. I cannot marry--anybody." + +"Are you married already?" The question escaped before she could bite it +back. With a quickening heartbeat she awaited an outburst, a retort +that would end everything. But he answered quietly, in the same toneless +voice: "No, I am not married." + +She caught at the loop-hole it seemed to offer. "If there is no bar----" +she began eagerly, but he cut her short. "I have done with all that sort +of thing," he said harshly. + +"Why?" she persisted, with a doggedness that matched his own. "If you +have known sorrow, does that necessarily mean that you can never again +know happiness? Must you for a--a memory, turn your back irrevocably on +any chance that may restore your peace of mind? I believe that such a +chance is waiting for you." + +He looked at her with strange intentness. "For me...." he smiled +bitterly. "If you only knew!" + +"I only know that you are hesitating at what most men would jump at," +she retorted, suddenly conscious of strained nerves and feeling as if +she were battering impotently against a granite rock-face. His hands +clenched but he did not reply and swift contrition fell on her. She +turned to him impulsively. "Forgive me, Barry. I shouldn't have said +that, but I want this thing so desperately. I am convinced that it +would mean happiness for you, for you both. And when I think of +Gillian--alone--fighting against the world----" She broke down +completely and he gripped her hands with a strength that made her wince. + +"She'll never do that if I can help it," he said swiftly. + +Miss Craven looked up with sudden hope. "You will ask her?" she +whispered expectantly. He put her from him gently. "I can promise +nothing. I must think," he said deliberately, and there was in his face +a look that held her silent. + +With uncertain feelings she watched him leave the room.... Inevitable +re-action set in, doubts overwhelmed her. Had she done what was best +or had she blundered irretrievably? She went unsteadily to a chair, +extraordinarily tired, exhausted in her new weakness by the emotional +strain through which she had passed. She was beginning to be a little +aghast at what she had done, at the force that she had set moving. +And yet she had been actuated by the highest motives. She believed +implicitly that the joining of the two lives whose future was all her +care would result in the ultimate happiness of both. They had grown +used to each other. A closer relationship than that of guardian and ward +seemed, in view of the comparatively slight difference in age, a natural +outcome of the intimacy into which they had been thrown. It was +not without precedent; similar events had happened before and would +doubtless happen again, she argued, striving to stifle the still +lingering doubt that whispered that she had gone beyond her prerogative. +And what she had done was in a way inexplicable even to herself. All +through she had felt that involuntary forceful impulse that had been +almost fatalistic, she had urged through the prompting of an inward +conviction. She had perhaps attached too much importance to it, her own +wish had been magnified until it assumed the appearance of fate. + +Her closed eyes quivered as she leaned back in the chair. + +She had done it for the best, she kept repeating mechanically to +herself, to try and bring happiness into his life; to insure the safety +of the girl who had become so dear to her. Had it been his thought too, +even before she spoke? His manner had been so strange. He had recoiled +from her suggestion but she had been left with the impression that it +was no new one to him. She had caught a fleeting look, before his face +had taken on that impenetrable mask, that had given the lie to his +emphatic words. He had seemed to be wrestling with himself, she had seen +the moisture thick on his forehead, his set face had looked as if it +could never soften again. When he had gone he had given her no definite +promise and she had no possibility of guessing what his decision would +be. But on reflection she found hope in his deferring reply. It was all +that was left to her. She had done her utmost, the rest lay with him. +She sighed deeply, she had never felt such weariness of mind and body. +As she gave way to a feeling of growing lassitude drowsiness came +over her which she was too tired to combat and for some time she slept +heavily. She awoke with a start to find Gillian, wide-eyed with concern, +kneeling beside her, the girl's slim warm fingers clasped closely round +her sleep-numbed hands. Dazed with sudden waking she looked up without +speaking at the fresh young face that bent over her. Gillian rubbed the +cold hands gently. "Aunt Caro, you were asleep! I've never caught you +napping before," she laughed, but a hint of anxiety mingled with the +wonder in her voice. Miss Craven slowly smiled reassurance. Her weakness +seemed to have vanished with sleep, she felt herself once more strong +enough to hide from the searching affectionate eyes anything that might +give pain or cause uneasiness. She sat up straighter. + +"Laziness, my dear, sheer laziness," she said sturdily. Gillian looked +at her gravely. "Sure?" she asked, "you are sure that you are quite +well? You looked so tired--your face was quite white." + +"Quite sure--unbeliever! And you--did you have a good time; did you +remember to take your tonic, and did you keep warm?" + +Gillian laughed softly and stood up, ticking off the items on her +fingers. "I did have a good time, I did remember to take my tonic, and +this heavenly coat has kept me as warm as pie--Nina Atherton taught me +that. That nice family considerably enlarged my vocabulary," she added +with enjoyment, slipping out of a heavy fur coat and coming back to +perch on the arm of Miss Craven's chair. + +"Not yours only," was the answer, "Peter was quoting the husband this +afternoon." + +They were both silent for a moment thinking of the three charming +Americans who had spent a couple of months at the Towers the previous +summer, bringing with them an adored scrap of humanity and a host of +nurses, valets and maids. + +Then Gillian drew her arm closer around Miss Craven. + +"Alex pressed me to stay until to-morrow, I had the greatest trouble to +get away. But I promised to come back this afternoon, and, do you +know, Aunt Caro, I had the queerest feeling this morning. I thought +you _wanted_ me, wanted me urgently. As if you could ever want anybody +urgently, you self-reliant wonder." She gave the shoulder she was +caressing an affectionate hug. "But it was odd, wasn't it? I nearly +telephoned, and then I concluded you would think I had taken leave of my +senses." + +Miss Craven sat very still. + +"I should have," she replied, and hoped that her voice appeared more +natural than it sounded to herself. Gillian laughed. + +"Anyhow, I'm glad you had Mr. Peters to cheer your solitary tea. I hated +to think of you being alone." + +"He didn't. He left early. But Barry condescended to take pity on me." + +"Mr. Craven!" There was the slightest pause before she added: "I thought +he scorned _le five o'clock_. He's not nearly so domesticated as David." + +"As who, my dear?" asked Miss Craven, staring. Gillian gave another +little laugh. + +"Oh, that's my private name for Mr. Peters--he doesn't mind--he spoils +me dreadfully--'the sweet singer in Israel'--you know. He has got the +most beautiful tenor voice I have ever listened to." + +"Peter--sing! I've never heard him sing," said Miss Craven in wonder, +and she looked up with a new curiosity. "I've known him for thirty +years, and in less than that number of months you discover an +accomplishment of which everybody else is ignorant. How did you manage +it, child?" + +"By accident, one evening in the summer. You were dining out, and +Mouston and I had gone for a ramble in the park--it's gorgeous there in +the _crepuscule_--and we were quite close to the Hermitage. I heard him +and I eaves-dropped--is there such a word? It was so lovely that I +had to clap and he came out and found an unexpected audience on the +windowsill. Wasn't it dreadful? He was so dear about it and explained +that it was a very private form of amusement, but since the cat was out +of the bag there was an end of the matter, only he positively declined +to perform in public. I bullied him into singing some more, and then he +walked home with me." + +"You twist Peter round your little finger and trade on his good nature +shamelessly," said Miss Craven severely, but her teasing held no +terrors. + +"He's such a dear," the girl repeated softly, and slipping off the arm +of the chair she went to the fire and knelt down to put back a log that +had fallen on to the hearth and was smouldering uselessly. Miss Craven +looked at her as, the log replaced, she still knelt on the rug and +held her hands mechanically to the blaze. She had an intense and wholly +futile longing to speak what was in her mind and, demanding confidence +for confidence, penetrate the secret of the heart that had confided to +her all but this one thing. Little by little through no pressure but +by mere telepathic sympathy, reserve had melted away and hopes and +aspirations had been submitted and discussed. But of this one thing +there could be no discussion. Miss Craven realised it and stifled a +regretful sigh. Even she, dear as she knew herself to be, might not +intrude so intimately. For by such an intrusion she might lose all that +she had gained. She could not forfeit the confidence that had grown +to mean so much to her, it was too high a price to pay even for the +knowledge she sought. She must have patience, she thought, as she ran +her fingers with the old gesture through her grey curls. But it was hard +to be patient when any moment might bring the summons that would put +her beyond the ken of earthly events. To go, leaving this problem still +unsolved! She set her teeth and sat rigid, gripping the oak rails of the +chair until her fingers ached, battling with herself. She looked again +at the slim kneeling figure, the pale oval face half turned to her, the +thick dark hair piled high on the small proud head glistening in the +firelight. A thing of grace and beauty--in mind and body desirable. How +could he hesitate.... + +"Barry was riding--all day--in this atrocious weather. He came in +soaked," she said abruptly, almost querulously, unlike her usual +tolerant intonation. There was no immediate answer and for a moment she +thought she had not been heard. The girl had moved slightly, turning +her face away, and with a steady hand was building the dying fire into a +pyramid. She completed the operation carefully and sat back on her heels +flourishing the tiny brass tongs. + +"He's tough," she said lightly, unconsciously echoing Peters' words and +apparently heedless of the interval between Miss Craven's remark and her +own reply. She seemed more interested in the fire than in her guardian. +Laying the tongs away leisurely she came back to Miss Craven's chair +and settled down on the floor beside her, her arms crossed on the +elder woman's knee. She looked up frankly, a faint smile lightening her +serious brown eyes. + +"I don't think Mr. Craven wants any sympathy, _cherie_," she said +slowly, "I reserve all mine for Yoshio, he fusses so dreadfully when +the 'honourable master' goes for those tremendous long rides or is out +hunting. Have you noticed that he always waits in the hall, to be ready +at the first moment to rush away and get dry clothes and a hot bath and +all the other Oriental paraphernalia for checking chills and driving +the ache out of sore bones? I don't suppose Mr. Craven has ever had sore +bones--he is so splendidly strong--and Yoshio certainly seems determined +he never shall. Mary thoroughly approves of him, she's a fusser by +nature too; she deplores his heathenism but says he has more sense than +many a Christian. Soon after we came here I found him in the hall one +day staring through the window, looking the picture of misery, his funny +little yellow face all puckered up. He saw me out of the back of his +head, truly he did, for he never turned, and tried to slip away. But I +made him stay and talk to me. I sat on the stairs and he folded himself +up on the mat--I can't describe it any other way--and told me all about +Japan, and California and Algeria and all the other queer places he has +been to with Mr. Craven. He has such a quaint dramatic way of speaking +and lapses into unintelligible Japanese just at the exciting moments--so +tantalising! They seem to have been in some very--what do you +say?--tight corners. We got quite sociable. I was so interested in +listening to his description of the wonderful gardens they make in Japan +that I never heard Mr. Craven come in and did not realise that he was +standing near us until Yoshio suddenly shot up and fled, literally +vanished, and left me _planteel_! I felt so idiotic sitting on the +stairs hugging my knees and Mr. Craven, all splashed and muddy, waiting +for me to let him pass--I was dreadfully frightened of him in those +days," the faintest colour tinged her cheeks. "I longed for an +earthquake to swallow me up," she laughed and scrambled to her feet, +gathering the heap of furs into her arms and holding them dark and +silky against her face. "You shouldn't have encouraged in me a love +of beautiful furs, Aunt Caro," she said inconsequently, with sudden +seriousness. "I've sense enough left to know that I shouldn't indulge +it--and I'm human enough to adore them." + +"Rubbish! furs suit you--please my sense of the artistic. I would not +encourage you if you had a face like a harvest moon and no carriage--I +can't bear sloppiness in anything," snapped Miss Craven in quite her old +style. "When do the Horringfords start for Egypt?" she added by way of +definitely changing the subject. + +Gillian rubbed her cheek against the soft sealskin with an understanding +smile. It was hopeless to try and curb Miss Craven's generosity, +hopeless to attempt to argue against it. "Next week," she answered the +inquiry. "Tuesday, probably. They stay in Paris for a month _en route;_ +Lord Horringford wants some data from the Louvre and also to arrange +some preliminaries with the French Egyptologist who is joining their +party." + +"Hum! And Alex--still interested in mummies?" + +"More than ever, she is full of enthusiasm. She talks of dynasties and +tribal deities, of kings and _Kas_ and symbols until my head spins. Lord +Horringford teases her but it is easy to see that her interest pleases +him. He says she is the mascot of the expedition, that she brought luck +to the digging last year." + +"Alex has had many hobbies but never one that ran for two seasons," said +Miss Craven thoughtfully; "I am glad she has found an interest at last +that promises to be permanent." + +Gillian gathered the furs closer in her arms and made a few steps toward +the door. "She has found more than that," she said softly, and the +colour flamed in her sensitive face. Miss Craven nodded. "You mean +that in unearthing the buried treasure of a dead past she has found the +living treasure of a man's love? Yes, and not any too soon, poor silly +child. Men like Horringford don't bear playing with. I wonder whether +she knows how near she has been to making shipwreck of her life." + +"I think she knows--now," said Gillian, with a little wise smile as she +left the room. + +The sound of her soft contralto singing an old French nursery rhyme +echoed faintly back to the library: + + "Mon pre m'a donn un petit mari, + Mon Dieu, quel homme!" + +And, listening, Miss Craven smiled half-sadly, for the quaint words +carried her back to the days of her own childhood. But the exigencies +of the present thrust aside past memories. She sat on, wrapped in her +thoughts until the dropping temperature of the room sent through her +a sudden chill, so she rose with a shiver and a startled glance at her +watch. + +"Dry bones and love," she said musingly, "it's a curious combination! +Peter, my man, you gave wise advice there.... But not all your wisdom +can help _my_ trouble." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +December had brought a complete change of weather. It was within a few +days of Christmas, a typical old-fashioned Yuletide with a firm white +mantle of snow lying thick over the country. + +Underneath the ground was iron and for two weeks all hunting had been +stopped. + +Craven was returning to the Towers after an absence of ten days. +The motor crawled through the park for in places the frozen road was +slippery as glass and the chauffeur was a cautious North-countryman +whose faith in the chains locked round the wheels was not unlimited; he +was driving carefully, with a wary eye for the worst patches noted on +the outward run, and, beside him, equally alert, sat Yoshio muffled to +the ears in an immense overcoat, a shapeless bundle. + +It was early afternoon, calm and clear, and in the air the intense +stillness that succeeds a heavy snowfall. The pale sun, that earlier +in the day had iridised the snow, was now too low to affect the dead +whiteness of the scene against which the trees showed magnified and +sharply black. Here and there across the smooth surface stretching on +either side of the road lay the curiously differing tracks of animals. +From the back seat of the car where he sat alone Craven marked them +mechanically. He knew every separate spoor and could have named the +owner of each; ordinarily they would have claimed from him a certain +interest but today he passed them without a second thought. He did not +resent the slow progress of the car, he was in no hurry to reach the +Towers. He had come to a momentous decision but shrank from the action +that must necessarily follow; once at the house he knew that he would +permit himself no further delay, he would put his purpose into effect +at the earliest opportunity--today if possible; here there was still +time--vaguely he wondered for what? Not for reflection, that was +done with. He had striven with all his strength to arrive at a right +determination; he had thought until reasoning became a mere repetition +of fixed ideas moving in a circle and arriving always at an unvaried +starting point. There seemed no consequence that he had not weighed in +his mind, no issue that he had not considered. To ponder afresh would be +to cover again uselessly ground that he had gone over a hundred times. +Three days ago he had made his choice, he had no intention of departing +from it. For good or ill the thing must go forward now. And, after all, +the ultimate decision did not lie with him. Admitting it his thoughts +became introspective. Throughout his deliberations he had put self on +one side, there had been no question of his own wishes; now for the +first time he allowed personal considerations to rise unchecked. For +what did he hope? He knew the reason of his reluctance to reach the +house--he desired success and yet he feared it, feared the consequences +that might result, feared the strength of his own will to persevere in +the course he had chosen. For him there was no other way but, merciful +God, it would be hard! He set his teeth and stared at the frozen +landscape with unseeing eyes. Since her outburst four weeks ago Miss +Craven had not spoken again of the wish that was nearest her heart, but +he knew that she was waiting for an answer, knew that that answer must +be given. One way or the other. Day had succeeded day in torturing +indecision. He had lived, slept with the problem, at no time was it +out of his mind. In the course of the long rides that had become more +frequent, obtruding during the monotonous hours spent in the estate +office, the problem persisted. In the sleepless hours of the night he +wrestled with it. If it had been a matter of personal inclination, if +the past had not risen between them there would have been no hesitation. +He would have gone to her months ago, would have begged the priceless +gift that she alone could give. He wanted her, almost above the hope +of salvation, and the inducement to ignore the past had been all +but overpowering. He loved and desired with all the strength of the +passionate nature he had inherited. He craved for her with an intensity +that was anguish, that set him wondering how far the power of endurance +reached, how much a man could bear. He was torn with the fierce +promptings of primeval forces. To take her, willing or unwilling, +despite honour, despite all that stood between them, to make her his and +hold her in the face of all the world--at times the temptation had been +maddening. There had been days when he had not dared to look on her, +when he had drawn himself more than ever apart from the common life, +fearful of himself, fearful of circumstances that seemed beyond his +ordering. And the thought that another could take what he might not +had engendered an insensate jealousy that was beyond reason. He did not +recognise himself, he had not known the depths of his own nature. If +there had been no bar, if she could have come to him willingly, if there +could indeed have been for him the full ties of home--the thought was +agony. Miss Craven's words had been a sword turning in an open wound. To +the burden he already carried had been added this. + +The future of his ward had been his problem as well as Miss Craven's. +Only a little while ago a way had seemed clear, not a way to his own +happiness--by his own act he had put himself beyond all possibility of +that--but a way that would mean security and happiness for her who had +come to mean more than life to him. For her safety he would have given +his soul. The term of his guardianship was drawing to an end, in a +few months his legal control over her terminated. Miss Craven who had +surrendered her independence for two years would be returning to her own +home, to her old life; it had seemed a foregone conclusion that Gillian +would accompany her. + +But the double shock in the revelation of Miss Craven's precarious state +and Gillian's delicacy had been staggering. He had not been prepared for +a contingency that seemed to cut the ground from under his feet. With +all the will in the world his aunt was powerless to further the plan he +proposed, any day might bring the Great Summons. And Gillian! The little +persistent cough rang in his ears always. Gillian and poverty--by day it +haunted him, he woke in the night sweating at the very thought. It was +intolerable. And yet there appeared no means of escaping it--save one. +For a moment, with a fierce joy, he saw fate aiding him, forcing into +his hands what he yearned to gather to himself, then he recoiled from +even the thought of her purity linked with the stain of his past. He +had racked his brain to discover an alternative. To force upon her an +adequate income that would put her beyond want and the necessity of work +would be easy. To induce her to use the money thus provided he divined +would be impossible, he seemed to know intuitively that her will would +not give way to his. During these last weeks he had looked at her +with new understanding, it seemed incredible that he had never before +recognised the determination that underlay her shy gentleness. +Character shone in the frank brown eyes, there was a firmness that was +unmistakable in the arched lips that were the only patch of colour in +her delicate face. From his wealth she would accept nothing. Would she +accept him--all that he dared offer? It was no new idea, the thought had +been in his mind often but always he resolutely put it from him with a +feeling of abhorrence. It was an insult to her womanhood, an expedient +that nothing could justify. And yet step by step he was forced back +upon it--there seemed no other way to save her from herself. Days of +harrassing indecision, his only thought she, brought him no nearer to +a conclusion. And time was passing. He had reached a point when further +deliberation was beyond his power; when all his strength seemed to turn +into hopeless longing that, to the exclusion of all else, craved even +the mockery of possession; when days were torment and nights a sleepless +horror. Then change of scene had aided final determination. The factor +of the Scotch estate had written of a sudden and unexpected difficulty +for which he asked personal advice. A telegram had stopped his proposed +visit to the Towers and Craven had himself gone instead to Scotland. And +in the solitude of his northern home he had decided on the only course +that seemed open to him. He would go to her with his poor offer, the +poorest surely that ever a man made to a woman, and the rest would lie +with her. But how would she receive it? He had a vision of the soft +brown eyes blazing with scorn, of the slender figure he ached to hold +in his arms turning from him in cold disgust, and he clenched his hands +until the nails bit deep into his wet palms. + +A bad skid that slewed the car half round broke his thoughts and in a +few minutes they were at the house. + +Forbes, the elderly butler who had been an under footman when Peters +first came to the Towers, was waiting for him in the hall, informative +with the garrulousness of an old and privileged servant. A late +luncheon was waiting--he sighed patiently on hearing that it was not +required--Miss Craven had gone to the Vicarage for tea; Mr. Peters was +expected to dinner that night and he had telephoned in the morning to +tell Mr. Craven--Craven cut him short. Peter's message could wait, only +one thing seemed to matter just now. + +"Where is Miss Locke?" he asked curtly. "In the studio, sir," replied +Forbes with resignation. If Mr. Barry didn't want to hear what Mr. +Peters had got to say he, for one, was not going to press the matter. +Mr. Barry had had his own way of doing things since the days when he sat +on the pantry table kicking his heels and flourishing stolen jam under +Forbes' very nose--a masterful one always, he was. And if it was a case +of Miss Gillian--Forbes retired with an armful of ulster and rugs into +the cloakroom to hide a sympathetic grin. + +Craven crossed the hall and went into the study. He looked without +interest through an accumulation of letters lying on the writing table, +then threw them down indifferently. Walking to the fireplace he lit a +cigarette and stood staring at the cheerful blaze. At last he raised +his head and gazed with deliberation at himself in the glass over the +mantle. He scowled at the stern worn face reflected in the mirror, +looking curiously at its deep cut lines, at the silver patches in the +thick brown hair. Then with a violent exclamation he swung abruptly on +his heel, flung the cigarette into the fire and left the room. He went +upstairs slowly, surprised at the feeling of apathy that had come over +him. In the face of direct action the high tension of the last few +weeks had snapped, leaving him dull, almost inert, and reluctance to +go forward grew with every step. But at the head of the stairs his mood +changed suddenly. All that the coming interview meant to him revealed +itself with startling clearness. With a deep breath he caught at the +rail, for he was shaking uncontrollably, and covered his face with his +hand. + +"God!" he whispered, and again: "God!" + +Then he gripped himself and went quickly across the gallery, turning +down the corridor that led to the west wing. He followed the oddly +twisting passage, contorted at the whim of succeeding generations where +rooms had been enlarged or abolished, passing rows of closed doors and +another staircase. The corridor terminated in the room he was seeking. +It had been the old playroom; at the extreme end of the wing it faced +northward and westward and was well suited for the studio into which it +had been converted. It was Gillian's own domain and he had never asked +to visit it. As he reached the door he heard from within the shrill +treble of a boy's mirth and then a low soft laugh that made his +heart beat quicker. He tapped and went in and for a moment stared in +amazement. He did not recognise the room, it was a totally unexpected +French _atelier_ tucked away in the corner of a typically English house. + +The polished rug-laid floor, the fluted folds of _toile-de-genes_ +clothing the walls, the litter of sketches and pictures, casts and +easels, the familiar lay-figure grotesquely attitudinising in a corner, +above all the atmosphere carried him straight to Paris. It was the +room of an artist, and a French artist. His eyes leaped to her. She was +standing before a big easel looking wonderingly over her shoulder at the +opening door, the brush she was using poised in her hand, her eyes wide +with astonishment, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. + +In the picturesque painter's blouse, her brown hair loosely framing her +face, she seemed altogether different. He could not define wherein lay +the change, he had no time to discriminate, he only knew that seen thus +she was a thousand times more desirable than she had ever been and that +his heart cried out for her more fiercely than before. He looked at her +with hungry longing, then quickly--lest his eyes should betray him--from +her to her model. A boy of ten with an intelligent small brown face, a +mop of black curls, and red lips parted in a mischievous smile, he stood +on the raised platform with the easy assurance of a professional. + +Craven shut the door behind him and came forward. She turned to meet +him and the colour rushed in a crimson wave to the roots of her hair. +"_Monsieur ... vous etes de retour ... mais, soyez le bienvenu_!" she +stammered, with surprise unconsciously lapsing into the language of +childhood. Then she caught herself up with a little laugh of confusion +and hurried on in English: "I am so sorry ... there is nobody in but me. +Will you have some tea? It is only three o'clock," with a glance at her +wrist, "but I expect you lunched early." + +"I don't want any tea," he said bluntly. "I came to see you." He spoke +in French, mindful of two sharp ears on the platform. The colour in her +face deepened painfully and her eyes fell under his steady gaze. She +moved slowly back to the easel. + +"If you could wait a few moments----" she murmured. + +"I don't want to interrupt," he said hastily. "Please finish your work. +You don't mind if I stay? I haven't been here since I was a boy; you +have changed the room incredibly. May I look round?" + +She nodded assent over a tube of colour, and returned to her study. + +Left to himself he wandered leisurely round the room, examining the +pictures and sketches that were heaped indiscriminately. He had never +before displayed any interest in her work, and was now amazed at what he +saw. There was power in it that surprised him, that made him wonder what +intuition had given the convent-bred girl the knowledge she exhibited. +The tardy recognition of her talent strengthened his stranger feeling +toward her. He went thoughtfully to the fireplace, and, from the +rug, surveyed the room and its occupants. The atmosphere recalled old +memories--he had studied in Paris after leaving Oxford--only one thing +seemed lacking. + +"May I smoke?" he asked abruptly. + +Gillian turned with a quick smile. + +"But, of course. What need to ask? After Aunt Caro has been here for an +hour the room is blue." + +For another ten minutes he watched her in silence, free to look as he +would, for her back was toward him and in his position before the fire +he was beyond the range of the little model's inquisitive black eyes. + +Then she laid palette and brushes on a near table and stepped back, +frowning at what she had done until a smile came slowly to chase the +creases from her forehead. She spoke without moving, still looking at +the canvas: "That is all for to-day, Danny. The light has gone." + +The small boy stretched himself luxuriously, and descending from the +platform, joined her and gazed with evident interest at his portrait. +He peered in unconscious but faithful imitation of her own critical +attitude, his head slanted at the same angle as hers. "It's coming on," +he announced solemnly, and Craven guessed from the girl's laugh that it +was a repetition of some remark heard and stored up for future use. The +boy grinned in response, and slipping behind her went to the table where +she had laid her tools. "Can I clean palut?" he asked hopefully, his +hand already half-way to the coveted mass of colour. + +"Not to-day, thanks, Danny." + +"Shall I fetch th' dog, Miss?" more hopefully. Gillian turned to him +quickly. + +"He bit you last time." + +Danny wriggled his feet and his small white teeth flashed in a wide +smile. "He won't bite I again," he said confidently. "Mammy said 'twas +'cos he loved you and hated to have folks near you. She said I was to +whisper in his ear I loved you too, 'cos then he wouldn't touch me. Dad +he says 'tis a damned black devil," he added with candid relish and a +sidelong glance of mischief at his employer. + +Gillian laughed and gave his shoulder a little pat. + +"I'm afraid he is," she admitted ruefully. The boy threw his head back. +"I ain't afeard o' he," he said stoutly. "_Shall_ I fetch 'im?" + +"I think we'll leave him where he is, Danny," she said gravely, as if +in confidence. "He's probably very happy. Now run away and come again on +Saturday." She waved a paint-stained rag at him and turned again to +the picture. Obediently he started towards the door, then hesitated, +glancing irresolutely at Craven, and tip-toed back to the easel. + +"Them things in the drawer," he muttered sepulchrally, in a voice not +intended to reach the ears of the rather awe-inspiring personage on the +hearthrug. Gillian whipped round contritely. "Danny, I forgot them!" she +apologised, and tweaking a black curl went to a bureau and produced a +square cardboard box. Danny tucked it under his arm with murmured thanks +and a duck of the head, and crossing the room noiselessly went out, +closing the door behind him softly. Craven came slowly to her. She moved +to give him place before the easel. Craven looked at the small alert +brown face, the odd black eyes dancing with almost unearthly merriment, +the red lips curving upward to an enigmatical smile, and his wonder and +admiration grew. + +"Who is he?" he asked curiously, puzzled by a likeness he seemed to +recognise dimly and yet was unable to place. + +"Danny Major--the son of one of your gamekeepers," said Gillian; "his +mother has gipsy blood in her." + +Craven whistled. "I remember," he said, interested. "Old Major was +head-keeper. Young Major lost his heart to a gipsy lass and his father +kicked him out of doors. Peters, as usual, smoothed things over and kept +the fellow on at his job, in spite of a great deal of opposition--he had +seen the girl and formed his own opinion. I asked once or twice and he +said that it had turned out satisfactorily. So this is the son--he's a +rum-looking little beggar." + +Gillian was cleaning brushes at the side table. "He's the terror of the +neighbourhood," she said smiling, "but for some reason he is a perfect +angel when he comes here. It isn't the chocolates," she added hastily +as she saw a fleeting smile on his face, "he just likes coming. And +he tells me the most wonderful things about the woods and the wood +beasties." + +"He would," said Craven significantly, "it's in the blood. What's this?" +he asked, pointing to a smaller board propped face inward against the +big canvas. For a moment she did not answer and the colour flamed into +her face again. She put the brushes away, and wiping her fingers on a +cloth, lifted the board and gave it into his hands. + +"It's Danny as I see him," she said in an odd voice. And, looking at +it, Craven realised that the cleverness of the painted head on the large +canvas paled to mediocrity beside the brilliance of the sepia sketch he +held. It was the same head--but marvellously different--set on the body +of a faun. The dancing limbs were pulsing with life, the tiny hoofs +stamping the flower-strewn earth in an ecstasy of movement; the head was +thrown forward, bent as though to catch a distant echo, and among the +tossing curls showed two small curving horns; to the enigmatical smile +of the original had been added a subtle touch of mockery, and the wide +eyes held a look of mystical knowledge that was uncanny. Craven held +it silently, it seemed an incredible piece of work for the girl to have +conceived. And, beside him, she waited nervously for his verdict, with +close-locked twitching fingers. He had never come before, had never +shown any interest in the work that meant so much to her. She was hungry +for his praise, fearful of his censure. If he saw nothing in it now +but the immature efforts of an amateur! Her heart tightened. She drew a +little nearer to him, her eyes fixed apprehensively on his intent face, +her breath coming quickly. At length he replaced the sketch carefully. +"You have a wonderful talent," he said slowly. A little gasp of relief +escaped her and her lips trembled in spite of all efforts to keep them +steady. "You like it?" she whispered eagerly, and was terrified at the +awful pallor that overspread his face. For a moment he could not speak. +The words, the intonation! He was back again in Japan, looking at +the painting of a lonely fir tree clinging to a jutting sea-washed +cliff--the faintest scent of oriental perfume seemed stealing through +the air. He drew his hand across his eyes. "Merciful God ... not here +... not now!" he prayed in silent agony. Then with a desperate effort he +mastered himself and turned to the frightened girl with a forced smile. +"Forgive me--I've a beastly headache--the room went spinning round for +a minute," he said jerkily, wiping the moisture from his forehead. She +looked at him gravely. "I think you are very tired, and I don't believe +you had any lunch," she said with quiet decision. "I'm going to make +some coffee. Aunt Caro says my coffee drinking is more vicious than her +smoking," she went on, purposely giving him time to recover himself, and +crossing the room she collected little cups and a small brass pot. +"Any how it's the real article, and in spite of what she says Aunt Caro +doesn't scorn it. She comes regularly to drink my _cafe noir_ with her +after-lunch cigarette." + +Craven dropped down heavily on the broad cushioned window seat, his +hands clasped over his throbbing temples, fighting to regain his shaken +nerve. And yet there was a great hope dawning. For the first time the +threatening vision had failed to materialise, and the fact gave him +courage. If a time should come when it would definitely cease to haunt +him! He could never forget, never cease to regret, but he would feel +that in the Land of Understanding the hapless victim of his crime had +forgiven the sin that had robbed her of her young life. + +And as he grew calmer he began to be conscious that in the room where +he sat there was a restfulness that he had not felt in any other part +of the house since his return to Craven Towers. It was acting on him +curiously and he wondered what it portended. And as he pondered it +Gillian came to him with a cup of coffee in either hand. + +_"Monsieur est servi,"_ she said with a little laugh. She seemed to have +suddenly overcome shyness as if, in her own domain, the first surprise +of his visit over, her surroundings gave her confidence. Or, perhaps, +the womanliness that had been called out to meet his passing weakness +had set her on another plane. All signs of giddiness had left him and, +with her usual intuition, she did not trouble him with questions. For +the first time she found it easy to speak to him, and talked as +she would have done to Peters. She spoke of his northern visit and, +following his lead, of her work, freely and without embarrassment. Every +moment the restraint that had been between them seemed growing less. +She marvelled that she had ever found him unapproachable and wondered, +contritely, if her shyness had been alone to blame. She had been always +constrained and silent with him--small wonder that he had avoided +her, she thought humbly. Yet how could it have been otherwise? The tie +between them, the wonderful generosity he had shown, the aloofness +he had maintained, had made it impossible for her to view him as an +ordinary human being. She owed him everything and passionate recognition +and a sense of her indebtedness had grown with equal fervour. She had +almost worshipped him. He had taken her from a life that had grown +unbearable, he had given her the opportunity to follow the career for +which she longed. She could never repay him, she found it difficult to +put into words even to herself just what she felt towards him. From the +first she had raised him to the empty pedestal vacated by that fallen +idol, her father. And out of hero-worship had grown love, at first the +exalted devotion of an immature girl, adoration that was purely sexless +and selfless--a mystical love without passion, spiritual. He had +appeared to her as a being of another sphere and, mentally, she had +knelt at his feet as to a patron saint. But with her own development +love had expanded. She realised that what she felt for him was no longer +childish adoration, but a greater, more wonderful emotion. She had grown +to a full understanding of her own heart, the divinity had become a +man for whose love she yearned. But she loved hopelessly as she +loved deeply, she had no thought that her love could be returned. His +proximity had always troubled her, and to-day as she sat on the window +seat beside him she was conscious of a greater unrest than she had ever +before felt, and her heart throbbed painfully with the vague formless +longings, inexplicable and frightening, that stirred within her until it +seemed impossible that her agitation could pass unnoticed. Shyness fell +on her again, the ready words faltered, and gradually she became silent. +Craven took the empty coffee cups and replaced them on the table by the +fire. Going back to the window he found her kneeling up on the cushioned +seat, her hands clasped before her, looking out at the white world. The +childish attitude that seemed in keeping with the artist's blouse and +tumbled hair made her look singularly young. He stood beside her, so +close that he almost touched her shoulder, and his eyes ranged hungrily +over the whole slim beauty of her, lingering on the little bent brown +head, the soft curve of her girlish bosom, until the yearning for her +grew intolerable and the restraint he put upon himself took all his +resolution. The temptation to gather her into his arms was almost more +than he could resist, he folded them tightly across his chest--he could +not trust them. He could barely trust himself. The unwonted intimacy, +the subtle torture of her nearness set his pulses leaping madly. The +blood beat in his head, his body quivered with the passionate longing, +the fierce desire that rushed over him. In the agony of the moment only +the elemental man existed, and he was sensible alone of the burning +physical need that rose above all higher purer sentiment. To hold her +crushed against his throbbing heart, to bury his face in the fragrance +of her soft hair, to kiss her lips till she should beg his mercy--there +seemed no greater joy on earth. He wanted her as he had wanted nothing +in his life before. And yet, if he gained what he had come to ask he +knew that what he suffered now would be as nothing to what he would have +to endure. To know her his wife, bound in every sense to him--and to +turn his face from the happiness that by all laws was his! Had he the +strength? Almost it seemed that he had not. He was only human--and there +was a limit to human endurance. If circumstances proved too hard.... +The sound of a little smothered cough checked his thoughts abruptly. He +realised that in self-commiseration he had lost sight of the purpose of +his visit. It was only she who mattered; her health, her happiness that +must be considered. He cursed himself and searched vainly for words +to express what he must say. And the more he thought the more utterly +speech evaded him. Then chance aided. She coughed again and with a +little impatient gesture rose to her feet. + +"Aunt Caro has decided to go to Cimiez for the rest of the +winter--because of my cough. She settled it while you were away. I don't +want to go, my cough is nothing. I wouldn't exchange this"--pointing to +the snow-clad park--"for all the warmth and sunshine of the Riviera. +I want to store up all the memories I can. You don't know how I have +learned to love the Towers." It was as if the last words had escaped +unintentionally for she flushed and turned again abruptly to the +darkening window. His heart gave a sudden leap but he did not move. + +"Then why leave it?" he asked brusquely. + +She leaned her forehead on the frosting glass and her eyes grew misty. + +"You _know_," she said softly, and her voice trembled. "In all the world +I have only my--my talent and my self-respect. If I were to do what you +and Aunt Caro, in your wonderful generosity, propose--oh, don't stop +me, you _must_ listen--I should only have my talent left. Can't you +see, can't you understand that I must work, that I must prove my +self-respect? For all that you have done, for all that you have given +me I have tried to thank you--often. Always you have stopped me. Do you +grudge me the only way in which I can show my gratitude, the only way +in which I can prove myself worthy of your esteem?" Her voice broke in a +little sob. Then she turned to him quickly, her hands out-stretched and +quivering. "If I could only do something to repay----" she cried, with +a passionate earnestness he had never heard in her before. He caught at +the opening that offered. "You can," he said quietly, "but it is so big +a thing--it would more than swamp the debt you think you owe me." + +"Tell me," she whispered urgently as he paused. + +He turned from her eager questioning face with acute embarrassment. He +hated himself, he hated his task, only the darkness of the room seemed +to make it possible. + +"Gillian," he said, with constrained gravity. "I came to you to-day +deliberately to ask you what I believe no man has any right to ask a +woman. I have tried all the afternoon to tell you. Something you said +just now makes it easier. You say you love the Towers--do you love it +well enough to stay here as its mistress, on the only terms that I can +offer?" + +The look of incredulous horror that leaped into her startled eyes made +him realise suddenly the interpretation that might be put upon his +words. He caught her hands almost roughly. "Good heavens, child, not +that!" he cried aghast. "What do you take me for? I am asking you to +marry me--but not the kind of marriage that every woman has the right to +expect. If I could offer you that, God knows how willingly I would. But +there has been that in my life which comes between me and the happiness +that other men can look forward to. For me that part of life is over. +I have only friendship to offer. I know I am asking more than it seems +possible for you to grant, more, a thousand times more than I ought to +ask you--but I do ask it, most earnestly. If you can bring yourself to +make so great a sacrifice, if you can accept a marriage that will be a +marriage only in name----" + +She shuddered from him with a bitter cry. "You are offering me +_charity_!" she wailed, struggling to free her hands. But he held them +firmer. "I am asking you to take pity on a very lonely man," he said +gently. "I am asking you to care for a very lonely house. You have +brought sunshine into the Towers, you have brought sunshine into the +lives of many people living on the estate. I am asking you to stay where +you are so much wanted--so much--loved." + +Then he let her go and she walked unsteadily to the fireplace. She +stood for a moment, her fingers working convulsively, staring into +the smouldering embers, and then sank into a chair, for her limbs were +shaking under her. He followed slowly and stooped to stir the fire to a +blaze. Covertly she looked at him as the red light illuminated his face +and scalding tears gathered in her eyes. And, curiously, it was not +wholly of herself that she was thinking. She was envying, with a feeling +of hopeless intolerable pain, that other woman whom he had loved. For +his words could only have meant one thing, and the great sorrow she had +imagined seemed all at once explained. She wondered what manner of woman +she had been, if she had died--or if she had proved unworthy. And the +last thought roused a sudden fierce resentment--how could a woman who +had won his love throw it back at his feet, unwanted! The envious tears +welled over and she brushed them furtively away. Then her thoughts +turned in compassion to him. Through death or faithlessness love had +brought no joy to him--he suffered as she was suffering now. She looked +at the silver threads gleaming in his hair, at the deep lines in his +face and the pain in her eyes gave place to a wonderful tenderness. She +had prayed for a chance to show her gratitude; if what he asked could +bring any alleviation to his life, if her presence could bring any sort +of comfort to his loneliness, was not even that more than she had ever +dared to hope? That he should turn to her was understandable. He had men +friends in plenty, but women he openly and undisguisedly avoided. He had +grown used to her presence at the Towers, a marriage such as he proposed +would call for no great alteration in the daily routine to which he had +become accustomed. If by doing this she could in any way repay.... + +The replenished fire was filling the room with soft flickering light, +it cast strange shadows on the curtained walls and revealed the girl's +strained white face pitilessly. Craven had risen and was standing +looking down on her. She grew aware of his scrutiny and flinched, the +hot blood rolling slowly, painfully over her face and neck. He spoke +abruptly, as if the words were forced from him: + +"But I want you to realise fully what this marriage with me would mean, +for it is a very big sacrifice I am asking of you. Whatever happened, +you would be bound to me. If"--his voice faltered momentarily--"if you +were sometime to meet a man--and love him--you would be my wife, you +would not be free to follow your heart." + +She stared straight before her, her hands clasped tight around her +knees, shivering slightly. "I shall never--want to marry--in that way," +she said in a strangled voice. He smiled sadly. "You think that now--you +are very young," he argued, "but we have the future to think of." + +She did not answer and in the silence that ensued he wondered what had +induced him to put forward an argument that might defeat his purpose. In +any other case it would have been only the honourable thing to do, but +in this it was a risk he should not have taken. He moved impatiently. +Then suddenly he leaned forward and laid his hands on her shoulders, +drawing her gently to her feet. + +"Gillian!" + +Slowly she raised her head. The touch of his hands was almost more than +she could bear, but she steadied her trembling lips and met his gaze +bravely as he spoke again. + +"If you will agree to this--this _mariage de convenance_, I will do +all that lies in my power to make your life happy. You will be free in +everything. I ask nothing but that you will look on me as a friend to +whom you can always come in any difficulty or any trouble. You will be +complete mistress of yourself, your time, your inclinations. I will not +interfere with you in any way." + +She searched his face, trying to read what lay behind his inscrutable +expression. His eyes were kind, but there was in them a curious +underlying gleam that she could not understand. And his voice puzzled +her. She was bewildered, torn with conflicting doubts. Sensitively she +shrank from his inexplicable suggestion, she could see no reason for his +amazing proposal save an extraordinary generosity that filled her with +gratitude and yet against which she revolted. + +"You are doing this in pity!" she cried miserably. + +"Before God I swear that I am not," he said, with unexpected fierceness +that startled her, and the sudden painful gripping of the strong hands +on her shoulders made her for the first time aware of his strength. She +thought of it wonderingly. If it had been otherwise, if he had loved +her, how gladly she would have surrendered to it. It would have stood +between her and the unknown world that loomed sometimes in spite of her +confidence with a sinister horror on which she dared not dwell. In the +safety of his arms she would never have known fear, his strength would +have shielded her through life. And, in a lesser degree, his strength +might still be hers to turn to, if she would. A new conception of the +future she had planned rushed over her, the confidence she had felt fell +suddenly away, leaving fear and dread and a terror of loneliness. His +touch had destroyed her faith in herself. It had done more. In some +subtle way it seemed to her he had by his touch claimed her. And with +his hands still pressing her shoulders she felt a strange inability to +oppose him. He had sworn that it was not pity that dictated his offer. +He had said that love did not exist for him. What then could be his +motive? She could find none. + +"You wouldn't lie to me?" she whispered, tormented with doubt, "you wish +this--this marriage--truly?" + +He looked at her steadily. + +"I wish it, truly," he said firmly. + +"You would let me go on with my work?" she faltered, fighting for time. + +"I have said that I would not interfere with you in any way, that you +would be free in everything," he answered, and as if in earnest of the +freedom promised his hands slipped from her. + +The fire had died down again, and the room was almost dark, he could +hardly see her where she stood. He waited, hoping she would speak, then +abruptly: "Can you give me an answer, Gillian?" + +He heard the quick intake of her breath, felt her trembling beside him. + +"Oh, if you would give me time," she murmured entreatingly. "I want to +think. It means so much." + +"Take all the time you wish," he said, and went quietly away. And his +going brought a sudden desolation. She longed to call him back, +to promise what he asked, to yield without further struggle. But +uncertainty held her. Motionless she stood staring through the darkness +at the dim outline of the door that had closed behind him, her breast +heaving tumultuously, until tears blinded her and with a gasping sob +she slipped to the floor. She had never dared to hope that he could +love her, but the truth from his own lips was bitter. And for a time the +realisation of that bitterness deadened all other feeling. Overwrought +with the emotion of the last few hours, her nerves strained to breaking +point, she was unable to check the tide of grief that shook her to the +very depths of her being. With her face hidden in the soft rug, her +outflung hands clenching convulsively, she wept in an abandonment of +sorrow. + +If he had never spoken, if he had never made this strange proposal but +had maintained until the end the detached reserve that had seemed to set +so wide a gulf between them, it would have been easier to bear. He would +have passed out of her life, inscrutable as he had always been. But with +his change of attitude, in the intimacy of the few hours they had spent +alone, she had seen him with new eyes. The mysterious unapproachable +guardian had gone for ever, and in his place was a very human man +revealing characteristics she had never imagined to exist, showing an +interest and a gentleness she had never suspected. He had exhibited a +similarity of tastes and ideas that agreed extraordinarily with her +own, he had talked as to a comrade. The companionship had been very +sweet--very sorrowful. She could never think of him again as he had +been, and the new conception of him gave a poignant stab to her grief. +In the brief happiness of the afternoon she had had a fleeting vision of +what might have been "if he had loved me," she moaned, and it seemed to +her that she had never known until now the real depth of her own love. +What she had felt before was not comparable with the overwhelming +passion that the touch of his hands had quickened. It swept her like +a raging torrent, carrying her beyond the limit of her understanding, +bringing with it strange yearnings that, half-understood, she shuddered +from, ashamed. + +Torn with emotion she wept until she had no tears left, until the hard +racking sobs died away and her tired sorrow-shaken body lay still. +For the moment, exhausted, her agony of mind was dulled and time was +non-existent. She did not move or lift her head from the tear-wet rug. +A great weariness seemed to deaden all faculty. The minutes passed +unnoticed. Then some latent consciousness stirred in her brain and she +looked up startled. + +It was quite dark and she realised, shivering, that the room had grown +very cold. The calm afternoon had given place to a stormy night +and heavy gusts of wind were sweeping round the angle of the house, +shrieking and whistling eerily; from the window came the soft _swish +swish_ of dry hard snow beating against the panes. She started to her +feet. She had no idea of the hour but she knew it must be late. Perhaps +the dinner gong had already sounded and, missed, somebody might come in +search of her. She shrank from being found thus. Feeling her way to a +lamp she turned the switch and the soft light flooding the room made her +wince. A glance at her watch showed that she had still a few moments in +which to gain her room unobserved. + +She felt oddly lightheaded and her feet dragged wearily. The tortuous +passage had never seemed so interminable, the succession of closed doors +appeared unending. Reaching her own room she collapsed on to a sofa +that was drawn up before the fire, her head aching, her limbs shivering +uncontrollably, worn out with emotion. Exhausted in mind and body she +seemed unable even to frame a thought logically or coherently--only an +interrupted medley of unconnected ideas chased through her tired brain +until her temples throbbed agonisingly. She knew that sometime she would +have to rouse herself, that sometime a decision would have to be made, +but not now. Now she could only lie still and make no effort. She was +angry with herself, contemptuous of her weakness. She had disdained +nerves, she was humiliated now by her present lack of control. But even +self-scorn was a passing thought from which she turned wearily. + +One fact only remained, clear and distinct from the confusion in her +mind--he did not love her. He did not love her. It hurt so. She hid her +face in the pillows, writhing with the shame the knowledge of her own +love brought her. The deep booming of the dinner gong awoke her to the +necessity of some kind of action. She rang the bell that hung within +reach of her hand and, by the maid who answered her summons, sent her +excuses to Miss Craven, pleading a headache for remaining upstairs. + +A few minutes later Mary, grim-visaged and big-hearted, appeared with a +tray, headache remedies and multifarious messages from the dining room. +She bathed the girl's aching head, brushing the tumbled brown hair and +piling it afresh into a soft loose knot. Grumbling gently at the long +hours of work to which she attributed the unusual indisposition, she +took full advantage of the rare opportunity of rendering personal +attention and fussed to her heart's content, stripping off the stained +overall and substituting a loose velvet wrapper; and then stood over +her, a kindly martinet, until the light dinner she had brought was +eaten. Afterwards she packed pillows, made up the fire, and administered +a particularly nauseous specific emanating from a homeopathic medicine +chest that was her greatest pride, and then took herself away, still +mildly admonishing. + +Gillian leaned back against the cushions with a feeling of greater +ease and restfulness. Food had given her strength and under Mary's +ministrations her mental poise had steadied. She would not let herself +dwell on the question that must before long be settled, Miss Craven +would be coming soon, and until she had been and gone no definite +settlement could be attempted. + +She lay looking at the fire, endeavouring to keep her mind a blank. It +was odd to be alone, she missed the familiar black form lying on the +hearth-rug, but tonight she could not bear even Mouston's presence, +and Mary had taken a request to Yoshio, to whose room the dog had been +banished from the studio, that he would keep him until the morning. + +A tap at the door and Miss Craven appeared, anxious and questioning. + +"Only a headache?--my dear, I don't believe it!" she protested, plumping +down on the side of the sofa and clutching at her hair, that sure sign +of perturbation. "You've never had a headache like this before. You've +been working too hard. You were painting all the morning and they tell +me you worked throughout the afternoon and had no tea. Gillian, dear, +when will you learn sense? I don't at all approve of you having tea sent +to the studio _only_ when you ring for it. Young people require regular +meals and as often as not neglect 'em; young artists are the worst +offenders--you needn't contradict me, I know all about it. I did it +myself." She patted the clasped hands lying near her and scrutinised +the girl more closely. "You're as pale as a ghost and your eyes are too +bright. Did Mary take your temperature? No?--the woman must have lost +her senses. I'll telephone to Doctor Harris to come and see you in +the morning. If you looked a fraction more feverish I'd send for you +to-night, storm or no storm. Peter braved it, open car as usual. He sent +his love. Barry turned up from Scotland this afternoon. He looks very +tired--says he had a bothering time and a wretched journey--Gillian!" +she cried sharply as the girl slid from the sofa on to her knees beside +her and raised a quivering piteous face. + +"Aunt Caro, I'm not ill," the words came in tumbling haste, "there's +nothing bodily the matter with me--I'm only dreadfully unhappy. I know +Mr. Craven is back--he came to me in the studio this afternoon. He asked +me to marry him," the troubled voice sank to a whisper, "and I--I don't +know what to do." + +"My dear." The tenderness of Miss Craven's tone sent a strangling wave +of emotion into Gillian's throat. "Aunt Caro, did you know? Do you wish +it too?" she murmured wistfully. + +Unwilling to admit a previous knowledge which would be difficult to +explain, Miss Craven temporised. "I very greatly hoped for it," she said +guardedly; "you and Barry are all I have to care for, and you are both +so--alone. I know you think of a very different life, I know you have +dreams of making a career for yourself. But a career is not all that a +woman wants in her life; it can perhaps mean independence and fame, +it can also mean great loneliness and the loss of the full and perfect +happiness that should be every woman's. You mustn't judge all cases +by me. I have been happy in my own way but I want a greater, richer +happiness for you, dear. I want for you the best that the world can +give, and that best I believe to be the shelter and the safety of a +man's love." + +The brown head dropped on her knee. "You are thinking of me--I am +thinking of him," came a stifled whisper. + +Miss Craven stroked the soft hair tenderly. "Then why not give him what +he asks, my dear," she said gently. "He has known sorrow and suffering. +If through you, he can forget the past in a new happiness, will you not +grant it him? Oh, Gillian, I have so hoped that you might care for each +other; that, together, you might make the Towers the perfect home it +should be, a home of mutual trust and love. You and Barry and, please +God, after you--your children." She choked with unexpected emotion and +brushed the mist from her eyes impatiently. + +And at her knee Gillian knelt motionless, her lip held fast between her +teeth to stop the bitter cry that nearly escaped her, her heart almost +bursting. The picture Miss Craven's words called up was an ideal of +happiness that might have been. The suffering that reality promised +seemed more than she could contemplate. What happiness could come +from such a travesty? The strange yearnings she had experienced seemed +suddenly crystallised into form, and the knowledge was a greater pain +than she had known. What she would have gone down to the gates of death +to give him he did not require--the unutterable joy that Miss +Craven suggested would never be hers. She searched for words, for an +explanation of her silence that must seem strange to the elder woman. +Miss Craven obviously knew nothing of the unusual conditions attached to +his proposal, her words proved it, and Gillian could not tell her. She +could not betray his confidence even if she had so wished. If she could +but speak frankly and show all her difficulty to the friend who +had never yet failed in love and sympathy----She sought refuge in +prevarication. "How can I marry him?" she cried miserably. "You +don't know anything about me. I'm not a fit person to be his wife--my +antecedents----" + +"Bother your antecedents!" interrupted Miss Craven, with a somewhat +shaky laugh. "My dearest girl, Barry isn't going to marry them, he's +going to marry you. They can have been anything you like or imagine but +it does not alter the fact that their daughter is the one woman on earth +I want for Barry's wife." She stooped and gathered the girl into her +arms. + +"Gillian, can you give us, Barry and me, this great happiness?" + +Gently Gillian disengaged herself and rose slowly to her feet. She made +a little helpless gesture, swaying as she stood. "What can I say?" she +said brokenly. "Do you think it means nothing to me! Don't you know that +what I already owe you and Mr. Craven is almost more than I can bear, +that I would give my life for either of you? But this--oh, you don't +understand--I can't tell you--I can't explain----" She dropped back +on the sofa and her voice came muffled and entreatingly from among the +silken cushions, "If you knew how I long to repay you for your wonderful +goodness, if you knew what your love has meant to me! Oh, dearest, I'd +give the world to please you! But I don't know what to do, I don't know +what is honest--and you can't help me, nobody can help me. I've got to +settle it myself. I've got to think----" + +Miss Craven guessed the crying need for solitude conveyed in the last +faltering words and rose in obedience to the unspoken request. She stood +for a moment, looking tenderly down on the slim prostrate figure, and a +fear that grew momentarily stronger came to her that in her endeavour +to bring happiness to these two lives she had blundered fatally. She +had been a fool, rushing in. And with almost a feeling of dismay she +realised it was beyond her ability now to stay what she had put in +motion. She was as one who, having wantonly released some complex +mechanism, stands aghast and powerless at the consequence of his +rashness. And yet, despite the seeming setback to her hopes, the +conviction that had urged her to this step was still strong in her; +she still had faith in its ultimate achievement. She touched the girl's +shoulder in a quick caress. "You are worn out, child. Go to bed and rest +now, and think to-morrow," she said soothingly. + +For long after she left the room Gillian lay without moving. Then with +a long shuddering sigh she sat up. She tried to concentrate on +the decision she must make but her thoughts, ungovernable, dwelt +persistently on the unknown woman whom she had convinced herself he must +have loved, and the passionate envy she had felt before swept her again +until the pain of it sent a whispered prayer to her lips for strength to +put it from her. Huddled on the side of the sofa, her head supported on +her hands, she stared fixedly into the fire as if seeking in the leaping +flames the answer to the problem that confronted her. Then in her agony +of mind inaction became impossible and she rose and paced the room with +hurried nervous tread. + +To do what was right--to do what was honourable; to conquer the +clamorous self that cried out for acceptance of this semblance of +happiness that was offered. To bear his name, to have the right to be +near him, to care for him and for his interests as far as she might. +To be his wife--even if only in name. Dear God, did he know how he had +tempted her? But she had no right. The crushing burden of debt she owed +rose like an unsurpassable mountain between her and what she longed +for. Only by repayment could she keep her self-respect. The dreams +of independence, the place she had thought to make for herself in the +world, the re-establishing of her father's name--could she forego what +she had planned? Was it not a nobler aim than the gratification of self +that urged the easier way? Yet would it be the easier way? Was she not +really in her heart shrinking from the difficulty and sadness that this +loveless marriage would bring? Was it not cowardice that prompted a +supposed nobility of thought that now appeared ignoble? She wrung her +hands in desperation. Had she no courage or steadfastness at all? Was +the weakness of purpose that had ruined her father's life to be her +curse as it had been his? + +She felt suddenly very young, very inexperienced. Her early training +that had denied the exercise of individual responsibility and had +inculcated a passivity of mind that precluded self-determination had +bitten deeper than she knew. Her life since leaving the convent had been +smooth and uneventful, there had been no occasion to practise the new +liberty of thought and action that was hers. And now before a decision +that would be so irrevocable, that would involve her whole life--and not +hers alone--she felt to the full the disability of her upbringing. +Alone she must make her choice and she shrank from the burden of +responsibility that fell upon her. She had nobody to turn to for counsel +or advice. In her loneliness she longed for the solace of a mother's +tenderness, the shelter of a mother's arms, and bitterness came to her +as she thought of the parents who had each in their turn abandoned her +so callously. She had been robbed of her birthright of love and care. +She was alone in the world, alone to fight her own battles, alone in the +moment of her direst need. + +Then all at once she seemed to see in the trend of her thoughts only +a supreme selfishness that had lost sight of all but personal +consideration. Was her love of so little worth that in thought +for herself she had forgotten him? He had asked her to pity his +loneliness--and she had had only pity for herself. Her lips quivered as +she whispered his name in an agony of self-condemnation. + +Coming back slowly to the fireside she slipped to the floor and +leaned her head against the sofa listening to the storm that beat with +increasing violence against the house, and the roar of the tempest +without seemed in strange agreement with the tumult that was raging in +her heart. The words he had used came back to her. Did it really lie +in her power to lessen the loneliness of his life? To give him what he +asked--was not that, after all, the true way to pay her debt? With a +little sob she bowed her head on her hands.... An hour later she rose +stiffly, cramped with long sitting, and moving nearer to the fire chafed +her cold hands mechanically. Her face was very sad and her wide eyes +heavy with unshed tears. She drew a long sobbing breath. "Because I love +him," she murmured. "If I didn't love him I couldn't do it." A thought +that brought new hope came to her. She loved him so deeply, might not +her love, she wondered wistfully, perhaps some day be strong enough to +heal the wound he had sustained--strong enough even to compel his love? +Then doubt seized hold on her again. Would she, in the limited scope +that she would have, find opportunity--would he ever allow her to get +near enough to him?... She flung her hands out in passionate appeal. + +"Oh, God! if this thing that I am doing is wrong, if it brings sorrow +and unhappiness, let me be the only one to pay!" + +A sudden longing to make retraction impossible came over her. She looked +anxiously at her watch. Was it too late to go to him to-night? Only when +she had told him would she be sure of herself. Her word once given there +could be no withdrawal. + +It was nearly midnight but she knew he rarely left his study until +later. Peters would be gone, he was methodical in his habits and retired +punctually at eleven o'clock with a regularity that was unvarying. She +was sure of finding him alone. She dared not wait until the morning, she +must go now while she had the courage. Delay might bring new doubts, new +uncertainty. Impulsively she started towards the door, then paused on a +sudden thought that sent the warm blood in a painful wave to her +face. Would he misunderstand, think her unwomanly, attribute her hasty +decision to a sordid desire for material gain, for the ease that would +be hers, for the position that his name would give? It was the natural +thought for him who offered so much to one who would give nothing in +return. And not for him alone--in the eyes of the world she would be +only a little adventuress who had skilfully seized the opportunity +that circumstance had given to advantage herself. But the world did not +matter, she thought with scornful curling lip, it was only in his eyes +that she desired to stand well. Then with quick shame she knew that the +sentiments she had ascribed to him were unworthy, the outcome only +of her own strained imagination, and she put them from her. She went +quickly to the gallery, dimly lit from a single lamp left alight in the +hall below--left for Craven as she knew. Silence brooded over the great +house. The storm that earlier had beat tempestuously against the dome +as if striving to shatter the massive glass plates that opposed its fury +had blown itself out and glancing upward Gillian saw the huge cupola +shrouded with snow that gleamed palely in the soft light. The stillness +oppressed her and odd thoughts chased through her mind. She looked to +right and left nervously and in a sudden inexplicable panic sped down +the wide staircase and across the shadowy hall until she reached the +study door. There she halted with wildly beating heart, panting and +breathless. It was a room which she had never before entered, and an +almost paralysing shyness made her shake from head to foot. Nerving +herself with a strong effort she tapped with trembling fingers and, at +the sound of an answering voice, went in. + +Strength seemed all at once to leave her. Physically and mentally +exhausted, a feeling of unreality supervened. The strange room swam +before her eyes. As in a dream she saw him start to his feet and +come swiftly to her across a seemingly unending length of carpet that +billowed and wavered curiously, his big frame oddly magnified until he +appeared a very giant towering above her; as in a dream she felt him +take her ice-cold hands in his. But the warm strong grasp, the grave +eyes bent compellingly on her, dragged her back from the shuddering +abyss into which she was sinking. Far away, as though coming from a +great distance, she heard him speaking. And his voice, gentler than she +had ever known it, gave her courage to whisper, so low that he had to +bend his tall head to catch the fluttering words, the promise she had +come to give. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +On an afternoon in early September eighteen months after her marriage +Gillian was driving across the park toward the little village of Craven +that, old world and quite unspoiled, clustered round a tiny Norman +church two miles distant from the Towers. She leaned back in the +victoria, her hands clasped in her lap, preoccupied and thoughtful. +A scented heap of deep crimson roses and carnations lay at her feet; +beside her, in contrast to her listless attitude, Mouston sat up tense +and watchful, his sharp muzzle thrust forward, his black nose twitching +eagerly at the distracting agitating smells borne on the warm air +tempting him from monotonous inactivity to a soul satisfying scamper +over the short cropped grass but, conscious of the dignity of his +position, ignoring them with a gravity of demeanour that was almost +comical. Once or twice when his wrinkling nostrils caught some +particularly attractive odour his pads kneaded the cushions vigorously +and a snarly gurgle rose in his throat. But no other sign of +restlessness escaped him--it was patience bred of experience. For miles +around he was a well-known figure, sitting grave and motionless on his +accustomed side of the victoria as it rolled through the country lanes. +To the villagers of Craven, all directly or indirectly dependent on +the estate, he was welcome in that he was inseparable from the gentle +tender-hearted girl whom they worshipped, but their welcome was +a qualified one that never descended to the familiar; his strange +appearance and disdainful aloofness made him an object of curiosity +to be viewed with most safety from a respectful distance; time had not +accustomed them to him and tales of his uncanny understanding filtering +through, richly embroidered, to the village from the house, did not tend +to lessen the awe with which he was regarded. They marvelled, without +comprehension, at the partiality of his mistress; he was the "black +French devil" to more households than that of Major, the gamekeeper, an +"unorranary brute" to those of less gifted imagination. + +To Mouston Gillian's periodical visits to the village were a tedium +endured for the sake of the coveted seat beside her. + +The passing of a herd of deer, feeding intently and--save for one or two +more timid hinds who started nervously--too used to the carriage to +heed its approach, roused the poodle, as always, to a high pitch of +excitement; they were old enemies and his annoyance gave vent to a +sharp yelp as he sidled close to Gillian and endeavoured to attract her +attention with an insistent paw. But for once she was heedless of the +hints of her dumb companion, and, whining, he slunk back into his own +corner, curling up on the seat with his forepaws brushing the mass +of scented blossom. And ignorant of the pleading brown eyes fixed +pathetically on her, Gillian followed the train of her own troubled +thoughts. For eighteen months she had been Barry Craven's wife, for +eighteen months she had endeavoured to fulfill her share of the contract +they had made--and to herself she admitted failure. + +The strain was becoming unendurable. + +In the eyes of the world an ideal couple, in reality--she wondered if in +the whole universe there were two more lonely souls than they. She knew +now that the task she had set herself that stormy December night was +beyond her power, that it had been the unattainable dream of an immature +love-sick girl. She had fought to retain her high ideals, to believe +that love--as great, as unselfish as hers--must beget love, but she had +come to realise the utter futility of her dream and to wonder at the +childish ignorance that had inspired it. The sustaining hope that she +might indeed be a comfort to his loneliness had died hard, but +surely. For he gave her no opportunity. Despite unfailing kindness and +overwhelming generosity he maintained always a baffling reserve she +found impossible to penetrate. Of his inner self she knew no more than +she had ever done, she could get no nearer to him. But in all matters +that dealt with their common life he was scrupulously frank and +out-spoken; he had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his +interests and a working idea of his affairs, from which she had shrunk +sensitively, but he had persisted, arguing that in the event of his +death--Peters not being immortal--it was necessary that she should be +able to administer possessions that would be hers--and the thought of +those possessions crushed her. It was only after a long struggle, in +distress that horrified him, that she persuaded him to forego the big +settlement he proposed making. If she had not loved him his liberality +would have hurt her less, but because of her love his money was a +scourge. She hated the wealth to which she felt she had no right, to +herself she seemed an impostor, a cheat. She felt degraded. She would +rather he had bought her, as women have from time immemorial been +bought, that she might have paid the price, as they pay, and so retained +the self-respect that now seemed for ever lost. It would have been a +means of re-establishing herself in her own eyes, of easing the burden +of his bounty that grew daily heavier and from which she could never +escape. It was evident in all about her; in the greater state and +ceremony observed at the Towers since their marriage, which, while +it pleased the household, who rejoiced in the restoration of the old +rgime, oppressed her unspeakably; in the charities she dispensed--his +charities that brought her no sense of sacrifice, no joy of self-denial; +in the social duties that poured in upon her. + +His wealth served only to strengthen the barrier between them, but for +that she might have been to him what she longed to be. If the talent +that now seemed so useless could have been used for him she would have +found a measure of happiness even if love had never come to crown her +service. In poverty she would have worked for him, slaved for him, with +the strength and tirelessness that only love can give. But here the +gladness of giving, of serving, was denied, here there was nothing +she might do and the futility of her life choked her. She had +conscientiously endeavoured to assume the responsibilities and duties +of her new position, but there seemed little for her to do, for the big +household ran smoothly on oiled wheels under the capable administration +of Forbes and Mrs. Appleyard, with whom, both honest and devoted to the +interests of the family they had served so long and faithfully, she knew +it was unnecessary and unwise to interfere. In any unusual circumstance +they would refer to her with tactful deference but for the rest she knew +that, perforce, she must be content to remain a figure-head. Even her +work--interrupted constantly by the social duties incumbent on her and +performed from a sense of obligation--failed to comfort and distract. It +was all so utterly useless and purposeless. The gift with which she had +thought to do so much was wasted. She could do nothing with it. She was +no longer Gillian Locke who had dreamed of independence, who had hoped +by toil and endeavour to clear the stain from her father's name. She was +the rich Mrs. Craven--who must smile to hide a breaking heart, who must +play the part expected of her, who must appear always care-free and +happy. And the constant effort was almost more than she could +achieve. In the ceaseless watch she set upon herself, in the rigid +self-suppression she exercised, it seemed to her as if her true self had +died, and her entity faded into an automaton that moved in mechanical +obedience to the driving of her will. Only during the long night hours +or in the safe seclusion of the studio could she relax, could she be +natural for a little while. That Craven might never learn the misery of +her life, that she might not fail him as she had failed herself, was +her one prayer. She welcomed eagerly the advent of guests, of foreign +guests--more exigent in their demands upon her society--particularly; +with the house filled the time of host and hostess was fully occupied +and the difficult days passed more easily, more quickly. The weeks they +spent alone she dreaded; from the morning greeting in the breakfast room +to the moment when he gave her the quiet "Good-night" that might +have come from an undemonstrative brother, she was in terror lest an +unguarded word, a chance expression, might tell him what she sought to +keep from him. But so insensible did his own constant pre-occupation of +mind make him appear of much that passed, that she feared his intuition +less than that of Peters who she was convinced had a very shrewd idea of +the state of affairs existing between them. It was manifested in diverse +ways; not by any spoken word direct or indirect, but by additional +fatherly tenderness of manner, by unfailing tactfulness, by quick +intervention that had saved many awkward situations. It was practically +impossible in view of his almost daily association with the house and +its inmates that he could be unaware of certain facts. But the wise +kindly eyes that she had feared most were closed for ever. + +The Great Summons for which Miss Craven had been so calmly prepared had +come more suddenly, more tragically even than she had anticipated. She +had passed over as she would have wished, had she been given the choice, +not in the awful loneliness of death but one of a company of heroic +souls who had voluntarily and willingly stood aside that others might +have the chance to live. + +A few months after the marriage on which she had set her heart the +family curse had seized her as suddenly and as imperatively as it had +ever done her nephew. An exhibition of statuary in America had served +as an adequate excuse and she had started at comparatively short notice, +accompanied by the faithful Mary, after a stormy interview with her +doctor, whose gloomy warnings she refuted with the undeniable truism +that one land was as good as another to die in. Within a few hours of +the American coast the tragedy, short and overwhelming, had occurred. +From the parent ice a thousand miles away in the north the stupendous +white destruction had moved majestically down its appointed course to +loom out of the pitch-black night with appalling consequence. A sudden +crash, slight enough to be unnoticed by hundreds, a convulsive shudder +of the great ship like the death struggle of a Titan, had been followed +by unquellable panic, confusion of darkness, inadequate boats and +jamming bulkheads. Miss Craven and Mary were among the first on deck and +for the short space of time that remained they worked side by side +among the terror-stricken women and children, their own life-belts early +transferred to dazed mothers who clutched wild-eyed at wailing babes. +Together they had stood back from the overcrowded boats, smiling and +unafraid; together they had gone down into the mystery of the deep, two +gallant women, no longer mistress and maid but sisters in sacrifice and +in the knowledge of that greater love for which they cheerfully laid +down their lives. + +And while Gillian mourned her bitterly she was yet glad that Miss +Craven was spared the sadness of witnessing the complete failure of her +cherished dream. + +In the little Norman church toward which Gillian was driving there had +been added yet another memorial to a Craven who had died tragically +and far from home; a record of disastrous calamity that, beginning four +hundred years before with the Elizabethan gallant, had relentlessly +pursued an ill-starred family. The church lay on the outskirts of the +village and close to the south entrance of the park. + +Gillian stopped the carriage for a few moments to speak to the +anxious-looking woman who had hurried out from the creeper-covered lodge +to open the gates. Behind one of the casements of the cottage a child +was fighting for life, a cripple, with an exquisite face, whom Gillian +had painted. To the sorrowful mother the eager tender words, the soft +impulsive hand that clasped her own work-roughened palm, the wide dark +eyes, misty with sympathy were worth infinitely more than the material +aid, so carefully packed by Mrs. Appleyard, that the footman carried up +the narrow nagged path to the cottage door. + +And as the impatient horses drew the carriage swiftly on again Gillian +leaned back in her seat with a quivering sigh. The woman at the lodge, +despite her burden of sorrow, despite her humbleness, was yet richer +than she and, with intolerable pain, she envied her the crowning joy of +womanhood that would never be her own. The child she longed for would +never by the touch baby hands bring consolation to her starved and +lonely heart. Her thoughts turned to her husband in a sudden passion of +hopeless love and longing. To bear him a child--to hold in her arms a +tiny replica of the beloved figure that was so dear to her, to watch +and rejoice in the dawning resemblance that the ardour of her love would +make inevitable.... Hastily she brushed away the gathering tears as the +carriage stopped abruptly with a jingle of harness at the lichgate. + +Coaxing the reluctant Mouston from the seat where he still sulked she +tied him to the gate, took the armful of flowers from the grave-faced +footman, and dismissing the carriage walked slowly up the lime-bordered +avenue. The orderliness and beauty of the churchyard struck her as it +always did--a veritable garden of sleep, with level close-shorn turf +set thick with standard rose trees, that even the clustering headstones +could not make chill and sombre. + +From the radiant sunshine without she passed into the cool dimness of +the little building. With its tiny proportions, ornate and numerous +Craven memorials and--for its size--curiously large chancel, it seemed +less the parish church it had become than the private chapel for which +it had been built. Then the house had been close by, but during the +troublous years of Mary Tudor was pulled down and rebuilt on the present +site. + +Through the quiet silence Gillian made her way up the short central +aisle until she reached the chancel steps. For a few minutes she knelt, +her face crushed against the flowers she held, in silent passionate +prayer that knew neither form nor words--a soundless supplication that +was an inchoate appeal to a God of infinite understanding. Then rising +slowly she pushed back the iron gate and went into the chancel. Directly +to the left the new monument gleamed cleanly white against the old +dark wall. Simple and bold, as she would herself have designed it, the +sculptor's memorial was the work of the greatest genius of the day who +had willingly come from France at Craven's invitation to perpetuate the +memory of a sister artist who had also been a lifelong friend. + +A rugged pedestal of green bronze--with an inset panel representing the +tragedy--rose upward in the shape of billowing curling waves supporting +a marble Christ standing erect with outstretched pitying hand, majestic +and yet wholly human. + +Gillian gazed upward with quivering lips at the Saviour's inclined +tender face, and opening her arms let the scented mass of crimson +blossom fall slowly to the slab at her feet that bore Miss Craven's name +and Mary's cut side by side. + + _"Greater love hath no man than this, that + a man lay down his life for his friends."_ + +She read the words aloud, and with a stifled sob slipped down among the +roses and carnations that Caro Craven had loved, and leaned her aching +head against the cool hard bronze. "Dearest," she whispered, in an agony +of tears, "I wonder can you hear? I wonder are you allowed, where you +are, to know what happens here on earth? Oh, Aunt Caro, _cherie_, do you +know that I have failed--failed to bring him the peace and consolation +I thought my love was strong enough to give, I have tried so hard to +understand, to help ... I have prayed so earnestly that he might turn to +me, that I might be to him what you would have me be ... but I have not +been able ... I have failed him ... failed you ... myself. Oh, dearest, +do you know?" + +Prone among the roses, at the feet of the pitying Christ, she cried +aloud in her desperate loneliness to the dead woman who had given her +the tenderest love she had ever known. The shadows lengthened widely +before she rose and drew the scattered flowers into a fragrant heap. +She stood for a while studying intently the relief of the wreck; it +suggested a train of thought, and with a sudden impulse she traversed +the chancel and sought among the memorials of dead Cravens for the +tablets commemorating those who had disappeared or died tragically. By +chance at first and later by design these had all been placed within the +confines of the chancel that formed so large a part of the tiny church. +Before the florid Italian monument that recorded all that was known of +the short life of the Elizabethan adventurer she paused long, looking +with quickening heart-beat at the graceful kneeling figure whose face +and form were those of the man she loved. + +_Barry Craven ... he set his eyes unto the west_.... Amongst the +calamitous record there were four more of the name--their bodies +scattered widely in distant unknown graves, victims of the spirit of +adventure and unrest. She moved slowly from one to the other, reading +again the tragical inscriptions she knew by heart, cut as deeply in her +memory as on the marble slabs before her. + + _Barry Craven--Lost in the Amazon Forest_. + _Barry Craven--In the silence of the frozen seas_. + _Barry Craven--Perished in a sandstorm in the Sahara_. + _Barry Craven--In Japan_. + _Barry Craven--Barry Craven_. + +The name leaped at her from all sides until, with a shudder, she buried +her face in her hands to shut out the staring capitals that flamed +in black and gold before her eyes. The dread that was with her always +seemed suddenly closer than it had ever been, menacing, inevitable. +Would the fear that haunted her day and night become at some not far +distant time an actual fact? Would the curse that had already led to +ten years' perpetual wandering lay hold of him again--would he, too, in +quest of the peace he had never found, disappear as they had done? Was +it for this that he had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his +affairs? With the quick intuition of love she had come to understand +the deep unrest that beset him periodically, an unrest she recognised +as wholly apart and separate from the other shadow that lay across his +life. With unfailing patience she had learned to discriminate. Covertly +she had watched him, striving to fathom the varying moods that swayed +him, endeavouring to anticipate the alternating frames of mind that made +any definite comprehension of his character so difficult. The charm +of manner and apparent serenity that led others to think of him as one +endowed beyond further desire with all that life could give did not +deceive her. He played a part, as she did, a part that was contrary to +his nature, contrary to his whole inclination. She guessed at the strain +on him, a strain it seemed impossible for him to endure, which some +day she felt must inevitably break. His habitual self-control was +extraordinary--once only during their married life had he lost it when +some event, jarring on his overstrung nerves, had evoked a blaze of +anger that seemed totally out of proportion to the circumstance, that +would have given her proof, had she needed one, of his state of mind. + +His outburst had been a perfectly natural reaction, but while she +admitted the fact she felt a nervous dread of its recurrence. + +She feared anything that might precipitate the upheaval that loomed +always before her like a threatening cloud. For sooner or later the +unrest that filled him would have to be satisfied. The curse of Craven +would claim him again and he would leave her. And she would have to +watch him go and wait in agony for his return as other women of the race +had watched and agonised. And if he went would he ever return? or +would she too know the anguish of suspense, the long drawn horror of +uncertainty, the fading hope that year by year would become slighter +until at last it would vanish altogether and the bitter waters of +despair close over her head? A moan, like the cry of a wounded animal, +broke from her. In vivid self-torturing imagination she saw among the +sinister record around her another tablet--that would mean finality. He +was the last of the Cravens. Did it mean nothing to him--had the sorrow +of that past that was unknown to her but which had become woven into her +own life so inextricably, so terribly, killed in him even the pride +of race? Had he, deep down in the heart that was hidden from her, no +thought of parenthood, no desire to perpetuate the family name, the +family traditions? It would seem that he had not--and yet she wondered. +The woman he had loved--of whose existence she had convinced herself--if +she had lived, or proved faithful, would he still have desired no son? +She shrank from the stabbing thought with a very bitter sob. + +A sudden horror of her environment came over her. Around her were +suggestions from which she shuddered, evidences that raised the haunting +dread with which she lived to a culmination of fear. It had never seemed +so near, so strong. It was stronger than her will to put it from her +and in it, with inherent superstition, she saw a premonition. The little +peaceful church became all at once a place of terror, a grisly charnel +house of vanished hopes and lives. The spirits of countless Cravens +seemed all about her, hostile, malign, triumphing in her weakness, +rejoicing in her fear--spectral figures of the dead crowding, hurrying, +threatening. She seemed to see them, a dense and awful concourse, +closing round her, to hear them whispering, muttering, jibing--at her, +a thing apart, an alien soul whose presence they resented. The clamorous +voices rang in her ears; vague shapes, illusive and shadowy, appeared to +float before her eyes. She shrank from what seemed the contact of actual +bodily forms. Unnerved and overwrought she yielded to the horror of +her own imagination. With a stifled cry she turned and fled, her arms +outstretched to fend from her the invisible host that seemed so real, +not daring even to look again at the pitying Christ whose calm serenity +formed such a striking contrast to her storm-tossed heart. + +Blindly she sped down the chancel steps, along the short central aisle, +out into the timbered porch, where she blundered sharply into somebody +who was on the point of entering. Who, it did not at the moment seem to +matter--enough that it was a human creature, real and tangible, to whom +she clung trembling and incoherent. A strong arm held her, and against +its strength she leaned for a few moments in the weakness of reaction +from the nervous strain through which she had passed. Then as she +slowly regained control of herself she realised the awkwardness of +her position, and her cheeks burned hotly. She drew back, her fingers +uncurling from the tweed coat they clutched so tightly, and, trying +to slip clear of the arm that still lay about her shoulders, looked up +shyly with murmured thanks. + +Then: "David," she cried. "Oh, David----" and burst into tears. Guiding +her to the bench that rested against the side of the porch Peters drew +her down beside him. "Just David," he said, with rather a sad little +smile, "I was passing and Mouston told me you were here." He spoke +slowly, giving her time to recover herself, thanking fate that she +had collapsed into his arms rather than into those of some chattering +village busybody. He had caught a glimpse of her face as she came +through the church door and knew that her agitation was caused by +something more than sorrow for Miss Craven, great as that sorrow was. He +had seen fear in the hunted eyes that looked unrecognisingly into his--a +fear that he somehow resented with a feeling of helpless anger. + +The affection he had for her was such as he would have given the +daughter that might have been his had providence been kinder. And with +the insight that affection gave he had seen, with acute uneasiness, a +steadily increasing change in her during the last eighteen months. The +marriage from which he, as well as Miss Craven, had hoped so much seemed +after all to have brought no joy to either husband or wife. With his +intimate knowledge and close association he saw deeper than the casual +visitor to whom the family life at the Towers appeared an ideal of +domestic happiness and concord. There was nothing he could actually take +hold of, Craven was at all times considerate and thoughtful, Gillian +a model of wifely attention. But there was an atmosphere that, +super-sensitive, he discerned, a vague underlying feeling of tension +that he tried to persuade himself was mere imagination but which at the +bottom of his heart he knew existed. There had been times when he had +seen them both, as it were, off their guard, had read in the face +of each the same bitter pain, the same look of unsatisfied longing. +Possessing in so high a degree everything that life could give they +appeared to have yet missed the happiness that should by all reasoning +have been theirs. Whose was the fault? Caring for them both it was +a question that he turned from in aversion, he had no wish to judge +between them, no desire to probe their hidden affairs. Thrown constantly +into their society while guessing much he shut his eyes to more. But +anxiety remained, fostered by the memory of the tragedy of Barry's +father and mother. Was he fated to see just such another tragedy played +out before him with no power to avert the ruin of two more lives? The +pity of it! He could do nothing and his helplessness galled him. + +To-day as he sat in the little porch with Gillian's hand clasped in his +he felt more than ever the extreme delicacy of his position. Intuitively +he guessed that he was nearer than he had ever been to penetrating the +cloud that shadowed her life and Barry's but with equal intuition he +knew he must convey no hint of his understanding. He gauged her shy +sensitive mind too accurately and his own loyalty debarred him from +forcing such a confidence. Instead he spoke as though the visit to Miss +Craven's memorial must naturally be the cause of her agitation. + +"Why come, my dear, if it distresses you?" he said, in quiet +remonstrance; "she would not misunderstand. She had the sanest, the +healthiest conception of death. She died nobly--willingly. It would +sadden her immeasurably if she knew how you grieved." Her fingers worked +convulsively in his. "I know--I know," she whispered, "but, oh, David, +I miss her so--so inexpressibly." + +"We all do," he answered; "one cannot lose a friend like Caro Craven +lightly. But while we mourn the dead we have the living to consider--and +you have Barry," he added, with almost cruel deliberation. She faced him +with steady eyes from which she had brushed all trace of tears. + +"Barry understands," she said with quick loyalty; "he mourns her +too--but he doesn't _need_ her as I do." It was an undeniable truth that +reduced Peters to silence and for a while Gillian also was silent. +Then she turned to him again with a little tremulous smile, the colour +flooding her delicate face. + +"I'm glad it was only you, David, just now. Please forget it. I don't +know what's the matter with me to-day, I let my nerves get the upper +hand--I'm tired--the sun was hot----" + +"So of course you sent the carriage away and proposed walking two miles +home by way of a rest cure!" he interrupted, jumping up with alacrity, +and taking advantage of the turn in the conversation. "Luckily I've got +the car. Plenty of room for you and the pampered one." And waving aside +her protests he tucked her into the little two-seater, bundling Mouston +unceremoniously in after her. + +The village school was near the church, and while Peters steered the car +carefully through groups of children who were loitering in the road she +sat silent beside him, wondering, in miserable self-condemnation, how +much she had betrayed during those few moments of hysterical outburst. +Resolutely she determined that she would be strong, strong enough to put +away the dread that haunted her, strong enough to meet trouble only when +it came. + +Clear of the children and running smoothly through the park Peters +condescended to break the silence. + +"How went Scotland?" he asked, slowing down behind a frightened fawn +who was straying on the carriage road and cantering ahead of the car in +panicky haste. "Your letters were not satisfactory." + +"I wasn't taught to write letters. I never had any to write," she said +with a smile that made the sensitive man beside her wince. "I did +my best, David, dear. And there wasn't much to tell. There were only +men--Barry said he couldn't stand women with the guns again after the +bother they were last year. They were nice men, shy silent creatures, +big game hunters mostly, and two doctors who have been doing research +work in Central Africa. When any of them could be induced to talk of +their experiences it was a revelation to me of what men will endure and +yet consider enjoyment. You would have liked them, David. Why didn't you +come? It would have done you more good than that horrid little yacht. +And we were alone the last two weeks--we missed you," she added +reproachfully. + +Peters had had his own reasons for absenting himself from the Scotch +lodge, reasons that, connected as they were with Craven and his wife, he +could not enlarge upon. He turned the question with a laugh. + +"The yacht was better suited to a crusty old bachelor, my dear," he +smiled. Then he gave her a searching glance. "And what did you do all +day long by yourself while the men were on the hills?" + +She gave a little shrug. + +"I sketched--and--oh, lots of things," she answered, rather vaguely. +"There's always plenty to do wherever you are if you take the trouble to +look for it." + +"Which most people don't," he replied, bringing the car to a standstill +before the front door. + +"Is Barry back from London?" + +"Coming this afternoon. Thanks for the lift, David, you've been a +Good Samaritan this afternoon. I don't think I could have walked. +Goodbye--and please forget," she whispered. + +He smile reassuringly and waved his hand as he restarted the car. + +Calling to Mouston, who was rolling happily on the cool grass, she went +slowly into the house. With the poodle rushing round her she mounted +thoughtfully the wide stairs and turned down the corridor leading to +the studio. It seemed of all rooms the one best suited to her mood. She +wanted to be alone, beyond the reach of any chance caller, beyond the +possibility of interruption, and it was understood by all that in the +studio she must not be disturbed. + +In the passage she met her maid and, giving her her hat and gloves, +ordered tea to be sent to her. + +Mouston trotted on ahead into the room with the confident air of a +proprietor, fussily inspecting the contents with the usual canine +interest as if suspicious that some familiar article of furniture had +been removed during his absence and anxious to reassure himself that +all things were as he had left them. Then he curled up with a satisfied +grunt on the chesterfield beside which he knew tea would be placed. +Gillian looked about her with a sigh. The room, much as she loved it, +had never been the same to her since that December afternoon that seemed +so much longer than a bare eighteen months ago. The peace it had given +formerly was gone. Now there was associated with it always the memory +of bitter pain. She had never been able to recapture the old feeling of +freedom and happiness it had inspired. It was her refuge still, +where she came to wrestle with herself in solitude, where she sought +forgetfulness in long hours of work but it was no longer the antechamber +to a castle of dreams. There were no dreams left, only a crushing +numbling reality. She thought of her husband, and the question that was +always in her mind seemed to-day more than ever insistent. Why had +he married her? The reason he had given had been disproved by his +subsequent attitude. He had asked her to take pity on a lonely man--and +he had given her no opportunity. She had tried by every means in her +power to get nearer to him, to be to him what she thought he meant her +to be and all her endeavour had come to nothing. Had she tried enough, +done enough? Miserably she wondered would another have succeeded where +she had failed? And had she failed because, after all, the reason he had +given was no true reason? And suddenly, for the first time, in a vivid +flash of illuminating comprehension she seemed to realise the true +reason and the quixotic generosity that had prompted it. It was as if +a veil had been rudely torn from before her eyes. It explained much, +letting in an entirely new light upon many things that had puzzled her. +It placed her in a new position, changing her whole mental standpoint. +How could she have been so stupidly blind, so dense--how could she +have misunderstood? He had lied to her, a kindly noble lie, but a lie +notwithstanding--he had married her out of pity, to provide for her in +the lack of faith he had in her power to provide for herself. To him, +then, her dreams of independence had been only a childish ambition that +he judged unsubstantial, and in his dilemma he had conceived it his +duty to do what seemed to her now a thing intolerable. A burning wave +of shame went through her. She was humiliated to the very dust, crushed +with the sense of obligation. She was only another burden thrust upon +him by a man who had had no claim to his liberality. Her father--the +superman of her childish dreams! How had he dared? If love for him had +not died years before it would have died at that moment in the fierce +resentment that burned in her. But to the man who had so willingly +accepted such an imposition her heart went out in greater love and +deeper gratitude than she had yet known. + +Yet, how, with this new knowledge searing her soul, could she ever face +him again? She longed to creep away and hide like a stricken animal--and +he was coming home to-day. Within a few hours she would have to meet +him, conscious at last of the full extent of her indebtedness and +conscious also of the impossibility of communicating her discovery. For +she knew that she could never bring herself to refer to it, and she +knew him well enough to be aware that any such reference was out of the +question. The gulf between them was too wide. The two days she had spent +alone at the Towers had seemed interminable, but with a revulsion of +feeling she wished now that his coming could be delayed. She shrank from +even the thought of seeing him. Though she called herself coward she +determined to postpone the meeting she dreaded until dinner, when the +presence of Forbes and a couple of footmen would brace her to meet the +situation and give her time to prepare for the later more difficult +hours when she would be alone with him. For he made a practice, rigidly +adhered to, of sitting with her in the evenings during the short time +she remained downstairs. He was punctilious in that courtesy as in all +other acts of consideration. His own bed-hour was very much later and +she often wondered what he did, what were his thoughts, alone in the +solitary study that was his refuge as the studio was hers. + +But she had come almost to fear the evening hours they spent together, +the feeling of constraint was becoming more and more an embarrassment. +The last two weeks in Scotland had been more difficult than any +preceding them. Craven's restlessness had been more apparent, more +pronounced. And looking back on it now she wondered whether it was +association with the men with whom he had travelled and shot in distant +countries that was stirring in him more acutely the wander-hunger that +was in his blood. During the after dinner reminiscences in the Scotch +shooting lodge he had himself been curiously silent, but he had sat +listening with a kind of fierce intentness that to her anxious watching +eyes had been like the forced calm of a caged animal enduring captivity +with seeming resignation but cherishing always thoughts of escape. + +It was then that her vague dread leaped suddenly into concrete fear. +An incident that had occurred a few days after the big game hunters had +left them had further disquieted her. On going to him for advice on some +domestic difficulty she had found him poring over a large map. He had +rolled it up at her approach and his manner had made it impossible for +her to express an interest that would otherwise have seemed natural. +With the reticence to which she had schooled herself she had made +no comment, but the thought of that rolled up hidden canvas and its +possible significance remained with her. It might mean only a renewed +interest in the scenes of past exploits--fervently she hoped it did. But +it might also mean the projection of new activities.... + +The arrival of a footman bringing tea put a period to her thoughts. +While the man arranged the simple necessaries that were more suited to +the studio than the elaborate display Forbes considered indispensable +downstairs, she crossed the room to an easel where stood a half-finished +picture. She looked at it critically. Was he right--was there, after +all, nothing in her work but the mediocre endeavour of an amateur? She +had been so confident, so sure. And the master in Paris who had taught +her--he also had been confident and sure. Yet as she studied the +uncompleted sketch before her she felt her confidence waver. It had not +satisfied her while she was working on it, it seemed now hopelessly and +utterly bad. With a heavy sigh she stared at it despondently, seeing +in it the failure of all her hopes. Then in quick recoil courage came +again. One piece of bad work did not constitute failure--she would not +admit failure. She had worked on it at a time of extreme depression, +when all the world had seemed black and hopeless, and the deplorable +result was due to lack of concentration. She had allowed her own +disturbed thoughts to intrude too vividly, and her wandering attention, +her unhappiness, had reacted disastrously on her work. It must be +so. Her own judgment she might have doubted, but the word of her +teacher--no. She _had_ to succeed, she had to justify herself, +to justify de Myres. "_Travaillez, travaillez, et puis encore +travaillez_," she murmured, as she had heard him say a hundred times, +and tore the sketch across and across, tossing the pieces into a large +wicker basket. With a little shrug she turned to the tea table beside +which Mouston was sitting up in eager expectation, watching the dancing +kettle lid with solemn brown eyes. She made tea and then drew the dog +close to her, hugging him with almost passionate fervour. It was not +a frequent event, but there were times when her starved affections, +craving outlet, were expended in default of other medium upon the poodle +who gave in return a devotion that was entirely single-minded. Yoshio +was still the only member of the household who could touch him with +impunity, and toward Craven his attitude was a curious mixture of hatred +and fear. To Mouston--her only confidant--she whispered now the new +projects she had formed during the last two solitary days for a better +understanding of the obscure mind that had hitherto baffled her, for a +further endeavour to break through the barrier existing between them. To +speak, if only to a dog, was relief and she was too engrossed to notice +the sound the poodle's quick ears caught directly. With a growl he +wrenched his head free of her arm and, startled, she looked up expecting +to see a servant. + +She saw instead her husband. His unexpected appearance in a room he +habitually avoided robbed her, all unprepared to meet him as she was, of +the power of speech. White-lipped she stared at him, unable to formulate +even a conventional greeting, her heart beating rapidly as she watched +him cross the room. He, too, seemed to have no words, and she saw with +increased nervousness that his face was dark with obvious displeasure. +The silence that was fast becoming marked was broken by Mouston who with +another angry snarl leaped suddenly at Craven with jealous hostility, +to be caught up swiftly by a pair of powerful hands and flung into a far +corner, where he landed heavily with a shrill yelp of surprise and +pain that died away in a broken whimper as, cowed by the unlooked-for +retribution, he crawled under a big bureau that seemed to offer a safe +retreat. + +"Barry!" Gillian's exclamation of incredulous amazement made Craven +sensible that the punishment he had inflicted must seem to her +unnecessarily severe. She could not be expected to see into his mind, +could not possibly know the feeling of loathing inspired by the sight of +the poodle in her arms. He was jealous--of a dog and in no mood to curb +the temper that his jealousy roused. + +"I am sorry," he said shortly. "I didn't mind him going for me, it's +perhaps natural that he should--but I hate to see you kiss the dam' +brute," he added with a sudden violence in his voice that braced her +as a more temperate explanation would not have done. To be deliberately +cruel to an animal, no matter how great the provocation, was unlike +Craven; she felt convinced that Mouston was not the primary cause of +his irritability. Something must have occurred previously to disturb +him--the business, perhaps, for which he had waited in London, and, +seeking her, the scene he had surprised had grated on fretted nerves. +He had never before commented on her affection for the dog who was her +shadow; he had never even remonstrated with her, as Peters had many +times, for spoiling him. His present attitude seemed therefore the more +inexplicable--but she realised the impossibility of remonstrance. The +dog had behaved badly and had suffered for his indiscretion; she could +not defend him--had she wanted to. And she did not want to. At the +moment Mouston hardly seemed to matter--nothing mattered but the +unbearable fact of Craven's displeasure. If she could have known the +real cause of that displeasure it would have made speech easier. She +feared to aggravate his mood but she knew some answer was expected of +her. Silence might be misconstrued. + +With calmness she did not feel she forced her voice to steadiness. + +"Most women make fools of themselves over some animal, _faute de +mieux,"_ she said lightly. "I only follow the crowd." + +"Is it _faute de mieux_ with you?" The sharp rejoinder struck her like a +physical blow. Unable to trust herself, unable to check the quivering +of her lips, she turned away to get another cup and saucer from a near +cabinet. + +"Answer me, Gillian," he said tensely. "Is it for want of something +better that you give so much affection to that cringing beast"--he +pointed to the poodle who was crawling abjectly on his stomach toward +her from the bureau where he had taken refuge--"is it a child that your +arms are wanting--not a dog?" His face was drawn, and he stared at +her with fierce hunger smouldering in his eyes. He was hurting himself +beyond belief--was he hurting her too? Could anything that he might +say touch her, stir her from the calm placidity that sometimes, in +contradiction to his own restlessness, was almost more than he could +tolerate? She had fulfilled the terms of their bargain faithfully, +apparently satisfied with its limitation. She appeared content with this +damnable life they were living. But a sudden impulse had come to him +to assure himself that his supposition was a true one, that the outward +content she manifested did not cover longings and desires that she +sought to hide. Yet how would it benefit either of them for him to +wring from her a secret to which he, by his own doing, had no right? +In winning her consent to this divided marriage he had already done +her injury enough--he need not make her life harder. And just now, in +a moment of ungovernable passion, he had said a brutal thing, a thing +beyond all forgiveness. His face grew more drawn as he moved nearer to +her. + +"Gillian, I asked you a question," he began unsteadily. She confronted +him swiftly. Her eyes were steady under his, though the pallor of her +face was ghastly. + +"You are the one person who has no right to ask me that question, +Barry." There was no anger in her voice, there was not even reproach, +but a gentle dignity that almost unmanned him. He turned away with a +gesture of infinite regret. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, in a strangled voice. "I was a cur--what I +said was damnable." He faced her again with sudden vehemence. "I wish to +God I had left you free. I had no right to marry you, to ruin your life +with my selfishness, to bar you from the love and children that should +have been yours. You might have met a man who would have given you both, +who would have given you the full happy life you ought to have. In my +cursed egoism I have done you almost the greatest injury a man can do a +woman. My God, I wonder you don't hate me!" + +She forced back the words that rushed to her lips. She knew the danger +of an unconsidered answer, the danger of the whole situation. The +durability of their future life seemed to depend on her reply, its +continuance to hang on a slender thread that, perilously strained, +threatened momentarily to snap. She was fearful of precipitating the +crisis she had long realised was pending and which now seemed drawing to +a head. An unconsidered word, an intonation even, might bring about the +catastrophe she feared. + +She sought for time, praying for inspiration to guide her. The waiting +tea table supplied her immediate want. + +Mechanically she filled the cups and cut cake with deliberate precision +while her mind worked feverishly. + +His distress weighed with her more than her own. + +Positive as she now was of the true reason that had prompted him to +marry her she saw in his outburst only another chivalrous attempt to +hide that reason from her. He had purposely endeavoured to misrepresent +himself, and, understanding, a wave of passionate gratitude filled her. + +Her love was clamouring for audible expression. If she could only speak! +If she could only break through the restrictions that hampered her, +tell him all that was in her heart, measure the force of her living love +against the phantom of that dead past that had killed in him all the +joy of life. But she could not speak. Pride kept her silent, and the +knowledge that she could not add to the burden he already bore the +embarrassment of an unsought love. + +But something she must say, and that before he noticed the hesitation +that might rob her words of any worth. Only by refusing to attach an +undue value to the significance of what he had said could she arrest the +dangerous trend of the conversation and bring it to a safer level. + +She sat down slowly, re-arranging the simple tray with ostentatious +care. + +"You didn't force me to marry you, Barry," she said quietly. "I knew +what I was doing, I realised the difficulties that might arise. But +you have nothing to reproach yourself with. You have been kind and +considerate in everything. I am enormously grateful to you--and I am +very content with my life. Please believe that. There is only one thing +that I could wish changed; you said that we were to be friends--and you +have let me be only a fair weather friend. Won't you let me sometimes +share and help in the difficulties, as well as in the pleasures? Your +interests, your obligations are so great--" she went on hurriedly, lest +he should think she was aiming at deeper, more personal concerns--"I +can't help knowing that there must be difficulties. If you would only +let me take my part--" She looked up, meeting his gloomy stare at last, +and a faint appeal crept into her eyes. "I'm not a child, Barry, to be +shown only the sunny side of life." + +An indescribable expression flitted across his face, changing it +marvellously. + +"I would never have you know the dark side," he said briefly, as he took +the cup she held out to him. + +She was conscious that the tension, though lessened had not altogether +disappeared. There was in his manner a constraint that set her heart +throbbing painfully. She glanced furtively from time to time at his +stern worn face, and the weariness in his eyes brought a lump into her +throat. + +He talked spasmodically, of friends whom he had seen in London, of a +hundred and one trivial matters, but of the business that had kept him +in town he said nothing and she wondered what had been in his mind when +he had departed from an established rule and deliberately sought her in +a room that he never entered. Had he come with any express intention, +any confidence that had been thwarted by Mouston's stupid behaviour? She +stifled a sigh of disappointment. He might never again be moved by the +same impulse. + +With growing anxiety she noticed that his restlessness was greater even +than usual. Refusing a second cup of tea he lit a cigarette, pacing up +and down as he talked, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. + +In one of the silences that punctuated his jerky periods he paused by a +little table on which lay a portfolio, and lifting it idly looked at +the sketches it contained. With a sudden look of apprehension Gillian +started and made a half movement as if to rise, then with a shrug she +sank back on the sofa, watching him intently. It was her private sketch +book, and there was in it one portrait in particular, his own, that she +had no wish for him to see. But remonstrance would only call attention +to what she hoped might pass unnoticed. Craven turned over the sketches +slowly. He had seen little of his wife's work since their marriage, she +was shy of submitting it to him, and with the policy of non-interference +he had adopted he had expressed no curiosity. He recognised many faces, +and, recognising, remembered wherein lay her special skill. He found +himself looking for characteristics that were known to him in the +portraits of the men and women he was studying. There was no attempt at +concealment--vices and virtues, liberality of mind, pettiness of soul +were set forth in naked truth. A sympathetic picture of Peters arrested +him, though the name written beneath it puzzled. He looked at the kindly +generous countenance with its friendly half-sad eyes and tender mouth +with a feeling of envy. He would have given years of his life to have +possessed the peace of mind that was manifested in the calm serenity of +his agent's face. + +His lips tightened as he laid the sketch down. With his thoughts +lingering on the last portrait for a second or two he looked at the next +one absently. Then a stifled exclamation broke from him and he peered +at it closer. And, watching, Gillian drew a deep breath, clenching her +hands convulsively. He stood quite still for what seemed an eternity, +then came slowly across the room and stood directly in front of her. And +for the first time she was afraid of meeting his eyes. + +"Do I look like--that?" + +Her head drooped lower, her fingers twining and intertwining nervously, +and her dry lips almost refused their office. + +"I have seen you like that," very slowly and almost inaudibly, but he +caught the reluctant admission. + +"So--_damnable_?" + +She flinched from the loathing in his voice. + +"I _am_ sorry--" she murmured faintly. + +"Good God!" the profanity was wrung from him, but had he thought of +it he would have considered it justified, for the face at which he was +staring was the beautiful tormented face of a fallen angel. He looked +with a kind of horror at the hungry passionate eyes fierce with +unsatisfied longing, shadowed with terrible memory, tortured, hopeless; +at the set mouth, a straight grim line under the trim golden brown +moustache; at the bitterness and revolt expressed in all the deep cut +lines of the tragic face. He laid it down with a feeling of repulsion. +She saw him like that! The pain of it was intolerable. + +He laughed with a harsh mirthlessness that made her quiver. + +"It is a truer estimation of my character than the one you gave me a +few minutes ago," he said bitterly, "and you may thank heaven I am your +husband only in name. God keep you from a nearer acquaintance with me." +And turning on his heel he left her. Long after he had gone she sat on +motionless, her fingers picking mechanically at the chintz cover of the +sofa, staring into space with wide eyes brimming with tears. She knew it +was a cruel sketch, but she had never meant him to see it. It had taken +shape unconsciously under her hand, and while she hated it she had +kept it because of the remarkable likeness and because it was the only +picture she had of him. + +The dreams of a better understanding seemed swept away by her own +thoughtlessness and folly. She had hurt him and she could never explain. +To refer to it, to try and make him understand, would do more harm +than good. With a pitiful sob she covered her face with her hands, and, +beside her, Mouston the pampered cringed and whimpered unheeded and +forgotten. + +She had looked forward to his return with such high hopes and now they +lay shattered at her feet. During a brief hour that might have drawn +them nearer together they had contrived to hurt each other as it must +seem to both by deliberate intent. For herself she knew that she was +innocent of any such intention--but was he? He had never hurt her +before, even in his most difficult moods he had been to her unfailingly +kind and considerate. But to-day--shudderingly she wondered did it mark +a new era in their relations? And in miserable futile longing she wished +that this afternoon had never been. + +After what had occurred the thought of facing him across a table during +an interminable dinner and sitting with him alone for the long hours of +a summer evening drove her to a state bordering on panic. She pushed the +thick hair off her forhead with a little gasp. It was cowardly--but +she could not, would not. Despising herself she crossed the room to the +telephone. + +At the Hermitage Peters was indulging in a well-earned rest after a long +hot day that had been both irksome and tiring. Wearing an old tweed coat +he lounged comfortably in a big chair, a couple of sleepy setters at his +feet, a foul and ancient pipe in full blast. The room, flooded with the +evening sun, was filled with a heterogeneous collection of books and +music manuscript, guns, fishing rods and whips. The homely room had +stamped on it the characteristics of its owner. It was a room to work +in, and equally a room in which to relax. The owner was now relaxing, +but the bodily rest he enjoyed did not extend to his mind, which was +very actively disturbed. His usually genial face was furrowed and he +sucked at the old pipe with an energy that enveloped him in a haze of +blue smoke. The ringing of the telephone in the opposite corner of the +room came as an unwelcome interruption. He glared at it resentfully, +disinclined to move, but at the second ring rose reluctantly with a +grunt of annoyance, pushing the drowsy setters to one side. He took down +the receiver with no undue haste and answered the call gruffly, but his +bored expression changed rapidly as he listened. The soft voice came +clearly but hesitatingly: + +"Is that you, David? Could you come up to dinner--if--if you're not +going anywhere else--I've got a tiresome headache and it will be so +stupid for Barry. I don't want him to be dull the first evening at home. +So if you could--please, David--" + +His face grew grim as he detected the quiver in the faltering indecisive +words, but he answered briskly. + +"Of course I'll come. I'd love to," he said, with a cheeriness he was +far from feeling. He hung up the receiver with a heavy sigh. But he had +hardly moved when the telephone rang again sharply. + +"Damn the thing!" he muttered irritably. + +This time a very different voice, curt and uncompromising: + +"--that you, Peter?--Yes!--Doing anything tonight?--Not?--Then for God's +sake come up to dinner." And then the receiver jammed down savagely. + +With grimmer face Peters moved thoughtfully across the room and touched +a bell in the wall by the fireplace. His call was answered with the +usual promptness, and when he had given the necessary orders and the man +had gone he laid aside his pipe, tidied a few papers, and went slowly to +an adjoining room. + +The Hermitage was properly the dower house of the Towers, but for the +last two generations had not been required as such. The room Peters now +entered had originally been the drawing room, but for the thirty years +he had lived in the house he had kept it as a music room. Panelled in +oak, with polished floor and innocent of hangings, the only furniture a +grand piano and a portrait, it was at once a sanctuary and a shrine. And +during those thirty years to only two people had he given the right of +entrance. To the woman whose portrait hung on the wall and, latterly, +to the girl who had succeeded her as mistress of Craven Towers. To this +room, to the portrait and the piano, he brought all his difficulties; it +was here he wrestled with the loneliness and sadness that the world +had never suspected. To-night he felt that only the peace that room +invariably brought would enable him to fulfil the task he had in hand. + + * * * * + +Craven was alone in the hall when he arrived, and it was not until the +gong sounded that Gillian made a tardy appearance, very pale but with a +feverish spot on either cheek. Peters' quick eye noticed the absence of +the black shadow that was always at her heels. "Where is the faithful +Mouston? Not in disgrace, surely--the paragon?" he teased, and was +disconcerted at the painful flush that overspread her face. But she +thrust her arm through his and forced a little laugh. "Mouston is +becoming rather incorrigible, I'm afraid I've spoiled him hopelessly. +I'll tell him you inquired, it will cheer him up, poor darling. He's +doing penance with a bone upstairs. Shall we go in--I'm famished." + +But as dinner progressed she did not appear to be famished, for she ate +scarcely anything, but talked fitfully with jerky nervousness. Craven, +too, was at first almost entirely silent, and on Peters fell the main +burden of conversation, until by a direct question he managed to start +his host on a topic that was of interest to both and lasted until +Gillian left them. + +In the drawing room, after she had finished her coffee, she opened the +piano and then subsided wearily on to the big sofa. The emotions of the +day and the effort of appearing at dinner had exhausted her, and in +her despondency the future had never seemed so black, so beset with +difficulties. While she was immeasurably thankful for Peters' presence +to-night she knew it was impossible for him to act continually as a +buffer between them. But from the problem of to-morrow, and innumerable +to-morrows, she turned with a fixed determination to live for the +moment. _A chaque jour suffit sa peine_. + +She lay with relaxed muscles and closed eyes. It seemed a long +while before the men joined her. She wondered what they were talking +about--whether to Peters would be imparted the information that had been +withheld from her. For the feeling of a nearly impending calamity was +strong within her. When at last they came she looked with covert anxiety +from one to the other, but their faces told her nothing. For a few +minutes Peters lingered beside her chatting and then gravitated toward +the piano, as she had hoped he would. Arranging the heaped up cushions +more comfortably around her she gave herself up to the delight of his +music and it seemed to her that she had never heard him play so well. + +Near her Craven was standing before the fern-filled fireplace, leaning +against the mantel, a cigarette drooping between his lips. From where +she lay she could watch him unperceived, for his own gaze was directed +through the open French window out on to the terrace, and she studied +his set handsome face with sorrowful attention. He appeared to be +thinking deeply, and, from his detached manner, heedless of the harmony +of sound that filled the room. But her supposition was soon rudely +shaken. Peters had paused in his playing. When a few moments later the +plaintive melody of an operatic air stole through the room she saw her +husband start violently, and the terrible pallor she had witnessed once +before sweep across his face. She clenched her teeth on her lip to keep +back the cry that rose, and breathlessly watched him stride across the +room and drop an arresting hand on Peters' shoulder. "For God's sake +don't play that damned thing!" she heard him say in a voice that was +almost unrecognisable. And then he passed out swiftly, into the garden. + +A spasm of jealous agony shook her from head to foot. With quick +intuition she guessed that the air that was unknown to her must be +connected in some way with the sorrow that darkened his life, and the +spectre of the past she tried to forget seemed to rise and grin at her +triumphantly. She shivered. Would its power last until life ended? Would +it stand between them always, rivalling her, thwarting her every effort? + +For a long time she dared not look at Peters, who had responded without +hesitation to Craven's unceremonious request, but when at length +she summoned courage to glance at him it seemed as if he had already +forgotten the interruption. His face wore the absent, almost spiritual +look that was usual when he was at the piano and his playing gave no +indication of either annoyance or surprise. She breathed a quick sigh of +relief and, slightly altering her position, lay where she could see the +solitary figure on the terrace. Erect by the stone ballustrade, his arms +folded across his chest, staring intently into the night as if his +gaze went far beyond the confines of the great park, he seemed to her a +symbol of incarnate loneliness, and her heart contracted at the thought +of the suffering and solitude she might not share. If he would only turn +to her! If she had only the right to go to him and plead her love, beg +the confidence she craved, and stand beside him in his sorrow! But he +stood alone, beyond her reach, even unaware of her longing. + +The slow tears gathered thick in her eyes. + +For long after the keyboard became an indistinguishable blur Peters +played on untiringly. But at last he rose, closed the piano and turned +on an electric lamp that stood near. + +"Eleven o'clock," he exclaimed contritely. "Bless my soul, why didn't +you stop me! I forget the time when I'm playing. I've tired you out. Go +to bed, you pale child. I'm walking home, I'll see Barry on the terrace +as I pass." + +She slid from the sofa and took his outstretched hands. + +"Your playing never tires me!" she answered, with a little upward +glance. "You've magic at the ends of your fingers, David dear." + +She went to the open window to watch him go, and presently saw him +reappear round the angle of the house and join Craven on the terrace. +They stood talking for a few minutes and then together descended the +long flight of stone steps to the rose garden, from which, by a short +cut through a little copse, could be reached the path that crossing the +park led to the Hermitage. It was the habit of Peters when he had been +dining at the big house to walk home thus and, as to-night, Craven +almost always accompanied him. + +Gillian had long known her husband's propensity for night rambling and +she knew it might be hours before he returned. Was he angry with her +still that he had omitted the punctilious good-night he had never before +forgotten? Her lips quivered like a disappointed child's as she turned +back slowly into the room. But as she passed through the hall and +climbed the long stairs she knew in her heart that she had misjudged +him. He was not capable of petty retaliation. He had only forgotten--why +indeed should he remember? It was a small matter to him, he could not +know what it meant to her. In her bedroom she dismissed her maid +and went to an open window. She was very tired, but restless, and +disinclined for bed. Dropping down on the low seat she stared out over +the moonlit landscape. The repentant Mouston, abject at her continued +neglect, crawled from his basket and crept tentatively to her, and as +absently her hand went out to him gained courage and climbed up beside +her. Inch by inch he sidled nearer, and unrepulsed grew bolder until +he finally subsided with his head across her knees, whining his +satisfaction. Mechanically she caressed him until his shivering starting +body lay quiet under her soothing touch. The night was close and very +silent. No breath of wind came to stir the heavily leafed trees, no +sound broke the stillness. She listened vainly for the cry of an owl, +for the sharp alarm note of a pheasant to pierce the brooding hush that +seemed to have fallen even over nature. A coppery moon hung like a ball +of fire in the sky. At the far end of the terrace a group of tall trees +cast inky black shadows across the short smooth lawn and the white +tracery of the stone balustrade. The faint scent of jasmine drifted +in through the open window and she leaned forward eagerly to catch the +sweet intermittent perfume that brought back memories of the peaceful +courtyard of the convent school. A night of intense beauty, mysterious, +disturbing, called her compellingly. The restlessness that had assailed +her grew suddenly intolerable, and she glanced back into the spacious +room with a feeling of suffocation. + +The four walls seemed closing in about her. She knew that the big white +bed would bring no rest, that she would toss in feverish misery until +the morning, and she turned with dread from the thought of the long +weary hours. Night after night she lay awake in loneliness and longing +until exhaustion brought fitful sleep that, dream-haunted, gave no +refreshment. + +Sleep was impossible--the room that witnessed her nightly vigil a prison +house of dark sad thoughts. Her head throbbed with the heat; she craved +the space, the freshness of the moonlit garden. + +Rousing the slumbering dog she went out on to the gallery and down the +staircase she had climbed so wearily an hour before. By the solitary +light still burning in the hall she knew that Craven had not yet +returned. Through the darkness of the drawing room she groped her way +until her outstretched hands touched shutters. Slipping the bar softly +and unlatching the window she passed out. For a moment she stood still, +breathing deeply, drinking in the beauty of the scene, exhilarated +with the sudden feeling of freedom that came to her. The silent garden, +beautiful always but more beautiful still in the mystery of the night, +appealed to her as never before. It was the same, yet wonderfully, +curiously unlike. A glamour hung over it, a certain settled peace that +soothed the tumult of her mind and calmed her nerves. Surrendering to +the charm of its almost unearthly loveliness she slowly paced the long +length of the terrace, the wondering Mouston pressing close beside her. + +Then when her tired limbs could go no further she halted by the steps +and leant her arms on the coping of the balustrade. Cupping her chin in +her hands she looked down at the rose garden beneath her and smiled at +its quaint formality. Running parallel with the terrace on the one side +the three remaining sides were enclosed by a high yew hedge through +which a door, facing the terrace steps, led to a path that gave access +to the copse that was Peters' short cut. The shadow of the high dense +yew stretched far across the garden and she gazed dreamily into its +dusky depths, conjuring up the past, peopling the solitude about her +with forgotten ghosts who in the silks and satins of a bygone age had +walked those same flagged paths and talked and laughed and wept among +the roses. Poor lonely ghosts--were they lonelier than she? + +The silence broke at last. Far off from the trees in the park an owl +called softly to its mate and the swift answering note seemed to mock +her desolation. Her whole being shuddered into one great soundless cry +of utter longing: "Barry! Oh, Barry, Barry!" + +And as if in answer to her prayer she heard a sound that sent the quick +blood leaping to her heart. + +In the deep shadow of the yew hedge the door that had opened shut with +a sudden clang. Her hands crept to her breast as she strained her eyes +into the darkness. Then the echo of a firm tread, and Craven's tall +figure emerged from the surrounding gloom. With fluttering breath she +watched him slowly cross the bright strip of moonlight lying athwart the +rose garden and mount the steps. Only when he reached the terrace did +he seem aware of her presence, and joined her with an exclamation of +surprise, "You--Gillian?" + +"I couldn't sleep--it was so hot--the garden tempted me," she faltered, +in sudden fear lest he might think she spied on him. But the fascination +of the night was to Craven too natural to evoke comment. He lit a +cigarette and smoked in a silence she did not know how to break, and a +cold wave of chill foreboding passed over her as she waited with nervous +constraint for him to speak. He turned to her at last with a certain +deliberation and spoke with blunt directness. + +"I have been asked to lead an expedition in Central Africa. It is partly +a hunting trip, partly a scientific mission. They have approached me +because I know the country, and because I am interested in tropical +diseases and am willing to defray a proportion of the expense which will +be necessarily heavy--I should gladly have done so in any case whether +I went with the party or not. The question of leading the expedition I +deferred as long as I could for obvious reasons.--I had not only myself +to consider. But I have been pressed to give a definite answer and have +agreed to go. There are plenty of other men who would do the job better +than myself but, as I said, I happen to know the locality and speak +several of the dialects, so my going may make things easier for them. +But that is not what has weighed with me most, it is you. Do you think I +don't know how completely I have failed you--how difficult your life +is? I do know. And because I know I am going. For I see no other way of +making your life even bearable for you. It has become impossible for us +to go on as we are--and the fault is mine, only mine. You have been +an angel of goodness and patience, you have done all that was humanly +possible for any woman to do, but circumstances were against us. I had +no right to ask you to make such a marriage. I cannot undo it. I cannot +give you your freedom, but I can by my absence make your life easier +than it has been. I have arranged everything with the lawyers in London +and with Peters, here to-night. If I do not return, for there are +of course risks, everything is left in your control--it is the only +satisfaction in my power. If I do return--God give me grace to be kinder +to you than I have been in the past." + +The blow she had been waiting for had fallen at last, in fulfilment of +her premonition. In her heart she had always known it would come, but +its suddenness paralysed. She had nothing to say. Silently she stood +beside him, her hands tight-locked, numbed with a desperate fear. He +would go--and he would never return. It hammered in her brain, making +her want to shriek. She felt to the full her own powerlessness, nothing +she could say would turn him from his purpose. It was the end she had +always foreseen, the end of all her dreams, the end of everything but +sorrow and pain and loneliness unspeakable. And for him--danger and +possibly death. He had admitted risk, he had set his house in order. +From Craven it meant much. She had learned his complete disregard +for danger from the men who had stayed with them in Scotland; his +recklessness in the hunting field, which was a by-word in the county, +was already known to her. He set no value on his own life--what reason +was there to suppose that, in the mysterious land of sudden and terrible +death, he would take even ordinary precautions? Was he going with a +pre-conceived determination to end a life that had become unbearable? +In agony that seemed to rive her heart she closed her eyes lest he might +see in them the anguish she knew was there. How long a time was left to +her before the parting that would leave her desolate? "When do you go?" +The question burst from her, and Craven glanced at her keenly, trying to +read the colourless face that was like a still white mask. He fancied +he had caught a tremor in her voice, then he called himself a fool as +he noted the composure that seemed to argue indifference. Her calmness +stung while it strengthened him. Why should she care, he asked himself +bitterly. His going could mean to her only relief. And disappointment +made his own voice ring cold and distant. "Within the next few weeks. +The exact date is not yet fixed," he said evasively. Again she was +silent while he wondered what were her thoughts. Suddenly she turned to +him, words pouring out in stammering haste, "While you are away--may I +go to France--to Paris--to work? This life of idleness is killing me!" + +He looked at her in amazement, startled at her passionate utterance, +dismayed at a suggestion he had never contemplated. To think of her +at the Towers, in the position he would have her fill, watched over by +Peters, was the only comfort he could take away with him. For a second +he meditated a refusal that seemed within his right, arbitrary though it +might be. But the promise he had made to leave her free stayed him. He +could not break that promise now. "As you please," he said, with forced +unconcern, "you are your own mistress. You can do whatever you wish." +And with a slight shrug he turned toward the house. She walked beside +him in a tumult of emotion. He would now never know the love she bore +him, the aching passion that throbbed like a living thing within her. +She could not speak, the gulf between them was too wide to bridge, and +he would leave her, thinking her indifferent, callous! Tears blinded her +as she stumbled through the dark drawing room. In the dimly lit hall, +standing at the foot of the staircase with his hand clenched on the +oaken rail, Craven watched with tortured eyes the slender drooping +figure move slowly upward, battling with himself, praying for strength +to let her go--for he knew that if she even turned her head his +self-control would shatter. It was weakening now and the sweat broke out +in heavy drops on his forehead as he strove to crush an insidious inward +voice that bade him forget the past and take what was his. "Only one +life," it seemed to shout in mocking derision, "live while you can, take +what you can! What is done, is done; only the present matters. Of +what use is regret, of what use an abstinence that mortifies yet feeds +desire? Fool, fool to set aside the chance of happiness!" + +With a deep breath that was almost a groan he sprang forward. Then, in +deadly fear, he checked himself, and wrenching his eyes away from the +woman he craved fled out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +In a little tent pitched in the midst of an Arab camp in the extreme +south of Southern Algeria Craven sat writing. A day of intense heat had +been succeeded by a night airless and suffocating, and he was wet with +perspiration that dripped from his forehead and formed in sticky pools +under his hand, making writing laborious and difficult, impossible +indeed except for the sheet of blotting paper on which his fingers +rested. His thin silk shirt, widely open at the throat, the sleeves +rolled up above his elbows, clung limply to his broad shoulders. A +multitude of tiny flies attracted by the light circled round the lamp +eddying in the heat of the flame, immolating themselves, and falling +thickly on the closely written sheets of paper that strewed the camp +table, smeared the still wet ink and clogged his pen. He swept them away +impatiently from time to time. Squatting on his heels in a corner, +his inscrutable yellow face damp and glistening, Yoshio was cleaning a +revolver with his usual thoroughness and precision. A ragged square of +canvas beside him held the implements necessary to his work, set out in +methodical order, and as he cleaned, and oiled and polished assiduously +without raising his eyes his deft fingers selected unerringly the tool +he required. The weapon appeared already speckless, but for some time he +continued to rub vigorously, handling it with almost affectionate care +as if loth to put it down; at last with a grunt of demur he reluctantly +laid aside the cloth he was using and wrapping the revolver in a silk +handkerchief slid it slowly into a leathern holster which his care had +kept soft and pliable. Placing it noiselessly on the ground before him +he turned his oblique gaze on Craven and watched him for a moment or two +intently. Assured at length that his master was too absorbed in his own +task to notice the doings of his servant he reached his hand behind him +and produced a second revolver, which he began to clean more hurriedly, +more superficially than the first, keeping the while a wary eye on +the stooping figure at the table. When that too was finished to his +satisfaction and restored to his hip pocket, a flicker of almost +childlike amusement crossed his usually immobile features and he started +operations with an air of fine unconsciousness upon one of a couple of +rifles that stood propped against the tent wall near him. Two years of +hardships and danger had left no mark upon him, the deadly climate of +the region through which he had passed had not impaired his powerful +physique, and disease that had ravaged the scientific mission had left +him, like Craven, unscathed. With no care beyond his master's comfort, +indifferent to fatigue and perils, the months spent in Central Africa +had been far more to his taste than the dull monotony of the life at +Craven Towers. But with his face turned, though indirectly, toward +home--the home of his adoption--Yoshio was still cheerful. For him life +held only one incentive--the man who had years before saved his life in +California. Where Craven was Yoshio was content. + +Outside, the Arab camp was in an uproar. Groups of tribesmen passed +the tent continually, conversing eagerly, their raucous voices rising +shrill, shouting, arguing, in noisy excitement. The neighing of horses +came from near by and once a screaming stallion backed heavily against +the canvas wall where Yoshio was sitting, rousing the phlegmatic +Japanese to an unwonted ejaculation of wrath as he ducked and grabbed +into safety the remaining rifle before the animal was hauled clear with +a wealth of detailed Arabic expletives, and he grinned broadly when +an authoritative voice broke into the Arabs' clamour and a subsequent +sudden silence fell in the vicinity of the stranger's tent. + +Regardless of the disturbance resounding from all quarters of the camp +Craven wrote on steadily for some time longer. Then with a short sigh +he shuffled the scattered sheets together, brushed clear the clinging +accumulation of scorched wings and tiny shrivelled bodies, and without +re-reading the closely written pages stuffed them into an envelope, +and having closed and directed it, leaned back with an exclamation of +relief. + +The letter to Peters was finished but there remained still the more +difficult letter he had yet to address to his wife--a letter he dreaded +and yet longed to write. A letter which, reaching her after the death he +confidently expected and earnestly prayed for, would reveal to her fully +the secret of his past and the passion that had driven him, unworthy, +from her. For never during the two years of adventure and peril had +death seemed more imminent than now, and before he died he would give +himself this one satisfaction--he would break the silence of years that +had eaten like a canker into his soul. At last she would know all he +had never dared to tell her, all his hopeless love, all his remorse and +shame, all his passionate desire for her happiness. + +Scores of times during the last two years he had attempted to write +such a letter and had as often refrained, but to-night his need was +imperative. It was his last chance. In the early hours of the dawn he +would ride with his Arab hosts on a punitive expedition from which he +had no intention of returning alive. Death that he had courted openly +since leaving England would surely be easy to find amid the warring +tribes with whom he had thrown in his lot. A curious smile lit his +face for an instant, then passed abruptly at the doubt that shook his +confidence. Would fate again refuse him release from a life that had +become more than ever intolerable? + +Haunted as he was with the memory of O Hara San, tortured with longing +for the woman he had made his wife, the double burden had become +too heavy to bear. He had grasped at the opportunity offered by the +scientific mission. The dangerous nature of the country, the fever that +saturated its swamps and forests, was known to him and he had gone to +Africa courting a death that would free him and yet leave no stain on +the name borne by his wife. And the death that would free him would free +her too! The bitter justice of it made him set his teeth. For he had +left her his fortune and his great possessions unrestrictedly to deal +with as she would. Young, rich and free! Who would claim what he had +surrendered? Even now, after months of mental struggle, the thought was +torment. + +But death that had laid a heavy toll on his companions had turned away +from him. Disease and disaster had dogged the mission from the outset. +The medical and scientific researches had proved satisfactory beyond +expectation, but the attendant loss of life had been terrible, and +himself utterly reckless and heedless of all precautions Craven had +watched tragedy after tragedy with envy he had been hardly able to +hide. Immune from the sudden and deadly fevers that had swept the camps +periodically with fatal results he had worked fearlessly and untiringly +among the stricken members of the mission and the fast dwindling army of +demoralised porters who had succumbed with alarming rapidity. With the +stolid Japanese always beside him he had wrestled entire nights and +days to save the expedition from extermination. And in the intervals of +nursing, and shepherding the unwilling carriers, he had ranged far and +wide in search of fresh food to supply the wants of the camp. The danger +he deliberately sought, with a rashness that had provoked open comment, +had miraculously evaded him. He had borne a charmed life. He had +snatched at every hazardous enterprise, he had exposed himself +consistently to risk until one evening shortly before the expedition +was due to start on the return march to civilization, when a chance word +spoken by the camp fire had brought home to him abruptly the dependence +of the remnant of the mission on him to bring them to the coast +in safety. By some strange dealing of fate it had been among the +non-scientific members of the expedition that mortality had ranged +highest; the big game hunters, though hardier and physically better +equipped than the students of the party for hardship and endurance had, +with the exception of Craven himself, been wiped out to a man. It had +been an unpremeditated remark uttered in all good faith with no ulterior +motive by a shuddering fever-stricken scientist writing up his notes +and diary by the light of the fire with trembling fingers that could +scarcely hold the fountain pen that moved laboriously driven by an +indomitable will. A grim jest, horrible in its significance, had +followed the startling utterance and Craven had looked with perplexity +at the shivering figure with its drawn yellow face from which a pair +of glittering eyes burned with an almost uncanny brilliance until the +meaning of the man's words slowly penetrated. But the true importance of +the suggestion once realised had aroused in him a full understanding +of the duty he owed to the men he had undertaken to lead. Of those +who could have convoyed the expedition on its homeward march only +he remained. Without him the survivors of the once large party might +eventually reach safety but it was made clear to him that night how +completely his companions relied on him for a quick return and for the +management of the train of porters whose frequent mutinies only Craven +seemed able to quell. He had sat far into the night, staring gloomily +into the blazing fire, smoking pipe after pipe, listening to the +multifarious noises of the forest--the sudden distant crash of falling +trees, the incessant hum of insect life, the long-drawn howl of beasts +of prey hovering on the outskirts of the camp, the soft whoo-whoo of +an owl whose cry brought vividly to his mind the cool fragrance of the +garden at Craven Towers and the nearer more ominous sounds of muffled +agony that came from a tent close beside him where yet another victim of +science was gasping his life away. + +Hour after hour he sat thinking. There was no getting away from it--it +was only despicable that he had not himself recognised it earlier. The +narrow path of duty lay before him from which he might not turn aside to +ease the burden of a private grief. He was bound to the men who +trusted him. Honour demanded that he should forego the project he +had formed--until his obligation had been discharged. Loyalty to his +companions must come before every selfish consideration. After all it +was only a postponement, he reflected with a kind of grim satisfaction. +The residue of the mission once safely conducted to the coast his +responsibility would end and he would be free to pursue the course that +would liberate the woman he loved. + +In the chill silence of the hour that precedes the dawn he had risen +cramped and shivering from his seat by the dying fire and too late then +to take the rest he had neglected, had roused Yoshio and started on the +usual foraging expedition that was his daily occupation. And from that +time he had been careful of a life which, though valueless to him, was +invaluable to his companions. From that time, too, the ill-luck that had +pursued them ceased. There had been no more deaths, no more desertions +from the already depleted train of carriers. The work had gone forward +with continuing success and, six months ago, after a hazardous march +through a hostile country, Craven had led the remnant of the expedition +safely to the coast. He had waited for some weeks at the African port +after the mission had returned to England, and then embarking on a small +trading steamer, had made his way northward to an obscure station on the +Moroccan seaboard, when by a leisurely and indirect route he had slowly +crossed the desert to the district where he now was and which he had +reached only a week ago. Twice before he had visited the tribe as the +guest of the Sheik Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's younger son, an officer of +Spahis whom he had met in Paris, and the warm hospitality shown him had +left a deep impression. A sudden unaccountable impulse had led him to +revisit a locality where he had spent some of the happiest months of his +life. He had conceived an intense admiration and liking for the stern +old Arab Chief and his two utterly dissimilar sons; the elder a grave +habitually silent man, who clung to the old traditions with the +rigid tenacity of the orthodox Mohammedan, disdainful of the French +jurisdiction under which he was compelled to live, and occupied solely +with the affairs of the tribe and his beautiful and adored wife who +reigned alone in his harem, despite the fact that she had given him +no child; the younger in total contrast to his brother, a dashing +ultra-modern young Arab as deeply imbued with French tendencies as the +conservative Omar was opposed to them. The wealthy and powerful old +Sheik, whose friendship had been assiduously sought by the French +Administration to ensure the co-operation of a tribe that with its far +reaching influence might have proved a dangerous element in an unsettled +district, shared in his inmost heart the sentiments of his heir, but +with a larger and more discriminating wisdom saw the desirability +of associating at least one of his family with the Government he was +obliged, though grudgingly and half contemptuously, to acknowledge. He +had hovered long between prejudice and policy before he reluctantly gave +his consent for Sad to be placed on the roll of the regiment of Spahis. +And the unusual love existing between the two brothers had survived a +test that might have proved too strong for its continuance; Omar, bowing +to the decision of the autocratic old Chief, had refrained even from +comment, and Sad, despite his enthusiasm, had carefully avoided +inflaming his brother's deeply rooted hatred of the nation the younger +man was proud to serve. His easy-going nature adapted itself readily to +the two wholly separate lives he lived, and though secretly preferring +the months spent with his regiment he contrived to extract every +possible enjoyment from the periods of leave for which he returned to +the tribe where, laying aside the picturesque uniform his ardent +soul rejoiced in and scrupulously suppressing every indication of his +Francophile inclinations he resumed with consummate tact the somewhat +invidious position of younger son of the house. + +The meeting of the young Spahi with Craven in Paris had led to the +discovery of similar tastes and ultimately to an intimate friendship. +Together in Algeria they had shot panther and Barbary sheep and +eventually Craven had been induced to visit the tribe, where he had seen +the true life of the desert that appealed strongly to his unconventional +wandering disposition. The heartiness of his reception had been +unqualified, even the taciturn Omar had unbent to the representative of +a nation he felt he could respect with no loss of prestige. To Craven +the weeks passed in the Arab camp had been a time of uninterrupted +enjoyment and a second visit had strengthened mutual esteem. Situated +on the extreme fringe of the Algerian frontier, in the heart of a +perpetually disturbed country, the element of danger prevailing in the +district was to Craven not the least of its attractions. It had been a +source of keen disappointment that during both his visits there had been +a cessation of the intertribal warfare that was carried on in spite of +the Government's endeavours to preserve peace among the great desert +families. For generations the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah had been at +feud with another powerful tribe which, living further to the south and +virtually beyond the suzerainty of the nominal rulers of the country, +harried the border continually. But, aware of the growing power and +resources of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, for many years the marauders had +avoided collision with him and confined their attention to less +dangerous adversaries. The apparent neglect of his hereditary +enemies had not, however, lessened the old Sheik's precautions. With +characteristic oriental distrust he maintained a continual watch upon +them and a well organized system of espionage kept him conversant with +all their movements. Often during his visits Craven had listened to the +stories of past encounters and in the fierce eager faces around him +he had read the deep longing for renewed hostilities that animated the +younger members of the tribe in particular and had wondered what spark +would eventually set ablaze the smouldering fires of hatred and rivalry +that had so long lain dormant. And it had been really a subconscious +presage of such an outbreak that had brought him back to the camp of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah. His presentiment, the outcome of earnest desire, +had been fulfilled, and in its fulfilment attended with horrible details +which, had it not been already his intention, would have driven him to +beg a place in the ranks of the punitive force that was preparing to +avenge an outrage that involved the honour of the tribe. A week ago +he had arrived to find the camp seething with an infuriated and +passion-swayed people who bore no kind of resemblance to the orderly +well-disciplined tribesmen he had seen on his former visits, and the +daily arrival of reinforcements from outlying districts had kept the +tension strained and swelled the excitement that rioted day and night. + +In the barbaric sumptuousness of his big tent and with a calm dignity +that even tragedy could not shake the old Sheik had received him alone, +for the unhappy Omar was hidden in the desolate solitude of his ravished +harem. To the Englishman, before whom he could speak openly the old man +had revealed the whole terrible story with vivid dramatic force and all +the flowery eloquence of which he was master. It was a tale of misplaced +confidence and faithlessness that, detected and punished with oriental +severity, had led to swift and dastardly revenge. A headman of the tribe +whom both the Sheik and his elder son trusted implicitly had proved +guilty of grave indiscretion that undetected might have seriously +impaired the prestige of the ruling house. Deposed from his headmanship, +and deserted with characteristic vacillation by the adherents on whom +he counted, the delinquent had fled to the camp of the rival tribe, with +whom he had already been in secret negotiation. This much Mukair +Ibn Zarrarah's spies had ascertained, but not in time to prevent the +catastrophe that followed. Plans thought to be known only to the Sheik +and his son had been disclosed to the marauding Chief, who had long +sought an opportunity of aiming an effectual blow at his hated rival, +and on one of Omar's periodical tours of inspection to the more remote +encampments of the large and scattered tribe, the little caravan +had been surrounded by an overwhelmingly superior force led by the +hereditary enemy and the renegade tribesman. Hemmed in around the litter +of the dearly loved young wife, from whom he rarely parted, Omar and +his small bodyguard had fought desperately, but the outcome had been +inevitable from the first. Outnumbered they had fallen one by one under +the vigorous onslaughts of the attacking party who, victorious, had +retired southward as quickly as they had come, carrying with them the +beautiful Safiya--the price of the traitor's treachery. Covered with +wounds and left for dead under a heap of dying followers Omar and two +others had alone survived, and with death in his heart the young man had +lived only for the hour when he might avenge his honour. Animated by the +one fierce desire that sustained him he had struggled back to life +to superintend the preparations for retaliation that should be both +decisive and final. To old injuries had been added this crowning insult, +and the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, roused to the highest pitch of +fury, were resolved to a man to exterminate or be exterminated. The +preparations had been almost completed when Craven arrived at the camp, +and tonight, for the first time, at a final war council of all the +principal headmen held in the Sheik's tent, he had seen the stricken man +and had hardly recognized in the gaunt attenuated figure that only an +inflexible will seemed to keep upright, the handsome stalwart Arab who +of all the tribe had most nearly approached his own powerful physique. +The frenzied despair in the dark flashing eyes that met his struck an +answering chord in his own heart and the silent handclasp that passed +between them seemed to ratify a common desire. Here, too, was a man who +for love of a woman sought death that he might escape a life of terrible +memory. A sudden sympathy born of tacit understanding seemed to leap +from one to the other, an affinity of purpose that drew them strangely +close together and brought to Craven an odd sense of kinship that +dispelled the difference he had felt and enabled him to enter reservedly +into the discussions that followed. After this meeting he had gone back +to his tent to make his own final preparations with a feeling almost +of exhilaration. To Yoshio, more than usually stolid, he had given all +necessary instructions for the conveyance of his belongings to England. + +Remained only the letter to his wife--a letter that seemed curiously +hard to begin. Pushing the writing materials from him he leant back +further in his chair, and searching in his pockets found and filled a +pipe with slow almost meticulous deliberation. Another search failed to +produce the match he required, and rising with a prolonged stretch he +bent over the table and lit his pipe at the lamp. Crossing the tent he +stood for a few moments in the doorway, but movements did not seem to +produce inspiration, and with an impatient shrug he returned to his seat +and sat staring gloomily at the blank sheet of paper before him. The +flaring light of the lamp illuminated his deeply tanned face and lean +muscular figure. In perfect physical condition and bronzed with the +African sun, he looked younger than when he had left England. At that +moment death and Barry Craven seemed very widely separated--and yet in a +few hours, he reflected with a curiosity that was oddly impersonal, the +vultures might be congregating round the body that was now so strong and +virile. "Handsome Barry Craven." He had heard a woman say it in Lagos +with a feeling of contemptuous amusement--a cynical smile crossed his +face as the remark recurred to him and he pictured the loathing that +would succeed admiration in the same woman's eyes if she could see what +would remain of him after the scavengers of the desert had done their +work. The thought gave him personally no feeling of disgust. He had +lived always too near to Nature to shrink from contemplation of her +merciless laws. + +He filled another pipe and strove to collect his wandering thoughts, but +the power of definite expression seemed beyond him as there rose in +him with almost overwhelming force the terrible longing that never left +him--the craving to see her, to hear her voice. Of his own free will he +was putting away all that life could mean or hold for him, and in the +flood of natural reaction that set in he called himself a fool and +revolted at his self-imposed sentence. The old struggle recommenced, the +old temptation gripped him in all its bitterness, and never so bitterly +as to-night. In the revulsion of feeling that beset him it was not death +he shrank from but the thought of eternity--alone. Neither in this world +nor in the life everlasting would she be his, and in an agony of longing +his soul cried out in anguished loneliness. The yearning for her grew +intolerable, a burning physical ache that was torture; but stronger far +rose the finer nobler desire for the perfect spiritual companionship +that he would never know. By his own act it would be denied him. By his +own act he had made this hell in which he lived, of his own making would +be the hell of the hereafter. Always he had recognised the justice of +it, he did not attempt to deny the justice of it now. But if it had been +otherwise--if he had been free to woo her, free to win her to his arms! +It was not the least of his punishment that, deep down in his heart, +he had the firm conviction that despite her assertions to the contrary, +love was lying dormant in her. And that love might have been his, would +have been his, for the strength and tenderness of his own passion would +have compelled it. She must have turned to him at last and in his +love found happiness. And to him her love would have been the crown +of life--a life of exquisite joy and beauty, a union of perfect and +undivided sympathy. Together they might have made the Towers a paradise +on earth; together they might have broken the curse of Craven; together +they might have brought happiness into the lives of many. And in the +dream of what might have been there came to him for the first time the +longing for parenthood, the desire for a child born of the woman he +adored, a child who joining in his tiny personality the essentials of +each would be a tangible proof of their mutual love, a child who would +perpetuate the race he sprang from. Craven's breath came fast with a new +and tremendous emotion. Then with terrible suddenness came a lightning +flash of recollection, a stabbing remembrance that laid his dream in +pieces at his feet. He heard again the low soft sobbing voice, "Are you +not glad?" He saw again O Hara San's pleading tear-filled eyes, felt +again her slender sorrow-shaken body trembling in his arms, and he bowed +his head on his hands in shuddering horror.... + +Numbed with the pain of memory and self-loathing he was unaware of the +renewal of noisy demonstration in the camp that to Yoshio's attentive +and interested ears pointed to the arrival of yet another adherent of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, an adherent of some special standing, judging from +the warmth of his reception. Moved by curiosity the Jap rose noiselessly +and passing unnoticed by his master vanished silently into the night. + +Some little while later the sound of a clear tenor voice calling to him +loudly by name sent Craven stumbling to his feet. He turned quickly +with outstretched hands to meet the tall young Arab, who burst +unceremoniously into the tent and flung himself upon him in boisterous +greeting. Gripped by a pair of muscular arms Craven submitted with +an Englishman's diffidence to the fervid oriental embrace that was +succeeded to his greater liking by a hearty and prolonged English +handshake and a storm of welcoming excited and almost incoherent speech. +"_C'est bien toi, mon vieux_! You are more welcome than you have ever +been--though I could wish you a thousand miles away, _mon ami_, but of +that, more, later. _Dame_, but I have ridden! As though the hosts of +Eblis were behind me. I was on leave when the messenger came for me--he +seems to have been peremptory in his demands, that same Selim. +Telegrams despatched to every likely place--one caught me fortunately +at Marseilles. Yes, I had been in Paris. I hastened to headquarters and +asked for long and indefinite leave on urgent private affairs, all the +lies I thought _mon colonel_ would swallow, but no word of war, _bien +entendu_! Praise be to _Allah_ they put no obstacle in my way and I left +at once. Since then I have ridden almost without stopping, night and +day. Two horses I have killed, the last lies dead of a broken heart +before my father's tent--you remember her?--my little Mimi, a chestnut +with a white star on her forehead, dear to me as the core of my heart. +For none but Omar would I have driven so, for I loved her, look you, +_mon ami_, as I could never love a woman. A woman! Bah! No woman in +the world was worth a toss of my Mimi's head. And I killed her, Craven. +Killed her who loved and trusted me, who never failed me. My little +Mimi! For the love of _Allah_ give me a whisky." And laughing and crying +together he collapsed with a groan on to Craven's bed but sat up again +immediately to gulp down the prohibited drink that was almost the last +in a nearly depleted flask. + +"The Prophet never tasted whisky or he would not have forbidden it to +the true believer," he said with a boyish grin, as he handed back the +empty cup. + +"Which you are not," commented Craven with a faint smile. "In the +sense you mean, no," replied Sad, swinging his heels to the ground and +searching in the folds of his burnous for a cigarette, which he lit and +smoked for a few minutes thoughtfully. Then with all trace of his former +excitement gone he began to discuss soberly the exigency of the +moment, revealing a sound judgment and levelness of mind that appeared +incompatible with his seemingly careless and easy-going disposition. +It was a deeper studiously hidden side of his character that Craven had +guessed very early in their acquaintance. + +He talked now with unconcealed seriousness of the gravity of the +situation. In the short time he had been with his father before seeking +his friend he had mastered the particulars of the projected expedition +and, with his European knowledge, had suggested and even--with a +force of personality he had never before displayed in the old Sheik's +presence--insisted on certain alterations which he detailed now for +Craven's benefit, who concurred heartily, for they were identical with +suggestions put forward by himself which had been rejected as impossible +innovations by the conservative headmen, and conscious of his position +as guest he had not pressed them. Then with a sudden change of tone the +young Arab turned to Craven in frowning inquiry. + +"But you, mon cher, what are you doing in this affair? It was that I +meant when I said I wished you a thousand miles away. You are my friend, +the friend of all of us, but friendship does not demand that you ride +with us to-night. That you would offer--yes--it was only to be expected. +But that we should accept your offer--no! a hundred times no! you are an +Englishman, a big man in your own country, what have you to do with the +tribal warfare of minor Arab Chiefs--voyez vous, I have my moments of +modesty! If anything should happen--as happen it very likely will--what +will your paternal British Government say? It will only add to my +father's difficulties with our own over-lords." There was a laugh in his +eyes though his voice was serious. Craven brushed his objection aside +with an indifferent hand. + +"The British Government will not distress itself about me," he said +dryly. "I am not of sufficient importance." + +For a few moments the Arab sat silent, smoking rapidly, then he raised +his dark eyes tentatively to Craven's face. + +"In Paris they told me you were married," he said slowly, and the remark +was in itself ample indication of his European tendencies. + +Craven turned away with an abrupt movement and bent over the lamp to +light his pipe. "They told you the truth," he said, with a certain +reluctance, his face hidden by a cloud of smoke. "_Pourtant_, I ride +with you to-night." There was a note of brusque finality in his voice +that Sad recognised, and he shrugged acquiescence as he lit another +cigarette. "It is almost certain death," he said, with nonchalant +oriental calm. But Craven did not answer and Sad relapsed into a +silence that was protracted. From the midst of the blue haze surrounding +him, his earnest scrutiny hidden by the thick lashes that curved +downwards to his swarthy cheek, he gazed intently through half-closed +eyes at the friend whose presence he found for the first time +embarrassing. Fatalist though he was in all things that concerned +himself, western influence had bitten deep enough to make him realise +that the same doctrine did not extend to Craven. He recognised that +self-determination came more largely into the Englishman's creed than +into his own. Whether he himself lived or died was a matter of no great +moment. But with Craven it was otherwise and he had no liking for the +thought that should the morrow's venture go against them his friend's +blood would, virtually, be upon his hands! So far had his Francophile +tendencies taken him. And the more he dwelt upon the uncomfortable fact +the less he liked it. He turned his attention more directly upon the man +himself and he noted changes that surprised and disturbed him. The stern +weary looking face was not the careless smiling one he remembered. The +man he had known had been vividly alive, care-free and animated; one who +had jested alike at life and death with an indifferent laugh, but one +who though careless of danger even to the extent of foolhardiness had +never given any indication of a desire to quit a life that was obviously +easy and attractive. But this man was different, grave and abrupt of +speech, with an air of tired suffering, and a grim purposefulness in his +determination to ignore his friend's warning that conveyed an impression +of underlying sinister intent that set the Arab wondering what sting had +poisoned his life even to the desire to sacrifice it. For the look on +Craven's face was not new to him, he had seen it before--on the face of +a French officer in Algiers who had subsequently taken his own life, +and again this very evening on the face of his brother Omar. The +personalities of the three men were widely different, but the expression +of each was identical. The deduction was simple and yet to him wholly +inexplicable. A woman--without doubt a woman! In the first two cases it +was certainly so, he seemed to know instinctively that here, too, he was +not mistaken in his supposition. A puzzled look crept into his fine +dark eyes and a cynical smile hovered round his mouth as he viewed +these three dissimilar men from the height of his own contemptuous +indifference towards any and every woman. It was a weakness he did not +understand, a phase of life that held no meaning for him at all. He +had never bestowed a second glance on any woman of his own race, the +attentions of European women in Paris and Algiers had been met with cold +scorn that he masked with racial gravity of demeanour or frank insolence +according to circumstances. For him women did not exist; he lived for +his horses, for his regiment and for sport. To his strangely cold +nature the influence that women exercised over other men was a thing +inconceivable--the houris of the paradise of his fathers' creed were to +him no incentive to enter the realms of the blessed. A character apart, +incomprehensible alike to the warm-blooded Frenchmen with whom he +associated and to his own passionate countrymen, he maintained his +peculiarity tranquilly, undisturbed by the banter of his friends and +the admonitions of his father, who in view of his heir's childlessness +regarded his younger son's temperament with growing uneasiness as the +years advanced. + +The action of the French officer in Algiers had provoked in Sad only +intolerant contempt but, as he realised tonight, contempt was not +possible in the cases of Craven and his brother. He pondered it with a +curious feeling of irritation. What was it after all, this emotion of +which he was ignorant--this compelling impulse that entered into a +man driving him beyond the power of endurance? It was past his +comprehension. And he wondered suddenly for the first time why he had +been made so different to the generality of men. But introspection +was foreign to him, he had not been in the habit of dissecting his own +personality and his thoughts turned quickly with greater interest to the +man who sat near him plunged like himself into silent reverie. And as +he looked he scowled with angry irritation. The Frenchman in Algiers had +not mattered, but Omar and Craven mattered very much. He resented the +suffering he did not understand--the termination of a friendship he +valued, for it was almost inevitable should Craven persist in his +decision and the loss of a brother who was dearer to him than he would +admit and whose death would mean a greater change in his own life than +he cared to contemplate. That through a woman this should be possible! +With hearty thoroughness and picturesque attention to detail he silently +cursed all women in general and two women in particular. For the +seriousness of the venture lay, at the moment, heavily upon him. He +was tired and his enthusiasm temporarily damped by the unexpected and +incomprehensible attitude of the two men by whom alone he permitted +himself to be influenced. But gradually his natural buoyancy reasserted +itself, and abandoning as insoluble the perplexing problem, he spoke +again eagerly of the impending meeting with his hereditary foes. For +half an hour they talked earnestly and then Sad rose, announcing his +intention of getting a few hours sleep before the early start. But he +deferred his going, making one pretext after another for remaining, +walking about the little tent in undecided hesitation, plainly +embarrassed. Finally he swung toward Craven with a characteristic +gesture of his long arms. + +"Can I say nothing to deter you from this expedition?" + +"Nothing," replied Craven; "you always promised me a fight some day--do +you want to do me out of it now, you selfish devil?" he added with a +laugh, to which Sad did not respond. With an inarticulate grunt +he moved toward the door, pausing as he went out to fling over his +shoulder: "I'll send you a burnous and the rest of the kit." + +"A burnous--what for?" + +"What for?" echoed Sad, coming back into the tent, his eyes wide with +astonishment. "_Allah_! to wear, of course, _mon cher_. You can't go as +you are." + +"Why not?" + +The Arab rolled his eyes heavenward and waved his hands in protest as +he burst out vehemently: "Because they will take you for a Frenchman, +a spy, an agent of the Government, and they will finish you off even +before they turn their attention to us. They hate us, by the Koran! but +they hate a Frenchman worse. You wouldn't have the shadow of a chance." + +Craven looked at him curiously for a few moments, and then he smiled. +"You're a good fellow, Sad," he said quietly, taking the cigarette the +other offered, "but I'll go as I am, all the same. I'm not used to your +picturesque togs, they would only hamper me." + +For a little while longer Sad remained arguing and entreating by turns +and then went away suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and for a few +minutes Craven stood in the door of the tent watching his retreating +figure by the light of the newly risen moon with a smile that softened +his face incredibly. + +Then he turned back into the tent and once more drew toward him the +writing materials. + +The difficulty he had before felt had passed away. It seemed suddenly +quite easy to write and he wondered why it had appeared so impossible +earlier in the evening. Words, phrases, leaped to his mind, sentences +seemed to form themselves, and, with rapidly moving pen, he wrote +without faltering for the best part of an hour--all he had never dared +to say, more almost than he had ever dared to think. He did not spare +himself. The tragic history of O Hara San he gave in all its pitifulness +without attempting to extenuate or shield himself in any way; he +sketched frankly the girl's loneliness and childish ignorance, his own +casual and selfish acceptance of the sacrifice she made and the terrible +catastrophe that had brought him to abrupt and horrible conviction of +himself, and his subsequent determination to end the life he had marred +and wasted. He wrote of the coming of John Locke's letter at the moment +of his deepest abasement, and of the chance it had seemed to offer; of +her own entry into his life and the love for her that almost from the +first moment had sprung up within him. + +In its entirety he laid bare the burning hopeless passion that consumed +him, the torturing longing that possessed him, and the knowledge of his +own unworthiness that had driven him from her that she might be free +with a freedom that would be at last absolute. But even in this letter +which tore down so completely the barrier between them he did not admit +to her the true reason of his marriage, he preferred to leave it obscure +as it had always been, even should the motive she might attribute to him +be the wrong one. He must chance that and the impression it might leave +with her. Her future life he alluded to very briefly not caring to dwell +on business that was already cut and dried, but referring her to Peters +who was fully instructed and on whose advice and help she could +count. He expressed no wish with regard to Craven Towers and his +other properties, leaving her free to dispose of or retain them as she +pleased. He shrank from suggesting in any way that she benefited by his +death. + +He saw her before him as he wrote. It seemed almost as if the ardent +passionate wards were spoken to present listening ears, and as with +Peters' letter he did not reread the many closely written sheets. What +use? He did not wish to alter or amend anything he had said. He had +done, and a deeper peace came to him than he had known since those far +away days in Japan. + +He called to Yoshio. Almost before the words had left his lips the man +was beside him. And as the Jap listened to the minute instructions given +him the light that had sprung to his eyes died out of them and his face +became if possible more than usually stolid and inscrutable. + +"You quite understand?" said Craven in conclusion. "You will wait here +until it becomes evident that further waiting is useless. Then you are +to go straight back to England and give those letters into Mrs. Craven's +own hand." + +With marked reluctance Yoshio slowly took up the two heavy packets and +fingered them for a time silently. Then with a sudden exclamation in his +own language he shook his head and pushed them back across the table. +"Going with master," he announced phlegmatically, and raised his eyes +with a glance that was at once provocative and stubborn. Craven met his +direct stare with a feeling of surprise. Only once before had the docile +Japanese asserted himself definitely and the memory of it made anger now +impossible. He pointed to the letters lying on the table between them. +"You have your orders," he said quietly, and cut short further protests +with a quick gesture of authority. "Do as you're told, you obstinate +little devil," he added, with a short laugh. And like a chidden child +Yoshio pocketed the letters sullenly. Stifling a yawn Craven kicked off +his boots and moved over to the bed with a glance at his watch. He flung +himself down, dressed as he was. + +"Two hours, Yoshio--not a minute longer," he murmured drowsily, and +slept almost before his head touched the pillow. + +For an hour or more, squatting motionless on his heels in the middle +of the tent, Yoshio watched him, his mask-like face expressionless, his +eyes fixed in an unwavering stare. Then he rose cautiously and glided +from the tent. + +During the last two years Craven had become accustomed to snatching +a few hours of sleep when and how he could. He slept now deeply and +dreamlessly. And when the two hours were passed and Yoshio woke him he +sprang up, wide awake on the instant, refreshed by the short rest. In +silence that was no longer sullen the valet indicated a complete Arab +outfit he had brought back with him to the tent, but Craven waved it +aside with a smile at the thought of Sad's pertinacity and finished his +dressing quickly. As he concluded his hasty preparations he found time +to wonder at his own frame of mind. He had an odd feeling of aloofness +that precluded even excitement. It was as if his spirit, already freed, +looked down from some immeasurable height with scant interest upon the +doings of a being who wore the earthly semblance of himself but who +mattered not at all. He seemed to be above and beyond actualities. He +heard himself repeating the instructions he had given earlier to Yoshio, +he found himself taking leave of the faithful little Jap and wondering +slightly at the man's apparent unconcern. But outside the little tent +the strange feeling left him suddenly as it had come. The cool wind that +an hour later would usher in the dawn blew about his face dispelling the +visionary sensation that had taken hold of him. He drew a deep breath +looking eagerly at the beauty of the moon-lit night, feeling himself +once more keenly alive, keenly excited at the prospect of the coming +venture. + +Excitement was rife also in the camp and he made his way with difficulty +through the jostling throng of men and horses towards the rallying point +before the old Sheik's tent. The noise was deafening, and trampling +screaming horses wheeled and backed among the crowd pressing around +them. With shouts of acclamation a way was made for the Englishman and +he passed through the dense ranks to the open space where Mukair Ibn +Zarrarah with his two sons and a little group of headmen were standing. +They welcomed him with characteristic gravity and Sad proffered the +inevitable cigarette with a reproachful glance at his khaki clothing. +For a few moments they conversed and then the Sheik stepped forward with +uplifted hand. The clamour of the people gave way to a deep silence. In +a short impassioned speech the old man bade his tribe go forward in the +name of the one God, Merciful and Beneficent. And as his arm dropped +to his side again a mighty shout broke from the assembled multitude. +_Allah! Allah!_ the fierce exultant cry rose in a swelling volume of +sound as the fighting men leaped to their maddened horses dragging them +back into orderly ranks from among the press of onlookers and tossing +their long guns in the air in frenzied excitement. A magnificent black +stallion was led up to Craven, and the Sheik soothed the beautiful +quivering creature, caressing his shapely head with trembling nervy +fingers. "He is my favourite, he will carry you well," he murmured with +a proud smile as he watched Craven handling the spirited animal. Mounted +Craven bent down and wrung Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's hand and in another +moment he found himself riding between Omar and Sad at the head of the +troop as it moved off followed by the ringing shouts of those who +were left behind. He had a last momentary glimpse of the old Sheik, a +solitary upright figure of pathetic dignity, standing before his tent, +and then the camp seemed to slide away behind them as the pace increased +and they reached the edge of the oasis and emerged on to the open +desert. A few minutes more and the fretting horses settled down into +a steady gallop. The dense ranks of tribesmen were silent at last, and +only the rythmical thud of hoofs sounded with a muffled beat against the +soft shifting sand. + +Craven felt himself in strange accordance with the men with whom he +rode. The love of hazardous adventure that was in his blood leaped into +activity and a keen fierce pleasure swept him at the thought of the +coming conflict. The death he sought was the death he had always hoped +for--the crashing clamour of the battlefield, the wild tumultuous impact +of contending forces, with the whining scream of flying bullets in his +ears. To die--and, dying, to atone! + + "_Come to Me all ye who ... are heavy laden + and I will give you rest_." + +Might that ineffable rest that was promised be even for him? Would his +deep repentance, the agony of spirit he had endured, be payment enough? +Eternal death--the everlasting hell of the Jehovah of the ancients! Not +that, merciful God, but the compassion of Christ: + + "_He that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out_." + +On that terrible day in Yokohama that seemed so many weary years ago +Craven had laid his sin-stained soul in all sincerity and humbleness +at the feet of the Divine Redeemer, but with no thought or hope of +forgiveness. Always the necessity of personal atonement had remained +with him, without which by his reasoning there could be no salvation. +That offered, but not until then, he would trust in the compassion that +passed man's understanding. And to-night--to-day--he seemed nearer than +he had ever been to the fulfilment of his desire. The mental burden that +had lain like an actual crushing weight upon him seemed to slip away +into nothingness. A long deep sigh of wonderful relief escaped him and +he drew himself straighter in the saddle, a new peace dawning in his +eyes as he raised them to the starlit sky. Out of the past there flashed +into his mind the picture--forgotten since the days of childhood--of +Christian freed of his burden at the foot of the Cross, as represented +in the old copy of the "Pilgrim's Progress" over which he had pored as +a boy, enthralled by the quaint text which he had known nearly by heart +and fascinated by the curious illustrations that had appealed to his +young imagination. + +The years rolled back, he saw himself again a little lad stretched on +the rug before the fire in the library at Craven Towers, the big book +propped open before him, studying with a child's love of the grotesque +the grisly picture of Apollyon whose hideous black-winged form had to +his boyish mind been the actual image of the devil, a tangible demon +whom he had longed to conquer like Christian armed with sword and +shield. The childish idea, a bodily adversary to contend with--it would +have been simpler. But the devil in a man's own heart, the insidious +inward prompting to sin that unrepelled grows imperceptibly stronger +and greater until the realisation of sin committed comes with horrible +suddenness! To Craven, as to many others, came the futile longing to +have his life to live again, to start afresh from the days of innocency +when he had hung, enraptured, over the woodcuts of the "Pilgrim's +Progress." He forced his thoughts back to the present. Death, not life, +lay before him. Instinctively he glanced at the man who rode at his +right hand. In the cold white moonlight the Arab's face was like a piece +of beautiful carved bronze, still and terrible in its fixed intentness. +Sitting his horse with evident difficulty, animated by mere strength of +will, his wasted frame rigidly upright, his sombre tragic eyes peering +steadfastly ahead, he seemed in his grim purposefulness the very +incarnation of avenging justice. And as Craven looked at him covertly he +wondered what lay hidden behind those set features, what of hope, what +of fear, what of despair was seething in the fierce heart of the desert +man. Of the dearly loved wife who had been ravished from him there had +come no further word, her fate was unknown. Had she died, or did she +still live--in shameful captivity, the slave of the renegade who had +made her the price of his treachery? What additional horror still +awaited the unhappy husband who rode to avenge her? With a slight +shudder Craven turned from the contemplation of a sorrow that seemed to +him even greater than his own and sought his left hand neighbour. With a +quick smile Sad's eyes met his. With an easy swing of his graceful body +he drew his horse nearer to the spirited stallion Craven was riding +but did not speak. The ready flow of conversation that was habitual had +apparently forsaken him. + +The young Arab's silence was welcome, Craven had himself no desire to +speak. The dawn wind was blowing cool against his forehead, soothing +him. The easy gallop of the horse between his knees, tractable and +steady now he was allowed free rein, was to him the height of physical +enjoyment. He would get from it what he could, he thought with a swift +smile of self mockery--the flesh still urged in contradiction to his +firm resolve. It was a blind country through which they were riding, +though seemingly level the ground rose and fell in a succession of long +undulating sweeps that made a wide outlook impossible. A regiment could +lie hidden in the hollows among the twisting deviating sandy hillocks +and be passed unnoticed. And as he topped each rise at the head of the +Arab troop Craven looked forward eagerly with unfailing interest. He +hardly knew for what he looked for their destination lay many miles +further southward and the possibility of unexpected attack had been +foreseen by Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, whose scouts had ranged the district +for weeks past, but the impression once aroused of an impending +something lingered persistently and fixed his attention. + +From time to time the waiting scouts joined them, solitary horsemen +riding with reckless speed over the broken ground or slipping silently +from the shadow of a side track to make a brief report and then take +their place among the ranks of tribesmen. So far they told no more than +was already known. The wind blew keener as the dawn approached. Far in +the east the first faint pinky streaks were spreading across the +sky, overhead the twinkling stars paled one by one and vanished. The +atmosphere grew suddenly chill. The surrounding desert had before been +strangely silent, not so much as the wailing cry of a jackal had broken +the intense stillness, but now an even deeper hush, mysterious and +pregnant, closed down over the land. For the time all nature seemed to +hang in suspense, waiting, watching. To Craven the wonder of the dawn +was not new, he had seen if often in many countries, but it was a marvel +of which he never tired. And there was about this sunrise a significance +that had been attached to no other he had ever witnessed. Eagerly he +watched the faint flush brighten and intensify, the pale streaks spread +and widen into far flung bars of flaming gold and crimson. Daylight came +with startling suddenness and as the glowing disc of the sun rose +red above the horizon a horseman broke from the galloping ranks, and +spurring in advance of the troop, wheeled his horse and dragged him to +an abrupt standstill. Rising in his stirrups he flung his arms in fervid +ecstasy toward the heavens. Craven recognised in him a young Mullah of +fanatical tendencies who had been particularly active in the camp during +the preceding week. That the opposing tribe was of a different sect, +abhorred by the followers of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had been an original +cause of dissent between them, and the priests had made good use of the +opportunity of fanning religious zeal. + +The cavalcade came to a sudden halt, and as Craven with difficulty +reined in his own horse the sustained and penetrating cry of the muezzin +rose weirdly high and clear on the morning air, "_al-ilah-ilah_." The +arresting and solemn invocation had always had for Craven a peculiar +fascination, and as the last lingering notes died away it was not purely +from a motive of expediency that he followed the common impulse and +knelt among the prostrate Arabs. His creed differed from theirs but he +worshipped the same God as they, and in his heart he respected their +overt profession of faith. + +As he rose from his knees he caught Sad's eyes bent on him with a +curious look in them of interrogation that was at once faintly mocking +and yet sad. But the expression passed quickly into a boyish grin as he +waved an unlit cigarette toward the fiery young priest who had seized +the chance to embark on a passionate harangue. + +"When prayer is ended disperse yourselves through the land as ye list," +he murmured, with a flippant laugh at the perverted quotation. "The holy +man will preach till our tongues blacken with thirst." And he turned to +his brother to urge him to give the order to remount. Omar was leaning +against his horse, his tall figure sagging with fatigue. He started +violently as Sad spoke to him, and, staggering, would have fallen but +for the strong arm slipped round him. And, watching Craven saw with +dismay a dark stain mar the whiteness of his robes where a wound had +broken out afresh, and he wondered whether the weakened body would +be able to respond to the urging of the resolute will that drove it +mercilessly, or, when almost within view, the fiercely longed for +revenge would yet be snatched from him. + +But with an effort the Arab pulled himself together and, mounting, +painfully cut short the Mullah's eloquence and gave in a firm tone the +desired order. + +The swift gallop southward was resumed. + +The breeze dropped gradually and finally died away, but for an hour or +more the refreshing coolness lingered. Then as the sun rose higher and +gained in strength the air grew steadily warmer until the heat became +intense and Craven began to look eagerly for the oasis that was to be +their first halting place. In full daylight the landscape that by night +had seemed to possess an eerie charm developed a dull monotony. The +successive rise and fall of the land, always with its limited outlook, +became tedious, and the labyrinthine hillocks with their intricate +windings seemed to enclose them inextricably. But on reaching the summit +of a longer steeper incline that had perceptibly slowed the galloping +horses, he saw spread out before him a level tract of country stretching +far into the distance, with a faint blue smudge beyond of the chain +of hills that Sad told him marked the boundary of the territory that +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah regarded as his own, the boundary, too, of French +jurisdiction. Through a defile in the hills lay the enemy country. + +The change was welcome to men and horses alike, the latter--aware +with unerring instinct of the nearness of water--of their own accord +increased their pace and thundering down the last long shifting slope +pressed forward eagerly toward the oasis that Craven judged to be +between two and three miles away. In the clear deceptive atmosphere it +appeared much nearer, and yet as they raced onward it seemed to come +no closer but rather to recede as though some malevolent demon of +the desert in wanton sport was conjuring it tantalizingly further and +further from them. The tall feathery palms, seen through the shimmering +heat haze, took an exaggerated height towering fantastically above the +scrub of bushy thorn trees. + +Craven had even a moment's doubt whether the mirage-like oasis actually +existed or was merely a delusion bred of fancy and desire. But the +absurdity of the doubt came home to him as he looked again at the +outline of the distant hills--too conspicuous a landmark to allow of any +error on the part of his companions to whom the country was familiar. + +The prospect of the welcome shade made him more sensitive to the +scorching strength of the sun that up till now he had endured without +more than a passing sensation of discomfort. He was inured to heat, but +to-day's heat was extraordinary, and even the Arabs were beginning to +show signs of distress. It was many hours since they started and the +pace had been killing. His mouth was parched and his eyeballs smarted +with the blinding glare. With the thirst that increased each moment the +last half mile seemed longer than all the preceding ride, and when the +oasis was at length reached he slipped from his sweating horse with an +exclamation of relief. + +The Arabs crowded round the well and in a moment the little peaceful +spot was the scene of noisy confusion; men shouting, scrambling and +gesticulating, horses squealing, and above all the creaking whine of the +tackling over the well droning mournfully as the bucket rose and fell. +Sad swung himself easily to the ground and held his brother's plunging +horse while he dismounted. For a few moments they conversed together in +a rapid undertone, and then the younger man turned to Craven, a cloud on +his handsome face. "Our communication has broken down. Two scouts should +have met us here," he said, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. "It +disconcerts our scheme for we counted on their report. They may be +late--it is hardly likely. They had ample time. More probably they have +been ambushed--the country is filled with spies--in which event the +advantage lies with the other side. They will know that we have started, +while we shall have no further information. The two men who are missing +were the only ones operating beyond the border. The last scout who +reported himself was in touch with them last night. From them he learned +that two days ago the enemy were forty miles south of the hills yonder. +We had hoped to catch them unawares, but they may have got wind of our +intentions and be nearer than we expect. The curse of _Allah_ on them!" +he added impatiently. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Craven with a backward glance at the +dismounted tribesmen clustering round the well and busily employed in +making preparations for rest and food. Sad beckoned to a passing Arab +and dispatched him with a hurried order. Then he turned again to Craven. +"The horses must rest though the men would go forward at a word. I +am sending two scouts to reconnoitre the defile and bring back what +information they can," he said. And as he spoke the two men he had +sent for appeared with disciplined promptness and reined in beside him. +Having received their brief instructions they started off in a cloud of +dust and sand at the usual headlong gallop. Sad turned away immediately +and disappeared among the jostling crowd, but Craven lingered at the +edge of the oasis looking after the fast receding horsemen who, crouched +low in their saddles, their long white cloaks swelling round them, +were very literally carrying out their orders to ride "swift as the +messengers of Azrael." He had known them both on his previous visits, +though he had not recognised them in the dark hours of the dawn when +they joined the troop, and remembered them as two of the most dare-devil +and intrepid of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's followers. A moment since they had +grinned at him in cheery greeting, exhibiting almost childlike pleasure +when he had called them by name, and had set off with an obeisance as +deep to him as to their leader. + +Incidents of those earlier visits flashed through his mind as he watched +them speeding across the glaring plain and a feeling almost of regret +came to him that it should be these two particular men who had been +selected for the hazardous mission. For he guessed that their chance of +return was slight. And yet hardly slighter than for the rest of them! +With a shrug he moved away slowly and sought the shadow of a camel +thorn. He lay on his back in the welcome patch of shade, his helmet +tilted over his eyes, drawing vigorously at a cigarette in the vain +hope of lessening the attentions of the swarms of tormenting flies that +buzzed about him, and waiting patiently for the desired water before +he swallowed the dark brown unsavoury mass of crushed dates which, warm +from his pocket and gritty with the sand that penetrated everything, was +the only food available. Sad was still busy among the throng of men and +horses, but near him Omar sat plunged in gloomy silence, his melancholy +eyes fixed on the distant hills. He had re-adjusted his robes, screening +the ominous stain that revealed what he wished to hide. His hands, +which alone might have betrayed the emotion surging under his outward +passivity, were concealed in the folds of his enveloping burnous. When +the immediate wants of men and horses were assuaged the prevailing +clamour gave place to sudden quiet as the Arabs lay down and, muffling +their heads in their cloaks, seemed to fall instantly asleep. His +supervision ended, Sad reappeared, and following the example of his +men was soon snoring peacefully. Craven rolled over on his side, and +lighting another cigarette settled himself more comfortably on the warm +ground. For a time he watched the solitary sentinel sitting motionless +on his horse at no great distance from the oasis. Then a vulture winging +its slow heavy way across the heavens claimed his attention and he +followed it with his eyes until it passed beyond his vision. He was +too lazy and too comfortable to turn his head. He lay listening to the +shrill hum of countless insect life, smoking cigarette after cigarette +till the ground around him was littered with stubs and match ends. The +hours passed slowly. When he looked at the guard again the Arab was +varying the monotony by walking his horse to and fro, but he had not +moved further into the desert. And suddenly as Craven watched him he +wheeled and galloped back toward the camp. Craven started up on his arm, +screening his eyes from the sun and staring intently in the direction of +the hills. But there was nothing to be seen in the wide empty plain, and +he sank down again with a smile at his own impatience as the reason of +the man's return occurred to him. Reaching the oasis the Arab led his +horse among the prostrate sleepers and kicked a comrade into wakefulness +to take his place. From time to time the intense stillness was broken +by a movement among the horses, and once or twice a vicious scream came +from a stallion resenting the attentions of a restless neighbour. The +slumbering Arabs lay like sheeted figures of the dead save when some +uneasy dreamer rolled over with a smothered grunt into a different +position. Craven had begun to wonder how much longer the siesta would be +protracted when Omar rose stiffly, and going to his brother's side awoke +him with a hand on his shoulder. Sad sat up blinking sleepily and then +leaped alertly to his feet. In a few minutes the oasis was once more +filled with noisy activity. But this time there was no confusion. The +men mounted quickly and the troop was reformed with the utmost dispatch. +The horses broke almost immediately into the long swinging gallop that +seemed to eat up the miles under their feet. + +The fiercest heat of the day was passed. The haze that had hung +shimmering over the plain had cleared away and the hills they were +steadily nearing grew more clearly defined. Soon the conformation of +the range was easily discernible, the rocky surface breaking up into +innumerable gullies and ravines, the jagged ridges standing out clean +against the deep blue of the sky. Another mile and Sad turned to him +with outstretched hand, pointing eagerly. "See, to the right, there, +by that shaft of rock that looks like a minaret, is the entrance to the +defile. It is well masked. It comes upon one suddenly. A stranger would +hardly find the opening until he was close upon it. In the dawn when +the shadows are black I have ridden past it myself once or twice and had +to--_Allah_! Selim--and alone!" he cried suddenly, and shot ahead of +his companions. The troop halted at Omar's shouted command, but Craven +galloped after his friend. He had caught sight of the horseman emerging +from the pass a moment after Sad had seen him and the same thought had +leaped to the mind of each--the news on which so much depended might +still never reach them. The spy came on toward them slowly, his horse +reeling under him, and man and beast alike were nearly shot to pieces. +As Sad drew alongside of them the wounded horse collapsed and the dying +man fell with him, unable to extricate himself. In a flash the Arab +Chief was on his feet, and with a tremendous effort pulled the dead +animal clear of his follower's crushed and quivering limbs. Slipping an +arm about him he raised him gently, and bending low to catch the faint +words he could scarcely hear, held him until the fluttering whisper +trailed into silence, and with a convulsive shudder the man died in his +arms. + +Laying the corpse back on the sand he wiped his blood-stained hands on +the folds of his cloak, then swung into the saddle again and turned to +Craven, his eyes blazing with anger and excitement. "They were trapped +in the defile--ten against two--but Selim got through somehow to make +his reconnaissance, and they finished him off on the way back--though +I don't think he left many behind him! Either our plans have been +betrayed--or it may be merely a coincidence. Whichever it is they are +waiting for us yonder, on the other side of the hills. They have saved +us a day's journey--at the very least," he added with a short laugh that +was full of eager anticipation. + +They waited until Omar and the troop joined them, and after a short +consultation with the headmen it was decided to press forward without +delay. Aware that but few hours of daylight remained, Craven deemed it +a foolhardy decision, but Omar was deeply stirred at the nearness of +the man who had wronged him--for Selim had managed to extract that +information from one of his opponents before killing him--and the +tribesmen were eager for immediate action. The horses, too, were fresh +enough, thanks to the mid-day rest. The troop moved on again, a guard of +fifty picked men slightly in advance of the main body. + +At the foot of the hills they drew rein to reform for the defile only +admitted of three horses walking abreast, and as Craven waited for his +own turn to come to enter the narrow pass he looked curiously at the +bare rock face that rose almost perpendicularly out of the sand and +towered starkly above him. But he had no time for a lengthy inspection, +and in a few minutes, with Omar and Sad on either hand, he guided his +horse round the jutting spur of rock that masked the opening and rode +into the sombre shade of the defile. The change was startling, and he +shivered with the sudden chill that seemed so much cooler by contrast +with the heat of the plain. Hemmed in by sheer sinister looking cliffs, +which were broken at intervals by lateral ravines, the tortuous track +led over rough slippery ground sprinkled with huge boulders that made +any pace beyond a walk impossible. The horses stumbled continually and +the necessity of keeping a sharp look-out for each succeeding obstacle +drove from Craven's mind everything but the matter in hand. He forgot +to wonder how near or how far from the other side of the hills lay the +opposing force, or whether they would have time to reform before being +attacked or be picked off by waiting marksmen as they emerged from +the pass without any possibility of putting up a fight. For himself it +didn't after all very much matter one way or the other, but it would be +hard luck, he reflected, if Omar did not get a chance at the renegade +and Sad was shot before the encounter he was aching for--and broke off +to swear at his horse, which had stumbled badly for the sixth time. + +Omar was riding a pace or two in advance, bending forward in the saddle +and occasionally swaying as if from weakness, his burning eyes filled +with an almost mystical light as if he saw some vision that, hidden from +the others, was revealed to him alone. The dark stain on his robe had +spread beyond concealment and he had not spoken since they entered +the defile. To Craven, who had never before traversed it, the pass was +baffling. He did not know its extent and he had no idea of the depth of +the hills. But soon a growing excitement on the part of Sad made him +aware that the exit must be near and the continued silence argued that +the vanguard had got through unmolested. He slipped the button of his +holster and freed his revolver from the silk handkerchief in which +Yoshio had wrapped it. + +A sharp turn to the right revealed the scene of the ambuscade, where in +one of the lateral openings Selim and his companion had been trapped. +The bodies of men and horses had been pulled clear of the track by the +advance guard as they went by a few minutes earlier. The old sheik's +horse showed the utmost repugnance to the grim pile of corpses, snorting +and rearing dangerously, and Craven wrestled with him for some moments +before he bounded suddenly past them with a clatter of hoofs that sent +the loose stones flying in all directions. + +Another turn to the right, an equally sharp bend to the left, where +the track widened considerably, and they debouched abruptly into open +desert. + +The vanguard was drawn up in order and their leader spurred to Omar's +side in eager haste to communicate what was patent to the eyes of all. A +little ripple of excitement went through Craven as he saw the dense body +of horsemen, still about two miles away, who were galloping steadily +towards them. It had come then. With a curious smile he bent forward and +patted the neck of his fretting horse, which was fidgeting badly. The +opposing force appeared to outnumber them considerably, but he knew +from Sad that Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's men were better equipped and better +trained. It would be skill against brute force, though it yet remained +to be seen how far Omar's men would respond to their training when +put to the test. Would they be able to control their own headstrong +inclinations or would their zeal carry them away in defiance of +carefully rehearsed orders? + +Word of the near presence of the enemy had been sent back to those who +were still moving up the pass, and so far discipline was holding good. +The men were pouring out from the yawning mouth of the file in a steady +stream, the horses crowded together as closely as possible, and as each +detachment arrived it reformed smartly under its own headman. + +Watching the rapid approach of the hostile tribe, Craven wondered +whether there would be time for their own force to reassemble to enable +them to carry out the agreed tactics. + +Already they were within half a mile. He had reined back to speak to +Omar, when a shout of exultation from Sad, taken up by his followers +till the rocks above them echoed with the ringing cry, heralded the +arrival of the last party. There was no time to recapitulate orders or +to urge steadiness among the men. With almost no sign from Omar, or +so it seemed to Craven, with another deafening shout that drowned the +yelling of the enemy the whole force leaped forward simultaneously. +Craven's teeth clenched on his lip in sudden fear for Omar's plan of +attack, but a quick glance assured him that the madly galloping horses +were being kept in good formation, and that fast as was the pace the +right and left wing were, according to instructions, steadily opening +out and drawing forward in an extended line. The feeling of excitement +had left him, and, revolver in hand, he sat down firmer in the saddle +with no more emotion than if he were in the hunting field at home. + +They were now close enough to distinguish faces--it would be an almighty +crash when it did come! It was surprising that up till now there had +been no shooting. Accustomed to the Arabs' usually reckless expenditure +of ammunition he had been prepared minutes ago for a hail of bullets. +And with the thought came a solitary whining scream past his ear, +and Sad, close on his left, flung him a look of reproach and shouted +something of which he only caught the words, "Frenchman ... burnous." + +But there was no time left to reply. Following rapidly on the single +shot a volley was poured in among them, but the shooting was inaccurate +and did very little damage. That it had been intended to break the +charge and cause confusion in the orderly ranks was apparent from the +further repeated volleys that, nearer, did more deadly execution than +the first one. But, bending low in their saddles, Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's +men swept on in obedience to Omar's command. His purpose was, by the +sheer strength of his onset, to cut through the opposing force with his +centre while the wings closed in on either side. To effect this he had +bidden his men ride as they had never ridden before and reserve their +fire till the last moment, when it would be most effectual. And the +swift silent onslaught seemed to be other than the enemy had expected, +for there were among them signs of hesitation, their advance was +checked, and the firing became wilder and more erratic. Omar and his +immediate companions appeared to bear charmed lives, bullets sang past +them, over and around them, and though here and there a man fell +from the saddle or a horse dropped suddenly, the main body raced on +unscathed, or with wounds they did not heed in the frenzy of the moment. + +The pace was terrific, and when at last Omar gave the signal for which +his men were waiting, the crackling reverberation of their rifles had +not died away when the impact came. But the shattering crash that Craven +had expected did not occur. Giving way before them and scattering to +right and left a break came in the ranks of the opposing force, +through which they drove like a living wedge. Then with fierce yells of +execration the enemy rallied and the next moment Craven found himself +in the midst of a confused mle where friends and foes were almost +indistinguishable. The thundering of horses' hoofs, the raucous shouting +of the Arabs, the rattle of musketry, combined in deafening uproar. +The air was dense with clouds of sand and smoke, heavy with the reek of +powder. He had lost sight of Omar, he tried to keep near to Sad, but in +the throng of struggling men he was carried away, cut off from his own +party, hemmed in on every side, fighting alone. He had forgotten +his desire for death, his heart was leaping with a kind of delirious +happiness that found nothing but fierce enjoyment in the scene around +him. The stench in his nostrils of blood and sulphur seemed to awaken +memories of another existence when he had fought for his life as he was +doing now, unafraid, and caring little for the outcome. He was shooting +steadily, exulting in his markmanship with no thought in his mind +but the passionate wish to kill and kill, and he laughed with almost +horrible pleasure as he emptied his revolver at the raving Arabs who +surrounded him. Drunk with the blood lust of an unremembered past for +the moment he was only a savage like them. And to the superstitious +desert men he seemed possessed, and with sudden awe they had begun to +draw away from him when a further party galloped up to reinforce them. +Craven swung his horse to meet the new-comers and at the same moment +realised that he had no cartridges left. With another reckless laugh he +dashed his empty revolver in the face of the nearest Arab and, wheeling, +spurred forward in an attempt to break through the circle round him. But +he found retreat cut off. Three men bore down upon him simultaneously +with levelled rifles. He saw them fire, felt a sharp searing as of a red +hot wire through his side, and, reeling in the saddle, heard dimly their +howl of triumph as they raced toward him--heard also another yell that +rose above the Arabs' clamour, a piercing yell that sounded strangely +different to the Arabic intonation ringing in his ears. And as he +gripped himself and raised his head he had a vision of another horseman +mounted on a frenzied trampling roan that, apparently out of control +and mad with excitement, was charging down upon them, a horseman whose +fluttering close-drawn headgear shaded features that were curiously +Mongolian--and then he went down in a welter of men and horses. A flying +hoof touched the back of his head and consciousness ceased. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Craven woke to a burning pain in his side, a racking headache and an +intolerable thirst. It was not a sudden waking but a gradual dawning +consciousness in which time and place as yet meant nothing, and only +bodily suffering obtruded on a still partially clouded mind. Fragmentary +waves of thought, disconnected and transitory, passed through his brain, +leaving no permanent impression, and he made no effort to unravel them. +Effort of any kind, mental or physical, seemed for the moment beyond +him. He was too tired even to open his eyes, and lay with them closed, +wondering feebly at the pain and discomfort of his whole body. He had +the sensation of having been battered, he felt bruised from head to +foot. Suffering was new to him. He had never been ill in his life, and +in all his years of travel and hazardous adventure he had sustained only +trivial injuries which had healed readily and been regarded as merely +part of the day's work. + +But now, as his mind grew clearer, he realised that some accident must +have occurred to induce this pain and lassitude that made him lie like +a log with throbbing head and powerless limbs. He pondered it, trying +to pierce the fog that dulled his intellect. He had a subconscious +impression of some strenuous adventure through which he had passed, but +knowledge still hovered on the borderland of fancy and actuality. He +had no recollection of the fight or of events preceding it. That he was +Barry Craven he knew; but of where he had no idea--nor what his life had +been. Of his personality there remained only his name, he was quite sure +about that. And out of the past emerged only one clear memory--a woman's +face. And yet as he dwelt on it the image of another woman's face rose +beside it, mingling with and absorbing it until the two faces seemed +strangely merged the one into the other, alike and yet wholly different. +And the effort to disentangle them and keep them separate was greater +than his tired brain could achieve, and made his head ache more +violently. Confused, and with a sudden feeling of aversion, he stirred +impatiently, and the sharp pain that shot through him brought him +abruptly to a sense of his physical state and forced utterance of his +greatest need. It had not hitherto occurred to him to wonder whether +he were alone, or even where he was. But as he spoke an arm was slipped +under him raising him slightly and a cup held to his lips. He drank +eagerly and, as he was again lowered gently to the pillow, raised his +eyes to the face of the man who bent over him, a puckered yellow face +whose imperturbability for once had given place to patent anxiety. +Craven stared at it for a few moments in perplexity. Where had he +seen it before? Struggling to recall what had happened prior to +this curiously obscured awakening there dawned a dim recollection of +shattering noise and tumult, of blood and death and fierce unbridled +human passion, of a horde of wild-eyed dark-skinned men who surged and +struggled round him--and of a yelling Arab on a fiery roan. Memory +came in a flash. He gave a weak little croaking laugh. "You damned +insubordinate little devil," he murmured, and drifted once more into +unconsciousness. When he woke again it was with complete remembrance of +everything that had passed. He felt ridiculously weak, but his head did +not ache so badly and his mind was perfectly clear. Only of the time +that had elapsed between the moment when he had gone down under +the Arabs' charge and his awakening a little while ago he had no +recollection. How long had he been unconscious? He found himself mildly +puzzled, but without any great interest as yet. Plenty of time to find +out about that and what had befallen Omar and Sad. It was not that he +did not care, but that, for the moment, he was too tired and listless to +do more than lie still and endure his own discomfort. His side throbbed +painfully and there was something curious about his left arm, a dead +feeling of numbness that made him wonder whether it was there at all. +He glanced down at it with sudden apprehension--he had no fancy for a +maimed existence--and was relieved to find it still in place but bent +stiffly across his chest wrapped in a multitude of bandages--broken, +presumably. His eyes wandered with growing interest round the little +tent where he lay. It was his own, from which he inferred that the fight +must have gone in favour of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's forces or he would +never have been brought back here to it. He glanced from one familiar +object to another with a drowsy feeling of contentment. + +Presently he became aware that somebody had entered and turning his head +he found Yoshio beside him eyeing him with a look in which solicitude, +satisfaction, and a faint diffidence struggled for supremacy. Craven +guessed the reason of his embarrassment, but he had no mind to refer to +an order given, and disobeyed through overzealousness. That, too, could +wait--or be forgotten. He contented himself with a single question. "How +long?" he asked laconically. With equal brevity the Jap replied: +"Two days," and postponed further inquiries by slipping a clinical +thermometer into his master's mouth. He had always been useful in +attending on minor camp accidents, and during the last two years in +Central Africa he had picked up a certain amount of rough surgical +knowledge which now stood him in good stead, and which he proceeded to +put into practice with a gravity of demeanour that made Craven, in +his weakened state, want to giggle hysterically. But he suppressed the +inclination and held on to the thermometer until Yoshio solemnly removed +it, studied it intently, and nodded approval. With the exact attention +to detail that was his ruling passion he carefully rinsed the tiny glass +instrument and returned it to its case before leaving the tent. He was +back again in a few minutes with a bowl of steaming soup, and handling +Craven as if he were a child, fed him with the gentleness of a woman. +Then he busied himself about the room, tidying it and reducing its +confusion to order. + +Craven watched him at first idly and then with a more definite desire +to know what had occurred. But to the questions he put Yoshio returned +evasive answers, and, resuming his professional manner, spoke gravely +of the loss of blood Craven had sustained, of the kick on the head from +which he had lain two days insensible, and his consequent need of rest +and sleep, finally departing as if to remove temptation from him. Craven +chafed at the little Jap's caution and swore at his obstinacy, but +a pleasant drowsiness was stealing over him and he surrendered to it +without further struggle. + +It was more than twelve hours before he opened his eyes again, to find +the morning sunlight streaming into the tent. + +Yoshio hovered about him, deft-handed and noiseless of tread, feeding +him and redressing the wounds in his side where the bullet had entered +and passed out. After which he relaxed the faintly superior tone he had +adopted and condescended to consult with his patient as to which of the +scanty drugs in the tiny medicine chest would be the best to administer. +He was disappointed but acquiescent in Craven's decision to trust to his +own hardy constitution as long as the wounds appeared healthy and leave +nature to do her own work. And again recommending sleep he glided away. + +But Craven had no desire or even inclination to sleep. He was +tremendously wide awake, his whole being in revolt, facing once more the +problem he had thought done with for ever. Again fate had intervened to +thwart his determination. For the third time death, for which he longed, +had been withheld, and life that was so bitter, so valueless, restored. +To what end? Why had the peace he craved for been torn from him--why had +he been forced to begin again an existence of hideous struggle? Had he +not repented, suffered as few men suffer, and striven to atone? What +more was required of him, he wondered bitterly. A galling sense +of impotence swept him and he raged at his own nothingness. +Self-determination seemed to have been taken from him and with fierce +resentment he saw himself as merely a pawn in the game of life; a puppet +to fulfil, not his own will, but the will of a greater power than his. +In the black despair that came over him he cursed that greater power +until, shuddering, he realised his own blasphemy, and a broken prayer +burst from his lips. He had come to the end of all things, he was +fighting through abysmal darkness. His need was overwhelming--alone he +could not go forward, and desperately, he turned to the Divine Mercy and +prayed for strength and guidance. + +Too weary in spirit to mark the slow passing of the hours he fought his +last fight. And gradually he grew calmer, calm enough to accept--if not +to understand--the inscrutable rulings of Providence. He had arrogated +to himself the disposal of his life, but it was made clear to him that +a higher wisdom had decreed otherwise. He did not attempt to seek the +purpose of his preservation, enough that for some unfathomable reason it +was once more plainly indicated that there was to be no shirking. He had +to live, and to do what was possible with the life left him. Gillian! +the thought of her was torment. He had tried to free her, and she was +still bound. It would be part of his punishment that, suffering, he +would have to watch her suffer too. With a groan he flung his uninjured +arm across his eyes and lay very still. The day wore on. He roused +himself to take the food that Yoshio brought at regular intervals but +feigned a drowsiness he did not feel to secure the solitude his mood +demanded. And Yoshio, enjoying to the full his state of temporary +authority, sat outside the door of the tent and kept away inquirers. +Listlessly Craven watched the evening shadows deepen and darken. For +hours he had thought, not of himself but of the woman he loved, until +his bruised head ached intolerably. And all his deliberation had taken +him no further than where he had begun. He was to take up anew the +difficult life he had fled from--for that was what it amounted to. He +had deserted her who had in all the world no one but him. It had an ugly +sound and he flinched from the naked truth of it, but he had done with +subterfuges and evasions. He had made her his wife and he had left +her--nothing could alter the fact or mitigate the shame. Past experience +had taught him nothing; once again he had left a woman in her need to +fend for herself. She was his wife, his to shield and to protect, doubly +so in her equivocal position that subjected her to much that would not +affect one happily married. During the few months they had lived at +Craven Towers after their marriage she had shown by every means in her +power her desire to be to him the comrade he had asked her to be. And +he had repelled her. He had feared himself and the strength of his +resolution. Now, as he thought of it with bitter self-reproach, he +realised how much more he could have done to make her life easier, to +smooth the difficulties of their relationship. Instead he had added to +them, and under the strain he had broken down, not she. The egoism +he had thought conquered had triumphed over him again to his undoing. +Crushing shame filled him, but regrets were useless. The past was +past--what of the future? He was going back to her. He was to have the +torturing happiness of seeing her again--but what would his re-entry +into her life mean to her? What had these two years of which he knew +nothing done for her? There had been an accumulated mail waiting for him +at Lagos. She had written regularly--but she had told him nothing. Her +short letters had been filled with inquiries for the mission, +references to Peters' occasional visits to Paris, trivialities of the +weather--stilted laborious communications in which he read effort and +constraint. How would she receive him--would she even receive him +at all? It seemed incredible that she should. He knew her innate +gentleness, the selflessness of her disposition, but he knew also that +there was a limit to all things. Would she not see in his return the +reappearance of a master, a jailer who would curb even that small +measure of freedom that had been hers? For bound to him the freedom he +had promised her was a mockery. And how was he to explain his prolonged +absence? She could not have failed to see some mention of the return of +the medical mission, to have wondered why he still lingered in Africa. +The letter he had written and entrusted to Yoshio could never now be +delivered. She must not learn what he had meant her to know only after +his death. He could not explain, he must leave her to put whatever +interpretation she would upon it. And what but the most obvious could +she put? He writhed in sudden agony of mind, and the physical pain the +abrupt movement caused was easier to bear than the thought of her scorn. +It was all so hopeless, so complicated. He turned from it with a weary +sigh and fell to dreaming of the woman herself. + +The tent had grown quite dark. Outside the camp noises were dying away. +The sound of subdued voices reached him occasionally, and once or twice +he heard Yoshio speak to some passer by. + +Then, not far away, the mournful chant of a singer rose clearly out of +the evening stillness, penetrating and yet curiously soft--a plaintive +little desert air of haunting melancholy, vibrant with passion. It +stopped abruptly as it had begun and Craven was glad when it ended. It +chimed too intimately with his own sad thoughts and longings. He was +relieved when Yoshio came presently to light the lamp and attend to +his wants. The Jap chatted with unusual animation as he went about his +duties and Craven let him talk uninterrupted. The functions of nurse and +valet were quickly carried through and in a short time preparations for +the night were finished and Yoshio, wrapped in a blanket, asleep at +the foot of Craven's bed. He had scarcely closed his eyes since the +day before the punitive force set out, but tonight, conscious that his +vigilance might be relaxed, he slept heavily. + +Craven himself could not sleep. He lay listening to his servant's even +breathing, looking at the tiny flame of the little lamp, which was small +enough not to add to the heat of the tent and too weak to illuminate it +more than partially, thinking deeply. He strove to stem the current +of his thoughts, to keep his mind a blank, or to concentrate on +trivialities--he followed with exaggerated interest the swift erratic +course of a bat that had flown in through the open door flap, counted +the familiar objects around him showing dimly in the flickering light, +counted innumerable sheep passing through the traditional gate, counted +the seconds represented in the periodical silences that punctuated a +cicada's monotonous shrilling. But always he found himself harking back +to the problem of the future that he could not banish from his mind. +His mental distress reacted on his body. He grew restless, but every +movement was still attended by pain and he compelled himself to +lie still, though his limbs twitched almost uncontrollably. He was +infinitely weary of the forced posture that was not habitual with him, +infinitely weary of himself. + +The moon rose late, but when it came its clear white light filled the +tent with a cold brilliance that killed the feeble efforts of the little +lamp and intensified the shadows where its rays did not penetrate. +Craven looked at the silvery beam streaming across the room, and quite +suddenly he thought of the moonlight in Japan--the moonlight filtering +through the tall dark fir trees in the garden of enchantment; he heard +the night wind sighing softly round the tiny screen-built house; the +air became heavy with the cloying smell of pines and languorous scented +flowers, redolent with the well-remembered dreaded fragrance of the +perfume she had used. Bathed in perspiration, shuddering with terrible +prescience, he stared wild-eyed at the moonlit strip where a nebulous +form was rising and gathering into definite shape. An icy chill ran +through him. Suffocated with the rapid pounding of his heart, sick with +horror at the impending vision he knew to be inevitable, he watched +the shadowy figure slowly substantiate into the semblance of a living, +breathing body. Not intangible as she had always appeared before, but +material as she had been in life, she stood erect in the brilliant +pathway of light, facing him. He could see the outline of her slender +limbs, solid against the shimmering background; he could mark the +rise and fall of the bosom on which her delicate hands lay clasped; he +recognised the very obi that she wore--his last gift, sent from Tokio +during his three weeks' absence. The little oval face was placid and +serene, but he waited, with fearful apprehension, for the fast closed +eyes to open and reveal the agony he knew that he would see in them. He +prayed that they might open soon, that his torture might be brief, but +the terrible reality of her presence seemed to paralyse him. He could +not turn his eyes away, could not move a muscle of his throbbing, +shivering body. She seemed to sway, gently, almost imperceptibly, from +side to side--as though she waited for some sign or impellent force to +guide her. Then with horrible dread he became aware that she was coming +slowly, glidingly, toward him and the spell that had kept him motionless +broke and he shrank back among the pillows, his sound hand clenched upon +the covering over him, his parched lips moving in dumb supplication. +Nearer she came and nearer till at last she stood beside him and he +wondered, in the freezing coldness that settled round his heart, did +her coming presage death--had her soul been sent to claim his that +had brought upon her such fearful destruction? A muffled cry that was +scarcely human broke from him, his eyes dilated and the clammy sweat +poured down his face as she bent toward him and he saw the dusky lashes +tremble on her dead white cheek and knew that in a second the anguished +eyes would open to him in all their accusing awfulness. The bed shook +with the spasm that passed through him. Slowly the heavy lids were +raised and Craven looked once more into the misty depths of the great +grey eyes that were the facsimile of his own. Then a tearing sob of +wonderful and almost unbelievable relief escaped him, for the agony he +dreaded was not visible--the face so close to his was the face of the +happy girl who had loved him before the knowledge of despair had touched +her, the tender luminous eyes fixed on him were alight with trust and +adoration. Lower and lower she bent and he saw the parted lips curve +in a smile of exquisite welcome--or was it fare-well? For as he waited, +scarcely breathing and tense with a new wild hope, the definite outline +of her figure seemed to fade and tremble; a cold breath like the impress +of a ghostly kiss lay for an instant on his forehead, he seemed to hear +the faint thin echo of a whispered word--and she was gone. Had she ever +been at all? Exhausted, he had no strength to probe what had passed, he +was only conscious of a firm conviction that he would never see again +the dreaded vision that had haunted him. His rigid limbs relaxed, and +with a gasping prayer of unutterable thankfulness he turned his face to +the darkness and broke down completely, crying like a child, burying his +head in the pillow lest Yoshio should be awakened by the sound of his +terrible sobs. And, presently, worn out, he fell asleep. + +It was nearly mid-day when he woke again, in less pain and feeling +stronger than the day before. + +The vision of the previous night was vivid in his recollection, but he +would not let himself ponder it. It was to him a message from the dead, +an almost sacred sign that the spirit of the woman he had wronged was at +rest and had vouchsafed the forgiveness for which he had never hoped. He +would rather have it so. He shrank from brutally dissecting impressions +that might after all be only the result of remorse working on a fevered +imagination. The peace that had come to him was too precious to be +lightly let go. She had forgiven him though he could never forgive +himself. + +But despite the tranquillizing sense of pardon he felt he knew that the +penalty of his fault was not yet paid, that it would never be paid. The +tragic memory of little O Kara San still rose between him and happiness. +He was still bound, still trapped in the pit he had himself dug. He was +unclean, unfit, debarred by his sin from following the dictates of his +heart. A deep sadness and an overwhelming sense of loss filled him as +he thought of the woman he had married. She was his wife, he loved her +passionately, longed for her with all the strength of his ardent nature, +but, sin-stained, he dared not claim her. In her spotless purity she was +beyond his desire. And because of him she must go through life robbed of +her woman's heritage. In marrying her he had wronged her irreparably. +He had always known it, but at the time there had seemed no other course +open to him. Yet surely there must have been some alternative if he had +set himself seriously to find it. But had he? Doggedly he argued that he +had--that personal consideration had not swayed him in his decision. But +even as he persisted in his assertion accusing conscience rose up and +stripped from him the last shred of personal deception that had blinded +him, and he acknowledged to himself that he had married her that she +might not become the wife of any other man. He had been the meanest kind +of dog in the manger. At the time he had not realised it--he had thought +himself influenced solely by her need, not his. But his selfishness +seemed very patent to him now. And what was to be the end of it? How was +he ever to compensate for the wrong done her? + +Yoshio's entry put a stop to introspection that was both bitter and +painful. And when he left him an hour later Craven was in no mood to +resume speculation that was futile and led nowhere. He had touched +bedrock--he could not think worse of himself than he did. The less he +thought of himself the better. His immediate business seemed to be to +get well as quickly as possible and return to England--beyond that he +could not see. The sound of Sad's voice outside was a welcome relief. +He appeared to be arguing with Yoshio, who was obstinately refusing him +entrance. Craven cut short the discussion. + +"Let the Sheik come in, Yoshio!" he called, and laughed at the weakness +of his own voice. But it was strong enough to carry as far as the tent +door, and, with a flutter of draperies, the Arab Chief strode in. He +grasped Craven's outstretched hand and stood looking down on him for a +moment with a broad smile on his handsome face. "_Enfin, mon brave_, +I thought I should never see you! Always you were asleep, or so it was +reported to me," he said with a laugh, dropping to his heels on the mat +and lighting a cigarette. Then he gave a quick searching glance at the +bandaged figure on the bed and laughed again. + +"You ought to be dead, you know, would have been dead if it hadn't been +for that man of yours," with a backward jerk of his head toward the +door. "You owe him your life, my friend. You know he came with us that +night, borrowed a horse and the burnous you wouldn't wear, and kept out +of sight till the last minute. He was close behind you when we charged, +lost you in the mle, and found you again just in the nick of time. I +was cut off from you myself for the moment, but I saw you wounded, saw +him break a way through to you and then saw you both go down. I thought +you were done for. It was just then the tide turned in our favour and +I managed to reach you, with no hope of finding you alive. I was never +more astonished in my life than when I saw that little devil of a +Japanese crawl out from under a heap of men and horses dragging you +after him. He was bruised and dazed, he didn't know friend from foe, +bu he had enough sense left to know that you were alive and he meant +to keep you so. He laid you out on the sand and he sat on you--you can +laugh, but it's true--and blazed away with his revolver at everybody who +came near, howling his national war cry till I wept with laughter. And +after it was all over he snarled like a panther when I tried to touch +you, and, refusing any assistance, carried you back here on the saddle +in front of him--and you were no light weight. A man, by _Allah_!" +he concluded enthusiastically. Craven smiled at the Arab's graphic +description, but he found it in his heart to wish that Yoshio's zeal had +not been so forward and so successful. But there were other lives than +his that had been involved. + +"Omar?" he asked anxiously. The laughter died abruptly from Sad's eyes +and his face grew grave. + +"Dead," he said briefly; "he did not try to live. Life held nothing +for him without Safiya," he added, with an expressive shrug that was +eloquent of his inability to understand such an attitude. + +"And she--?" + +"Killed herself the night she was taken. Her abductor got no pleasure +of her and Omar's honour was unsmirched--though he never knew it, +poor devil. He killed his man," added Sad, with a smile of grim +satisfaction. "It made no difference, he was renegade, a traitor, ripe +for death. The Chief fell to my lot. It was from him I learned about +Safiya--he talked before he died." The short hard laugh that followed +the meaning words was pure Arab. He lit another cigarette and for some +time sat smoking silently, while Craven lay looking into space trying +not to envy the dead man who had found the rest that he himself had been +denied. + +To curb the trend of his thoughts he turned again to Sad. Animation had +vanished from the Arab's face, and he was staring gloomily at the strip +of carpet on which he squatted. His dejected bearing did not betoken the +conqueror he undoubtedly was. That his brother's death was a deep grief +to him Craven knew without telling, but he guessed that something more +than regret for Omar was at the bottom of his depression. + +"It was decisive, I suppose," he said, rather vaguely, thinking of the +action of four days ago. Sad nodded. "It was a rout," he said with a +hint of contempt in his voice. "Dogs who could plunder and kill when no +resistance was offered, but when it came to a fight they had no stomach +for it. Yet they were men once, and, like fools, we thought they were +men still. They had talked enough, bragged enough, by _Allah_! and it +is true there were a few who rallied round their Chief. But the rank and +file--bah!" He spat his cigarette on to the floor with an air of scorn. +"It promised well enough at first," he grumbled. "I thought we were +going to have an opportunity of seeing what stuff my men were made of. +But they had no organisation. After the first half hour we did what we +liked with them. It was a walk over," he added in English, about the +only words he knew. + +Craven laughed at his disgusted tone. + +"And you, who were spoiling for a fight! No luck, Sheik." + +Sad looked up with a grin, but it passed quickly, leaving his face +melancholy as before. Craven made a guess at the trouble. + +"It will make a difference to you--Omar's death, I mean," he suggested. + +Sad gave a little harsh laugh. + +"Difference!" he echoed bitterly. "It is the end of everything," and he +made a violent gesture with his hands. "I must give up my regiment," he +went on drearily, "my comrades, my racing stable in France--all I care +for and that makes life pleasant to me. For what? To rule a tribe who +have become too powerful to have enemies; to listen to interminable +tales of theft and disputed inheritances and administer justice to +people who swear by the Koran and then lie in your face; to marry a wife +and beget sons that the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah may not die out. +_Grand Dieu_, what a life!" The tragic misery of his voice left no +doubt as to his sincerity. And Craven, who knew him, was not inclined +to doubt. The expedient that had been adopted in Sad's case was +justifiable while he remained a younger son with no immediate prospect +of succeeding to the leadership of the tribe--there had always been the +hope that Omar's wife would eventually provide an heir--but as events +had turned out it had been a mistake, totally unfitting him for the +part he was now called upon to play. His innate European tendencies, +inexplicable both to himself and to his family, had been developed and +strengthened by association with the French officers among whom he had +been thrown, and who had welcomed him primarily as the representative of +a powerful desert tribe and then, very shortly afterwards, for himself. +His personal charm had won their affections and he had very easily +become the most popular native officer in the regiment. Courted and +feted, shown off, and extolled for his liberality of mind and purse, his +own good sense had alone prevented him from becoming completely spoiled. +To the impecunious Frenchmen his wealth was a distinct asset in his +favour, for racing was the ruling passion in the regiment, and the fine +horses he was able to provide insured to them the preservation of the +inter-regimental trophy that had for some years past graced their mess +table. He had thrown himself into the life whole-heartedly, becoming +more and more influenced by western thought and culture, but +without losing his own individuality. He had assimilated the best of +civilization without acquiring its vices. But the experience was not +likely to conduce to his future happiness. Craven thought of the life +led by the Spahi in Algiers, and during periods of leave in Paris, and +contrasted it with the life that was lying before him, a changed and +very different existence. He foresaw the difficulties that would have +to be met, the problems that would arise, and above all he understood +Sad's chief objection--the marriage from which his misogynous soul +recoiled. Like himself the Arab was facing a crisis that was momentous. +Two widely different cases but analogous nevertheless. While he was +working out his salvation in England Sad would be doing the same in +his desert fastness. The thought strengthened his friendship for the +despondent young Arab. He would have given much to be able to help +him but his natural reserve kept him silent. He had made a sufficient +failure of his own life. He did not feel himself competent to offer +advice to another. + +"It's a funny world," he said with a half sigh, "though I suppose it +isn't the world that's at fault but the people who live in it," and in +his abstraction he spoke in his own language. + +"_Plait-il?_" Sad's puzzled face recalled him to himself and he +translated, adding: "It's rotten luck for you, Sheik, but it's kismet. +All things are ordained," he concluded almost shyly, feeling himself +the worst kind of Job's comforter. The Arab shrugged. "To those who +believe," he repeated gloomily, "and I, my friend, have no beliefs. What +would you? All my life I have doubted, I have never been an orthodox +Mohammedan--though I have had to keep my ideas to myself _bien entendu_! +And the last few years I have lived among men who have no faith, no god, +no thought beyond the world and its pleasures. Islam is nothing to me. +'The will of _Allah_--the peace of _Allah_,' what are they but words, +empty meaningless words! What peace did _Allah_ give to Omar, who was a +strict believer? What peace has _Allah_ given to my father, who sits all +day in his tent mourning for his first-born? I swear myself by _Allah_ +and by the Prophet, but it is from custom, not from any feeling I attach +to the terms. I have read a French translation of a life of Mohammed +written by an American. I was not impressed. It did not tend to make me +look with any more favour on his doctrine. I have my own religion--I +do not lie, I do not steal, I do not break my word. Does the devout +follower of the Prophet invariably do as much? You know, and I know, +that he does not. Wherein then is he a better man than I? And if there +be a future life, which I am quite open to admit, I am inclined to think +that my qualifications will be as good as any true son of the faith," he +laughed unmirthfully, and swung to his feet. + +"There are--other religions," said Craven awkwardly. He had no desire to +proselytise and avoided religious discussions as much as possible, but +Sad's confidence had touched him. He was aware that to no one else +would the Arab have spoken so frankly. But Sad shook his head. + +"I will keep my own religion. It will serve," he said shortly. Then he +shrugged again as if throwing aside the troubles that perplexed him and +looked down on Craven with a quick laugh. "And you, my poor friend, who +had so much better have taken the burnous I offered you, you will stay +and watch the metamorphosis of the Spahi, _hein_?" + +"I wish I could," said Craven with an answering smile, "but I have +my own work waiting for me in England. I'll have to go as soon as I'm +sufficiently patched up." + +Sad nodded gravely. He was perfectly well aware of the fact that Craven +had deliberately sought death when he had ridden with the tribe against +their enemies. That a change had come over him since the night of the +raid was plainly visible even to one less astute than the sharp-eyed +Arab, and his expressed intention of returning to England confirmed the +fact. What had caused the change did not seem to matter, enough that, to +Sad, it marked a return to sanity. For it had been a fit of madness, +of course--in no other light could he regard it. But since it had passed +and his English friend was once more in full possession of his senses +he could only acquiesce in a decision that personally he regretted. He +would like to have kept him with him indefinitely. Craven stood for the +past, he was a link with the life the Francophile Arab was reluctantly +surrendering. But it was not the moment to argue. Craven looked suddenly +exhausted, and Yoshio who had stolen in noiselessly, was standing at +the head of the bed beyond the range of his master's eyes making urgent +signals to the visitor to go. + +With a jest and a cheery word Sad obediently removed his picturesque +person. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +It was nearly four months before Craven left the camp of Mukair Ibn +Zarrarah. His injuries had healed quickly and he had rapidly regained +his former strength. He was anxious to return to England without delay, +but he had yielded to Sad's pressing entreaties to wait until they +could ride to Algiers together. There had been much for the young Sheik +to do. He was already virtual leader of the tribe. Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, +elderly when his sons had been born, had aged with startling suddenness +since the death of Omar. He had all at once become an old man, unable to +rally from the shock of his bereavement, bewailing the fate of his elder +and favourite son, and trembling for the future of his beloved tribe +left to the tender mercies of a man he now recognised to be more +Frenchman than Arab. He exaggerated every Francophile tendency he saw in +Sad and cursed the French as heartily as ever Omar had done, forgetting +that he himself was largely responsible for the inclinations he objected +to. And his terrors were mainly imaginary. A few innovations Sad +certainly instituted but he was too astute to make any material changes +in the management of his people. They were loyal and attached to the +ruling house and he was clever enough to leave well alone; broad-minded +enough to know that he could not run a large and scattered tribe on the +same plan as a regiment of Spahis; philosophical enough to realise that +he had turned down a page in his life's history and must be content to +follow, more or less, in the footsteps of his forebears. The fighting +men were with him solidly, even those who had been inclined to object +to his European tactics had, in view of his brilliant generalship, been +obliged to concede him the honour that was his due. For his victory had +not been altogether the walkover he had airily described to Craven. The +older men--the headmen in particular--more prejudiced still, who, like +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had centred all their hopes on Omar, were beginning +to comprehend that their fears of Sad's rule were unfounded and that +his long sojourn among the hated dominant race had neither impaired his +courage nor fostered practices abhorrent to them. Craven watched with +interest the gradual establishment of mutual goodwill between the young +Sheik and his petty Chiefs. Since his recovery he had attended several +of the councils called in consequence of the old Sheik's retirement +from active leadership of the tribe, and he had been struck by Sad's +restrained and conciliatory attitude toward his headmen. He had met them +half-way, sinking his own inclinations and disarming their suspicions of +him. At the same time he had let it be clearly understood that he meant +to be absolute as his father had been. In spite of the civilisation that +had bitten so deeply he was still too much an Arab, too much the son of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, to be anything but an autocrat at heart. And his +assumption of power had been favourably looked upon by the minor Chiefs. +They were used to being ruled by an iron hand and would have despised a +weak leader. They had feared the effects of foreign influence, dreaded a +rgime that might have lessened the prestige of the tribe. Their doubts +set at rest they had rallied with enthusiasm round their new Chief. + +As soon as he had been able to get about again Craven had visited +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah in his darkened tent and been shocked at his changed +appearance. He could hardly believe that the bowed stricken figure who +barely heeded his entrance, but, absorbed in grief, continued to sway +monotonously to and fro murmuring passages from the Koran alternately +with the name of his dead son, was the vigorous alert old man he had +seen only a few weeks before dominating a frenzied crowd with the +strength of his personality and addressing them in tones that had +carried to the furthest extent of the listening multitude. Crushing +sorrow and the weight of years suddenly felt had changed him into a +wreck that was fast falling to pieces. + +Sad had followed him out into the sunshine. + +"You see how it is with him," he said. "I cannot leave him now. As soon +as possible I will go to Algiers to give in my resignation and smooth +matters with the Government. We shall not be in very good odour over +this affair. We have kept the peace so long in this quarter of +the country that deliberate action on our part will take a lot of +explaining. They will admit provocation but will blame our mode of +retaliation. They may blame!" he laughed and shrugged. "I shall be +called hasty, ill-advised. The Governor will haul me over the coals +unmercifully--you know him, that fat old Faidherbe? He is always +trembling for his position, seeing an organized revolt in the petty +squabbles of every little tribe, and fearful of an outbreak that might +lead to his recall. A mountain of flesh with the heart of a chicken! He +will rave and shout and talk a great deal about the beneficent French +administration and the ingratitude of Chiefs like myself who add to the +Government's difficulties. But my Colonel will back me up, unofficially +of course, and his word goes with the Governor. A very different man, +by _Allah_! It would be a good thing for this country if he were where +Faidherbe is. But he is only a soldier and no politician, so he is +likely to end his days a simple Colonel of Spahis." + +As they moved away from the tent they discussed the French methods of +administration as carried out in Algeria, and Craven learned a great +deal that astonished him and would also have considerably astonished +the Minister of the Interior sitting quietly in his office in the Place +Beauveau. Sad had seen and heard much. His known sympathies had +made him the recipient of many confidences and even his Francophile +tendencies had not blinded him to evils that were rampant, corruption +and double dealing, bribes freely offered and accepted by highly placed +officials, fortunes amassed in crooked speculations with Government +money--the faults of individuals who had abused their official positions +and exploited the country they had been sent to administer. + +As Craven listened to these frank revelations from the only honest Arab +he had ever met he wondered what effect Sad's intimate knowledge would +have upon his life, how far it would influence him, and what were likely +to be his future relations with the masters of the country. With a Chief +less broadminded and of less innate integrity the result might easily be +disastrous. But Sad had had larger experience than most Arab Chiefs and +his adherence to the French was due to what he had seen in France rather +than to what had been brought to his notice in Algeria. + +It was early in January when they started on the long ride across the +desert. For some weeks Craven had been impatient to get away, only his +promise to Sad kept him. + +It was a large cavalcade that left the oasis, for the new Chief required +a bigger escort to support his dignity than the Captain of Spahis had +done. The days passed without incident. Despite Craven's desire to reach +England the journey was in every way enjoyable. When he had actually +started his restlessness decreased, for each successive sunrise meant +a day nearer home. And Sad, too, had thrown off the depression and new +gravity that had come to him and talked more hopefully of the future. +As they travelled northward they reached a region of greater cultivation +and in their route passed some of the big fruit farms that were +becoming more and more a feature of the country. Spots of beauty in the +wilderness, carved out of arid desert by patience and perseverance and +threatened always by the devastating locust, though no longer subjected +to the Arab raids that had been a daily menace twenty or thirty years +before. The motley gangs of European and native workers toiling more +or less diligently in the vineyards and among the groves of fruit +trees invariably collected to watch the passing of the Sheik's troop, a +welcome break in the monotony of their existence, and once or twice Sad +accepted the hospitality of farmers he knew. + +Craven stayed only one night in Algiers. When writing home from Lagos he +had given, without expecting to make use of it, an address in Algiers +to which letters might be sent, but when he called at the office the +morning after his arrival he found that owing to the mistake of a clerk +his mail had been returned to England. The lack of news made him uneasy. +He was gripped by a sudden fear that something might have happened to +Gillian, and he wondered whether he should go first to Paris, to the +flat he had taken for her. But second thoughts decided him to adhere to +his original intention of proceeding straight to Craven--surely she must +by this time have returned to the Towers. + +There was nothing to do but telegraph to Peters that he was on his +way home and make arrangements for leaving Africa at the earliest +opportunity. He found there was no steamer leaving for Marseilles for +nearly a week but he was able to secure berths for himself and Yoshio on +a coasting boat crossing that night to Gibraltar, and at sunset he was +on board waving fare-well to Sad, who had come down to the quay to see +the last of him, and was standing a distinctive figure among the rabble +of loafers and water-side loungers of all nationalities who congregated +night and morning to watch the arrival and departure of steamers. The +tide was out and the littered fore-shore was lined with fishing-boats +drawn up in picturesque confusion, and in the shallow water out among +the rocks bare-legged native women were collecting shell fish and +seaweed into great baskets fastened to their backs, while naked children +splashed about them or stood with their knuckles to their teeth to watch +the thrashing paddle wheels of the little steamer as she churned slowly +away from the quay. Craven leant on the rail of the ship, a pipe +between his teeth--he had existed for the last four months on Sad's +cigarettes--and waved a response to the young Sheik's final salute, then +watched him stalk through the heterogeneous crowd to where two of his +mounted followers were waiting for him holding his own impatient horse. +He saw him mount and the passers-by scatter as the three riders set off +with the usual Arab impetuosity, and then a group of buildings hid him +from sight. + +The idlers by the waterside held no interest for Craven, he was too used +to them, too familiar with the riff-raff of foreign ports even to glance +at them. But he lingered for a moment to look up at the church of Notre +Dame d'Afrique that, set high above the harbour and standing out sharply +against the skyline, was glowing warmly in the golden rays of the +setting sun. + +Then he went below to the stuffy little cabin where dinner was waiting. + +The next four days he kicked his heels impatiently in Gibraltar waiting +to pick up a passage on a home bound Indian boat. When it came it was +half empty, as was to be expected at that time of year, and the gale +they ran into immediately drove the majority of the passengers into the +saloons, and Craven was able to tramp the deck in comparative solitude +without having to listen to the grumbles of shivering Anglo-Indians +returning home at an unpropitious season. In a borrowed oilskin he spent +hours watching the storm, looking at the white topped waves that piled +up against the ship and threatened to engulf her, then slid astern in +a welter of spray. The savage beauty of the sea fascinated him, and the +heavy lowering clouds that drove rapidly across a leaden sky, and the +stinging whip of the wind formed a welcome change after more than two +years of pitiless African sun and intense heat. + +They passed up the Thames dead slow in a dense fog that grew thicker +and murkier as they neared the docks, but they berthed early enough to +enable Craven to catch a train that would bring him home in time for +dinner. It was better than wasting a night in London. + +He had a compartment to himself and spent the time staring out of the +misty rain-spattered windows, a prey to violent anxiety and impatience. +The five-hour journey had never seemed so long. He had bought a number +of papers and periodicals but they lay unheeded on the seat beside +him. He was out of touch with current events, and had stopped at the +bookstall more from force of habit than from any real interest. He had +wired to Peters again from the docks. Would she be waiting for him at +the station? It was scarcely probable. Their meeting could not be other +than constrained, the platform of a wayside railway station was hardly +a suitable place. And why in heaven's name should she do him so much +honour? He had no right to expect it, no right to expect anything. That +she should be even civil to him was more than he deserved. Would she +be changed in any way? God, how he longed to see her! His heart beat +furiously even at the thought. With his coat collar turned up about his +ears and his cap pulled down over his eyes he shivered in a corner of +the cold carriage and dreamed of her as the hours drew out in maddening +slowness. Outside it was growing dusk and the window panes had become +too steamy for him to recognise familiar landmarks. The train seemed to +crawl. There had been an unaccountable wait at the last stopping place, +and they did not appear to be making up the lost time. + +It was a strange homecoming, he thought suddenly. Stranger even than +when, rather more than six years ago, he had travelled down to Craven +with his aunt and the shy silent girl whom fate and John Locke had made +his ward. Was she also thinking of that time and wishing that a kinder +future had been reserved for her? Was she shrinking from his coming, +deploring the day he had ever crossed her path? It was unlikely that she +could feel otherwise toward him. He had done nothing to make her happy, +everything to make her unhappy. With a stifled groan he leant forward +and buried his face in his hands, loathing himself. How would she meet +him? Suppose she refused to resume the equivocal relationship that +had been fraught with so much misery, refused to surrender the greater +freedom she had enjoyed during his absence, claimed the right to live +her own life apart from him. It would be only natural for her to do so. +And morally he would have no right to refuse her. He had forfeited +that. And in any case it was not a question of his allowing or refusing +anything, it was a question solely of her happiness and her wishes. + +Darkness had fallen when the train drew up with a jerk and he stepped +out on to the little platform. It was a cheerless night and the wind +tore at him as he peered through the gloom and the driving rain, +wondering whether anybody had come to meet him. Then he made out Peters' +sturdy familiar figure standing under the feeble light of a flickering +lamp. Craven hurried toward him with a smile softening his face. His +life had been made up of journeys, it seemed to him suddenly, and always +at the end of them was Peters waiting for him, Peters who stuck to the +job he himself shirked, Peters who stood loyally by an employer he must +in his heart despise, Peters whose boots he was not fit to clean. + +The two men met quietly, as if weeks not years had elapsed since they +had parted on the same little platform. + +"Beastly night," grumbled the agent, though his indifference to bad +weather was notorious, "must feel it cold after the tropics. I brought +a man to help Yoshio with your kit. Wait a minute while I see that +it's all right." He started off briskly, and with the uncomfortable +embarrassment he always felt when Peters chose to emphasise their +relative positions, Craven strode after him and grabbed him back with an +iron hand. + +"There isn't any need," he said gruffly. "I wish you wouldn't always +behave as if you were a kind of upper servant, Peter. It's dam' +nonsense. Yoshio is quite capable of looking after the kit, there's very +little in any case. I left the bulk of it in Algiers, it wasn't worth +bringing along. There are only the gun cases and a couple of bags. We +haven't much more than what we stand up in." + +Peters acquiesced good-temperedly and led the way to the closed car that +was waiting at the station entrance. As the motor started Craven turned +to him eagerly, with the question that had been on his lips for the last +ten minutes. + +"How is Gillian?" + +Peters shot a sidelong glance at him. + +"Couldn't say," he said shortly; "she didn't mention her health when she +wrote last--but then she never does." + +"When she wrote--" echoed Craven, and his voice was dull with +disappointment; "isn't she at the Towers? I missed my mail at +Algiers--some mistake of a fool of a clerk. I haven't had any home news +for nearly a year." + +"She is still in Paris," replied Peters dryly, and to Craven his tone +sounded faintly accusing. He frowned and stared out into the darkness +for a few minutes without speaking, wondering how much Peters knew. He +had disapproved of the African expedition, stating his opinion frankly +when Craven had discussed it with him, and it was obvious that since +then his views had undergone no change. Craven understood perfectly what +those views were and in what light he must appear to him. He could not +excuse himself, could give no explanation. He doubted very much whether +Peters would understand if he did explain--his moral code was too +simple, his sense of right and wrong too fine to comprehend or to +countenance suicide. Craven also felt sure that had he been aware of the +circumstances Peters would not have hesitated to oppose his marriage. +Why hadn't he told Peters the whole beastly story when he returned from +Japan? Peters had never failed a Craven, he would not have failed him +then. He stifled a bitter sigh of useless regret and turned again to his +companion. + +"Then I take it the Towers is shut up. Are you giving me a bed at the +Hermitage?" he asked quietly. + +"No. I have kept the house open so that it might be ready if at any time +your wife suddenly decided to come home. I imagined that would be your +wish." + +"Yes, yes, of course," said Craven hurriedly, "you did quite right." +Then he glanced about him and frowned again thoughtfully. "Isn't this +the Daimler Gillian took to France with her--surely that is Phillipe +driving?" he asked abruptly, peering through the window at the +chauffeur's back illuminated by the electric lamp in the roof of the +car. + +"She sent it back a few months afterwards--said she had no need for it," +replied Peters. "I kept Phillipe on because he was a better mechanic +than the other man. There was no need for two." + +Craven refrained from comment and relapsed into silence, which was +unbroken until they reached the house. + +During dinner the conversation was mainly of Africa and the scientific +success of the mission, and of local events, topics that could safely +be discussed in the hearing of Forbes and the footmen. From time to time +Craven glanced about the big room with tightened lips. It seemed chill +and empty for lack of the slight girlish figure whose presence had +brought sunshine into the great house. If she chose never to return! It +was unthinkable that he could live in it alone, it would be haunted by +memories, he would see her in every room. And yet the thought of leaving +it again hurt him. He had never known until he had gone to Africa with +no intention of returning how dear the place was to him. He had suddenly +realised that he was a Craven of Craven, and all that it meant. But +without Gillian it was valueless. A shrine without a treasure. An empty +symbol that would stand for nothing. Her personality had stamped itself +on the house, even yet her influence lingered in the huge formal dining +room where he sat. It had been her whim when they were alone to banish +the large table that seemed so preposterously big for two people and +substitute a small round one which was more intimate, and across which +it was possible to talk with greater ease. Forbes was a man of fixed +ideas and devoted to his mistress. Though absent her wishes were +faithfully carried out. Mrs. Craven had decreed that for less than +four people the family board was an archaic and cumbersome piece of +furniture, consequently tonight the little round table was there, and +brought home to Craven even more vividly the sense of her absence. It +seemed almost a desecration to see Peters sitting opposite in her place. +He grew impatient of the lengthy and ceremonious meal the old butler was +superintending with such evident enjoyment, and gradually he became +more silent and heedless, responding mechanically and often inaptly to +Peters' flow of conversation. He wished now he had obeyed the impulse +that had come to him in Algiers to go straight to Paris. By now he would +have seen her, have learned his fate, and the whole miserable business +would have been settled one way or the other. He could not wonder that +she had elected to remain abroad. He had put her in a horrible position. +By lingering in Africa after the return of the rest of the mission he +had made her an object of idle curiosity and speculation. He had left +her as the elder Barry Craven had left his mother, to the mercy of +gossip-mongers and to the pity and compassion of her friends which, +though even unexpressed, she must have felt and resented. He glanced +at the portrait of the beautiful sad woman in the panel over the +mantelpiece and a dull red crept over his face. It was well that his +mother had died before she realised how completely the idolised son was +to follow in the footsteps of the husband who had broken her heart. It +was a tradition in the family. From one motive or another the Cravens +had consistently been pitiless to their womenkind. And he, the last of +them, had gone the way of all the others. A greater shame and bitterness +than he had yet felt came to him, and a passionate longing to undo what +he had done. And what was left for him to do was so pitifully little. +But he would do it without further delay, he would start for Paris the +next day. Even the few hours of waiting seemed almost unbearable. The +thought occurred to him to motor to London that night to catch the +morning boat train from Victoria, but a glance at his watch convinced +him of the impossibility of the idea. Owing to the delay of the train +it had been nine o'clock before he reached the Towers. It was ten now. +Another hour would be wasted before Phillipe and the car would be ready +for the long run. And it was a wicked night to take a man out, the +strain of driving under such conditions at top speed through the +darkness would be tremendous. Reluctantly he abandoned the project. +There was nothing for it but to wait until the morning. + +Forbes at his elbow recalled him to his duties as host. With a murmured +apology to Peters he rose to his feet. + +"Coffee in the study, please," he said, and left the room. + +In the study, in chairs drawn up to the blazing fire, the two men smoked +for some time in silence. Though consumed with anxiety to hear more of +his wife Craven felt a certain diffident in mentioning her name, and +Peters volunteered nothing. After a time the agent began to speak of the +estate. "I want to give an account of my stewardship," he said, with an +odd ring in his voice that Craven did not understand. And for the best +part of an hour he talked of farms and leases, of cottage property and +timber, of improvements and alterations carried out during Craven's +absence or in progress, of the conditions under which certain of the +bigger houses scattered about the property were let--a complete history +of the working and management of the estate extending back many years +until Craven grew more and more bewildered as to the reason of this +detailed revelation that seemed to him somewhat unnecessary and +certainly ill-timed. He did not want to be bothered with business the +very moment of his arrival. Peters was punctilious of course, always had +been, but his stewardship had never been called in question and there +was surely no need for this complicated and lengthy narrative of affairs +tonight. + +"And then there are the accounts," concluded the agent, in the dry +curiously formal voice he had adopted all the evening. Craven made a +gesture of protest. "The accounts can wait," he said shortly. "I don't +know why on earth you want to bother about all this tonight, Peter. +There will be plenty of time later. Have I ever criticised anything you +did? I'm not such a fool. You've forgotten more than I ever knew about +the estate." + +"I should like you to see them," persisted Peters, drawing a big bundle +of papers from his pocket and proceeding to remove and roll up with his +usual precise neatness the tape that confined them. He pushed the typed +sheets across the little table. "I don't think you will find any error. +The estate accounts are all straightforward. But there is an item in the +personal accounts that I must ask you to consider. It is a sum of eight +thousand pounds standing to your credit that I do not know what to do +with. You will remember that when you went to Africa you instructed me +to pay your wife four thousand a year during your absence. I have sent +her the money every quarter, which she has acknowledged. Three months +ago the London bank advised me that eight thousand pounds had been paid +into you account by Mrs. Craven, the total amount of her allowance, in +fact, during the time you have been away." + +There was a lengthy pause after Peters stopped speaking, and then Craven +looked up slowly. + +"I don't understand," he said thickly; "all her allowance! What has she +been living on--what the devil does it mean?" + +Peters shrugged. "I don't know any more about it than you do. I am +simply telling you what is the case. It was not for me to question her +on such a matter," he said coldly. + +"But, Good Heavens, man," began Craven hotly, and then checked himself. +He felt stunned by Peters' bald statement of fact, unable, quite, +for the moment, to grasp it. Heavens above, how she must hate him! To +decline to touch the money he had assured her was hers, not his! On what +or on whom had she been living? His face became suddenly congested. Then +he put the hateful thought from him. It was not possible to connect such +a thing with Gillian. Only his own foul mind could have imagined it. And +yet, if she had been other than she was, if it had been so, if in her +loneliness and misery she had found love and protection she had been +unable to withstand--the fault would be his, not hers. He would have +driven her to it. He would be responsible. For a moment the room went +black. Then, he pulled himself together. Putting the bundle of accounts +back on to the table he met steadily Peters' intent gaze. "My wife is +quite at liberty to do what she chooses with her own money," he said +slowly, "though I admit I don't understand her action. Doubtless she +will explain it in due course. Until then the money can continue to lie +idle. It is not such a large sum that you need be in such a fierce hurry +about it. In any case I am going to Paris tomorrow. I can let you know +further when I have seen her." His voice was harsh with the effort it +cost him to steady it. "And having seen her--what are you going to do +to her?" The question, and the manner of asking it, made Craven look +at Peters in sudden amazement. The agent's face was stern and curiously +pale, high up on his cheek a little pulse was beating visibly and his +eyes were blazing direct challenge. Craven's brows drew together slowly. + +"What do you mean?" + +Peters leant forward, resting one arm on his knee, and the knuckles of +his clenched hand shone white. + +"I asked you in so many words what you were going to do to her," he +said, in a voice vibrant with emotion. "You will say it is no business +of mine. But I am going to make it my business. Good God, Barry, do you +think I've seen nothing all these years? Do you think I can sit down and +watch history repeat itself and make no effort to avert it for lack of +moral courage? I can't. When you were a boy I had to stand aside and see +your mother's heart broken, and I'm damned if I'm going to keep silent +while you break Gillian's heart. I loved your mother, the light went out +for me when she died. For her sake I carried on here, hoping I might +be of use to you--because you were her son. And then Gillian came +and helped to fill the blank she had left. She honoured me with her +friendship, she brought brightness into my life until gradually she has +become as dear to me as if she were my own daughter. All I care about +is her happiness--and yours. But she comes first, poor lonely child. Why +did you marry her if it was only to leave her desolate again? Wasn't +her past history sad enough? She was happy here at first, before your +marriage. But afterwards--were you blind to the change that came over +her? Couldn't you see that she was unhappy? I could. And I tell you I +was hard put to it sometimes to hold my tongue. It wasn't my place +to interfere, it wasn't my place to see anything, but I couldn't help +seeing what was patent to the eye of anybody who was interested. You +left her, and you have come back. For what? You are her husband, in name +at any rate--oh, yes, I know all about that, I know a great deal more +than I am supposed to know, and do you think I am the only one?--legally +she is bound to you, though I do not doubt she could easily procure her +freedom if she so wished, so I ask you again--what are you going to do? +She is wholly in your power, utterly at your mercy. What more is she to +endure at your hands? I am speaking plainly because it seems to me to +be a time for plain speaking. I can't help what you think, I am afraid I +don't care. You've been like a son to me. I promised your mother on her +death-bed that I would never fail you, I could have forgiven you any +mortal thing on earth--but Gillian. It's Gillian and me, Barry. And if +it's a case of fighting for her happiness--by God, I'll fight! And +now you know why I have told you all that I have tonight, why I have +rendered an account of my stewardship. If you want me to go I shall +quite understand. I know I have exceeded my prerogative but I can't +help it. I've left everything in order, easy for anybody to take over--" +Craven's head had sunk into his hands, now he sprang to his feet unable +to control himself any longer. "Peter--for God's sake--" he cried +chokingly, and stumbling to the window he wrenched back the curtain and +flung up the sash, lifting his face to the storm of wind and rain that +beat in about him, his chest heaving, his arms held rigid to his sides. + +"Do you think I don't care?" he said at last, brokenly. "Do you think +it hasn't nearly killed me to see her unhappiness--to be able to do +nothing. You don't know--I wasn't fit to be near her, to touch her. I +hoped by going to Africa to set her free. But I couldn't die. I tried, +God knows I tried, by every means in my power short of deliberately +blowing my brains out--a suicide's widow--I couldn't brand her like +that. When men were dying around me like flies death passed me by--I +wasn't fit even for that, I suppose." He gave a ghastly little mirthless +laugh that made Peters wince and came back slowly into the room, +heedless of the window he had left open, and walked to the fireplace +dropping his head on his arm on the mantel. "You asked me just now what +I meant to do to her--it is not a question of me at all but what Gillian +elects to do. I am going to her tomorrow. The future rests with her. +If she turns me down--and you turn me down--I shall go to the devil +the quickest way possible. It's not a threat, I'm not trying to make +bargains, it's just that I'm at the end of my tether. I've made a +damnable mess of my life, I've brought misery to the woman I love. For +I do love her, God help me. I married her because I loved her, because +I couldn't bear to lose her. I was mad with jealousy. And heaven knows +I've been punished for it. My life's been hell. But it doesn't matter +about me--it's only Gillian who matters, only Gillian who counts for +anything." His voice sank into a whisper and a long shudder passed over +him. + +The anger had died out of Peters' face and the old tenderness crept back +into his eyes as they rested on the tall bowed figure by the fireplace. +He rose and went to the window, shutting it and drawing the curtain back +neatly into position. Then he crossed the room slowly and laid his hand +for an instant on Craven's shoulder with a quick firm pressure that +conveyed more than words. "Sit down," he said gruffly, and going back to +the little table splashed some whisky into a glass and held it under +the syphon. Craven took the drink from him mechanically but set it +down barely tasted as he dropped again into the chair he had left a few +minutes before. He lit a cigarette, and Peters, as he filled his own +pipe, noticed that his hands were shaking. He was silent for a long +time, the cigarette, neglected, smouldering between his fingers, his +face hidden by his other hand. At last he looked up, his grey eyes +filled with an almost desperate appeal. + +"You'll stay, Peter--for the sake of the place?" he said unsteadily. +"You made it what it is, it would go to pieces if you went. And I can't +go without you--if you chuck me it will about finish me." + +Peters drew vigorously at his pipe and a momentary moisture dimmed his +vision. He was remembering another appeal made to him in this very room +thirty years before when, after a stormy interview with his employer, +the woman he had loved had begged him to remain and save the property +for the little son who was her only hold on life. It was the mother's +face not the son's he saw before him, the mother's voice that was +ringing in his ears. + +"I'll stay, Barry--as long as you want me," he said at length huskily +from behind a dense cloud of smoke. A look of intense relief passed over +Craven's worn face. He tried to speak and, failing, gripped Peters' hand +with a force that left the agent's fingers numb. + +There was another long pause. The blaze of the cheerful fire within and +the fury of the storm beating against the house without were the only +sounds that broke the silence. Peters was the first to speak. + +"You say you are going to her tomorrow--do you know where to find her?" + +Craven looked up with a start. + +"Has she moved?" he asked uneasily. Peters stirred uncomfortably and +made a little deprecating gesture with his hand. + +"It was a tallish rent, you know. The flat you took was in the most +expensive quarter of Paris," he said with reluctance. Craven winced and +his hands gripped the arms of his chair. + +"But you--you write to her, you have been over several times to see +her," he said, with a new trouble coming into his eyes, and Peters +turned from his steady stare. + +"Her letters, by her own request, are sent to the bank. I was only once +in the flat, shortly after you left. I think she must have given it up +almost immediately. Since then when I have run over for a day--she never +seemed to want me to stay longer--we have met in the Louvre or in the +gardens of the Tuileries, according to weather," he said hesitatingly. + +Craven stiffened in his chair. + +"The Louvre--the gardens of the Tuileries," he gasped, "but what on +earth--" he broke off with a smothered word Peters did not catch, and +springing up began to pace the room with his hands plunged deep in +his pockets. His face was set and his lips compressed under the neat +moustache. His mind was in a ferment, he could hardly trust himself to +speak. He halted at last in front of Peters, his eyes narrowing as he +gazed down at him. "Do you mean to tell me that you yourself do not know +where she is?" he said fiercely. Peters shook his head. "I do not. I +wish to heaven I did. But what could I do? I couldn't question her. She +made it plain she had no wish to discuss the subject. The little I did +say she put aside. It was not for me to spy on your wife, or employ a +detective to shadow her movements, no matter how anxious I felt." + +"No, you couldn't have done that," said Craven drearily, and turned +away. To pursue the matter further, even with Peters, seemed suddenly +to him impossible. He wanted to be alone to think out this new problem, +though at the same time he knew that no amount of thought would solve +it. He would have to wait with what patience he could until the morning +when he would be able to act instead of think. + +His face was expressionless when he turned to Peters again and sat down +quietly to discuss business. Half an hour later the agent rose to go. +"I'll bring up a checque book and some money in the morning before you +start. You won't have time to go to the bank in London. Wire me your +address in Paris--and bring her back with you, Barry. The whole place +misses her," he said with a catch in his voice, stuffing the bundle of +papers into his pocket. Craven's reply was inaudible but Peters' heart +was lighter than it had been for years as he went out into the hall to +get his coat. "Yes, I'm walking," he replied in response to an inquiry, +"bit of rain won't hurt me, I'm too seasoned," and he laughed for the +first time that evening. + +Going back to the study Craven threw a fresh log on the fire, filled a +pipe, and drew a chair close to the hearth. It was past one but he was +disinclined for bed. Peters' revelations had staggered him. His brain +was on fire. He felt that not until he had found her and got to the +bottom of all this mystery would he be able to sleep again. And perhaps +not even then, he thought with a quickening heart-beat and a sick fear +of what his investigations in Paris might lead to. + +Before leaving England he had snatched time from his African +preparations to superintend personally the arrangements for her stay +in Paris. He had himself selected the flat and installed her with every +comfort and luxury that was befitting his wife. She had demurred once or +twice on the score of extravagance, particularly in the case of the car +he had insisted on sending over for her use, but he had laughed at her +protests and she had ceased to make any further objection, accepting +his wishes with the shy gentleness that marked her usual attitude toward +him. And she must have hated it all! Why? She was his wife, what was his +was hers. He had consistently impressed that on her from the first. But +it was obvious that she had never seen it in that light. He remembered +her passionate refusal--ending in tears that had horrified him--of the +big settlement he had wished to make at the time of their marriage, her +distress in taking the allowance he had had to force upon her. Was it +only his money she hated, or was it himself as well? And to what had +her hatred driven her? A fiercer gust of wind shrieked round the house, +driving the rain in torrents against the window, and as he listened +to it splashing sharply on the glass Craven shivered. Where was she +tonight? What shelter had she found in the pitiless city of contrasts? +Fragile and alone--and penniless? His hand clenched until the stem of +the pipe he was holding snapped between his fingers and he flung the +fragments into the fire, leaning forward and staring into the dying +embers with haggard eyes--picturing, remembering. He was intimately +acquainted with Paris, with two at least of its multifarious +aspects--the brilliant Paris of the rich, and the cruel Paris of the +struggling student. And yet, after all, what did his knowledge of the +latter amount to? It had amused him for a time to live in the Latin +quarter--it was in a disreputable cabaret on the south side of the river +that he had first come across John Locke--he had mixed there with all +and sundry, rubbing shoulders with the riff-raff of nations; he had seen +its vice and destitution, had mingled with its feverish surface +gaiety and known its underlying squalor and ugliness, but always as a +disinterested spectator, a transient passer by. Always he had had money +in his pocket. He had never known the deadly ever present fear that lies +coldly at the heart of even the wildest of the greater number of its +inhabitants. He had seen but never felt starvation. He had never sold +his soul for bread. But he had witnessed such a sale, not once or twice +but many times. In his carelessness he had accepted it as inevitable. +But the recollection stabbed him now with sudden poignancy. Merciful +God, toward what were his thoughts tending! He brushed his hand across +his eyes as though to clear away some hideous vision and rose slowly to +his feet. The expiring fire fell together with a little crash, flared +for an instant and then died down in a smouldering red mass that grew +quickly grey and cold. With a deep sigh Craven turned and went heavily +from the room. He lingered for a moment in the hall, dimly lit by the +single lamp left burning above, listening to the solemn ticking of the +clock, that at that moment chimed with unnatural loudness. + +Mechanically he took out his watch and wound it, and then went slowly up +the wide staircase. At the head of the stairs he paused again. The great +house had never seemed so silent, so empty, so purposeless. The rows of +closed doors opening from the gallery seemed like the portals of some +huge mausoleum, vacant and chill. A house of desolation that cried to +him to fill its emptiness with life and love. With lagging steps he +walked half way along the gallery, passing two of the closed doors +with averted head, but at the third he stopped abruptly, yielding to +an impulse that had come to him. For a moment he hesitated, as though +before some holy place he feared to desecrate, then with a quick drawn +breath he turned the handle and went in. + +In the darkness his hand sought and found the electric switch by the +door, and pressing it the room was flooded with soft shaded light. +Peters had spoken only the truth when he said that the house was kept in +immediate readiness for its mistress's return. Craven had never crossed +the threshold of this room before, and seeing it thus for the first time +he could hardly believe that for two years it had been tenantless. +She might have gone from it ten minutes before. It was redolent of her +presence. The little intimate details were as she had left them. A +bowl of bronze chrysanthemums stood on the dressing table where lay the +tortoise-shell toilet articles given her by Miss Craven. A tiny clock +ticked companionably on the mantelpiece. The pain in his eyes +deepened as they swept the room with hungry eagerness to take in every +particular. Her room! The room from which his unworthiness had barred +him. All that he had forfeited rose up before him, and in overwhelming +shame and misery a wave of burning colour rolled slowly over his face. +Never had the distance between them seemed so wide. Never had her purity +and innocence been brought home to him so forcibly as in this spotless +white chamber. Its simplicity and fresh almost austere beauty seemed +the reflection of her own stainless soul and the fierce passion that was +consuming him seemed by contrast hideous and brutal. It was as if he +had violated the sanctuary of a cloistered Nun. And yet might not even +passion be beautiful if love hallowed it? His arms stretched out in +hopeless longing, her name burst from his lips in a cry of desperate +loneliness, and he fell on his knees beside the bed, burying his face +in the thick soft quilt, his strong brown hands outflung, gripping and +twisting its silken cover in his agony. + +Hours later he raised his tired eyes to the pale light of the wintry +dawn filtering feebly through the close drawn curtains. + + * * * * + +He left that morning for Paris, alone. + +It was still raining steadily and the chill depressing outlook from the +train did not tend to lighten his gloomy thoughts. + +In London the rain poured down incessantly. The roads were greasy and +slippery with mud, the pavements filled with hurrying jostling crowds, +whose dripping umbrellas glistened under the flaring shop lights. Craven +peered at the cheerless prospect as he drove from one station to the +other and shivered at the gloom and wretchedness through which he was +passing. The mean streets and dreary squalid houses took on a greater +significance for him than they had ever done. The sight of a passing +woman, ill-clad and rain-drenched, sent through him a stab of horrible +pain. Paris could be as cruel, as pitiless, as this vaster, wealthier +city. + +He left his bag in the cloakroom at Charing Cross and spent the hours of +waiting for the boat train tramping the streets in the vicinity of the +station. He was in no mood to go to his Club, where he would find a +host of acquaintances eager for an account of his wanderings and curious +concerning his tardy return. + +The time dragged heavily. He turned into a quiet restaurant to get a +meal and ate without noticing what was put before him. At the earliest +opportunity he sought the train and buried himself in the corner of a +compartment praying that the wretched night might lessen the number of +travellers. Behind an evening paper which he did not attempt to read +he smoked in silence, which the two other men in the carriage did not +break. Foreigners both, they huddled in great coats in opposite corners +and were asleep almost before the train pulled out of the station. +Laying down the paper that had no interest for him Craven surveyed them +for a moment with a feeling of envy, and tilting his hat over his eyes, +endeavoured to emulate their good example. But, despite his weariness, +sleep would not come to him. He sat listening to the rattle of the train +and to the peaceful snoring of his companions until his mind ceased to +be diverted by immediate distractions and centred wholly on the task +before him. + +At Dover the weather had not improved and the sea was breaking high over +the landing stage, drenching the few passengers as they hurried on to +the boat and dived below for shelter from the storm. Indifferent to the +weather Craven chose to stay on deck and stood throughout the crossing +under lea of the deckhouse where it was possible to keep a pipe alight. + +Contrary to his expectation he managed to sleep in the train and slept +until they reached Paris. Avoiding a hotel where he was known he drove +to one of the smaller establishments, and engaging a room ordered +breakfast and sat down to think out his next move. + +There were two possible sources of information, the flat, where she +might have left an address when she vacated it, and the bank where +Peters had told him she called for letters. He would try them before +resorting to the expedient of employing a detective, which he was loth +to do until all other means failed. He hated the idea, but there was no +alternative except the police, whose aid he had determined not to invoke +unless it became absolutely necessary. It was imperative that his search +should be conducted as quietly and as secretly as possible. He decided +to visit the flat first, and, having wired to Peters in accordance with +his promise, set out on foot. + +It was not actually raining but the clouds hung low and threatening and +the air was raw. He walked fast, swinging along the crowded streets with +his eyes fixed straight in front of him. And his great height and deeply +tanned face made him a conspicuous figure that excited attention of +which he was ignorant. + +Leaving the narrow street where was his hotel he emerged into the Place +de la Madeleine, and threading his way through the stream of traffic +turned into the Boulevard de Malesherbes, which he followed, cutting +across the Boulevard Haussmann and passing the Church of Saint Augustin, +until the trees in the Parc Monceau rose before him. How often in the +heat of Africa had he pictured her sitting in the shade of those great +spreading planes, reading or sketching the children who played about +her? He had thought of her every hour of the day and night, seeing her +in his mind moving about the flat he had taken and furnished with such +care. How utterly futile had been all his dreams about her. His lips +tightened as he passed up the steps of the house he remembered so well. + +But to his inquiries the concierge, who was a new-comer, could give no +reply. He had no knowledge of any Madame Craven who had lived there, and +was plainly uninterested in a tenant who had left before his time. It +was past history with which he had nothing to do, and with which he made +it clear he did not care to be involved. He was curt and decisive +but, with an eye to Craven's powerful proportions, refrained from the +insolence that is customary among his kind. It was the first check, but +as he walked away Craven admitted to himself that he had not counted +overmuch on obtaining any information from that quarter, taking into +account the short time she had lived there. Remained the bank. He +retraced his steps, walking directly to the Place de l'Opra. But the +bank, which was also a tourists' agency, could give him no assistance. +The lady called for her letters at infrequent intervals, they had no +idea where she might be found. Would the gentleman care to leave a card, +which would be given to her at the first opportunity? But Craven shook +his head--the chance of her calling was too vague--and passed out again +into the busy streets. There was nothing for it now but a detective +agency, and with his face grown grimmer he went without further delay to +the bureau of a firm he knew by repute. In the private room of the +_Chef de Bureau_ he detailed his requirements with national brevity and +conciseness. His knowledge of the language stood him in good stead and +the painfulness of the interview was mitigated by the businesslike and +tactful manner in which his commission was received. The keen-eyed man +who sat tapping a gold pencil case on his thumbnail in the intervals of +taking notes had a reputation to maintain which he was not unwilling to +increase; foreign clients were by no means rare, but they did not come +every day, nor were they always so apparently full of wealth as this +stern-faced Englishman, who spoke authoritatively as one accustomed to +being obeyed and yet with a turn of phrase and _politesse_ unusual in +his countrymen. + +Followed two days of interminable waiting and suspense, two days that to +Craven seemed like two lifetimes. He hung about the hotel, not daring to +go far afield lest he should lose some message or report. He had no +wish either to advertise his presence in Paris, he had too many friends +there, too many acquaintances whose questions would be difficult to +parry. + +But on the morning of the third day, about eleven o'clock, he was +called to the telephone. A feeling of dread ran through him and he was +conscious of a curious sensation of weakness as he lifted the receiver. +But the voice that hailed him was reassuring and complacently expressive +of a neat piece of work well done. The wife of _Monsieur_ had been +traced, they had taken time--oh, yes, but they had followed _Monsieur's_ +instructions _au pied de la lettre_ and had acted with a discretion +that was above criticism. Then followed an address given minutely. For +a moment he leaned against the side of the telephone box shaking +uncontrollably. Only at this moment did he realise completely how great +his fear had been. There had been times when the recurring thought of +the Morgue and its pitiful occupants had been a foretaste of hell. The +feeling of weakness passed quickly and he went out to the entrance of +the hotel and leaped into a taxi which had just set down a fare. + +He knew well the locality toward which he was driving. Years ago he +could almost have walked to it blindfold, but today time was precious. +And as he sat forward in the jolting cab, his hands locked tightly +together, it seemed to him as if every possible hindrance had combined +to bar his progress. The traffic had never appeared so congested, the +efforts of the agents on point duty so hopelessly futile. Omnibuses and +motors, unwieldy meat carts and fiacres, inextricably jammed, met them +at every turn, until at last swinging round by the corner of the Louvre +the streets became clearer and the car turned sharply to cross the +river. As they approached the address the detective had given him Craven +was conscious of no sensation of any kind. A deadly calm seemed to have +taken possession of him. He had ceased even to speculate on what lay +before him. The house at which they stopped at last was typical of its +kind; in his student days he had rented a studio in a precisely similar +building, and the concierge to whom he applied might have been the twin +sister of the voluble amply proportioned citoyenne of long ago who had +kept a maternal eye on his socks and shirts and a soft spot in her heart +for the _bel Anglais_ who chaffed her unmercifully, but paid his rent +with commendable promptitude. A huge woman, with a shrewd not unkindly +face, she sat in a rocking chair with a diminutive kitten on her +shoulder and a mass of knitting in her lap. As she listened to Craven's +inquiry she tossed the kitten into a basket and bundled the shawl she +was making under her arm, while she rose ponderously to her feet and +favoured the stranger with a stare that was frankly and undisguisedly +inquisitive. A pair of twinkling eyes encased in rolls of fat swept him +from head to foot in leisurely survey, and he felt that there was no +detail about him that escaped attention, that even the texture of his +clothing and the very price of the boots he was wearing were gauged with +accuracy and ease. She condescended to speak at last in a voice that was +curiously soft, and warmed into something almost approaching enthusiasm. +Madame Craven? but certainly, _au quatrieme_. Monsieur was perhaps a +patron of the arts, he desired to buy a picture? It was well, painters +were many but buyers were few. Madame was assuredly at home, she was +in fact engaged at that moment with a model. A model--_Sapristi_!--he +called himself such, but for herself she would have called him _un vrai +apache_! Of a countenance, _mon Dieu_! She paused to wave her hands +in horror and jerk her head toward the staircase, continuing her +confidences in a lowered tone. The door of the studio was open, it +was wiser when such gentry presented themselves, and also did she not +herself always sit in the hall that she might be within call, one never +knew--and Madame was an angel with the heart of a child. A face to +study--and she thought of nothing else. But there were those who +thought for her, the blessed innocent. It was doubtless because she was +English--Monsieur was also English, she observed with another shrewd +glance and a wide smile. Madame would be glad to see a compatriot. If +Monsieur would do himself the trouble of ascending the stairs he could +not mistake the door, it was at the top, and, as she had said, it was +open. + +She beamed on him graciously as with a murmur of thanks Craven turned +to mount the stone staircase. A feeling of relief came to him at the +thought of the warm hearted self-appointed guardian sitting in kindly +vigilance in the big armchair below. Here, too, it would appear, Gillian +had made herself beloved. As he passed quickly upward the unnatural calm +that had come over him gave place to a very different feeling. It was +brought home to him all at once that what he had longed and prayed for +was on the point of taking effect. He realised that the ghastly waiting +time was over, that in a few moments he would see her, and his heart +began to throb violently. Every second that still separated them seemed +an age and he took the last remaining flight two steps at a time. But he +stopped abruptly as he reached the level of the landing. The open door +was within a few feet of him but screened from where he stood. + +It was her voice that had arrested him, speaking with an accent of +weariness he had never heard before that sent a sudden quiver to his +lips. His fingers clenched on the soft hat he held. + +"But it does not do at all," she was saying, and the racking cough that +accompanied her words struck through Craven's heart like a knife, "it is +the expression that is wrong. If you look like that I can never believe +that you are what you say you are. Think of some of the horrible things +you have told me--try and imagine that you are still tracking down that +brute who took your little Colette from you--" A husky voice interrupted +her. "No use, Madame, when I remember that I can only think of you and +the American doctor who gave her back to me, and our happiness." + +"You don't deserve her, and she hates the things you do," came the quick +retort, and the man who had been speaking laughed. + +"But not me," he answered promptly, "and the things I do keep a roof +over our heads," he added grimly. "But, see, I will try again--does that +satisfy Madame?" + +Craven moved forward as he heard her eager assent and her injunction to +"hold that for a few minutes," and in the silence that ensued he reached +the door. For a moment his entrance passed unobserved. + +The stark bareness of the room was revealed to him in a single +comprehensive glance and the chill of it sent a sudden feeling of anger +surging through him. His face was drawn and his eyes almost menacing +with pain as they rested on the slight figure bending forward in +unconscious absorption over the easel propped in the middle of the +rugless floor. Then his gaze travelled slowly beyond her to the model +who stood on the little dais, and he understood in a flash the reason +of the old concierge's vigilance as he saw the manner of man she was +painting. The slender darkly clad youth with head thrust forward and +sunk deep on his shoulders, with close fitting peaked cap pulled +low over his eyes shading his pale sinister face was a typical +representative of the class of criminal who had come to be known in +Paris as _les apaches_; no artist's model masquerading as one of +the dreaded assassins, but the genuine article. Of that Craven was +convinced. The risk she had taken, the quick resentment he felt at the +thought of such a presence near her forced from him an exclamation. + +Artist and model turned simultaneously. There was a moment of tense +silence as husband and wife stared into each other's eyes. Then the +palette and brushes she was holding dropped with a little chatter to the +floor. + +"Barry," she whispered fearfully, "Barry--" + +Both men sprang forward, but it was Craven who caught her as she fell. +She lay like a featherweight in his strong clasp, and as he gazed at the +delicate face crushed against his breast a deadly fear was knocking at +his heart that he had come too late. Convulsively his arms tightened +round the pitifully light little body and he spoke abruptly to the man +who was scowling beside him. "A doctor--as quick as you can--and tell +the concierge to come up." Anxiety roughened his voice and he turned +away without waiting to see his orders carried out. For a second the +apache glowered at him under narrowing lids, his sullen face working +strangely, then he jerked the black cap further over his eyes and +slipped away with noiseless tread. + +With a broken whisper Craven caught his frail burden closer, as though +seeking by the strength and warmth of his own body to animate the +fragile limbs lying so cold and lifeless in his arms, and he bent low +over the pallid lips he craved and yet did not dare to kiss. They were +not for him to take, he reflected bitterly, and in her unconsciousness +they were sacred. + +His eyes were dark with misery as he raised his head and looked about +quickly for some couch on which to lay her. But the bare studio was +devoid of any such luxury, and with his face set rigidly he carried +her across the room and pushed open a door leading to an inner sleeping +apartment. Barer it was and colder even than the studio, and its bleak +poverty formed a horrible contrast to the big white bedroom at Craven +Towers. He laid her on the narrow comfortless bed with a smothered groan +that seemed to tear his heart to pieces. And as he knelt beside +her chafing her icy hands in helpless agony there burst in on him a +tempestuous fury who raved and stormed and called on heaven to witness +the iniquity of men. "_Bete! animal!_" she raged, "what have you done +to her--you and that rat-faced devil!" and she thrust her bulky figure +between him and the bed. Then with a sudden change of manner, her voice +grown soft and caressing, she bent over the fainting girl and slipped a +plump arm under her, crooning, over her and endeavouring to restore her +to consciousness. She snapped an enquiry at Craven and he explained +as best he could, and his explanation brought down on him a wealth of +biting sarcasm. The husband of _cet ange la_! In the name of heaven! was +there no limit to the blundering stupidity of men--had he no more sense +than to present himself with such unexpectedness, after so long an +absence? Small wonder _la pauvre petite_ had fainted. What folly! And +lashing him with her tongue she renewed her fruitless efforts. But +Craven scarcely heeded her. His eyes were fixed on the little white face +on the pillow, and he was praying desperately that she might be spared +to him, that his punishment might not take so terrible a form. For the +change in her appalled him. Slight and delicate always, she was now a +mere shadow of what she had been. If she died!--he clenched his teeth to +keep silent--must he be twice a murderer? O Hara San's blood was on his +hands, would hers also-- + +He turned quickly as a tall, loosely made man swung into the room. The +new-comer shot a swift glance at him and moved past to the bedside, +addressing the concierge in fluent French that was marked by a +pronounced American accent. He cut short her eager communication as he +bent over the bed and made a rapid examination. + +"Light a fire in the stove, bring all the blankets you can find, and +make some strong coffee. I have been waiting for this, the marvel is +it hasn't happened before," he said brusquely. And as the woman hurried +away with surprising meekness to do his bidding he turned again to +Craven. "Friend of Mrs. Craven's?" he asked with blunt directness. "Pity +her friends haven't looked her up sooner. Guess you can wait in the +other room until I'm through here--that is if you are sufficiently +interested. It will probably be a long job and the fewer people she sees +about her when she comes to, the better." + +The blood flamed into Craven's face and an angry protest rose to his +lips, but his better judgment checked it. It was not the time for +explanations or to press the claim he had to remain in the room. And had +he a claim at all, he wondered with a dull feeling of pain. "I'll wait," +he said quietly, fighting an intolerable jealousy as he watched the +doctor's skilful hands busy about her. Strangers might tend her, but the +husband she had evidently never spoken of, was banished to an outer room +to wait "if sufficiently interested." He winced and passed slowly into +the studio. And yet he had brought it on himself. She could have had +little wish to mention him situated as she was, the bare garret he was +pacing monotonously was evidence in itself that she had determined to +cut adrift from everything that was connected with the life and the man +she had obviously loathed. His surroundings left no doubt on that score. +She had plainly preferred to struggle independently for existence rather +than be beholden to him who was her natural protector. He recalled with +an aching heart the swift look of fear that had leapt into her eyes +during that long moment before she had lost consciousness, and the +memory of it went with him, searing cruelly, as he tramped up and down +in restless anxiety that would not allow him to keep still. To see that +look in her eyes again would be more than he could endure. + +From time to time the concierge passed through the room bearing the +various necessaries the doctor had demanded, but her mouth was grimly +shut and he did not ask for information that she did not seem inclined +to vouchsafe. She did unbend so far at last as to light a fire in the +stove, but she let it be clearly understood that it was not for his +benefit. "It will help to warm the other room, and it has been empty +long enough," she said, with a glance and a shrug that were full of +meaning. But as she saw the misery of his face her manner softened and +she spoke confidently of the skill of the American doctor, who from +motives of pure philanthropy had practised for some years in a quarter +that offered much experience but little pecuniary profit. + +Then she left him to wait again alone. + +He could not bring himself to look at the canvases propped against the +bare walls, they were witnesses of her toil, witnesses perhaps of a +failure that hurt him even more than it must have hurt her. And to +him who knew the spirit-crushing efforts of the unknown artist to win +recognition, her failure was both natural and intelligible. He guessed +at a pride that scorning patronage had not sought assistance but had +striven to succeed by merit alone, only to learn the bitter lesson that +falls to the lot of those who fight against established convention. She +had pitted her strength against a system and the system had broken her. +Her studies might be--they were--marked with genius, but genius without +advertisement had gone unrecognised and unrewarded. + +But before the portrait of the strange model he had found with her he +paused for a long time. Still unfinished it was brilliantly clever. The +lower part of the face had evidently not satisfied her, for it was wiped +out, but the upper part was completed, and Craven looked at the +deep-set eyes of the apache staring back at him with almost the fire +of life--melancholy sinister eyes that haunted--and wondered again what +circumstance had brought such a man across her path. He remembered the +fragmentary conversation he had heard, remembered too that mention had +been made of the man who was even now with her in the adjoining room, +and he sighed as he realised how utterly ignorant he was of the life she +had led during his absence. + +Had she meditated a complete severance from him, formed ties that would +bind her irrevocably to the life she had chosen? He turned from the +picture wearily. It was all a tangle. He could only wait, and waiting, +suffer. + +He went to the window and leant his arms unseeingly on the high narrow +sill that looked out over the neighbouring housetops, straining to hear +the faintest sound from the inner room. It seemed to him that he must +have waited hours when at last the door opened and shut quietly and the +American came leisurely toward him. He faced him with swift unspoken +inquiry. The doctor nodded, moving toward the stove. "She's all right +now," he said dryly, "but I don't mind telling you she gave me the +fright of my life. I have been wondering when this was going to happen, +I've seen it coming for a long time." He paused, and looked at Craven +frowningly while he warmed his hands. + +"May I ask if you are an intimate friend of Mrs. Craven's--if you know +her people? Can you put me in communication with them? She is not in +a fit state to be alone. She should have somebody with her--somebody +belonging to her, I mean. I gather there is a husband somewhere +abroad--though frankly I have always doubted his existence--but that is +no good. I want somebody here, on the spot, now. Mrs. Craven doesn't +see the necessity. I do. I'm not trying to shunt responsibility. I've +shouldered a good deal in my time and I'm not shirking now--but this +is a case that calls for more than a doctor. I should appreciate any +assistance you could give me." + +The fear he had felt when he held her in his arms was clutching anew at +Craven and his face grew grey under the deep tan. "What is the matter +with her?" Something in his voice made the doctor look at him more +closely. + +"That, my dear sir," he parried, "is rather a leading question." + +"I have a right to know," interrupted Craven quickly. + +"You will pardon me if I ask--what right?" was the equally quick +rejoinder. + +The blood surged back hotly into Craven's face. + +"The right of the man whose existence you very justly doubted," he said +heavily. The doctor straightened himself with a jerk. "You are Mrs. +Craven's husband! Then you will forgive me if I say that you have not +come back any too soon. I am glad for your wife's sake that the myth is +a reality," he said gravely. Craven stood rigidly still, and it seemed +to him that his heart stopped beating. "I know my wife is delicate, +that her lungs are not strong, but what is the cause of this +sudden--collapse?" he said slowly, his voice shaking painfully. For a +moment the other hesitated and shrugged in evident embarrassment. +"There are a variety of causes--I find it somewhat difficult to say--you +couldn't know, of course--" + +Craven cut him short. "You needn't spare my feelings," he said hoarsely. +"For God's sake speak plainly. + +"In a word then--though I hate to have to say it--starvation." The keen +eyes fixed on him softened into sudden compassion but Craven did not see +them. He saw nothing, for the room was spinning madly round him and he +staggered back against the window catching at the woodwork behind him. + +"Oh, my God!" he whispered, and wiped the blinding moisture from his +eyes. If it had been possible for her gentle nature to contemplate +revenge she could have planned no more terrible one than this. But in +his heart he knew that it was not revenge. For a moment he could +not speak, then with an effort he mastered himself. He could give no +explanation to this stranger, that lay between him and her alone. + +"There was no need," he said at last dully, forcing the words with +difficulty; "she misunderstood--I can't explain. Only tell me what I can +do--anything that will cure her. There isn't any permanent injury, is +there--I haven't really come too late?" he gasped, with an agony of +appeal in his voice. The American shook his head. "You ran it very +fine," he said, with a quick smile, "but I guess you've come in time, +right enough. There isn't anything here that money can't cure. Her lungs +are not over strong, her heart is temporarily strained, and her nerves +are in tatters. But if you can take her to the south--or better still, +Egypt--?" he hesitated with a look of enquiry, and as Craven nodded, +continued with more assurance, "Good! then there's no reason why she +shouldn't be a well woman in time. She's constitutionally delicate but +there's nothing organically wrong. Take her away as soon as possible, +feed her up--and keep her happy. That's all she wants. I'll look in +again this evening." And with another reassuring smile and a firm +handclasp he was gone. + +As his footsteps died away Craven turned slowly toward the adjoining +room with strangely contending emotions. "... keep her happy." The +bitter irony of the words bit into him as he crossed to the door and, +tapping softly, went in. + +She was waiting for him, lying high on the pillows that were no whiter +than her face, toying nervously with the curling ends of the thick plait +of soft brown hair that reached almost to her waist. Her eyes were fixed +on him appealingly, and as he came toward her her face quivered suddenly +and again he saw the look of fear that had tortured him before. "Oh, +Barry," she moaned, "don't be angry with me." + +It was all that he could do to keep his hungry arms from closing round +her, to keep back the passionate torrent of love that rushed to his +lips. But he dared not give way to the weakness that was tempting him. +Controlling himself with an effort of will he sat down on the edge of +the bed and covered her twitching fingers with his lean muscular hands. + +"I'm not angry, dear. God knows I've no right to be," he said gently. "I +just don't understand. I never dreamt of anything like this. Can't you +tell me--explain--help me to understand?" + +She dragged her hands from his, and covering her face gave way to bitter +weeping. Her tears crucified him and his heart was breaking as he looked +at her. "Gillian, have a little pity on me," he pleaded. "Do you think +I'm a stone that I can bear to see you cry?" + +"What can I say?" she whispered sobbingly. "You wouldn't understand. You +have never understood. How should you? You were too generous. You gave +me your name, your wealth, you sacrificed your freedom to save me from +a knowledge of the callousness and cruelty of the world. You saw further +than I did. You knew that I would fail--as I have failed. And because of +that you married me in pity. Did you think I would never guess? I +didn't at first. I was a stupid ignorant child, I didn't realise what a +marriage like ours would mean. But when I did--oh, so soon--and when +I knew that I could never repay you--I think I nearly died with shame. +When I asked you to let me come to Paris it was not to lead the life you +purposed for me but because my burden of debt had grown intolerable. +I thought that if I worked here, paid my own way, got back my lost +self-respect, that it would be easier to bear. When you took the flat +I tried to make you understand but you wouldn't listen and I couldn't +trouble you when you were going away. And then later when they told me +at the convent what you had done, when I learned how much greater was +my debt than I had ever dreamt, and when I heard of the money you gave +them--the money you still give them every year--the money they call the +Gillian Craven Fund--" + +"They had no right, I made it a stipulation--" + +"They didn't realise, they thought because we were married that I must +surely know. I couldn't go on living in the flat, taking the allowance +you heaped on me. All you gave,--all you did--your generosity--I +couldn't bear it! Oh, can't you see--your money _choked_ me!" she +wailed, with a paroxysm of tears that frightened him. He caught her +hands again, holding them firmly. "Your money as much as mine, Gillian. +I have always tried to make you realise it. What is mine is yours. +You're my wife--" + +"I'm not, I'm not," she sobbed wildly. "I'm only a burden thrust on +you." + +A cry burst from his lips. "A burden, my God, a burden!" he groaned. And +suddenly he reached the end of his endurance. With the agony of death in +his eyes he swept her into his arms, holding her to him with passionate +strength, his lips buried in the fragrance of her hair. "Oh, my dear, my +dear," he murmured brokenly, "I'm not fit to touch you, but I've loved +you always, worshipped you, longed for you until the longing grew too +great to bear, and I left you because I knew that if I stayed I should +not have the strength to leave you free. I married you because I loved +you, because even this damnable mockery of a marriage was better than +losing you out of my life--I was cur enough to keep you when I knew I +might not take you. And I've wanted you, God knows how I've wanted you, +all these ghastly years. I want you now, I'd give my hope of heaven to +have your love, to hold you in my arms as my wife, to be a husband +to you not only in name--but I'm not fit. You don't know what I've +done--what I've been. I had no right to marry you, to stain your purity +with my sin, to link you with one who is fouled as I am. If you knew +you'd never look at me again." With a terrible sob he laid her back on +the pillows and dropped on his knees beside her. Into her tear-wet eyes +there came suddenly a light that was almost divine, her quivering face +became glorious in its pitiful love. Trembling, she leant towards him, +and her slender hands went out in swift compassion, drawing the bowed +shamed head close to her tender breast. + +"Tell me," she whispered. And with her soft arms round him he told her, +waiting in despair for the moment when she would shrink from him, repel +him with the horror and disgust he dreaded. But she lay quite still +until he finished, though once or twice she shuddered and he felt the +quickened beating of her heart. And for long after his muffled voice had +died away she remained silent. Then her thin hand crept quiveringly +up to his hair, touching it shyly, and two great tears rolled down +her face. "Barry, I've been so lonely"--it was the cry of a frightened +desolate child--"if you have no pity on yourself, will you have no pity +on me?" + +"Gillian!" he raised his head sharply, staring at her with desperate +unbelieving eyes, "You care?" + +"Care?" she gave a tremulous little sobbing laugh. "How could I help +but care! I've loved you since the day you came to me in the convent +parlour. You're all I have, and if you leave me now"--she clung to him +suddenly--"Barry, Barry, I can't bear any more. I haven't any strength +or courage left. I'm afraid! I can't face the world alone--it's +cruel--pitiless. I love you, I want you, I can't live without you," and +with a piteous sob she strained him to her, hiding her face against +his breast, beseeching and distraught. His lips were trembling as he +gathered the shuddering little body closely in his arms, but still he +hesitated. + +"Think, dear, think," he muttered hoarsely, "I'm not fit to stay with +you. I've done that which is unforgivable." + +"I'm your wife, I've the right to share your burden," she cried +passionately. "You didn't know, you couldn't know when you did that +dreadful thing. And if God punishes you let Him punish me too. But God +is love, He knows how you have suffered, and for those who repent His +punishment is forgiveness." + +"But can you forgive--can you bear to come to me?" he faltered, still +only half believing. + +"I love you," she said simply, "and life without you is death," and +lifting her face to his she gave him the lips he had not dared to take. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. 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M. Hull + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. Hull + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Shadow of the East + +Author: E. M. Hull + + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8143] +This file was first posted on June 19, 2003 +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + + + + +Text file produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE SHADOW OF THE EAST + </h1> + <h2> + By E. M. Hull + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1921 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + “<i>The fathers have eaten sour grapes and<br /> the children's teeth are + set on edge</i>."<br /> <br /> <i>Ezekiel xviii 2</i>. + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + The American yacht lying off the harbour at Yokohama was brilliantly lit + from stem to stern. Between it and the shore the reflection of the full + moon glittered on the water up to the steps of the big black + landing-stage. The glamour of the eastern night and the moonlight combined + to lend enchantment to a scene that by day is blatant and tawdry, and the + countless coloured lamps twinkling along the sea wall and dotted over the + Bluff transformed the Japanese town into fairyland. + </p> + <p> + The night was warm and still, and there was barely a ripple on the water. + The Bay was full of craft—liners, tramps, and yachts swinging slowly + with the tide, and hurrying to and fro sampans and electric launches + jostled indiscriminately. + </p> + <p> + On board the yacht three men were lying in long chairs on the deck. Jermyn + Atherton, the millionaire owner, a tall thin American whose keen, clever + face looked singularly youthful under a thick crop of iron-grey hair, sat + forward in his chair to light a fresh cigar, and then turned to the man on + his right. “I guess I've had every official in Japan hunting for you these + last two days, Barry. If I hadn't had your wire from Tokio this morning I + should have gone to our Consul and churned up the whole Japanese Secret + Service and made an international affair of it,” he laughed. “Where in all + creation were you? I should hardly have thought it possible to get out of + touch in this little old island. The authorities, too, knew all about you, + and reckoned they could lay their hands on you in twelve hours. I rattled + them up some,” he added, with evident satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have done,” he said dryly. “When I got into Tokio this + morning I was fallen on by a hysterical inspector of police who implored + me with tears to communicate immediately with an infuriated American who + was raising Cain in Yokohama over my disappearance. As a matter of fact I + was in a little village twenty miles inland from Tokio—quite off the + beaten track. There's an old Shinto temple there that I have been wanting + to sketch for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Atherton's luck!” commented the American complacently. “It generally + holds good. I couldn't leave Japan without seeing you, and I must sail + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your hurry—Wall Street going to the dogs without you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I've cut out from Wall Street. I've made all the money I want, and + I'm only concerned with spending it now. No, the fact is I—er—I + left home rather suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + A soft chuckle came from the recumbent occupant of the third chair, but + Atherton ignored it and hurried on, twirling rapidly, as he spoke, a + single eyeglass attached to a thin black cord. + </p> + <p> + “Ever since Nina and I were married last year we've been going the devil + of a pace. We had to entertain every one who had entertained us—and + a few more folk besides. There was something doing all day and every day + until at last it seemed to me that I never saw my wife except at the other + end of a dining table with a crowd of silly fools in between us. I + reckoned I'd just about had enough of it. Came on me just like a flash + sitting in my office down town one morning, so I buzzed home right away in + the auto and told her I was sick of the whole thing and that I wanted her + to come away with me and see what real life was like—out West or + anywhere else on earth away from that durned society crowd. I'll admit I + lost my temper and did some shouting. Nina couldn't see it from my point + of view. + </p> + <p> + “My God, Jermyn! I should think not,” drawled a sleepy voice from the + third chair, and a short, immensely stout man struggled up into a sitting + position, mopping his forehead vigorously. “You've the instincts of a Turk + rather than of an enlightened American citizen. You've not seen my + sister-in-law yet, Mr. Craven,” he turned to the Englishman. “She's a + peach! Smartest little girl in N'York. Leader of society—dollars no + object—small wonder she didn't fall in with Jermyn's prehistoric + notions. You're a cave man, elder brother—I put my money on Nina + every time. Hell! isn't it hot?” He sank down again full length, flapping + his handkerchief feebly at a persistent mosquito. + </p> + <p> + “We argued for a week,” resumed Jermyn Atherton when his brother's sleepy + drawl subsided, “and didn't seem to get any further on. At last I lost my + temper completely and decided to clear out alone if Nina wouldn't come + with me. Leslie was not doing anything at the time, so I persuaded him to + come along too.” + </p> + <p> + Leslie Atherton sat up again with a jerk. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Persuaded</i>!” he exploded, “A dam' queer notion of persuasion. + Shanghaied, I call it. Ran me to earth at the club at five o'clock, and we + sailed at eight. If my man hadn't been fond of the sea and keen on the + trip himself, I should have left America for a cruise round the world in + the clothes I stood up in—and Jermyn's duds would be about as useful + to me as a suit of reach-me-downs off the line. Persuasion? Shucks! Jermyn + thought it was kind of funny to start right off on an ocean trip at a + moment's notice and show Nina he didn't care a durn. Crazy notion of + humour.” He lay back languidly and covered his face with a large silk + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Barry Craven turned toward his host with amused curiosity in his grey + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” He asked at length. + </p> + <p> + Atherton returned his look with a slightly embarrassed smile. + </p> + <p> + “It hasn't been so blamed funny after all,” he said quietly. “A Chinese + coffin-ship from 'Frisco would be hilarious compared with this trip,” + rapped a sarcastic voice from behind the silk handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “I've felt a brute ever since we lost sight of Sandy Hook,” continued + Atherton, looking away toward the twinkling lights on shore, “and as soon + as we put in here I couldn't stand it any longer, so I cabled to Nina that + I was returning at once. I'm quite prepared to eat humble pie and all the + rest of it—in fact I shall relish it,” with a sudden shy laugh. + </p> + <p> + His brother heaved his vast bulk clear of the deck chair with a mighty + effort. + </p> + <p> + “Humble pie! Huh!” he snorted contemptuously. “She'll kill the fatted calf + and put a halo of glory round your head and invite in all the neighbours + 'for this my prodigal husband has returned to me!'” He ducked with + surprising swiftness to avoid a book that Atherton hurled at his head and + shook a chubby forefinger at him reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't assault the only guide, philosopher and friend you've got who has + the courage to tell you a few home truths. Say, Jermyn, d'y'know why I + finally consented to come on this crazy cruise, anyway? Because Nina got + me on the phone while you were hammering away at me at the club and + ordered me to go right along with you and see you didn't do any dam + foolishness. Oh, she's got me to heel right enough. Well! I guess I'll + turn in and get to sleep before those fool engines start chump-chumping + under my pillow. You boys will want a pow-wow to your two selves; there + are times when three is a crowd. Good-bye, Mr. Craven, pleased to have met + you. Hope to see you in the Adirondacks next summer—a bit more + crowded than the Rockies, which are Jermyn's Mecca, but more home comforts—appeal + to a man of my build.” He slipped away with the noiseless tread that is + habitual to heavy men. + </p> + <p> + Jermyn Atherton looked after his retreating figure and laughed + uproariously. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't he the darndest? A clam is communicative compared with Leslie. + Fancy him having that card up his sleeve all the while. Nina's had the + bulge on me right straight along.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed a cigar-box across the wicker table between them. + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks,” said Craven, taking a case from his pocket. “I'll have a + cigarette, if you don't mind.” + </p> + <p> + The American settled himself in his chair, his hands clasped behind his + head, staring at the harbour lights, his thoughts very obviously some + thousands of miles away. Craven watched him speculatively. Atherton the + big game-hunter, Atherton the mine-owner, he knew perfectly—but + Atherton the New York broker, Atherton married, he was unacquainted with + and he was trying to adjust and consolidate the two personalities. + </p> + <p> + It was the same Atherton—but more human, more humble, if such a word + could be applied to an American millionaire. He felt a sudden curiosity to + see the woman who had brought that new look into his old friend's keen + blue eyes. He was conscious of an odd feeling of envy. Atherton became + aware at last of his attentive gaze and grinned sheepishly. + </p> + <p> + “Must seem a bit of a fool to you, old man, but I feel like a boy going + home for the holidays and that's the truth. But I've been yapping about my + own affair all evening. What about you—staying on in Japan? Been + here quite a while now, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Just over a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Like it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Japan has got into my bones.” + </p> + <p> + “Lazy kind of life, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + There was no apparent change in Atherton's drawl, but Craven turned his + head quickly and looked at him before answering. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a lazy kind of fellow,” he replied quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You weren't lazy in the Rockies,” said Atherton sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes I was. There are grades of laziness.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton flung the stub of his cigar overboard and selecting a fresh one, + cut the end off carefully. + </p> + <p> + “Still got that Jap boy who was with you in America?” + </p> + <p> + “Yoshio? Yes. I picked him up in San Francisco ten years ago. He'll never + leave me now.” + </p> + <p> + “Saved his life, didn't you? He spun me a great yarn one day in camp.” + </p> + <p> + Craven laughed and shrugged. “Yoshio has an Oriental imagination and quite + a flair for romance. I did pull him out of a hole in 'Frisco but he was + putting up a very tidy little show on his own account. He's the toughest + little beggar I've ever come across and doesn't know the meaning of fear. + If I'm ever in a big scrap I hope I shall have Yoshio behind me.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be pretty well known over yonder,” said Atherton with a vague + movement of his head toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a big town and the foreign population is not vast. Besides, + there are traditions. I am the second Barry Craven to live in Yokohama—my + father lived several years and finally died here. He was obsessed with + Japan.” + </p> + <p> + “And with the Japanese?” + </p> + <p> + “And with the Japanese.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton frowned at the glowing end of his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Nina and I ran down to see Craven Towers when we were on our wedding trip + in England last year,” he said at length with seeming irrelevance. “Your + agent, Mr. Peters, ran us round.” + </p> + <p> + “Good old Peters,” murmured Craven lazily. “The place would have gone to + the bow-wows long ago if it hadn't been for him. He adored my mother and + has the worst possible opinion of me. But he's a loyal old bird, he + probably endowed me with all the virtues for your benefit.” + </p> + <p> + But Atherton ignored the comment. He polished his eyeglass vigorously and + screwed it firmly into position. + </p> + <p> + “If I was an Englishman with a place like Craven Towers that had been in + my family for generations,” he said soberly, “I should go home and marry a + nice girl and settle down on my estate.” + </p> + <p> + “That's precisely Peters' opinion,” replied Craven promptly with a + good-tempered laugh. “I get reams from him to that effect nearly every + mail—with detailed descriptions of all the eligible debutantes whom + he thinks suitable. I often wonder whether he runs the estate on the same + lines and keeps a matrimonial agency for the tenants.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton laughed with him but persisted. + </p> + <p> + “If your own countrywomen don't appeal to you, take a run out to the + States and see what we can do for you.” + </p> + <p> + The laugh died out of Craven's eyes and he moved restlessly in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “It's no good, Jermyn. I'm not a marrying man,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + Atherton smiled grimly at the recollection of a similar remark + emphatically uttered by himself at their last meeting. + </p> + <p> + For a time neither spoke. Each was conscious of a vague difference in the + other, developed during the years that had elapsed since their last + meeting—an intangible barrier checking the open confidence of + earlier days. + </p> + <p> + It was growing late. The sampans had nearly all disappeared and only an + occasional launch skimmed across the harbour. + </p> + <p> + A neighbouring yacht's band that had been silent for the last hour began + to play again—appropriately to the vicinity—Puccini's + well-known opera. The strains came subdued but clear across the water on + the scent-laden air. Craven sat forward in his chair, his heels on the + ground, his hands loosely clasped between his knees, whistling softly the + Consul's solo in the first act. From behind a cloud of cigar smoke + Atherton watched him keenly, and as he watched he was thinking rapidly. He + was used to making decisions quickly—he was accustomed to accepting + risks at which others shied, but the risk he was now contemplating meant + the taking of an unwarranted liberty that might be resented and might + result in the loss of a friendship that he valued. But he was going to + take the risk—as he had taken many another—he had known that + from the first. He screwed his eyeglass firmer into his eye, a + characteristic gesture well-known on the New York stock market. + </p> + <p> + “Ever see <i>Madame Butterfly</i>? he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton blew another big cloud of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Damn fool, Pinkerton,” he said gruffly, “Never could see the attraction + myself—dancing girls—almond eyes—and all that sort of + thing.” + </p> + <p> + Craven made no answer but his whistling stopped suddenly and the knuckles + of his clasped hands whitened. Atherton looked away quickly and his + eyeglass fell with a little tinkle against a waistcoat button. There was + another long pause. Finally the music died away and the stillness was + broken only by the soft slap-slap of the water against the ship's side. + </p> + <p> + Atherton scowled at his immaculate deck shoes and then seized his eyeglass + again decisively. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Barry, you saved my life in the Rockies that trip and I guess a + fellow whose life you've saved has a pull on you no one else has. Anyhow + I'll chance it, and if I'm a damned interfering meddler it's up to you to + say so and I'll apologise—handsomely. Are you in a hole?” + </p> + <p> + Craven got up, walked away to the side of the yacht and leaning on the + rail stared down into the water. A solitary sampan was passing the broad + streak of moonlight and he watched it intently until it passed and merged + into the shadows beyond. + </p> + <p> + “I've been the usual fool,” he said at last quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hell!” came softly from behind him. “Chuck it, Barry. Clear out right + now—with us. I'll put off sailing until tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I—can't.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton rose and joined him, and for a moment his hand rested on the + younger man's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry—dashed sorry,” he murmured. “Gee!” he added with a half + shy, half humorous glance, wiping his forehead frankly, “I'd rather face a + grizzly than do that again. Leslie keeps telling me that my habit of + butting in will land me in the family vault before my time.” + </p> + <p> + Craven smiled wryly. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right. I'm grateful—really. But I must hoe my own row.” + </p> + <p> + The American swung irresolutely on his heels. + </p> + <p> + “That's so, that's so,” he agreed reluctantly. “Oh damn it all,” he burst + out, “have a drink!” and going back to the table he pounded in the stopper + of a soda-water-bottle savagely. + </p> + <p> + Craven laughed constrainedly as he tilted the whisky into a glass. + </p> + <p> + “Universal panacea,” he said a little bitterly, “but it's not my method of + oblivion.” + </p> + <p> + He put the peg tumbler down with a smothered sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I must be off, Jermyn. It's time you were getting under way. It's been + like the old days to have had a yarn with you again. Good luck and a quick + run home—you lucky devil.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton walked with him to the head of the gangway and watched him into + the launch. + </p> + <p> + “We shall count on you for the Adirondacks in the summer,” he called out + cheerily, leaning far over the rail. + </p> + <p> + Craven looked up with a smile and waved his hand, but did not answer and + the motor boat shot away toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + He landed on the big pier and lingered for a moment to watch the launch + speeding back to the yacht. Then he walked slowly down the length of the + stage and at the entrance found his rickshaw waiting. The two men who were + squatting on the ground leaped up at his approach and one hurriedly lit a + great dragon-painted paper lantern while the other held out a light + dustcoat. Craven tossed it into the rickshaw and silently pointing toward + the north, climbed in. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. The men sprang + away in a quick dog-trot along the Bund, and then started to climb the + hillside at the back of the town. They wound slowly up the narrow tortuous + roads, past numberless villas, hung with lights, from which voices floated + out into the quiet air. + </p> + <p> + The moon was brilliant and the night wonderfully light, but Craven paid no + attention to the beauty of the scene or to the gaily lit villas. + Atherton's invitation had been curiously hard to decline and even now an + almost overpowering desire came over him to bid his men retrace their + steps to the harbour. Then hard on the heels of that desire came thoughts + that softened the hard lines that had gathered about his mouth. He pitched + his cigarette away as if with it he threw from him an actual temptation, + and resolutely put out of his mind Atherton and the suggestion of flight. + </p> + <p> + Still climbing upward the rickshaw passed the last of the outlying + European villas and turned down a side road where there were no houses. + For a couple of miles the men raced along a level track cut on the side of + a hill that rose steeply on the one hand and on the other fell away + precipitously down to the sea until they halted with a sudden jerk beside + a wooden gateway with a creeper-covered roof on either side of which two + matsu trees stood like tall sentinels. + </p> + <p> + Waiting by the open gate was a short, powerful looking Japanese dressed in + European clothes. He came forward as Craven alighted and gathering up the + coat and hat from the floor of the rickshaw, dismissed the Japanese who + vanished further along the road into the shadows. Then he turned and + waited for his master to precede him through the gateway, but Craven + signed to him to go on, and as the man disappeared up the garden path he + crossed the road and standing on the edge of the cliff looked down across + the harbour. The American yacht was the biggest craft of her kind in the + roads and easily discernible in the moonlight. The brilliant deck + illumination had been shut off and only a few lights showed. He gave a + quick sigh. Atherton's coming had been like a bar drawn suddenly across + the stream down which he was drifting. If Jermyn had only come last year! + The envy he had felt earlier in the evening increased. He thought of the + look he had seen in Atherton's eyes and the intonation of his voice when + the American spoke of the wife to whom he was returning. What did love + like that mean to a man? What factor in Atherton's strenuous and + adventurous life had affected him as this had done? What were the ethics + of a love that rose purely above physical attraction—environment—temperament; + a love that grew and strengthened and absorbed until it ceased to be a + part of life and became life itself—the main issue, the fundamental + essence? + </p> + <p> + And as Craven watched he saw the yacht steam slowly down the bay. He drew + a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “You lucky, lucky devil,” he whispered again and swung on his heel. He + paused for a moment just within the gateway where on the only level part + of the garden lay a miniature lake, hedged round with bamboo, clumps of + oleander, fed by a little twisting stream that came tumbling and splashing + down the hillside in a series of tiny waterfalls, its banks fringed with + azalea bushes and slender cherry trees. Then he walked slowly along the + path that led upward, winding to and fro through clusters of pines and + cedars and over mossy slopes to the little house which stood in a clearing + at the top of the garden surrounded by fir trees and backed by a high + creeper-clad palisade. + </p> + <p> + From the wide verandah, built out on piles over the terrace, there was an + uninterrupted view of the harbour. He climbed the four wooden stairs and + on the top step turned and looked again down on to the bay. The yacht was + now invisible, but in his mind he followed her slipping down toward the + open sea. And Atherton—what were his thoughts while pacing the broad + deck or lying in his cabin listening to the screw whose every revolution + was taking him nearer the centre of his earthly happiness? Were they + anything like his own, he wondered, as he stood there bareheaded in the + moonlight, looking strangely big and incongruous on the balcony of the + little fairylike doll's house? + </p> + <p> + He shrugged impatiently. The comparison was an insult, he thought + bitterly. Again he stared out to sea, straining his eyes; trying vainly to + pick up the yacht's lights far down the bay. It was very still, a tiny + breeze whispered in the pines and drifted across his face the sweet + perfume of a flowering shrub. A cicada chirped in the grass at his feet. + </p> + <p> + Then behind him came a faint rustle of silk. He heard the soft sibilant + sound of a breath drawn quickly in. + </p> + <p> + “Will my lord honourably be pleased to enter?” the voice was very low and + sweet and the English very slow and careful. + </p> + <p> + Craven did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Try again, O Hara San.” + </p> + <p> + A low bubble of girlish laughter rippled out. + </p> + <p> + “Please to come in, Bar-ree.” + </p> + <p> + He turned slowly, looking bigger than ever by contrast with the slender + little Japanese girl who faced him. She was barely seventeen, dainty and + fragile as a porcelain figure, wholly in keeping with her exquisite + setting and yet the flush on her cheeks—free from the thick + disfiguring white paste used by the women of her country—and the + vivid animation of her face were oddly occidental, and the eyes raised so + eagerly to Craven's were as grey as his own. + </p> + <p> + He held out his arms and she fluttered into them with a little breathless + murmur, clinging to him passionately. + </p> + <p> + “Little O Hara San,” he said gently as she pressed closer to him. He + tilted her head, stooping to kiss the tiny mouth that trembled at the + touch of his lips. She closed her eyes and he felt an almost convulsive + shudder shake her. + </p> + <p> + “Have you missed me, O Hara San?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a thousand moons since you are gone,” she whispered unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “Are you glad to see me?” + </p> + <p> + Her grey eyes opened suddenly with a look of utter content and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Bar-ree. Oh, Bar-ree!” + </p> + <p> + His face clouded, the teasing word that rose to his lips died away + unspoken and he pressed her head against him almost roughly to hide the + look of trusting devotion that suddenly hurt him. For a few moments she + lay still, then slipped free of his arms and stood before him, swaying + slightly from side to side, her hands busily patting her hair into order + and smiling up at him happily. + </p> + <p> + “Being very rude. Forgetting honourable hospitality. You please forgive?” + </p> + <p> + She backed a few steps toward the doorway and her pliant figure bent for + an instant in the prescribed form of Japanese courtesy and salutation. + Then she clasped both hands together with a little cry of dismay. “Oh, so + sorree,” she murmured in contrition, “forgot honourable lord forbidding + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Your honourable lord will beat you with a very big stick if you forget + again,” said Craven laughing as he followed her into the little room. O + Hara San pouted her scarlet lips at him and laughed softly as she subsided + on to a mat on the floor and clapped her hands. Craven sat down opposite + her more slowly. In spite of the months he had spent in Japan he still + found it difficult to adapt his long legs to the national attitude. + </p> + <p> + In answer to the summons an old armah brought tea and little rice cakes + which O Hara San dispensed with great dignity and seriousness. She drank + innumerable cupfuls while Craven took three or four to please her and then + lit a cigarette. He smoked in silence watching the dainty little kneeling + figure, following the quick movements of her hands as she manipulated the + fragile china on the low stool before her, the restraint she imposed upon + herself as she struggled with the excited happiness that manifested itself + in the rapid heaving of her bosom, and the transient smile on her lips, + and a heavy frown gathered on his face. She looked up suddenly, the tiny + cup poised in her hand midway to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “You happy in Tokio?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + It was not the answer for which she had hoped and her eyes dropped at the + curt monosyllable. She put the cup back on the tray and folded her hands + in her lap with a faint little sigh of disappointment, her head drooping + pensively. Craven knew instinctively that he had hurt her and hated + himself. It was like striking a child. But presently she looked up again + and gazed at him soberly, wrinkling her forehead in unconscious imitation + of his. + </p> + <p> + “O Hara San very bad selfish girl. Hoping you very <i>un</i>happy in + Tokio,” she said contritely. + </p> + <p> + He laughed at the naive confession and the gloom vanished from his face as + he stood up, his long limbs cramped with the uncongenial attitude. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing while I was away?” he asked, crossing the room + to look at a new kakemono on the wall. + </p> + <p> + She flitted away silently and returned in a few moments carrying a small + panel. She put it into his hands, drawing near to him within the arm he + slipped round her and slanted her head against him, waiting for his + criticism with the innate patience of her race. + </p> + <p> + Craven looked long at the painting. It was a study of a solitary fir tree, + growing at the edge of a cliff—wind-swept, rugged. The high + precipice on which it stood was only suggested and far below there was a + hint of boundless ocean—foam-crested. + </p> + <p> + It was the tree that gripped attention—a lonely outpost, clinging + doggedly to its jutting headland, rearing its head proudly in its + isolation; the wind seemed to rustle through its branches, its gnarled + trunk showed rough and weather-beaten. It was a poem of loneliness and + strength. + </p> + <p> + At last Craven laid it down carefully, and gathering up the slender + clasped hands, kissed them silently. The mute homage was more to her than + words. The colour rushed to her cheeks and her eyes devoured his face + almost hungrily. + </p> + <p> + “You like it?” she whispered wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Like it?” he echoed, “Gad! little girl, it's wonderful. It's more than a + fir tree—it's power, tenacity, independence. I know that all your + work is symbolical to you. What does the tree mean—Japan?” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head away, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her fingers + gripping his. + </p> + <p> + “It means—more to me than Japan,” she murmured. “More to me than + life—it means—you,” she added almost inaudibly. + </p> + <p> + He swept her up into his arms and carrying her out on to the verandah, + dropped into a big cane chair that was a concession to his western limbs. + </p> + <p> + “You make a god of me, O Hara San,” he said huskily. + </p> + <p> + “You are my god,” she answered simply, and as he expostulated she laid her + soft palm over his mouth and nestled closer into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “I talk now,” she said quaintly. “I have much to tell.” + </p> + <p> + But the promised news did not seem forthcoming for she grew silent again, + lying quietly content, rubbing her head caressingly from time to time + against his arm and twisting his watch-chain round her tiny fingers. + </p> + <p> + The night was very quiet. No sound came from within the house, and without + only the soft wind murmuring in the trees, cicadas chirping unceasingly + and the little river dashing down the hillside, splashing noisily, broke + the stillness. Nature, the sleepless, was awake making her influence felt + with the kindly natural sounds that mitigate the awe of absolute silence—sounds + that harmonized with the peacefulness of the little garden. Tonight the + contrast between Yokohama, with its pitiful western vulgarity obtruding at + every turn, and the quiet beauty of his surroundings struck Craven even + more sharply than usual. It seemed impossible that only two miles away was + Theatre Street blazing and rioting with all its tinsel tawdriness, flaring + lights and whining gramophones. Here was another world—and here he + had found more continuous contentment than he had known in the last ten + years. The garden was an old one, planned by a master hand. By day it was + lovely, but by night it took on a weird beauty that was almost unreal. The + light of the moon cast strong black shadows, deep and impenetrable, that + hovered among the trees like sinister spirits lurking in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + The trees themselves, contorted in the moonlight, assumed strange forms—vague + shapes played in and out among them—the sombre bushes seemed alive + with peeping faces. It was the Garden of Enchantment, peopled with a + thousand djinns and demons of Old Japan. The atmosphere was mysterious, + the air was saturated with sweet heavy scents. + </p> + <p> + Craven was a passionate lover of the night. The darkness, the silence, the + mystery of it appealed to him. He was familiar with its every phase in + many climates. It enticed him for long solitary rambles in all the + countries he had visited during the ten years of his wanderings. Nature, + always fascinating, was then to him doubly attractive, doubly alluring. To + the night he went for sympathy. To the night he went for inspiration. It + was during his midnight wanderings that he seemed to get nearer the + fundamental root of things. It was to the night he turned for consolation + in times of need. It was then that he exorcised the demon of unrest that + entered into him periodically. All his life the charm of the night had + called to him and all his life he had responded obediently. As a tiny boy + one of his earliest recollections was of slipping out of bed and, evading + nurses and servants, stealing out into the park at Craven Towers to seek + the healing of the night for some childish heartache. He had crept down + the long avenue and climbing the iron fence had perched on the rail and + watched the deer feeding by the light of the moon until all the sorrow had + been chased away and his baby heart was singing with a kind of delirious + happiness that he did not understand and that gave way in its turn to a + natural childish enjoyment of an adventure that was palpably forbidden. He + had slid down from the fence and retraced his steps up the avenue until he + came to the path that led to the rose garden and eventually to the terrace + near the house. He had trotted along on his little bare feet, shivering + now and then, but more from excitement than from cold, until he had come + to the long flight of stone steps that led to the terrace. He had + laboriously climbed them one foot at a time, his toes curling at the + contact with the chill stone, and at the top he had halted suddenly, + holding his breath. Close to him was a tall indistinct figure wrapped in + dark draperies. For a moment fear gripped him and then an immense + curiosity swamped every other feeling and he moved forward cautiously. The + tall figure had turned suddenly and it was his mother's sad girlish face + that looked down at him. She had lifted him up into her arms, wrapping her + warm cloak round his slightly clad little body—she had asked no + questions and she had not scolded. She had seemed to understand, even + though he gave no explanation, and it was the beginning of a sympathy + between them that had developed to an unusual degree and lasted until her + death, ten years ago. She had hugged him tightly and he had always + remembered, without fully understanding in his childhood, the half + incredulous, half regretful whisper in his ear, “Has it come to you so + soon, little son?” + </p> + <p> + The hereditary instinct, born thus, had grown with his own growth from + boyhood to manhood until it was an integral part of himself. + </p> + <p> + And the lure of the eastern nights—more marvellous and compelling + even than in colder climates—had become almost an obsession. + </p> + <p> + Little O Hara San, firm believer in all devils, djinns and midnight + workers of mischief, had grown accustomed to the eccentricities of the man + who was her whole world. If it pleased him to spend long hours of the + night sitting on the verandah when ordinary folk were sensibly shut up in + their houses she did not care so long as she might be with him. No demon + in Japan could harm her while she lay securely in his strong arms. And if + unpleasant shadows crept uncomfortably near the little house she + resolutely turned her head and hiding her face against him shut out all + disagreeable sights and slept peacefully, confident in his ability to keep + far from her all danger. Her love was boundless and her trust absolute. + But tonight there was no thought of sleep. For three long weeks she had + not seen him and during that time for her the sun had ceased to shine. She + had counted each hour until his return and she could not waste the + precious moments now that he had really come. The djinns and devils in the + garden might present themselves in all their hideousness if it so pleased + them but tonight she was heedless of them. She had eyes for nothing but + the man she worshipped. Even in his silent moods she was content. It was + enough to feel his arms about her, to hear his heart beating rhythmically + beneath her head and, lying so, to look up and see the firm curve of his + chin and the slight moustache golden brown against his tanned cheek. + </p> + <p> + She stirred slightly in his arms with a little sigh of happiness, and the + faint movement woke him from his abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “Sleepy?” he asked gently. + </p> + <p> + She laughed gaily at the suggestion and sat up to show how wide awake she + was. The light from a lantern fell full on her face and Craven studied it + with an intensity of which he was hardly aware. She bore his scrutiny in + silence for a few moments and then looked away with a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Thinking me very ugly?” she hazarded tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “No. Very pretty,” he replied truthfully. She leaned forward and laid her + cheek for a second against his, then cuddled down into his arms again with + a happy laugh. He lit a cigarette and tossed the match over the verandah + rail. + </p> + <p> + “What is your news, O Hara San?” + </p> + <p> + She did not speak for a moment, and when she did it was no answer to his + question. She reached up her hands and drawing his head down toward her, + looked earnestly into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You loving me?” she asked a little tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “You know I love you,” he answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Very much?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flickered and her hands released their hold. + </p> + <p> + “Men not loving like women,” she murmured at length wistfully. And then + suddenly, with her face hidden against him, she told him—of the + fulfilling of all her hope, the supreme desire of eastern women, pouring + out her happiness in quick passionate sentences, her body shaking with + emotion, her fingers gripping his convulsively. + </p> + <p> + Craven sat aghast. It was a possibility of which he had always been aware + but which with other unpleasant contingencies he had relegated to the + background of his mind. He had put it from him and had drifted, careless + and indifferent. And now the shadowy possibility had become a definite + reality and he was faced with a problem that horrified him. His cigarette, + neglected, burnt down until it reached his fingers and he flung it away + with a sharp exclamation. He did not speak and the girl lay motionless, + chilled with his silence, her happiness slowly dying within her, vaguely + conscious of a dim fear that terrified her. Was the link that she had + craved to bind them closer together to be useless after all? Was this + happiness that he had given her, the culminating joy of all the goodness + and kindness that he had lavished on her, no happiness to him? The thought + stabbed poignantly. She choked back a sob and raised her head, but at the + sight of his face the question she would have asked froze on her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Bar-ree! you are not angry with me?” she whispered desperately. + </p> + <p> + “How could I be angry with you?” he replied evasively. She shivered and + clenched her teeth, but the question she feared must be asked. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not glad?” it was a cry of entreaty. He did not speak and with a + low moan she tried to free herself from him but she was powerless in his + hold, and soon she ceased to struggle and lay still, sobbing bitterly. He + drew her closer into his arms and laid his cheek on her dark hair, seeking + for words of comfort, and finding none. She had read the dismay in his + face, had in vain waited for him to speak and no tardy lie would convince + her now. He had wounded her cruelly and he could make no amends. He had + failed her at the one moment when she had most need of him. He cursed + himself bitterly. Gradually her sobs subsided and her hand slipped into + his clutching it tightly. She sat up at last with a little sigh, pushing + the heavy hair off her forehead wearily, and forcing herself to meet his + eyes—looked at him sorrowfully, with quivering lips. + </p> + <p> + “Please forgive, Bar-ree,” she whispered humbly and her humility hurt him + more even than her distress. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to forgive, O Hara San,” he said awkwardly, and as she + sought to go this time he did not keep her. She walked to the edge of the + verandah and stared down into the garden. Problematical ghosts and demons + paled to insignificance before this real trouble. She fought with herself + gallantly, crushing down her sorrow and disappointment and striving to + regain the control she had let slip. Her feminine code Was simple—complete + abnegation and self-restraint. And she had broken down under the first + trial! He would despise her, the daughter of a race trained from childhood + to conceal suffering and to suppress all signs of emotion. He would never + understand that it was the alien blood that ran in her veins and the + contact with himself that had caused her to abandon the stoicism of her + people, that had made her reveal her sorrow. He had laughed at her + undemonstrativeness, demanding expressions and proofs of her affection + that were wholly foreign to her upbringing until her Oriental reserve had + slipped from her whose only wish was to please him. She had adopted his + manners, she had made his ways her ways, forgetting the bar that separated + them. But tonight the racial difference of temperament had risen up + vividly between them. Her joy was not his joy. If he had been a Japanese + he would have understood. But he did not understand and she must hide both + joy and sorrow. It was his contentment not hers that mattered. All through + these last months of wonderful happiness there had lurked deep down in her + heart a fear that it would not last, and she had dreaded lest any + unwitting act of hers might hasten the catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + She glanced back furtively over her shoulder. Craven was leaning forward + in the cane chair with his head in his hands and she looked away hastily, + blinded with tears. She had troubled him—distressed him. She had + “made a scene”—the phrase, read in some English book, flashed + through her mind. Englishmen hated scenes. She gripped herself resolutely + and when he left his chair and joined her she smiled at him bravely. + </p> + <p> + “See, all the djinns are gone, Bar-ree,” she said with a little nervous + laugh. + </p> + <p> + He guessed the struggle she was making and chimed in with her mood. + </p> + <p> + “Sensible fellows,” he said lightly, tapping a cigarette on the verandah + rail. “Gone home to bed I expect. Time you went to bed too. I'll just + smoke this cigarette.” But as she turned away obediently, he caught her + back, with a sudden exclamation: + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! I nearly forgot.” + </p> + <p> + He took a tiny package from his pocket and gave it to her. Girlishly eager + her fingers shook with excitement as she ripped the covering from a small + gold case attached to a slender chain. She pressed the spring and uttered + a little cry of delight. The miniature of Craven had been painted by a + French artist visiting Yokohama and was a faithful portrait. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bar-ree,” she gasped with shining eyes, lifting her face like a child + for his kiss. She leaned against him studying the painting earnestly, + appreciating the mastery of a fellow craftsman, ecstatically happy—then + she slipped the chain over her head and closing the case tucked it away + inside her kimono. + </p> + <p> + “Now I have two,” she murmured softly. + </p> + <p> + “Two?” said Craven pausing as he lighted his cigarette. “What do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, I show,” she replied and vanished into the house. She was back in a + moment holding in her hand another locket. He took it from her and moved + closer under the lantern to look at it. It hung from a thick twisted cable + of gold, and set round with pearls it was bigger and heavier than the + dainty case O Hara San had hidden against her heart. For a moment he + hesitated, overcoming an inexplicable reluctance to open it—then he + snapped the spring sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” he whispered slowly through dry lips. And yet he had known, + known intuitively before the lid flew back, for it was the second time + that he had handled such a locket—the first he had seen and left + lying on his dead mother's breast. + </p> + <p> + He stood as if turned to stone, staring with horror at the replica of his + own face lying in the hollow of his hand. The thick dark hair, the golden + brown moustache, the deep grey eyes—all were the same. Only the chin + in the picture was different for it was hidden by a short pointed beard; + so was it in the miniature that was buried with his mother, so was it in + the big portrait that hung in the dining-room at Craven Towers. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave you this?” he asked thickly, and O Hara San stared at him in + bewilderment, frightened at the strangeness of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” she said wonderingly. “He was Bar-ree, too. See,” she added + pointing with a slender forefinger to the name engraved inside the case. + </p> + <p> + A nightbird shrieked weirdly close to the house and a sudden gust of wind + moaned through the pine trees. The sweat stood out on Craven's forehead in + great drops and the cigarette, fallen from his hand, lay smouldering on + the matting at his feet. + </p> + <p> + He pulled the girl to him and turning her face up stared down into the + great grey eyes, piteous now with unknown fear, and cursed his blindness. + Often the unrecognised likeness had puzzled him. He dropped the miniature + and ground it savagely to powder with his heel, heedless of O Hara San's + sharp cry of distress, and turned to the railing gripping it with shaking + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Damn him, damn him!” + </p> + <p> + Why had instinct never warned him? Why had he, knowing the girl's mixed + parentage and knowing his own family history, made no inquiries? A wave of + sick loathing swept over him. His head reeled. He turned to O Hara San + crouched sobbing on the matting over the little heap of crushed gold and + pearls. Was there still a loop-hole? + </p> + <p> + “What was he to you?” he said hoarsely, and he did not recognise his own + voice. + </p> + <p> + She looked up fearfully, then shrank back with a cry—hiding her eyes + to shut out the distorted face that bent over her. + </p> + <p> + “He was my father,” she whispered almost inaudibly. But it sounded to + Craven as if she had shouted it from the housetop. Without a word he + turned from her and stumbled toward the verandah steps. He must get away, + he must be alone—alone with the night to wrestle with this ghastly + tangle. + </p> + <p> + O Hara San sprang to her feet in terror. She did not understand what had + happened. Her mother had rarely spoken of the man who had first betrayed + and then deserted her—she had loved him too faithfully; with the + girl's limited experience all western faces seemed curiously alike and the + similarity of an uncommon name conveyed nothing to her for she did not + realize that it was uncommon. She could not comprehend this terrible + change in the man who had never been anything but gentle with her. She + only knew that he was going, that something inexplicable was taking him + from her. A wild scream burst from her lips and she sprang across the + verandah, clinging to him frantically, her upturned face beseeching, + striving to hold him. + </p> + <p> + “Bar-ree, Bar-ree! you must not go. I die without you. Bar-ree! my love—” + Her voice broke in a frightened whisper as he caught her head in his hands + and stared down at her with eyes that terrified her. + </p> + <p> + “Your—love?” he repeated with a strange ring in his voice, and then + he laughed—a terrible laugh that echoed horribly in the silent night + and seemed to snap some tension in his brain. He tore away her hands and + fled down the steps into the garden. He ran blindly, instinctively turning + to the hillside track that led further into the country, climbing steadily + upward, seeking the solitary woods. He did not hear the girl's shriek of + despair, did not see her fall unconscious on the matting, he did not see a + lithe figure that bounded from the back of the house nor hear the feet + that tracked him. He heard and saw nothing. His brain was dulled. His only + impulse was that of the wounded animal—to hide himself alone with + nature and the night. He plunged on up the hillside climbing fiercely, + tirelessly, wading mountain streams and forcing his way through thick + brushwood. He had taken, off his coat earlier in the evening and his silk + shirt was ripped to ribbons. His hair lay wet against his forehead and his + cheek dripped blood where a splintered bamboo had torn it, but he did not + feel it. He came at last to a tiny clearing in the forest where the moon + shone through a break in the trees. There he halted, rocking unsteadily on + his feet, passing his hand across his face to clear the blood and + perspiration from his eyes, and then dropped like a log. The next moment + the bushes parted and his Japanese servant crept noiselessly to his side. + He bent down over him for an instant. Craven lay motionless with his face + hidden in his arms, but as the Jap watched a shudder shook him from head + to foot and the man backed cautiously, disappearing among the bushes as + silently as he had come. + </p> + <p> + The breeze died away and it was quite still within the moonlit clearing. A + broad shaft of cold white light fell directly on the prone figure. He was + morally stunned and for a long time the agony of his mind was blunted. But + gradually the first shock passed and full realization rushed over him. His + hands dug convulsively into the soft earth and he writhed at his + helplessness. What he had done was irremediable. It was a sudden + thunderbolt that had flashed across his clear sky. This morning the sun + had shone as usual and everything had seemed serene to him whose life had + always been easy—tonight he was wrestling in a hell of his own + making. Why had it come to him? He knew that his life had been + comparatively blameless. Why should this one sin, so common throughout the + world, recoil on him so terribly? Why should he, among all the thousands + of men who had sinned similarly, be reserved for such a nemesis? Why of + him alone should such a reckoning be demanded? Surely the fault was not + his. Surely it lay with the man who had wrecked his mother's life and + broken her heart, the man who had neglected his duties and repudiated his + responsibilities and who had been faithful to neither wife nor mistress. + He was to blame. At the thought of his father an access of rage passed + over Craven and he cursed him in a kind of dull fury. His fingers gripped + the ground as if they were about the throat of the man whom he hated with + all the strength of his being. The mystery of his father had always lain + like a shadow across his life. It was a subject that his mother had + refused to discuss. He shivered now when he realized the agony his + perpetual boyish questions must have caused her. His petulance because + “other fellows' fathers” could be produced when necessary and were not + shrouded away in unexplained obscurity. He remembered her unfailing + patience with him, the consistent loyalty she had shown toward the husband + who had failed her so utterly, the courage with which she had taken the + absent father's place with the son whom she idolized. He understood now + her intolerant hatred of Japan and the Japanese, an intolerance for which—in + his ignorance—he had often teased her. One memory came to him with + striking vividness—a winter evening, in the dawn of his early + manhood, when they had been sitting after dinner in the library at Craven + Towers—his mother lying on the sofa that had been rolled up before + the fire, and himself sprawled on the hearthrug at her feet. Already tall + and strong beyond his years and confident in the full flush of his + adolescence he had launched into a glowing anticipation of the life that + lay before him. He had noticed that his mother's answers were monosyllabic + and vague, and then when he had broken off, hurt at her seeming lack of + interest, she had suddenly spoken—telling him what she had all the + evening nerved herself to say. Her voice had faltered once or twice but + she had steadied it bravely and gone on to the end, shirking nothing, + evading nothing, dealing faithfully with the whole sex problem as far as + she was able—outraging her own reserve that her son might learn the + pitfalls and temptations that would assuredly lie in wait for him, + sacrificing her own modesty that he might remain chaste. He remembered the + vivid flush that had risen to his face and the growing sense of hot + discomfort with which he had listened to her low voice; his half grateful, + half shocked feeling. But it was not until he had glanced furtively at her + through his thick lashes and seen her shamed scarlet cheeks and quivering + downcast eyes that he had realized what it cost her and the courage that + had made it possible for her to speak. He had mumbled incoherently, his + face hidden against her knee, and with innate chivalry had kissed the + little white hand he held between his own great brown ones—“Keep + clean, Barry,” she had whispered tremulously, her hand on his ruffled hair—“only + keep clean.” + </p> + <p> + And later on in the same evening she had spoken to him of the woman who + would one day inevitably enter his life. “Be gentle to her, Barry-boy, you + are such a great strong fellow, and women, even the strongest women, are + weak compared with men. We are poor creatures, the best of us, we <i>bruise</i> + so easily,” she had said with a laugh that was more than half a sob. And + for his mother's sake he had vowed to be gentle to all women who might + cross his path. And how had he kept his vow? Tonight his egoism had + swallowed his oath and he had fled like a coward to be alone with his + misery. A great sob rose in his throat. Craven by name and craven by + nature he thought bitterly and he cursed again the father who had + bequeathed him such an inheritance, but as he did so he stopped suddenly + for a soft clear voice sounded close to his ear. “No man need be fettered + for life by an inherited weakness. Every man who is worthy of the name can + rise above hereditary deficiencies.” He lay tense and his heart gave a + great throb and then he remembered. The voice was inward—it was only + another memory, an echo of the young mother who had died, ten years + before. Overwhelming shame filled him. “Mother, Mother!” he whispered + chokingly, and deep tearing sobs shook his broad shoulders. The moon had + passed beyond the break in the trees and it was dark now in the little + clearing and to the man who lay stripped of all his illusions the + blackness was merciful. He saw himself as he was clearly—his + selfishness, his arrogance, his pride, and a nausea of self-hatred filled + him. The eagerness with which he had sought to lay on his father the blame + of his own sin now seemed to him despicable. He would always hate the + memory of the man whose neglect had killed his mother, but the + responsibility for this horror rested on himself. He had made his own hell + and the burden of it lay with him only. That he had never known the manner + of his father's life in Japan and that during the time he had himself been + living in Yokohama he had cared to make no inquiries was no excuse. He + alone was to blame. + </p> + <p> + The air seemed suddenly stifling, his head throbbed and he panted + breathlessly. Then as suddenly the sensation passed and he rolled over on + his back with a deep sigh, his limbs relaxed, too weary to move. For a + long time he lay until the first pale streaks of early dawn showed above + the tree tops, then he sat up with a shiver and looked around curiously at + the silent trees and bamboo clumps that had witnessed his agony. His head + ached intolerably, his mouth was parched and the cut in his cheek was + stiff and sore. He staggered to his feet and stood a moment holding his + head in his hands and the thought of O Hara San persisted urgently. He + shivered again as the image of the girl's distraught face and pleading + eyes rose before him—in a few hours he would have to go to her and + the thought of the interview sickened him. But he could not go now, his + appearance would terrify her, she might be asleep and he could not wake + her if nature had mercifully obliterated her sorrow for a few hours. In + his mad flight he had lost all sense of distance and locality, but as the + dawn grew stronger he recognised his surroundings and started to tramp to + his own bungalow at the top of the Bluff. He stumbled through the woods, + hurrying wearily to reach home before the full light. It was still dusk + when he arrived and crossing the verandah went into his bedroom and flung + himself, dressed as he was, on to the bed. And the stealthy footsteps that + had tracked him through the night followed softly and stopped outside the + open doorway. The Jap stood for a few moments listening intently. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Craven woke abruptly a few hours later with a spasmodic muscular + contraction that jerked him into a sitting position. Half dazed as yet + with sleep he swung his heels to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed + looking stupidly at his dusty boots and earth-stained fingers. Then + remembrance came and he clenched his hands with a stifled groan. He drank + thirstily the tea that was on a table beside him and went to the open + window. As he crossed the room the reflection of his blood-stained haggard + face, seen in a mirror, startled him. A bath and clean clothes were + indispensable before he went back to the lonely little house on the + hillside. He lingered for a few minutes by the window, glad of the cool + morning breeze blowing against his face, trying to pull himself together, + trying to brace himself to meet the consequences of his folly, trying to + drag his disordered thoughts into something approaching coherence. He + stared down over the bay and the sunlit waters mocked him with their + dancing ripples sliding lightheartedly one after the other toward the + shore. The view that he looked upon had been until this morning a + never-failing source of pleasure, now it moved him to nothing but the + recollection of the hackneyed line in the old hymn—“where only man + is vile,” and he was vile—with all power of compensation taken from + him. To some was given the chance of making reparation. For him there was + no chance. He could do nothing to mitigate the injury he had done. She + whom he had wronged must suffer for him and he was powerless to avert that + suffering. His helplessness overwhelmed him. O Hara San, little O Hara + San, who had given unstintingly, with eager generous hands. His face was + set as he turned from the window and, starting to pull off his torn shirt, + called for Yoshio. But no Yoshio was forthcoming and at his second + impatient shout another Japanese servant bowed himself in, and, kowtowing, + intimated that Yoshio had already gone on the honourable lord's errand and + would there await him, and that in the meantime his honourable bath was + prepared and his honourable breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + Craven paused with his shirt half off. + </p> + <p> + “What errand?” he said, perplexed, unaware that he was asking the question + audibly. + </p> + <p> + The man bowed again, with hands outspread, and gravely shook his head + conveying his total ignorance of a matter that was beyond his province, + but the pantomime was lost on Craven who was wrestling with his shirt and + not even aware that he had spoken aloud. It was the first time in ten + years' service that Yoshio had failed to answer a call and Craven wondered + irritably what could have taken him away at that time in the morning, and + concluded that it was some order given by himself the day before, now + forgotten, so dismissing Yoshio and his affairs from his mind he signed to + the still gently explaining servant to go. + </p> + <p> + His brain felt dull and tired, his thoughts were chaotic. He saw before + him no clear course. Whichever way he looked at it the horrible tangle + grew more horrible. There was a recurring sense of unreality, a visionary + feeling of detachment which enabled him to view the situation from an + impersonal standpoint, as one criticises a nightmare, confident in the + knowledge that it is only a dream. But in this case the confidence was + based on nothing tangible and the illusion faded as quickly as it rose and + left him confronted with the brutal truth from which there was no escape. + </p> + <p> + In the dressing room everything that he needed had been laid out in + readiness for him, and he dressed mechanically with a feverish haste that + struggled ineffectually with a refractory collar stud, and caused him to + execrate heartily the absent valet and his enigmatical errand. Another ten + minutes was lost while he hunted for his watch and cigarette case which he + suddenly remembered were in the coat that he had left at the little house. + Or had he searched genuinely? Had he not rather been—perhaps + unconsciously—procrastinating, shrinking from the task he had in + hand, putting off the evil moment? He swung on his heel violently and + passed out on to the verandah. But at the head of the steps a vigilant + figure rose up, bowing obsequiously, announcing blandly that breakfast was + waiting. + </p> + <p> + Craven frowned at him a moment until the meaning of the words filtered + through to his tired brain, then he pushed him aside roughly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damn breakfast!” he cried savagely, and cramming his sun helmet on + his head ran down the garden path to the waiting rickshaw. It never + occurred to him to wonder how it came to be there at an unusual hour. He + huddled in the back of the rickshaw, his helmet over his eyes. His nerves + were raw, his mind running in uncontrollable riot. The way had never + seemed so long. He looked up impatiently. The rickshaw was crawling. The + slow progress and the forced inaction galled him and a dozen times he was + on the point of calling to the men to stop and jumping out, but he forced + himself to sit quietly, watching the play of their abnormally developed + muscles showing plainly through the thin cotton garments that clung to + their sweat-drenched bodies, while they toiled up the steep roads. And + today the sight of the men's straining limbs and heaving chests moved him + more than usual. He used a rickshaw of necessity, and had never overcome + his distaste for them. + </p> + <p> + Emerging from a grove of pines they neared the little gateway and as the + men flung themselves backward with a deep grunt at the physical exertion + of stopping, Craven leaped out and dashed up the path, panic-driven. He + took the verandah steps in two strides and then stopped abruptly, his face + whitening under the deep tan. + </p> + <p> + Yoshio stood in the doorway of the outer room, his arms outstretched, + barring the entrance. His face had gone the grey leaden hue of the + frightened Oriental and his eyes held a curious look of pity. His attitude + put the crowning touch to Craven's anxiety. He went a step forward. + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside,” he said hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + But Yoshio did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Master not going in,” he said softly. + </p> + <p> + Craven jerked his head. + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside,” he repeated monotonously. + </p> + <p> + For a moment longer the Jap stood obstinately, then his eyes fell under + Craven's stare and he moved reluctantly, with a gesture of mingled + acquiescence and regret. Craven passed through into the room. It was + empty. He stood a moment hesitating—indefinite anxiety giving place + to definite fear. + </p> + <p> + “O Hara San,” he whispered, and the whisper seemed to echo mockingly from + the empty room. He listened with straining ears for her answer, for her + footstep—and he heard nothing but the heavy beating of his own + heart. Then a moan came from the inner room and he followed the sound + swiftly. The room was darkened and for a moment he halted in the doorway, + seeing nothing in the half light. The moaning grew louder and as he became + accustomed to the darkness he saw the old armah crouching beside a pile of + cushions. + </p> + <p> + In a second he was beside her and at his coming she scrambled to her feet + with a sharp cry, staring at him wildly, then fled from the room. + </p> + <p> + He stood alone looking down on the cushions. His heart seemed to stop + beating and for a moment he reeled, then he gripped himself and knelt down + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “O Hara San—” he whispered again, with shaking lips, “little O Hara + San—little—” the whisper died away in a terrible gasping sob. + </p> + <p> + She lay as if asleep—one arm stretched out along her side, the other + lying across her breast with her small hand clenched and tucked under her + chin, her head bent slightly and nestled naturally into the cushion. The + attitude was habitual. A hundred times Craven had seen her so—asleep. + It was impossible that she could be dead. + </p> + <p> + He spoke to her again—crying aloud in agony—but the heavily + fringed eyelids did not open, no glad cry of welcome broke from the parted + lips, the little rounded bosom that had always heaved tumultuously at his + coming was still under the silken kimono. He bent over her with ashen face + and laid his hand gently on her breast, but the icy coldness struck into + his own heart and his touch seemed a profanation. He drew back with a + terrible shudder. + </p> + <p> + How dared he touch her? Murderer! For it was murder. His work as surely as + if he had himself driven a knife into that girlish breast or squeezed the + breath from that slender throat. He was under no delusion. He understood + the Japanese character too well and he knew O Hara San too thoroughly to + deceive himself. He knew the passionate love that she had given him, a + love that had often troubled him with its intensity. He had been her god, + her everything. She had worshipped him blindly. And he had left her—left + her alone with the memory of his strangeness and his harshness, alone with + her heart breaking, alone with her fear. And she had been so curiously + alone. She had had nobody but him. She had trusted him—and he had + left her. She had trusted him. Oh, God, she had trusted him! + </p> + <p> + His quick imagination visualised what must have happened. Frantic with + despair and desperate at the seeming fulfilment of her fears she had not + stopped to reason nor waited for calmer reflection but with the curious + Oriental blending of impetuosity and stolid deliberation she had killed + herself, seeking release from her misery with the aid of the subtle poison + known to every Japanese woman. He flung his arm across the little still + body and his head fell on the cushion beside hers as his soul went down + into the depths. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + An hour of unspeakable bitterness passed before he regained his lost + control. + </p> + <p> + Then he forced himself to look at her again. The poison had been swift and + merciful. There was no distortion of the little oval face, no + discoloration on the fair skin. She was as beautiful as she had always + been. And with death the likeness had become intensified until it seemed + to him that he must have been blind beyond belief to have failed to detect + it earlier. + </p> + <p> + He looked for the last time through a blur of tears. It seemed horrible to + leave her to the ministrations of others, he longed to gather up the + slender body in his arms and with his own hands lay her in the loveliest + corner of the garden she had loved so much. He tried to stammer a prayer + but the words stuck in his throat. No intercession from him was possible, + nor did she need it. She had passed into the realm of Infinite + Understanding. + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet slowly and lingered for a moment looking his last + round the little room that was so familiar. Here were a few of her most + treasured possessions, some that had come to her from her mother, some + that he had given her. He knew them all so well, had handled them so + often. A spasm crossed his face. It had been the home of the enchanted + princess, shut off from all the world—until he had come. And his + coming had brought desolation. Near him a valuable vase, that she had + prized, lay smashed on the floor, overturned by the old armah in the first + frenzy of her grief. It was symbolical and Craven turned from it with + quivering lips and went out heavily. + </p> + <p> + He winced at the strong light and shaded his eyes for a moment with his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Yoshio was waiting where he had left him. Craven walked to the edge of the + verandah and stood for a few moments in silence, steadying himself. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you last night, Yoshio?” he asked at length, in a flat and + tired voice. + </p> + <p> + The Jap shrugged. + </p> + <p> + “In town,” he said, with American brevity learned in California. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you come here this morning?” + </p> + <p> + Yoshio raised eyes of childlike surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Master's watch. Came here to find it,” he said nonchalantly, with an air + that expressed pride at his own astuteness. But it did not impress Craven. + He looked at him keenly, knowing that he was lying but not understanding + the motive and too tired to try and understand. He felt giddy and his head + was aching violently—for a moment everything seemed to swim before + his eyes and he caught blindly at the verandah rail. But the sensation + passed quickly and he pulled himself together, to find Yoshio beside him + thrusting his helmet into his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Better Master going back to bungalow. I make all arrangements, + understanding Japanese ways,” he said calmly. + </p> + <p> + His words, matter-of-fact, almost brutal, brought Craven abruptly to + actualities. There was necessity for immediate action. This was the East, + where the grim finalities must unavoidably be hastened. But he resented + the man's suggestion. To go back to the bungalow seemed a shirking of the + responsibility that was his, the last insult he could offer her. But + Yoshio argued vehemently, blunt to a degree, and Craven winced once or + twice at the irrefutable reasons he put forward. It was true that he could + do no real good by staying. It was true that he was of no use in the + present emergency, that his absence would make things easier. But that it + was the truth made it no less hard to hear. He gave in at last and agreed + to all Yoshio's proposals—a curious compound of devotion to his + master, shrewd commonsense and knowledge of the laws of the country. He + went quickly down the winding path to the gate. The garden hurt him. The + careless splashing of the tiny waterfall jarred poignantly—laughing + water caring nothing that the hand that had planted much of the beauty of + its banks was stilled for ever. It had always seemed a living being + tumbling joyously down the hillside, it seemed alive now—callous, + self-absorbed. + </p> + <p> + Craven had no clear impression of the run back into Yokohama and he looked + up with surprise when the men stopped. He stood outside the gate for a + moment looking over the harbour. He stared at the place in the roadstead + where the American yacht had been anchored. Only last night had he laughed + and chatted with the Athertons? It was a lifetime ago! In one night his + youth had gone from him. In one night he had piled up a debt that was + beyond payment. He gave a quick glance up at the brilliant sky and then + went into the house. In the sitting-room he started slowly to pace the + floor, his hands clasped behind him, an unlit cigarette clenched between + his teeth. The mechanical action steadied him and enabled him to + concentrate his thoughts. Monotonously he tramped up and down the long + narrow room, unconscious of time, until at last he dropped on to a chair + beside the writing table and laid his head down on his arms with a weary + sigh. The little still body seemed present with him. O Hara San's face + continually before him—piteous as he had seen it last, joyous as she + had greeted him and thoughtful as when he had first seen it. + </p> + <p> + That first time—the memory of it rose vividly before him. He had + been in Yokohama about a month and was settled in his bungalow. He had + gone to the woods to sketch and had found her huddled at the foot of a + steep rock from which she had slipped. Her ankle was twisted and she could + not move. He had offered his assistance and she had gazed at him, without + speaking, for a few moments, with serious grey eyes that looked oddly out + of place in her little oval face. Then she had answered him in slow + carefully pronounced English. He had laughingly insisted on carrying her + home and had just gathered her up into his arms when the old armah + arrived, voluble with excitement and alarm for her charge. But the girl + had explained to her in rapid Japanese and the woman had hurried on to the + house to prepare for them, leaving Craven to follow more slowly with his + light burden. He had stayed only a few minutes, drinking the ceremonial + tea that was offered so shyly. + </p> + <p> + The next day he had convinced himself that it was only polite for him to + enquire about the injured foot. Then he had gone again, hoping to relieve + the tedium of her forced inactivity, until the going had become a habit. + The acquaintance had ripened quickly. From the first she had trusted him, + quickly losing her awe of him and accepting his coming with the simplicity + of a child. She had early confided to him the story of her short life—of + her solitude and friendlessness; of the mother who had died five years + before, bequeathing to her the little house which had been the last gift + of the Englishman who had been O Hara San's father and who had tired of + her mother and left her two years after her own birth; of the poverty + against which they had struggled—for the Englishman had left no + provision for them; of the faithful old servant, who had been her mother's + nurse; of O Hara San's discovery of her own artistic talent which had + enabled her to provide for the simple wants of the little household. She + had grown up alone—apart from the world, watched over by the old + woman, her mind a tangle of fairy-tales and romance—living for her + art, content with her solitude. And into her secluded life had come Barry + Craven and swept her off her feet. Child of nature that she was she had + been unable to hide from him the love that quickly overwhelmed her. And to + Craven the incident of O Hara San had come merely as a relief to the + monotony of lotus-eating, he had drifted into the connection from sheer + ennui. And then had come interest. No woman had ever before interested + him. He had never been able to define the attraction she had had for him, + the odd tenderness he had felt for her. He had treated her as a plaything, + a fragile toy to be teased and petted. And in his hands she had developed + from an innocent child into a woman—with a woman's capacity for + devotion and self-sacrifice. She had given everything, with trust and + gladness. And he had taken all she gave, with colossal egoism, as his + right—accepting lightly all she surrendered with no thought for the + innocence he contaminated, the purity he soiled. He had stained her soul + before he had killed her body. His hands clenched and unclenched + convulsively with the agony of remorse. Recollection was torture. + Repentance came too late. <i>Too late! Too late!</i> he words kept singing + in his head as if a demon from hell was howling them in his ear. Nothing + on earth could undo what he had done. No power could animate that little + dead body. And if she had lived! He shuddered. But she had not lived, she + had died—because of him. Because of him, Merciful God, because of + him! And he could make no restitution. What was there left for him to do? + A life of expiation was not atonement enough. There seemed only one + solution—a life for a life. And that was no reparation, only + justice. He put no value on his own life—he wished vaguely that the + worth of it were greater—he had merely wasted it and now he had + forfeited it. Remained only to end it—now. There was no reason for + delay. He had no preparations to make. His affairs were all in order. His + heir was his aunt, his father's only sister, who would be a better + guardian of the Craven estates and interests than he had ever been. Peters + was independent and Yoshio provided for. There was nothing to be done. He + rose and opening a drawer in the table took out a revolver and held it a + moment in his hand, looking at it dispassionately. It was not the ultimate + purpose for which it had been intended. He had never imagined a time when + he might end his own life. He had always vaguely connected suicide with + cowardice. Was it the coward's way? Perhaps! Who can say what cowardice or + courage is required to take the blind leap into the Great Unknown? That + did not trouble him. It was no question of courage or cowardice but he + felt convinced that his death was the only payment possible. + </p> + <p> + But as his finger pressed the trigger there was a slight sound beside him, + his wrist and arm were caught in a vice-like grip and the weapon exploded + harmlessly in the air as he staggered back, his arm almost broken with the + jiu-jitsu hold against which even his great strength could do nothing. He + struggled fruitlessly until he was released, then reeled against the + table, with teeth set, clasping his wrenched wrist—the sudden + frustration of his purpose leaving him, shaking. He turned stiffly. Yoshio + was standing by him, phlegmatic as usual, showing no signs of exertion or + emotion as he proffered a lacquer tray, with the usual formula: “Master's + mail.” + </p> + <p> + Craven's eyes changed slowly from dull suffering to blazing wrath. + Uncontrolled rage filled him. How dared Yoshio interfere? How dared he + drag him back into the hell from which he had so nearly escaped? He caught + the man's shoulder savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you!” he cried chokingly. “What the devil do you mean—” But + the Jap's very impassiveness checked him and with an immense effort he + regained command of himself. And imperturbably Yoshio advanced the tray + again. + </p> + <p> + “Master's mail,” he repeated, in precisely the same voice as before, but + this time he raised his veiled glance to Craven's face. For a moment the + two men stared at each other, the grey eyes tortured and drawn, the brown + ones lit for an instant with deep devotion. Then Craven took the letters + mechanically and dropped heavily into a chair. The Jap picked up the + revolver and, quietly replacing it in the drawer from which it had been + taken, left the room, noiseless as he had entered it. He seemed to know + intuitively that it would be left where he put it. + </p> + <p> + Alone, Craven leaned forward with a groan, burying his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + At last he sat up wearily and his eyes fell on the letters lying unopened + on the table beside him. He fingered them listlessly and then threw them + down again while he searched his pockets absently for the missing + cigarette case. Remembering, he jerked himself to his feet with an + exclamation of pain. Was all life henceforward to be a series of torturing + recollections? He swore, and flung his head up angrily. Coward! whining + already like a kicked cur! + </p> + <p> + He got a cigarette from a near table and picking up the letters carried + them out on to the verandah to read. There were two, both registered. The + handwriting on one envelope was familiar and his eyes widened as he looked + at it. He opened it first. It was written from Florence and dated three + months earlier. With no formal beginning it straggled up and down the + sides of various sheets of cheap foreign paper, the inferior violet ink + almost indecipherable in places. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder in what part of the globe this letter will find you? I have been + trying to write to you for a long time—and always putting it off—but + they tell me now that if I am to write at all there must be no more <i>mañana</i>. + They have cried 'wolf' so often in the last few months that I had grown + sceptical, but even I realise now that there must be no delay. I have + delayed because I have procrastinated all my life and because I am ashamed—ashamed + for the first time in all my shameless career. But there is no need to + tell you what I am—you told me candidly enough yourself in the old + days—it is sufficient to say that it is the same John Locke as then—drunkard + and gambler, spendthrift and waster! And I don't think that my worst enemy + would have much to add to this record, but then my worst enemy has always + been myself. Looking back now over my life—queer what a stimulating + effect the certainty of death has to the desire to find even one good + action wherewith to appease one's conscience—it is a marvel to me + that Providence has allowed me to cumber the earth so long. However, it's + all over now—they give me a few days at the outside—so I must + write at once or never. Barry, I'm in trouble, the bitterest trouble I + have ever experienced—not for myself, God knows I wouldn't ask even + your help, but for another who is dearer to me than all the world and for + whose future I can do nothing. You never knew that I married. I committed + that indiscretion in Rome with a little Spanish dancer who ought to have + known better than to be attracted by my <i>beaux yeux</i>—for I had + nothing else to offer her. We existed in misery for a couple of years and + then she left me, for a more gilded position. But I had the child, which + was all I cared about. Thank God, for her sake, that I was legally married + to poor little Lola, she has at least no stain on her birth with which to + reproach me. The officious individual who is personally conducting me to + the Valley of the Shadow warns me that I must be brief—I kept the + child with me as long as I could, people were wonderfully kind, but it was + no life for her. I've come down in the social scale even since you knew + me, Barry, and at last I sent her away, though it broke my heart. Still + even that was better than seeing her day by day lose all respect for me. + My miserable pittance dies with me and she is absolutely unprovided for. + My family cast off me and all my works many years ago, but I put my pride + in my pocket and appealed for help for Gillian and they suggested—a + damned charitable institution! I was pretty nearly desperate until I + thought of you. I know no one else. For God's sake, Barry, don't fail me. + I can and I do trust Gillian to you. I have made you her guardian, it is + all legally arranged and my lawyer in London has the papers. He is a + well-known man and emanates respectability—my last claim to decency! + Gillian is at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Paris. My only + consolation is that you are so rich that financially she will be no + embarrassment to you. I realize what I am asking and the enormity of it, + but I am a dying man and my excuse is—Gillian. Oh, man, be good to + my little girl. I always hoped that something would turn up, but it + didn't! Perhaps I never went to look for it, <i>quien sabe?</i> I shall + never have the chance again....” + </p> + <p> + The signature was barely recognisable, the final letter terminating in a + wandering line as if the pen had dropped from nerveless fingers. + </p> + <p> + Craven stared at the loose sheets in his hands for some time in horrified + dismay, at first hardly comprehending, then as the full significance of + John Locke's dying bequest dawned on him he flung them down and, walking + to the edge of the verandah, looked over the harbour, tugging his + moustache and scowling in utter perplexity. A child—a girl child! + How could he with his soiled hands assume the guardianship of a child? He + smiled bitterly at the irony of it. Providence was dealing hard with the + child in the Paris convent, from dissolute father to criminal guardian. + And yet Providence had already that morning intervened on her behalf—two + minutes later and there would have been no guardian to take the trust. + Providence clearly held the same views as John Locke on charitable + institutions. + </p> + <p> + He thought of Locke as he had known him years ago, in Paris, a man twenty + years his senior—penniless and intemperate but with an irresistible + charm, rolling stone and waster but proud as a Spaniard; a man of the + world with the heart of a boy, the enemy of nobody but himself, weak but + lovable; a ragged coat and the manners of a prince; idealist and failure. + </p> + <p> + Craven read the letter through again. Locke had forced his hand—he + had no option but to take up the charge entrusted to him. What a legacy! + Surely if John Locke had known he would have rather committed his daughter + to the tender mercies even of the “institution.” But he had not known and + he had trusted him. The thought was a sudden spur, urging him as nothing + else could have done, bringing out all that was best and strongest in his + nature. In a few hours he had crashed from the pinnacle on which he had + soared in the blindness of egoism down into depths of self-realisation + that seemed bottomless, and at the darkest moment when his world was lying + in pieces under his feet—this had come. Another chance had been + given to him. Craven's jaw set squarely as he thrust Locke's dying appeal + into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + He ripped open the second letter. It was, as he guessed, from the lawyer + and merely confirmed Locke's letter, with the additional information that + his client had died a few hours after writing the said letter and that he + had forwarded the news to the Mother Superior of the Convent School in + Paris. + </p> + <p> + Craven went back into the sitting-room to write cables. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Owing to a breakdown on the line the boat-train from Marseilles crawled + into the Gare du Lyon a couple of hours late. Craven had not slept. He had + given his berth in the waggon-lit to an invalid fellow passenger and had + sat up all night in an overcrowded, overheated carriage, choked with the + stifling atmosphere, his long legs cramped for lack of space. + </p> + <p> + It was early March, and the difference between the temperature of the + train and the raw air of the station struck him unpleasantly as he climbed + down on to the platform. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Yoshio, equally at home in Paris as in Yokohama, to collect + luggage, he signalled to a waiting taxi. He had the hood opened and, + pushing back his hat, let the keen wind blow about his face. The cab + jerked over the rough streets, at this early hour crowded with people—working + Paris going to its daily toil—and he watched them hurrying by with + the indifference of familiarity. Gradually he ceased even to look at the + varied types, the jostling traffic, the bizarre posters and the busy + newspaper kiosks. His thoughts were back in Yokohama. It had been six + weeks before he could get away, six interminable weeks of misery and + self-loathing. He had shirked nothing and evaded nothing. Much had been + saved him by the discreet courtesy of the Japanese officials, but the + ordeal had left him with jangling nerves. Fortunately the ship was nearly + empty and the solitude he sought obtainable. He felt an outcast. To have + joined as he had always previously done in the light-hearted routine of a + crowded ship bent on amusements and gaiety would have been impossible. + </p> + <p> + He sought mental relief in action and hours spent tramping the lonely + decks brought, if not relief, endurance. + </p> + <p> + And, always in the background, Yoshio, capable and devoted, stood between + him and the petty annoyances that inevitably occur in travelling—annoyances + that in his overwrought state would have been doubly annoying—with a + thoughtfulness that was silently expressed in a dozen different devices + for his comfort. That the Jap knew a great deal more than he himself did + of the tragedy that had happened in the little house on the hill Craven + felt sure, but no information had been volunteered and he had asked for + none. He could not speak of it. And Yoshio, the inscrutable, would + continue to be silent. The perpetual reminder of all that he could wish to + forget Yoshio became, illogically, more than ever indispensable to him. At + first, in his stunned condition, he had scarcely been sensible of the + man's tact and care, but gradually he had come to realize how much he owed + to his Japanese servant. And yet that was the least of his obligation. + There was a greater—the matter of a life; whatever it might mean to + Craven, to Yoshio the simple payment of a debt contracted years ago in + California. That more than this had underlain the Japanese mind when it + made its quick decision Craven could not determine; the code of the + Oriental is not that of the Occidental, the demands of honour are + interpreted and satisfied differently. Life in itself is nothing to the + Japanese, the disposal of it merely the exigency of a moment and withal a + personal prerogative. By all the accepted canons of his own national + ideals Yoshio should have stood on one side—but he had chosen to + interfere. Whatever the motive, Yoshio had paid his debt in full. + </p> + <p> + The weeks at sea braced Craven as nothing else could have done. As the + ship neared France the perplexities of the charge he was preparing to + undertake increased. His utter unfitness filled him with dismay. On + receipt of John Locke's amazing letter he had both cabled and written to + his aunt in London explaining his dilemma, giving suitable extracts from + Locke's appeal, and imploring her help. And yet the thought of his aunt in + connection with the upbringing of a child brought a smile to his lips. She + was about as unsuited, in her own way, as he. Caro Craven was a bachelor + lady of fifty—spinster was a term wholly inapplicable to the + strong-minded little woman who had been an art student in Paris in the + days when insular hands were lifted in horror at the mere idea, and was a + designation, moreover, deprecated strongly by herself as an insult to one + who stood—at least in her own sphere—on an equality with the + lords of creation. She was a sculptor, whose work was known on both sides + of the channel. When at home she lived in a big house in London, but she + travelled much, accompanied by an elderly maid who had been with her for + thirty years. And it was of the maid as much as of the mistress that + Craven thought as the taxi bumped over the cobbled streets. + </p> + <p> + “If we can only interest Mary.” There was a gleam of hope in the thought. + “She will be the saving of the situation. She spoiled me thoroughly when I + was a nipper.” And buoyed with the recollection of grim-visaged angular + Mary, who hid a very tender heart beneath a somewhat forbidding exterior, + he overpaid the chauffeur cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + There was an accumulation of letters waiting for him at the hotel, but he + shuffled them all into his overcoat pocket, with the exception of one from + Peters which he tore open and read immediately, still standing in the + lounge. + </p> + <p> + An hour later he set out on foot for the quiet hotel which had been his + aunt's resort since her student days, and where she was waiting for him + now, according to a telegram that he had received on his arrival at + Marseilles. The hall door of her private suite was opened by the elderly + maid, whose face lit up as she greeted him. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Craven is waiting in the salon, sir. She has been tramping the floor + this hour or more, expecting you,” she confided as she preceded him down + the corridor. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven was standing in a characteristic attitude before an open + fireplace, her feet planted firmly on the hearthrug, her short plump + figure clothed in a grey coat and skirt of severe masculine cut, her hands + plunged deep into her jacket pockets, her short curly grey hair + considerably ruffled. She bore down on her nephew with out-stretched + hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, there you are at last! I have been waiting <i>hours</i> for + you. Your train must have been very late—abominable railway service! + Have you had any breakfast? Yes? Good. Then take a cigarette—they + are in that box at your elbow—and tell me about this amazing + thunderbolt that you have hurled at me. What a preposterous proposition + for two bachelors like you and me! To be sure your extraordinary friend + did not include me in his wild scheme—though no doubt he would have, + had he known of my existence. Was the man mad? Who was he, anyhow? John + Locke of where? There are dozens of Lockes. And why did he select you of + all people? What fools men are!” She subsided suddenly into an easy chair + and crossed one neat pump over the other. “All of 'em!” she added + emphatically, flicking cigarette ash into the fire with a vigorous + sidelong jerk. Her eyes were studying his face attentively, seeking for + themselves the answer to the more personal inquiries that would have + seemed necessary to a less original woman meeting a much-loved nephew + after a lapse of years. Craven smiled at the characteristically peculiar + greeting and the well remembered formula. He settled his long limbs + comfortably into an opposite chair. + </p> + <p> + “Even Peter?” he asked, lighting a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven laughed good temperedly. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she rejoined succinctly, “is the one brilliant exception that + proves the rule. I have an immense respect for Peter.” He looked at her + curiously. “And—me, Aunt Caro?” he asked with an odd note in his + voice. Miss Craven glanced for a moment at the big figure sprawled in the + chair near her, then looked back at the fire with pursed lips and wrinkled + forehead, and rumpled her hair more thoroughly than before. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” she said at last soberly, “you resemble my unhappy brother + altogether too much for my peace of mind.” + </p> + <p> + He winced. Her words probed the still raw wound. But unaware of the + appositeness of her remark Miss Craven continued thoughtfully, still + staring into the fire: + </p> + <p> + “The Supreme Sculptor, when He made me, denied me the good looks that are + proverbial in our family—but in compensation he endowed me with a + solid mind to match my solid body. The Family means a great deal to me, + Barry—more than anybody has ever realised—and there are times + when I wonder why the solidity of mind was given to the one member of the + race who could not perpetuate it in the direct line.” She sighed, and then + as if ashamed of unwonted emotion, jerked her dishevelled grey head with a + movement that was singularly reminiscent of her nephew. Craven flushed. + </p> + <p> + “You're the best man of the family, Aunt Caro.” + </p> + <p> + “So your mother used to say—poor child.” Her voice softened + suddenly. She got up restlessly and resumed her former position before the + fire, her hands back in the pockets of her mannish coat. + </p> + <p> + “What about your plans, Barry? What are you going to do?” she said + briskly, with an evident desire to avoid further moralising. He joined her + on the hearthrug, leaning against the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “I propose to settle down—at any rate for a time, at the Towers,” he + replied. “I intend to interest myself in the estates. Peter insists that I + am wanted, and though that is nonsense and he is infinitely more necessary + than I am, still I am willing to make the trial. I owe him more than I can + even repay—we all do—and if my presence is really any help to + him—he's welcome to it. I shall be about as much real use as the + fifth wheel of a coach—a damned rotten wheel at that,” he added + bitterly. And for some minutes he seemed to forget that there was more to + say, staring silently into the fire and from time to time putting together + the blazing logs with his foot. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven was possessed of the unfeminine attribute of holding her + tongue and reserving her comments. She refrained from comment now, rocking + gently backward and forward on her heels—a habit associated with + mental concentration. + </p> + <p> + “I shall take the child to the Towers,” he continued at length, “and there + I shall want your help, Aunt Caro.” He paused stammering awkwardly—“It's + an infernal impertinence asking you to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “To turn nursemaid at my time of life,” she interrupted. “It is certainly + a career I never anticipated. And, candidly, I have doubts about its + success,” she laughed and shrugged, with a comical grimace. Then she + patted his arm affectionately—“You had much better take Peter's + advice and marry a nice girl who would mother the child and give her some + brothers and sisters to play with.” + </p> + <p> + He stiffened perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never marry,” he said shortly. Her eyebrows rose the fraction of + an inch but she bit back the answer that rose to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Never—is a long day,” she said lightly. “The Cravens are an old + family, Barry. One has one's obligations.” + </p> + <p> + He did not reply and she changed the conversation hastily. She had a + horror of forcing a confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Remains—Mary,” she said, with the air of proposing a final + expedient. Craven's tense face relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “Mary had also occurred to me,” he admitted with an eagerness that was + almost pathetic. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven grunted and clutched at her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” she repeated with a chuckle, “Mary, who has gone through life with + Wesley's sermons under her arm—and a child out of a Paris convent! + There are certainly elements of humour in the idea. But I must have some + details. Who was this Locke person?” + </p> + <p> + When Craven had told her all he knew she stood quite still for a long + while, rolling a cigarette tube between her firm hands. + </p> + <p> + “Dissolute English father—and Spanish mother of doubtful morals. My + poor Barry, your hands will be full.” + </p> + <p> + “Our hands,” he corrected. + </p> + <p> + “Our hands! Good heavens, the bare idea terrifies me!” She shrugged + tragically and was dumb until Mary came to announce lunch. + </p> + <p> + Across the table she studied her nephew with an attention that she was + careful to conceal. She was used to his frequent coming and going. Since + the death of his mother he had travelled continually and she was + accustomed to his appearing more or less unexpectedly, at longer or + shorter intervals. They had always been great friends, and it was to her + house in London that he invariably went first on returning to England—sure + of his welcome, sure of himself, gay, easy-going and debonair. She was + deeply attached to him. But, with something akin to terror, she had + watched the likeness to the older Barry Craven growing from year to year, + fearful lest the moral downfall of the father might repeat itself in the + son. The temptation to speak frankly, to warn, had been great. Natural + dislike of interference, and a promise given reluctantly to her dying + sister-in-law, had kept her silent. She had loved the tall beautiful woman + who had been her brother's wife and a promise made to her was sacred—though + she had often doubted the wisdom of a silence that might prove an + incalculable danger. She respected the fine loyalty that demanded such a + promise, but her own views were more comprehensive. She was strong enough + to hold opinions that were contrary to accepted traditions. She admitted a + loyalty due to the dead, she was also acutely conscious of a loyalty due + to the living. A few minutes before when Miss Craven had, somewhat + shamefacedly, owned to a love of the family to which they belonged she had + but faintly expressed her passionate attachment thereto. Pride of race was + hers to an unusual degree. All that was best and noblest she craved for + the clan. And Barry was the last of the Cravens. Her brother had failed + her and dragged her high ideals in the dust. Her courage had restored them + to endeavour a second time. If Barry failed her too! Hitherto her fears + had had no definite basis. There had been no real ground for anxiety, only + a developing similarity of characteristics that was vaguely disquieting. + But now, as she looked at him, she realised that the man from whom she had + parted nearly two years before was not the man who now faced her across + the table. Something had happened—something that had changed him + utterly. This man was older by far more than the actual two years. This + was a man whom she hardly recognised; hard, stern, with a curiously bitter + ring at times in his voice, and the shadow of a tragedy lying in the dark + grey eyes that had changed so incredibly for lack of their habitual ready + smile. There were lines about his mouth and a glint of grey in his hair + that she was quick to observe. Whatever had happened—he had + suffered. That was written plainly on his face. And unless he chose to + speak she was powerless to help him. She refused to intrude, unbidden, + into another's private concerns. That he was an adored nephew, that the + intimacy between them was great made no difference, the restriction + remained the same. But she was woman enough to be fiercely jealous for + him. She resented the change she saw—it was not the change she had + desired but something far beyond her understanding that left her with the + feeling that she was confronting a total stranger. But she was careful to + hide her scrutiny, and though her mind speculated widely she continued to + chatter, supplementing the home news her scanty letters had afforded and + retailing art gossip of the moment. One question only she allowed herself. + There had come a silence. She broke it abruptly, leaning forward in her + chair, watching him keen-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been ill—out there?”—her hand fluttered vaguely in + an easterly direction. Craven looked up in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said shortly, “I never am ill.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven's nod as she rose from the table might have been taken for + assent. It was in reality satisfaction at her own perspicacity. She had + not supposed for one moment that he had been ill but in no other way could + she express what she wanted to know. It was in itself an innocuous and + natural remark, but the sudden gloom that fell on him warned her that her + ingenuity was, perhaps, not so great as she imagined. + </p> + <p> + “Triple idiot!” she reflected wrathfully, as she poured out coffee, “you + had better have held your tongue,” and she set herself to charm away the + shadow from his face and dispel any suspicion he might have formed of her + desire to probe into his affairs. She had an uncommon personality and + could talk cleverly and well when she chose. And today she did choose, + exerting all her wit to combat the taciturn fit that emphasized so + forcibly the change in him. But though he listened with apparent attention + his mind was very obviously elsewhere, and he sat staring into the fire, + mechanically flicking ash from his cigarette. Conversation languished and + at length Miss Craven gave it up, with a wry face, and sat also silent, + drumming with her fingers on the arm of the chair. Her thoughts, in quest + of his, wandered far away until the sudden ringing of the telephone beside + her made her jump violently. + </p> + <p> + She answered the call, then handed the receiver to Craven. + </p> + <p> + “Your heathen,” she remarked dryly. + </p> + <p> + Though the least insular of women she had never grown accustomed to the + Japanese valet. He turned from the telephone with a look of mingled + embarrassment and relief. + </p> + <p> + “I sent a message to the convent this morning. Yoshio has just given me + the answer. The Mother Superior will see me this afternoon.” He + endeavoured to make his voice indifferent, pulling down his waistcoat and + picking a minute thread from off his coat sleeve. Miss Craven's mouth + twitched at the evident signs of nervousness while she glanced at him + narrowly. Prompt action in the matter of an uncongenial duty had not + hitherto been a conspicuous trait in his character. + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly not letting the grass grow under your feet.” + </p> + <p> + He jerked his head impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Waiting will not make the job more pleasant,” he shrugged. “I will see + the child at once and arrange for her removal as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven eyed him from head to foot with a grim smile that changed to a + whole-hearted laugh of amusement. + </p> + <p> + “It's a pity you have so much money, Barry, you would make your fortune as + a model. You are too criminally good looking to go fluttering into + convents.” + </p> + <p> + A ghost of the old smile flickered in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Come and chaperon me, Aunt Caro.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head laughingly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—no. There are limits. I draw the line at convents. Go and + get it over, and if the child is presentable you can bring her back to + tea. I gather that Mary is anticipating a complete failure on our part to + sustain the situation and is prepared to deputise. She has already + ransacked <i>Au Paradis Des Enfants</i> for suitable bribes wherewith to + beguile her infantile affection. I understand that there was a lively + scene over the purchase of a doll, the cost of which—clad only in + its birthday dress—was reported to me as 'a fair affront.' Even + after all these years Mary jibs at Continental prices. It is her way of + keeping up the prestige of the British Empire, bless her. An overcharge, + in her opinion, is a deliberate twist of the lion's tail.” + </p> + <p> + In the taxi he looked through the correspondence he had received that + morning for the lawyer's letter that would establish his claim to John + Locke's child. Then he leaned back and lit a cigarette. He had an absurd + feeling of nervousness and cursed Locke a dozen times before he reached + the convent. He was embarrassed with the awkward situation in which he + found himself—just how awkward he seemed only now fully to + appreciate. The more he thought of it, the less he liked it. The coming + interview with the Mother Superior was not the least of his troubles. The + promise of the morning had not been maintained, overhead the sky was + leaden, and a high wind drove rain in sharp splashes against the glass of + the cab. The pavements were running with water and the leafless trees in + the avenues swayed and creaked dismally. The appearance of the streets was + chill and depressing. Craven shivered. He thought of the warmth and + sunshine that he had left in Japan. The dreariness of the present outlook + contrasted sufficiently with the gay smiling landscape, the riotous wealth + of colour, and the scent-laden air of the land of his recollections. A + feeling almost of nostalgia came to him. But with the thought came also a + vision—a little still body lying on silken cushions; a small pale + face with fast shut eyes, the long lashes a dusky fringe against the + ice-cold cheek. The vision was terribly distinct, horribly real—not + a recollection only, as on the morning that he had found her dead—and + he waited, with the sweat pouring down his face, for the closed eyes to + open and reveal the agony he had read in them that night, when he had torn + her clinging hands away and left her. The faint aroma of the perfume she + had used was in his nostrils, choking him. The slender limbs seemed to + pulsate into life, the little breasts to stir perceptibly, the parted lips + to tremble. He could not define the actual moment of the change but, as he + bent forward, with hands close gripped, all at once he found himself + looking straight into the tortured grey eyes—for a second only. Then + the vision faded, and he was leaning back in the cab wiping the moisture + from his forehead. God, would it never leave him! It haunted him. In the + big bungalow on the Bluff; rising from the sea as he leaned on the steamer + rail; during the long nights on the ship as he lay sleepless in the narrow + brass cot; last night in the crowded railway carriage—then it had + been so vivid that he had held his breath and glanced around stealthily + with hunted eyes at his fellow passengers looking for the horrified faces + that would tell him that they also saw what he could see. He never knew + how long it lasted, minutes or seconds, holding him rigid until it passed + to leave him bathed in perspiration. Environment seemed to make no + difference. It came as readily in a crowd as when he was alone. He lived + in perpetual dread of betraying his obsession. Once only it had happened—in + the bungalow, the night before he left Japan, and his involuntary cry had + brought the watchful valet. And as he crossed the room Craven had + distinctly seen him pass through the little recumbent figure and, with + blazing eyes, had dragged him roughly to one side, pointing and muttering + incoherently. And Yoshio had seemed to understand. Sceptical as he was + about the supernatural, at first Craven's doubt had been rudely shaken; + but with the steadying of his nerves had come the conviction that the + vision was inward, though at the moment so real that often his confidence + momentarily wavered, as last night in the train. It came with no kind of + regularity, no warning that might prepare him. And recurrence brought no + mitigation, no familiarising that could temper the acute horror it + inspired. To what pitch of actuality might it attain? To what lengths + might it drive him? He dragged his thoughts up sharply. To dwell on it was + fatal, that way lay insanity. He set his teeth and forced himself to think + of other things. There was ample material. There was primarily the salvage + of a wasted life. During the last few weeks he had been forced to a + self-examination that had been drastically thorough. The verdict had been + an adverse one. Personal criticism, once aroused, went far. The + purposeless life that he had led seemed now an insult to his manhood. It + had been in his power to do so much—he had actually done + disastrously little. He had loafed through life without a thought beyond + the passing interest of the moment. And even in the greater interests of + his life, travel and big game, he had failed to exert himself beyond a + mediocre level. He had travelled far and shot a rare beast or two, but so + had many another—and with greater difficulties to contend with than + he who had never wrestled with the disadvantages of inferior equipment and + inadequate attendance. Muscularly and constitutionally stronger than the + average, physically he could have done anything. And he had done nothing—nothing + that others had not done as well or even better. It was sufficiently + humiliating. And the outcome of his reflections had been a keen desire for + work, hard absorbing work, with the hope that bodily fatigue might in some + measure afford mental alleviation. It did not even need finding. With a + certain shame he admitted the fact. It had waited for him any time these + last ten years in his own home. The responsibility of great possessions + was his. And he had shirked. He had evaded the duty he owed to a trust he + had inherited. It was a new view of his position that recent thought had + awakened. It was still not too late. He would go back like the prodigal—not + to eat the fatted calf, but to sit at the feet of Peters and learn from + him the secret of successful estate management. + </p> + <p> + For thirty years Peter Peters had ruled the Craven properties, and they + were all his life. For the last ten years he had never ceased urging his + employer to assume the reins of government himself. His entreaties, + protestations and threats of resignation had been unheeded. Craven felt + sure that he would never relinquish his post, he had grown into the soil + and was as firmly fixed as the Towers itself. He was an institution in the + county, a personality on the bench. He ruled his own domains with a kindly + but absolute autocracy which succeeded perfectly on the Craven estates and + was the envy of other agents, who had not his ability to do likewise. Well + born, original and fearless he was popular in castle and in cottage, and + his advice was respected by all. He neither sought nor abused a + confidence, and in consequence was the depository of most of the secrets + of the countryside. To his sympathetic ears came both grave offences and + minor indiscretions, as to a kindly safety-valve who advised and helped—and + was subsequently silent. His exoneration was considered final. “I + confessed to Peter” became a recognised formula, instituted by a giddy + young Marchioness at the north end of the county, whose cousin he was. And + there, invariably, the matter ended. And for Craven it was the one bright + spot in the darkness before him. Life was going to be hell—but there + would always be Peter. + </p> + <p> + At the Convent gates the taxi skidded badly at the suddenly applied + brakes, and then backed jerkily into position. Craven felt an overwhelming + inclination to take to his heels. The portress who admitted him had + evidently received orders, for she silently conducted him to a waiting + room and left him alone. It was sparsely furnished but had on the walls + some fine old rosewood panelling. The narrow heavily leaded windows + overlooked a paved quadrangle, glistening with moisture. For a few moments + the rain had ceased but drops still pattered sharply on to the flagstones + from the branches of two large chestnut trees. The outlook was melancholy + and he turned from the window, shivering. But the chill austere room was + hardly more inspiring. The atmosphere was strange to him. It was a world + apart from anything that had ever touched him. He marvelled suddenly at + the countless lives living out their allotted span in the confined area of + these and similar walls. Surely all could not submit willingly to such a + crushing captivity? Some must agonize and spend their strength + unavailingly, like birds beating their wings against the bars of a cage + for freedom. To the man who had roamed through all the continents of the + world this forced inactivity seemed appalling—stultifying. The + hampering of personal freedom, the forcing of independent minds into one + narrow prescribed channel that admitted of no individual expansion, the + waste of material and the fettering of intellects, that were heaven-sent + gifts to be put out to usury and not shrouded away in a napkin, revolted + him. The conventual system was to him a survival of medievalism, a relic + of the dark ages; the last refuge of the shirkers of the world. The + communities themselves, if he had thought of them at all, had been + regarded as a whole. He had never troubled to consider them as composed of + single individuals. Today he thought of them as separate human beings and + his intolerance increased. An indefinite distaste never seriously + considered seemed, during the few moments in the bare waiting room, to + have grown suddenly into active dislike. He was wholly out of sympathy + with his surroundings, impatient of the necessity that brought him into + contact with what he would have chosen to avoid. He looked about with eyes + grown hard and contemptuous. The very building seemed to be the embodiment + of retrogression and blind superstition. He was filled with antagonism. + His face was grim and his figure drawn up stiffly to its full height when + the door opened to admit the Mother Superior. For a moment she hesitated, + a faint look of surprise coming into her face. And no antagonism, however + intolerant, could have braved her gentle dignity. “It is—<i>Monsieur</i> + Craven?” she asked, a perceptible interrogation in her soft voice. + </p> + <p> + She took the letters he gave her and read them carefully—pausing + once or twice as if searching for the correct translation of a word—then + handed them back to him in silence. She looked at him again, frankly, with + no attempt to disguise her scrutiny, and the perplexity in her eyes grew + greater. One small white hand slid to the crucifix hanging on her breast, + as if seeking aid from the familiar symbol, and Craven saw that her + fingers were trembling. A faint flush rose in her face. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Monsieur</i> is perhaps married, or—happily—he has a + mother?” she asked at last, and the flush deepened as she looked up at the + big man standing before her. She made a little gesture of embarrassment + but her eyes did not waver. They would not, he thought with sudden + intuition. For he realised that it was one of his own order who confronted + him. It was not what he had anticipated. The Mother Superior's low voice + continuing in gentle explanation broke into his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Monsieur</i> will forgive that I catechise him thus but I had expected + one—much older.” Her distress was obvious. And Craven divined that + as a prospective guardian he fell short of expectation. And yet, his lack + of years was apparently to her the only drawback. His lack of years—Good + God, and he felt so old! His youth was a disadvantage that counted for + nothing in the present instance. If she could know the truth, if the + anxious gaze that was fixed so intently on him could look into his heart + with understanding, he knew that she would shrink from him as from a vile + contamination. + </p> + <p> + He conceived the horror dawning in her eyes, the loathing in her attitude, + and seemed to hear her passionate protest against his claim to the child + who had been sheltered in the safety of the community that he had + despised. The safety of the community—that had not before occurred + to him. For the first time he considered it a refuge to those who there + sought sanctuary and who were safeguarded from such as—he. He + winced, but did not spare himself. The sin had been only his. The child + who had died for love of him had been as innocent of sin as the birds who + loved and mated among the pine trees in her Garden of Enchantment. She had + had no will but his. Arrogantly he had taken her and she had submitted—was + he not her lord? Before his shadow fell across her path no blameless soul + within these old convent walls had been more pure and stainless than the + soul of O Hara San. It was the sins of such as he that drove women to this + shelter that offered refuge and consolation, to escape from such as he + they voluntarily immured themselves; surrendering the purpose of their + being, seeking in bodily denial the salvation of their souls. + </p> + <p> + The room had grown very dark. A sudden glare of light made Craven realise + that a question asked was still unanswered. He had not, in his + abstraction, been aware of any movement. Now he saw the Mother Superior + walking leisurely back from the electric switch by the door, and guessed + from her placid face that the interval had been momentary and had passed + unnoticed. Some answer was required now. He pulled himself together. + </p> + <p> + “I am not married,” his voice was strained, “and I have no mother. But my + aunt—Miss Craven—the sculptor—” he paused enquiringly + and she smiled reassurance. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Craven's beautiful work is known to me,” she said with ready tact + that put him more at ease. + </p> + <p> + “My aunt has, most kindly, promised to—to co-operate,” he finished + lamely. + </p> + <p> + The anxiety faded from the Mother Superior's face and she sat down with an + air of relief, motioning Craven to a chair. But with a curt bow he + remained standing. He had no wish to prolong the interview beyond what + courtesy and business demanded. He listened with a variety of feelings + while the Nun spoke. Her earnestness he could not fail to perceive, but it + required a decided effort to concentrate, and follow her soft well + modulated voice. + </p> + <p> + She spoke slowly, with feeling that broke at times the tone she strove to + make dispassionate. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad for Gillian's sake that at last, after all these years, there + has come one who will be concerned with her future. She has no vocation + for the conventual life and—I was beginning to become anxious. For + ourselves, we shall miss her more than it is possible to say. She had been + with us so long, she has become very dear to us. I have dreaded that her + father would one day claim her. She has been spared that contamination—God + forgive me that I should speak so.” For a moment she was silent, her eyes + bent on her hands lying loosely clasped in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian is not altogether friendless,” she resumed, “she will go to you + with a little more knowledge of the world than can be gained within these + old walls.” She glanced round the panelled room with half-sad affection. + “She is popular and has spent vacations in the homes of some of her fellow + pupils. She has a very decided personality, and a facility for attracting + affection. She is sensitive and proud—passionate even at times. She + can be led but not driven. I tell you all this, <i>Monsieur</i>, not + censoriously but that it may help you in dealing with a character that is + extraordinarily complex, with a nature that both demands and repels + affection, that longs for and yet scorns sympathy.” She looked at Craven + anxiously. His complete attention was claimed at last. A new conception of + his unknown ward was forcing itself upon him, so that any humour there + might have been in the situation died suddenly and the difficulties of the + undertaking soared. The Mother Superior smothered a sigh. His attitude was + baffling, his expression inscrutable. Had her words touched him, had she + said what was best for the welfare of the girl who was so dear to her, and + whose departure she felt so keenly? How would she fare at this man's + hands? What lay behind his stern face and sombre tragic eyes? Her lips + moved in silent prayer, but when she spoke her voice was serene as before. + </p> + <p> + “There is yet another thing that I must speak of. Gillian has an unusual + gift.” A sentence in Locke's letter flashed into Craven's mind. + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't <i>dance</i>?” he asked, in some dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Dance, <i>Monsieur</i>—in a convent?” Then she pitied his hot + confusion and smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Is dancing so unusual—in the world? No, Gillian sketches—portraits. + Her talent is real. She does not merely draw a faithful likeness, her + studies are revelations of soul. I do not think she knows herself how her + effects are obtained, they grow almost unconsciously, but they result + always in the same strange delineation of character. It was so impossible + to ignore this exceptional gift that we procured for her the best teacher + in Paris, and continued her lessons even after—” She stopped + abruptly and Craven finished the broken sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Even after the fees ceased,” he said dryly. “For how many years has my + ward lived on your charity, Reverend Mother?” + </p> + <p> + She raised a protesting hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—charity. It is hardly the word—” she fenced. + </p> + <p> + He took out a cheque book. + </p> + <p> + “How much is owing, for everything?” he said bluntly. + </p> + <p> + She sought for a book in a bureau standing against the rosewood panelling + and, scanning it, gave a sum with evident reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian has never been told, but it is ten years since <i>Monsieur</i> + Locke paid anything.” There was diffidence in her voice. “In an + institution of this kind we are compelled to be businesslike. It is rare + that we can afford to make an exception, though the temptation is often + great. The head and the heart—<i>voyez, vous, Monsieur</i>—they + pull in contrary directions.” And she slipped the book back into a + pigeon-hole as if the touch of it was distasteful. She glanced + perfunctorily at the cheque he handed to her, then closer, and the colour + rose again to her sensitive face. + </p> + <p> + “But <i>Monsieur</i> has written treble the amount,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Will you accept the balance,” he said hurriedly, “in the name of my ward, + for any purpose that you may think fit? There is one stipulation only—I + do not wish her to know that there has been any monetary transaction + between us.” His voice was almost curt, and the Nun found herself unable + to question a condition which, though manifestly generous, she deemed + quixotic. She could only bend to his decision with mingled thankfulness + and apprehension. Despite the problem of the girl's future she had it in + her heart to wish that this singular claimant had never presented himself. + His liberality was obvious but—. She locked the slip of paper away + in the bureau with a feeling of vague uneasiness. But for good or ill the + matter was out of her hands. She had said all that she could say. The rest + lay with God. + </p> + <p> + “I do accept it,” she said, “with all gratitude. It will enable us to + carry out a scheme that has long been our hope. Your generosity will more + than pave the way. I will send Gillian to you now.” + </p> + <p> + She left him, more embarrassed than he had been at first, more than ever + dreading the task before him. He waited with a nervous impatience that + irritated himself. + </p> + <p> + Turning to the window he looked out into the dusk. The old trees in the + courtyard were almost indistinguishable. The rain dripped again steadily, + splashing the creeper that framed the casement. A few lights showing dimly + in the windows on the opposite side of the quadrangle served only to + intensify the gloom. The time dragged. Fretfully he drummed with his + fingers on the leaded panes, his ears alert for any sound beyond the + closed door. The echo of a distant organ stole into the room and the soft + solemn notes harmonised with the melancholy pattering of the raindrops and + the gusts of wind that moaned fitfully around the house. + </p> + <p> + In a sudden revulsion of feeling the life he had mapped out for himself + seemed horrible beyond thought. He could not bear it. It would be tying + his hands and burdening himself with a responsibility that would curtail + his freedom and hamper him beyond endurance. A great restlessness, a + longing to escape from the irksome tie, came to him. Solitude and open + spaces; unpeopled nature; wild desert wastes—he craved for them. The + want was like a physical ache. The desert—he drew his breath in + sharply—the hot shifting sand whispering under foot, the fierce + noontide sun blazing out of a brilliant sky, the charm of it! The + fascination of its false smiling surface, its treacherous beauty luring to + hidden perils called to him imperatively. The curse of Ishmael that was + his heritage was driving him as it had driven him many times before. He + was in the grip of one of the revolts against restraint and civilisation + that periodically attacked him. The wander-hunger was in his blood—for + generations it had sent numberless ancestors into the lonely places of the + world, and against it ties of home were powerless. In early days to the + romantic glamour of the newly discovered Americas, later to the silence of + the frozen seas and to the mysterious depth of unexplored lands the + Cravens had paid a heavy toll. A Craven had penetrated into the tangled + gloom of the Amazon forests, and had never returned. In the previous + century two Cravens had succumbed to the fascination of the North West + Passage, another had vanished in Central Asia. Barry's grandfather had + perished in a dust storm in the Sahara. And it was to the North African + desert that his own thoughts turned most longingly. Japan had satisfied + him for a time—but only for a time. Western civilisation had there + obtruded too glaringly, and he had admitted frankly to himself that it was + not Japan but O Hara San that kept him in Yokohama. The dark courtyard and + the faintly lighted windows faded. He saw instead a tiny well-remembered + oasis in Southern Algeria, heard the ceaseless chatter of Arabs, the + shrill squeal of a stallion, the peevish grunt of a camel, and, rising + above all other sounds, the whine of the tackling above the well. And the + smell—the cloying smell that goes with camel caravans, it was + pungent! He flung up his head inhaling deeply, then realised that the + scent that filled the room was not the acrid smell of the desert but the + penetrating odour of incense filtering in through the opened door. It shut + and he turned reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + He saw at first only a pair of great brown eyes, staring almost defiantly, + set in a small pale face, that looked paler by contrast with the frame of + dark brown hair. Then his gaze travelled slowly over the slender + black-clad figure silhouetted against the polished panels. His fear was + substantiated. Not a child who could be relegated to nurses and + governesses, but a girl in the dawn of womanhood. Passionately he cursed + John Locke. + </p> + <p> + He felt a fool, idiotically tongue-tied. He had been prepared to adopt a + suitably paternal attitude towards the small child he had expected. A + paternal attitude in connection with this self-possessed young woman was + impossible, in fact ludicrous. For the moment he seemed unable to cope + with the situation. It was the girl who spoke first. She came forward + slowly, across the long narrow room. + </p> + <p> + “I am Gillian Locke, <i>Monsieur</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + On the cushioned window seat in her bedroom at Craven Towers Gillian Locke + sat with her arms wrapped round her knees waiting for the summons to + dinner. With Miss Craven and her guardian she had left London that + morning, arriving at the Towers in the afternoon, and she was tired and + excited with the events of the day. She leant back against the panelled + embrasure, her mind dwelling on the last three crowded months they had + spent in Paris and London waiting until the house was redecorated and + ready to receive them. It had been for her a wonderful experience. The + novelty, the strangeness of it, left her breathless with the feeling that + years, not weeks, had rushed by. Already in the realisation of the new + life the convent days seemed long ago, the convent itself to have receded + into a far off past. And yet there were times when she wondered whether + she was dreaming, whether waking would be inevitable and she would find + herself once more in the old dormitory to pray passionately that she might + dream again. And until tonight there had scarcely been time even to think, + her days had been full, at night she had gone to bed to sleep in happy + dreamlessness. The hotel bedrooms with their litter of trunks suggesting + imminent flight had held no restfulness. To Gillian the transitory + sensation had strained already over-excited nerves and heightened the + dreamlike feeling that made everything seem unreal. But here, the visible + evidences of travel removed, the deep silence of a large country house + penetrating her mind and conducing to peace, she could think at last. The + surroundings were helpful. There was about the room an air of permanence + which the hotel bedrooms had never given, an atmosphere of abiding quiet + that soothed her. She was sensitive of an influence that was wholly new to + her and very sweet, that brought with it a feeling of laughter and tears + strangely mingled, that made the room appear as no other room had ever + done. It Was her room, and it had welcomed her. It was like a big friendly + silent person offering mute reception, radiating repose. In a few hours + the room had become intimate, dear to her. She laughed happily—then + checked at a guilty feeling of treason against the grey old walls in Paris + that had so long sheltered her. She was not ungrateful, all her life she + would remember with gratitude the love and care she had received. But the + convent had been prison. Since her father had left her there, a tiny + child, she had inwardly rebelled; the life was abhorrent to her, the + restraint unbearable. With childish pride she had hidden her feelings, + living through a period of acute misery with no hint to those about her of + what she suffered. And the habit of suppression acquired in childhood had + grown with her own development. As the years passed the limitations of the + convent became more perceptible. She felt its cramping influence to the + full, as if the walls were closing in to suffocate her, to bury her alive + before she had ever known a fuller freer life. She had longed for + expansion—ideas she could not formulate, desires she could not + express, crowded, jostled in her brain. She wanted a wider outlook on life + than the narrow convent windows offered. Brief excursions into the world + to the homes of her friends had filled her with a yearning for freedom and + for independence, for a greater range of thought and action. Her artistic + studies had served to foster an unrest she struggled against bravely and + to conceal which she became daily more self-contained. Her reserve was + like a barrier about her. She was sweet and gentle to all around her, but + a little aloof and very silent. To the other girls she had been a heroine + of romance, puzzling mystery surrounded her; to the Nuns an enigma. The + Mother Superior, alone, had arrived at a partial understanding, more than + that even she could not accomplish. Gillian loved her, but her reserve was + stronger than her love. Sitting now in the dainty English bedroom, + revelling in the warm beauty of the exquisite landscape that, mellowed in + the evening light, lay spread out beneath her eyes, Gillian thought a + little sadly of her parting with the Reverend Mother. She had tried to + hide the happiness that the strange feeling of freedom gave her, to + smother any look or word that might wound the gentle sensibility of the + frail robed woman whose eyes were sad at the approaching separation. Her + conscience smote her that her own heart held no sadness. She had said very + little, nothing of the new life that lay ahead of her. She hid her hopes + of the future as jealously as she had hidden her longings in the past, and + she had left the convent as silently as she had lived in it. She had + driven back to the hotel with a sense of relief predominating that it was + all over, breathing deeply with a sigh of relaxed tension. It seemed to + her then as if she had learned to breathe only within the last few days, + as if the air itself was lighter, more exhilarating. + </p> + <p> + From the convent her mind went back to earlier days. She thought of her + father, the handsome dissolute man, whose image had grown dim with years. + As a tiny child she had loved him passionately, the central figure of her + chequered and wandering little life—father and mother in one, + playmate and hero. Her recollection seemed to be of constant travelling; + of long hours spent in railway trains; of arrivals at strange places in + the dark night; of departures in the early dawn, half awake—but + always happy so long as the familiar arms held her weary little body and + there was the shabby old coat on which to pillow her brown curls. A + jumbled remembrance of towns and country villages; of kind unknown women + who looked compassionate and murmured over her in a dozen different + languages. It had all been a medley of impressions and experiences—everything + transient, nothing lasting, but the big untidy man who was her all. And + then the convent. For a few years John Locke had reappeared at irregular + intervals, and on the memory of those brief visits she had lived until he + came again. Then he had ceased to come and his letters, grown short and + few, full of vague promises—unsatisfying—meagre, had stopped + abruptly. At first she had refused to admit to herself that he had + forgotten, that she could mean so little to him, that he would + deliberately put her out of his life. She had waited, excusing, trusting, + until, heart-sick with deferred hope, she had come to think of him as + dead. She was old enough then to realise her position and in spite of the + love and consideration surrounding her she had learned misery. Her + popularity even was a source of torment, for in the happy homes of her + friends she had felt more cruelly her own destitute loneliness. + </p> + <p> + When the lawyer's letter had come enclosing a few scrawled lines written + by her dying father she had felt that life could hold no more bitterness. + She had worshipped him—and he had abandoned her callously. She was + bone of his bone and he had made no effort even for his own flesh. He had + thrown her a burden on the convent that sheltered her so willingly only + for want of will power to conquer the weakness that had devitalised brain + and body. The thought crushed her. As she read his confession, full of + tardy remorse, her proud heart had been sick with humiliation. She groped + blindly through a sea of despair, her faith broken, her trust gone. She + hid her sorrow and her shame, fulfilling her usual tasks, following the + ordinary routine—a little more silent, a little more reserved—her + eyes alone betraying the storm that was overwhelming her. She had loved + him so dearly—that was the sting. She had guarded her memory of him + so tenderly, weaving a thousand extravagant tales about him, pinnacling + him above all men, her hero, her knight, her <i>preux chevalier.</i> And + now she realised that her memory was no memory, that she had built up a + fantastic figure of romance whose origin rested on nothing tangible, whose + elevation had been so lofty that his overthrow was demolition. Her god had + feet of clay. Her superman was nothing. All that she had ever had, memory + that was delusion, was taken from her. Woken abruptly to the brutal truth + she felt that she had nothing left to cling to—a loneliness far + greater than she had known before. Then gradually her own honesty + compelled her to admit her fantasy. The dream man she had evolved had been + of her own making, the virtues with which she had endowed him bred of her + own imagination. Of the real man she knew nothing, and for the real man + there dawned slowly—though love for him had died—pity. It came + to her, passionately endeavouring to understand, that in the sheltered + life she led she had no knowledge of the temptations that beset a man + outside in the great world. Dimly she realised that some win out—and + some go under. He had failed. And it seemed to her that on her had fallen + his debt. She must take the place he had forfeited in the universe, she + must succeed where he had failed. Her strength must rise out of his + weakness. His honour was hers to re-establish, given the opportunity. And + the opportunity had been given. She had waited for the coming of her + unknown guardian with a feeling of dull revolt against the degradation of + being handed over inexorably to the disposal and charity of a stranger. + Though she had not been told she had guessed, years ago, that money for + her maintenance was wanting. The kindly deception of the Mother Superior + had been ineffectual. Gillian knew she was a pauper. The charity of the + convent school had been hard to bear. The charity of a stranger would be + harder. She writhed with the humiliation of it. She was nineteen—for + two years she must go and be and endure at the whim of an unknown. And + what would he be like, this man into whose hands her father had thrust + her! What choice would John Locke be capable of making—what love had + he shown during these last years that he should choose carefully and well? + From among what class of man, of the society into which he had sunk, would + he select one to give his daughter? He had written of “my old friend, + Barry Craven.” The name conveyed nothing—the adjective admitted of + two interpretations. Which? Day and night she was haunted with visions of + old men—recollections of faces seen when driving with her friends or + visiting their homes; old men who had interested her, old men from whom + she had instinctively shrunk. What type of man was it that was coming for + her? There were times when her courage deserted her and the constantly + recurring question made her nearly mad with fear. She was like a wild + creature caught in a trap, listening to the feet of the keeper nearing—nearing. + She had longed for the time when she could leave the Convent, she clung to + it now with dread at the thought of the future. The London lawyer had + written that Mr. Craven was returning from Japan to assume his + guardianship, and she had traced his route with growing fear as the days + slipped by—the keeper's tread coming closer and closer. She had + masked the terror the thought of him inspired, preserving an outward + apathy that seemed to imply complete indifference. And in the end he had + come sooner than she expected, for they thought he would go first to + London. One morning she had learned he was in Paris, that very afternoon + she would know her fate. The day had been interminable. During his + interview with the Mother Superior she had paced the room where she was + waiting as it seemed for hours, her nerves at breaking point. When the + Reverend Mother came back she could have shrieked aloud and her desperate + eyes failed to interpret the expression on the Nun's face; she tried to + speak, a husky whisper that died away inarticulately. Faintly she heard + the gentle words of encouragement and with an effort of pride she walked + quickly to the door of the visitors' room. There she paused, irresolute, + and the low peaceful roll of the organ echoing from the distant chapel + seemed to mock her. So often it had comforted, giving courage to go + forward—today its very peacefulness jarred; nerve-racked she was out + of tune with the atmosphere of calm tranquillity about her. She felt alien—that + more than ever she stood alone. Then pride flamed afresh. With head held + high and lips compressed she went in. As he turned from the window it was + his great height and broad shoulders that struck her first—men of + his physique were rare in France—and, in the thought of a moment, + the well cut conventional morning coat had seemed absurd, and mentally she + had clothed his long limbs in damascened steel. Then she had seen that he + was young, how young she could not guess, but younger far than she had + imagined. As their eyes met the sombre tragedy in his had hurt her. She + divined a sorrow before which her own paled to nothingness and quick pity + killed fear. The sadness of his face lifted her suddenly into full + realisation of her womanhood. Compassion rose above self. Instinctively + she knew that the interview that was to her so momentous was to him only + an embarrassing interlude. Shyness remained but the terror she had felt + gave place to a feeling she had not then understood. As quickly as + possible he had taken her to the hotel, leaving to his aunt all + explanations that seemed necessary. And since then he had remained + consistently in the background, delegating his authority to Miss Craven. + But from the first his proximity had troubled her—she was always + conscious of his presence. Hypersensitive from her convent upbringing she + knew intuitively when he entered a room or left it. Men were to her an + unknown quantity; the few she had met—brothers and cousins of school + friends—had been viewed from a different standpoint. Hedged about + with rigid French convention there had been no chance of acquaintance + ripening into friendship—she had been merely a schoolgirl among + other girls, touching only the fringe of the most youthful of the + masculine element in the houses where she had stayed. She had been + unprepared for the change to the daily contact with a man like Barry + Craven. It would take time to accustom herself, to become used to the + continual masculine presence. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven, to her nephew's relief, had taken the shy pale-faced girl to + her eccentric heart with a suddenness and enthusiasm that had surprised + herself. + </p> + <p> + And Gillian's reserve and pride had been unable to withstand the whirlwind + little lady. Miss Craven's personality took a strong hold on her; she + loved the woman, she admired the artist, and she was quick to recognise + the real feeling and deep kindness that lay under brusque manner and + quizzical speeches. She had good reason. She glanced now round the big + room. Everywhere were evidences of lavish generosity, showered on her + regardless of protest. Gillian's eyes filled slowly with tears. It was all + a fairy story, too wonderful almost to be true. Why were they so good to + her—how would she ever be able to repay the kindness lavished on + her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the latest gift that rose out of his + basket with a sleepy yawn and stretching luxuriously came and laid his + head on her knee, looking up at her with sad brown eyes. She had always + loved animals, the possession of some dog had been an ardent desire, and + she hugged the big black poodle now with a little sob. + </p> + <p> + “Mouston, you pampered person, have you ever been lonely? Can you imagine + what it is like to be made to feel that you <i>belong</i> to somebody + again?” She rubbed her cheek against his satiny head, crooning over him, + the dog thrilling to her touch with jerking limbs and sharp half-stifled + whines. It was her first experience of ownership, of responsibility for a + living creature that was dependent on her and for which she was + answerable. And it was likely to prove an arduous responsibility. He was + single-minded and jealous in his allegiance; Miss Craven he tolerated + indifferently, of Craven he was openly suspicious. He followed Gillian + like a shadow and moped in her absence, yielding to Yoshio, who had charge + of him on such occasions, a resigned obedience he gave to no other member + of the household. Through Mouston Gillian and Yoshio had become + acquainted. + </p> + <p> + Mouston's affection this evening became over-enthusiastic and threatening + to fragile silks and laces. Gillian kissed the top of his head, shook + solemnly an insistent paw, and put him on one side. She moved to the + dressing table and inspected herself critically in the big mirror. She + looked with grave amusement. Was that Gillian Locke? She wondered did a + butterfly feel more incongruous when it shed its dull grub skin. For so + many years she had worn the sombre garb of the convent schoolgirl, the + change was still new enough to delight and the natural woman within her + responded to the fascination of pretty clothing. The dark draperies of the + convent had palled, she had craved colour with an almost starved longing. + </p> + <p> + The general reflection in the long glass satisfied, a more detailed + personal survey raised serious doubts. She had never recognised the grace + of her slender figure, the uncommon beauty of her pale oval face—other + types had appealed more, other colouring attracted. She had studied her + face often, disapprovingly. Once or twice, lacking a model, she had + essayed to reproduce her own features. She had failed utterly. The + faithful portraiture she achieved for others was wanting. She was unable + to express in her own likeness the almost startling exposition of + character that distinguished her ordinary work. She had been her own + limitation. Her failure had puzzled her, causing a searching mental + inquiry. She had no knowledge herself of how her special gift took form, + the work grew involuntarily under her hand. She was aware of no definite + impression received, no attempt at soul analysis. Vaguely she supposed + that in some subtle mysterious way the character of her sitter + communicated itself, influencing her; in fact her best work had often had + the least care bestowed upon it. Did her inability to transfer to canvas a + living copy of her own face argue that she herself was without character—had + she failed because there was in truth nothing to delineate? Or was it + because she sought to see something unreal—sought to control a + purely inherent impulse? It was a problem she had never solved. + </p> + <p> + She looked now at the mirrored figure with her usual disapproval, great + brown eyes scowling back at her from the glass, then made a little + obliterating movement with her hand and shook her head. Appearance had + never mattered before, but now she wanted so much to please—to be a + credit to the interest shown, to repay the time and money spent upon her. + Her eyes grew wistful as she leant nearer to see if there were any + tell-tale traces of tears, then danced with sudden amusement as she picked + up a powder puff and dabbed tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gillian Locke, what would the Reverend Mother say!” she murmured, and + laughed. + </p> + <p> + The poodle, jealous for attention, leaped on to a chair beside her, his + paws on the plate glass slab scattering brushes and bottles, and still + laughing she smothered his damp eager nose with powder until he sneezed + disgusted protest. + </p> + <p> + With a conciliatory caress she left him to disarrange the dressing table + further, and went back to the window. Beneath her lawns extended to a wide + terrace, stone balustraded, from the centre of which a long flight of + steps led down to a formal rose garden sheltered by a high yew hedge and + backed by a little copse beyond which the heavily timbered park stretched + indefinitely in the evening light. The sense of space fascinated her. She + had always longed for unimpeded views, for the stillness of the country. + On the smooth shaven lawns great trees were set like sentinels about the + house; fancifully she thought of them as living vigilant keepers + maintaining for centuries a perpetual guard—and smiled at her + childish imagination. Her pleasure in the prospect deepened. Already the + charm of the Towers had taken hold of her, from the first moment she had + loved it. Throughout the long railway journey and during the five mile + drive from the station, she had anticipated, and the actuality had + outstripped her anticipation. The beauty of the park, the herds of grazing + deer, had delighted her; the old grey house itself had stayed her + spellbound. She had not imagined anything half so lovely, so impressively + enduring. She had seen nothing to compare with its fine proportions, with + the luxury of its setting. It differed utterly from the French Chateaux + where she had visited; there toil obtruded, vineyards and rich fields of + crops clustered close to the very walls of the seigneur's dwellings, a + source of wealth simply displayed; here similar activities were banished + to unseen regions, and scrupulously kept avenues, close cut lawns and + immaculate flower-beds formed evidence of constant labour whose results + charmed the eye but were materially profitless. The formal grandeur + appealed to her. She was not altogether alien, she reflected, with a + curious smile—despite his subsequent downfall John Locke had sprung + from just such stock as the owner of this wonderful house. A sudden panic + of lateness interrupted her pleasure and she turned from the window, + calling to the dog. Her suite opened on to a circular gallery—from + which bedrooms opened—running round the central portion of the house + and overlooking the big square hall which was lit from above by a lofty + glazed dome; eastward and westward stretched long rambling wings, a story + higher than the main block, crowned with the turrets that gave the house + its name. + </p> + <p> + A low murmur of men's voices came from below, and leaning over the + balustrade she saw Craven and his agent standing talking before the empty + fireplace. Sudden shyness overcame her; her guardian was still formidable, + Peters she had seen for the first time only a few hours ago when he had + met them at the station—a short broad-shouldered man inclining to + stoutness, with thick grey hair and close-pointed beard. To go down + deliberately to them seemed impossible. But while she hesitated in an + agony of self-consciousness Mouston precipitated the inevitable by dashing + on ahead down, the stairs and plunging into the bearskin hearthrug, + ploughing the thick fur with his muzzle and sneezing wildly. The sense of + responsibility outweighed shyness and she hurried after him, but Peters + anticipated her and already had the dog's unwilling head firmly between + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth has he got on his nose, Miss Locke?” he asked, in a tone of + wonder, but the keen blue eyes looking at her from under bushy grey + eyebrows were twinkling and her shyness was not proof against his + friendliness. + </p> + <p> + She dropped to her knees and flicked the offended organ with a scrap of + lace and lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Powder,” she said gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You can have no idea,” she added, looking up suddenly, “how delightful it + is to powder your nose when you have been brought up in a convent. The + Nuns consider it the height of depravity,” and she laughed, a ringing + girlish outburst of amusement that Craven had never yet heard. He looked + at her as she knelt on the rug soothing the poodle's outraged feelings and + smiling at Peters who was offering his own more adequate handkerchief. + That laugh was a revelation—in spite of her self-possession, of her + reserve, she was in reality only a girl, hardly more than a child, but + influenced by her quiet gravity he had forgotten the fact. + </p> + <p> + As he watched her a slight frown gathered on his face. It seemed that + Peters, in a few hours, had penetrated the barrier outside which he, after + months, still remained. With him she was always shyly silent. On the few + rare occasions in Paris and in London when he had found himself alone with + her she had shrunk into herself and avoided addressing him; and he had + wondered, irritably, how much was natural diffidence and how much due to + convent training. But he had made no effort at further understanding, for + the past was always present dominating inclinations and impulses—perpetual + memory, jogging at his elbow. There were days when the only relief was + physical exhaustion and he disappeared for hours to fight his devils in + solitude. And in any case he was not wanted, it was better in every way + for him to efface himself. There was nothing for him to do—thanks to + the improvidence of John Locke no business connected with the trust. Miss + Craven had taken complete possession of Gillian and he held aloof, not + attempting to establish more intimate relations with his ward. But + tonight, with a fine inconsistency, it piqued him that she should respond + so readily to Peters. He knew he was a fool—it mattered not one + particle to him—Peters' magnetism was proverbial—but, + illogically, the frown persisted. + </p> + <p> + As if conscious of his scrutiny Gillian turned and met his searching gaze. + The colour flooded her face and she pushed the dog aside and rose hastily + to her feet. Shyness supervened again and she was thankful for the arrival + of Miss Craven, who was breathless and apologetic. + </p> + <p> + “Late as usual! I shall be late when the last trump sounds. But this time + it was really not my fault. Mrs. Appleyard descended upon me!—our + old housekeeper, Gillian—and her tongue has wagged for a solid hour + by the clock. I am now <i>au fait</i> with everything that has happened at + the Towers since I was here last—do your ears burn, Peter?—metaphorically + she has dragged me at her heels from garrets to cellars and back to the + garrets again. She is pathetically pleased to have the house open once + more.” + </p> + <p> + Still talking she led the way to the dining room. It was an immense room, + panelled like most of the house, the table an oasis on a desert of Persian + carpet, a huge fireplace predominating, and some of the more valuable + family portraits on the walls. + </p> + <p> + As Miss Craven entered she looked instinctively for the portrait of her + brother, which since his death had hung—following a family custom—in + a panel over the high carved mantelpiece. But it had been removed and for + it had been substituted a beautiful painting of Barry's mother. She + stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence. “An innovation?” she + murmured to her nephew, with her shrewd eyes on his face. + </p> + <p> + “A reparation,” he answered shortly, as he moved to his chair. And his + tone made any further comment impossible. She sat down thoughtfully and + began her soup in silence, vaguely disturbed at the departure from a + precedent that had held for generations. Unconventional and ultra-modern + as she was she still clung to the traditions of her family, and from time + immemorial the portrait of the last reigning Craven had hung over the + fireplace in the big dining room waiting to give place to its successor. + It all seemed bound up somehow with the terrible change that had taken + place in him since his return from Japan—a change she was beginning + more and more to connect with the man whose portrait had been banished, as + though unworthy, from its prominence. Unworthy indeed—but how did + Barry know? What had he learned in the country that had had such a fatal + attraction for his father? The old shameful story she had thought buried + for ever seemed rising like a horrible phantom from the grave where it had + lain so long hidden. + </p> + <p> + With a little shudder she turned resolutely from the painful thoughts that + came crowding in upon her and entered into animated conversation with + Peters. + </p> + <p> + Gillian, content to be unnoticed, looked about her with appreciative + interest; the big room, its sombre, rather formal furniture and fine + pictures, appealed to her. The arrangements were in perfect harmony, + nothing clashed or jarred, electric lighting was carefully hidden and only + wax candles burnt in heavy silver candlesticks on the table. + </p> + <p> + The fascination of the old house was growing every moment more insistent, + like a spell laid on her. She gave herself up to it, to the odd happiness + it inspired. She felt it curiously familiar. A strange feeling came to her—it + was as if from childhood she had been journeying and now come home. An + absurd thought, but she loved it. She had never had a home, but for the + next two years she could pretend. To pretend was easy. All her life she + had lived in a land of dreams, tenanted with shadowy inhabitants of her + own imagining—puppets who moved obedient to her will through all the + devious paths of make-believe; a spirit world where she ranged free of the + narrow walls that restricted her liberty. It had been easy to pretend in + the convent—how much easier here in the solid embodiment of a dream + castle and stimulated by the real human affection for which her heart had + starved. The love she had hitherto known had been unsatisfying, too + impersonal, too restrained, too interwoven with mystical devotion. Mass + Craven's affection was of a hardier, more practical nature. Blunt candour + and sincerity personified, she did not attempt to disguise her attachment. + She had been attracted, had approved, and had finally co-opted Gillian + into the family. She had, moreover, great faith in her own judgment. And + to justify that faith Gillian would have gone through fire and water. + </p> + <p> + She looked gratefully at the solid little figure sitting at the foot of + the table and a gleam of amusement chased the seriousness from her eyes. + Miss Craven was in the throes of a heated discussion with Peters which + involved elaborate diagrams traced on the smooth cloth with a salt spoon, + and as Gillian watched she completed her design with a fine flourish and + leant back triumphant in her chair, rumpling her hair fantastically. But + the agent, unconvinced, fell upon her mercilessly and in a moment she was + bent forward again in vigorous protest, drumming impatiently on the table + with her fingers as he laughingly altered her drawing. They were the best + of friends and wrangled continually. To Gillian it was all so fresh, so + novel. Then her attention veered. Throughout dinner Craven had been + silent. When once started on a discussion his aunt and Peters tore the + controversy amicably to tatters in complete absorption. He had not joined + in the argument. As always Gillian was too shy to address him of her own + accord, but she was acutely conscious of his nearness. She deprecated her + own attitude, yet silence was better than the banal platitudes which were + all she had to offer. Her range was so restricted, his—who had + travelled the world over—must be so great. With the exception of one + subject her knowledge was negligible. But he too was an artist—hopeless + to attempt that topic, she concluded with swift contempt for her own + limitations; to offer the opinions of a convent-bred amateur to one who + had studied in famous Paris ateliers and was acquainted with the art of + many countries would be an impertinence. But yet she knew that sometime + she must break through the wall that her own diffidence had built up; in + the intimacy of country house life the continuance of such an attitude + would be both impossible and ridiculous. Contritely she acknowledged that + the tension between them was largely her own fault, a disability due to + training. But she could not go through life sheltering behind that wholly + inadequate plea. If there was anything in her at all she must rise above + the conventions in which she had been reared; she had done with the + narrowness of the past, now she must think broadly, expansively, in all + things—even in the trivial matter of social intercourse. A saving + sense of humour sent a laugh bubbling into her throat which nearly + escaped. It was such a little thing, but she had magnified it so greatly. + What, after all, did it amount to—the awkwardness of a schoolgirl + very properly ignored by a guardian who could not be other than bored with + her society. <i>Tant pis!</i> She could at least try to be polite. She + turned with the heroic intention of breaking the ice and plunging into + conversation, banal though it might be. But her eyes did not arrive at his + face, they were caught and held by his hand, lying on the white cloth, + turning and twisting an empty wine-glass between long strong fingers. + Hands fascinated her. They were indicative of character, testimonies of + individual peculiarities. She was sensitive to the impression they + conveyed. With the limited material available she had studied them—nuns' + hands, priests' hands, hands of the various inmates of the houses where + she had stayed, and the hands of the man who had taught her. From him she + had learned more than the mere rudiments of her art; under his tuition a + crude interest had developed into a definite study, and as she sat looking + at Barry Craven's hand a sentence from one of his lectures recurred to her—“there + are in some hands, particularly in the case of men, characteristics + denoting certain passions and attributes that jump to the eye as forcibly + as if they were expressions of face.” + </p> + <p> + Engaged in present study she forgot her original purpose, noting the + salient points of a fresh type, enumerating details that formed the + composite whole. A strong hand that could in its strength be merciless—could + it equally in its strength be merciful? The strange thought came + unexpectedly as she watched the thin stem of the wineglass turning rapidly + and then more slowly until, with a little tinkle, it snapped as the hand + clenched suddenly, the knuckles showing white through the tanned skin. + Gillian drew a quick breath. Had she been the cause of the mishap—had + she stared noticeably, and he been angry at an impertinence? Her cheeks + burned and in a misery of shyness she forced her eyes to his face. Her + contrition was needless. Heedless of her he was looking at the splintered + glass between his fingers with a faint expression of surprise, as if his + wandering thoughts were but half recalled by the accident. For a moment he + stared at the shattered pieces—then laid them down indifferently. + </p> + <p> + Gillian smothered an hysterical inclination to laugh. He was so totally + negligent of her presence that even this little incident had failed to + make him sensible of her scrutiny. Immersed in his thoughts he was very + obviously miles away from Craven Towers and the vicinity of a troublesome + ward. And suddenly it hurt. She was nothing to him but a shy <i>gauche</i> + girl whose very existence was an embarrassment. The determination so + bravely formed died before his cold detachment. More than ever was speech + impossible. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged faintly with a little pout. So, confident of his + preoccupation, she continued to study him. Had the homecoming intensified + the sadness of his eyes and deepened the lines about his mouth?—were + memories of the mother he had adored sharpening tonight the look of + suffering on his face? Or was her imagination, over-excited, exaggerating + what she saw and fancying a great sorrow where there was only boredom? She + pondered, and had almost concluded that the latter was the saner + explanation when—watching—she saw a sudden spasm cross his + face of such agony that she caught her lip fiercely between her teeth to + stifle an exclamation. In the fleeting expression of a moment she had seen + the revelation of a soul in torment. She looked away hastily, feeling + dismayed at having trespassed. She had discovered a secret wound. She sat + tense, and a quick fear came lest the others might have also seen. She + glanced at them furtively. But the argument was still unsettled, the + tablecloth between them scored and creased with conflicting sketches. She + drew a sharp little sigh of relief. Only she had noticed, and she did not + matter. For a few moments her thoughts ran riot until she pulled them up + frowningly. It was no business of hers—she had no right even to + speculate on his affairs. Angry with herself she turned for distraction to + the portraits on the walls—they at least would offer no disturbing + problem. But her determination to keep her thoughts from her guardian met + with a check at the outset for she found herself staring at Barry Craven + as she had visualised him in that first moment of meeting—steel-clad. + It was the picture of a young man, dressed in the style of the Elizabethan + period, wearing a light inlaid cuirass and leaning negligently against a + stone balustrade, a hooded falcon on his wrist. The resemblance to the + owner of Craven Towers was remarkable—the same build, the same + haughty carriage of the head, the same features and colouring; the mouth + only of the painted gallant differed, for the lips were not set sternly + but curved in a singularly winning smile. The portrait had recently been + cleaned and the colours stood out freshly. The pose of the figure was + curiously unrestrained for the period, a suggestion of energy—barely + concealed by the indolent attitude—broke through the conventional + treatment of the time, as if the painter had responded to an influence + that had overcome tradition. The whole body seemed to pulsate with life. + Gillian looked at it entranced; instinctively her eyes sought the pictured + hands. The one that held the falcon was covered with an embroidered + leather glove, but the other was bare, holding a set of jesses. And even + the hands were similar, the characteristics faithfully transmitted. + Peters' voice startled her. “You are looking at the first Barry Craven, + Miss Locke. It is a wonderful picture. The resemblance is extraordinary, + is it not?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up and met the agent's magnetic smile across the table. + </p> + <p> + “It is—extraordinary,” she said slowly; “it might be a costume + portrait of Mr. Craven, except that in treatment the picture is so + different from a modern painting.” + </p> + <p> + Peters laughed. + </p> + <p> + “The professional eye, Miss Locke! But I am glad that you admit the + likeness. I should have quarrelled horribly with you if you had failed to + see it. The young man in the picture,” he went on, warming to the subject + as he saw the girl's interest, “was one of the most romantic personages of + his time. He lived in the reign of Elizabeth and was poet, sculptor, and + musician—there are two volumes of his verse in the library and the + marble Hermes in the hall is his work. When he was seventeen he left the + Towers to go to court. He seems to have been universally beloved, judging + from various letters that have come down to us. He was a close friend of + Sir Philip Sidney and one of Spenser's numerous patrons. A special + favourite with Elizabeth—in fact her partiality seems to have been a + source of some embarrassment, according to entries in his private journal. + She knighted him for no particular reason that has ever transpired, indeed + it seems to have been a matter of surprise to himself, for he records it + in his journal thus: + </p> + <p> + “'—dubbed knight this day by Gloriana. God He knoweth why, but not + I.' He was an idealist and visionary, with the power of putting his + thoughts into words—his love poems are the most beautiful I have + ever read, but they are quite impersonal. There is no evidence that his + love was ever given to any 'faire ladye.' No woman's name was ever + connected with his, and from his detached attitude towards the tender + passion he earned, in a fantastical court, the euphuistic appellation of + <i>L'amant d' Amour.</i> Quite suddenly, after ten years in the queen's + household, he fitted out an expedition to America. He gave no reason. + Distaste for the artificial existence prevailing at Court, sorrow at the + death of his friend Sidney, or a wander-hunger fed on the tales brought + home by the numerous merchant adventurers may have been the cause of this + surprising step. His decision provoked dismay among his friends and + brought a furious tirade from Elizabeth who commanded him to remain near + her. But in spite of royal oaths and entreaties—more of the former + than the latter—he sailed to Virginia on a land expedition. Two + letters came from him during the next few years, but after that—silence. + His fate is not known. He was the first of many Cravens to vanish into + oblivion searching for new lands.” The pleasant voice hesitated and + dropped to a lower, more serious note. And Gillian was puzzled at the + sudden anxiety that clouded the agent's smiling blue eyes. She had + listened with eager interest. It was history brought close and made alive + in its intimate connection with the house. The dream castle was more + wonderful even than she had thought. She smiled her thanks at Peters, and + drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “I like that,” and looking at the picture again, “the Lover of Love!” she + repeated softly; “it's a very beautiful idea.” + </p> + <p> + “A very unsatisfactory one for any poor soul who may have been fool enough + to lose her heart to him.” Miss Craven's voice was caustic. + </p> + <p> + “I have often wondered if any demoiselle 'pined in a green and yellow + melancholy for his sake,' she added, rising from the table. + </p> + <p> + “Reason enough, if he knew of it, for going to Virginia,” said Craven, + with a hard laugh. “The family traditions have never tended to undue + consideration of the weaker sex.” + </p> + <p> + “Barry, you are horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly, my dear aunt, but correct,” he replied coolly, crossing the + room to open the door. “Even Peter, who has the family history at his + fingers' ends, cannot deny it.” His voice was provocative but Peters, + beyond a mildly sarcastic “—thank you for the 'even,' Barry—” + refused to be drawn. + </p> + <p> + Her nephew's words would formerly have aroused a storm of indignant + protest from Miss Craven, touched in a tender spot. But now some intuition + warned her to silence. She put her arm through Gillian's and left the room + without attempting to expostulate. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing room she sat down to a patience table, lit a cigarette, + rumpled her hair, and laid out the cards frowningly. More than ever was + she convinced that in the two years he had been away some serious disaster + had occurred. His whole character appeared to have undergone a change. He + was totally different. The old Barry had been neither hard nor cynical, + the new Barry was both. In the last few weeks she had had ample + opportunity for judging. She perceived that a heavy shadow lay upon him + darkening his home-coming—she had pictured it so very differently, + and she sighed over the futility of anticipation. His happiness meant to + her so much that she raged at her inability to help him. Until he spoke + she could do nothing. And she knew that he would never speak. The nightly + occupation lost its usual zest, so she shuffled the cards absently and + began a fresh game. + </p> + <p> + Gillian was on the hearthrug, Houston's head in her lap. She leant against + Miss Craven's chair, dreaming as she had dreamt in the old convent until + the sudden lifting of the dog's head under her hands made her aware of + Peters standing beside her. He looked down silently on the card table for + a few moments, pointed with a nicotine-stained finger to a move Miss + Craven had missed and then wandered across the room and sat down at the + piano. For a while his hands moved silently over the keys, then he began + to play, and his playing was exquisite. Gillian sat and marvelled. Peters + and music had seemed widely apart. He had appeared so essentially a + sportsman; in spite of the literary tendency that his sympathetic account + of the Elizabethan Barry Craven had suggested she had associated him with + rougher, more physical pursuits. He was obviously an out-door man; a gun + seemed a more natural complement to his hands than the sensitive keys of a + piano, his thick rather clumsy fingers manifestly incompatible with the + delicate touch that was filling the room with wonderful harmony. It was a + check to her cherished theory which she acknowledged reluctantly. But she + forgot to theorise in the sheer joy of listening. + </p> + <p> + “Why did he not make music a career?” she whispered, under cover of some + crashing chords. Miss Craven smiled at her eager face. + </p> + <p> + “Can you see Peter kow-towing to concert directors, and grimacing at an + audience?” she replied, rescuing a king from her rubbish heap. + </p> + <p> + With an answering smile Gillian subsided into her former position. Music + moved her deeply and her highly strung artistic temperament was responding + to the beauty of Peters' playing. It was a Russian folk song, plaintive + and simple, with a curious minor refrain like the sigh of an aching heart—wild + sad harmony with pain in it that gripped the throat. Swayed by the + sorrow-haunted music a wave of foreboding came over her, a strange + indefinite fear that was formless but that weighed on her like a crushing + burden. The happiness of the last few weeks seemed suddenly swamped in the + recollection of the misery rampant in the world. Who, if their inmost + hearts were known, were truly happy? And her thoughts, becoming more + personal, flitted back over the desolate days of her own sad girlhood and + then drifted to the tragedy of her father. Then, with a forward leap that + brought her suddenly to the present, she thought of the sorrow she had + seen on Craven's face in that breathless moment at dinner time. Was there + only sadness in the world? The brooding brown eyes grew misty. A + passionate prayer welled up in her heart that complete happiness might + touch her once, if only for a moment. + </p> + <p> + Then the music changed and with it the girl's mood. She gave her head a + little backward jerk and blinked the moisture from her eyes angrily. What + was the matter with her? Surely she was the most ungrateful girl in the + universe. If there was sorrow in the world for her then it must be of her + own making. She had been shown almost unbelievable kindness, nothing had + been omitted to make her happy. The contrast of her life only a few weeks + ago and now was immeasurable. What more did she want? Was she so selfish + that she could even think of the unhappiness that was over? Shame filled + her, and she raised her eyes to the woman beside her with a sudden rush of + gratitude and love. But Miss Craven, interested at last in her game, was + blind to her surroundings, and with a little smile Gillian turned her + attention to the silent occupant of the chair near her. Craven had come + into the room a few minutes before. He was leaning back listlessly, one + hand shading his face, a neglected cigarette dangling from the other. She + looked at him long and earnestly, wondering, as she always wondered, what + association there had been between him and such a man as her father—what + had induced him to take upon himself the burden that had been laid upon + him. And her cheeks grew hot again at the thought of the encumbrance she + was to him. It was preposterous that he should be so saddled! + </p> + <p> + She stifled a sigh and her eyes grew dreamy as she fell to thinking of the + future that lay before her. And as she planned with eager confidence her + hand moved soothingly over the dog's head in measure to the languorous + waltz that Peters was playing. + </p> + <p> + After a sudden unexpected chord the player rose from the piano and joined + the circle at the other end of the room. Miss Craven was shuffling + vigorously. “Thank you, Peter,” she said, with a smiling nod, “it's like + old times to hear you play again. Gillian thinks you have missed your + vocation, she would like to see you at the Queen's Hall.” + </p> + <p> + Peters laughed at the girl's blushing protest and sat down near the card + table. Miss Craven paused in a deal to light a fresh cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “What's the news in the county?” she asked, adding for Gillian's benefit: + “He's a walking chronicle, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Peters laughed. “Nothing startling, dear lady. We have been a singularly + well-behaved community of late. Old Lacy of Holmwood is dead, Bill Lacy + reigns in his stead and is busy cutting down oaks to pay for youthful + indiscretions—none of 'em very fierce when all's said and done. The + Hamer-Banisters have gone under at last—more's the pity—and + Hamer is let to some wealthy Australians who are possessed apparently of + unlimited cash, a most curious phraseology, and an assurance which is + beautiful to behold. They had good introductions and Alex has taken them + up enthusiastically—there are kindred tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “Horses, I presume. How are the Horringfords?” + </p> + <p> + “Much as usual,” replied Peters. “Horringford is absorbed in things + Egyptian, and Alex is on the warpath again,” he added darkly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven grinned. + </p> + <p> + “What is it this time?” + </p> + <p> + Peters' eyebrows twitched quaintly. + </p> + <p> + “Socialism!” he chuckled, “a brand new, highly original conception of that + very elastic term. I asked Alex to explain the principles of this + particular organization and she was very voluble and rather cryptic. It + appears to embrace the rights of man, the elevation of the masses, the + relations between landlord and tenant, the psychological deterioration of + the idle rich—” + </p> + <p> + “Alex and psychology—good heavens!” interposed Miss Craven, her + hands at her hair, “and the amelioration of the downtrodden poor,” + continued Peters. “It doesn't sound very original, but I'm told that the + propaganda is novel in the extreme. Alex is hard at work among their own + people,” he concluded, leaning back in his chair with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “But—the downtrodden poor! I thought Horringford was a model + landlord and his estates an example to the kingdom.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. That's the humour of it. But a little detail like that + wouldn't deter Alex. It will be an interest for the summer, she's always + rather at a loose end when there's no hunting. She had taken up this + socialistic business very thoroughly, organizing meetings and lectures. A + completely new scheme for the upbringing of children seems to be a special + sideline of the campaign. I'm rather vague there—I know I made Alex + very angry by telling her that it reminded me of intensive market + gardening. That Alex has no children of her own presents no difficulty to + her—she is full of the most beautiful theories. But theories don't + seem to go down very well with the village women. She was routed the other + day by the mother of a family who told her bluntly to her face she didn't + know what she was talking about—which was doubtless perfectly true. + But the manner of telling seems to have been disagreeable and Alex was + very annoyed and complained to Thomson, the new agent. He, poor chap, was + between the devil and the deep sea, for the tenants had also been + complaining that they were being interfered with. So he had to go to + Horringford and there was a royal row. The upshot of it was that Alex rang + me up on the 'phone this morning to tell me that Horringford was behaving + like a bear, that he was so wrapped up in his musty mummies that he hadn't + a spark of philanthropy in him, and that she was coming over to lunch + tomorrow to tell me all about it—she's delighted to hear that the + house is open again, and will come on to you for tea, when you will + doubtless get a second edition of her woes. Half-an-hour later Horringford + rang me up to say that Alex had been particularly tiresome over some new + crank which had set everybody by the ears, that Thomson was sending in a + resignation daily, altogether there was the deuce to pay, and would I use + my influence and talk sense to her. It appears he is working at high + pressure to finish a monograph on one of the Pharaohs and was considerably + ruffled at being interrupted.” + </p> + <p> + “If he cared a little less for the Pharaohs and a little more for Alex—” + suggested Miss Craven, blowing smoke rings thoughtfully. Peters shook his + head. + </p> + <p> + “He did care—that's the pity of it,” he said slowly, “but what can + you expect?—you know how it was. Alex was a child married when she + should have been in the schoolroom, without a voice in the matter. + Horringford was nearly twenty years her senior, always reserved and + absorbed in his Egyptian researches. Alex hadn't an idea in the world + outside the stables. Horringford bored her infinitely, and with Alex-like + honesty she did not hesitate to tell him so. They hadn't a thought in + common. She couldn't see the sterling worth of the man, so they drifted + apart and Horringford retired more than ever into his shell.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you propose to do, Peter?” Craven's sudden question was + startling, for he had not appeared to be listening to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + Peters lit a cigarette and smoked for a few moments before answering. “I + shall listen to all Alex has to say,” he said at last, “then I shall tell + her a few things I think she ought to know, and I shall persuade her to + ask Horringford to take her with him to Egypt next winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Horringford in Egypt and Horringford in England are two very + different people. I know—because I have seen. It's an idea, it may + work. Anyhow it's worth trying.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose her ladyship does not succumb to your persuasive tongue?” + </p> + <p> + “She will—before I've done with her,” replied Peters grimly, and + then he laughed. “I guessed from what she said this morning that she was a + little frightened at the hornet's nest she had raised. I imagine she won't + be sorry to run away for a while and let things settle down. She can ease + off gently in the meantime and give Egypt as an excuse for finally + withdrawing.” + </p> + <p> + “You think Alex is more to blame than Horringford?” said Miss Craven, with + a note of challenge in her voice. + </p> + <p> + Peters shrugged. “I blame them both. But above all I blame the system that + has been responsible for the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that Alex should have been allowed to choose her own husband? + She was such a child—” + </p> + <p> + “And Horringford was such a devil of a good match,” interposed Craven + cynically, moving from his chair to the padded fireguard. Gillian was + sitting on the arm of Miss Craven's chair, sorting the patience cards into + a leather case. She looked up quickly. “I thought that in England all + girls choose their own husbands, that they marry to please themselves, I + mean,” she said in a puzzled voice. + </p> + <p> + “Theoretically they do, my dear,” replied Miss Craven, “in practice + numbers do not. The generality of girls settle their own futures and + choose their own husbands. But there are still many old-fashioned people + who arrogate to themselves the right of settling their daughters' lives, + who have so trained them that resistance to family wishes becomes almost + an impossibility. A good suitor presents himself, parental pressure is + brought to bear—and the deed is done. Witness the case of Alex. In a + few years she probably would have chosen for herself, wisely. As it was, + marriage had never entered her head.” + </p> + <p> + “She couldn't have chosen a better man,” said Peters warmly, “if he had + only been content to wait a year or two—” + </p> + <p> + “Alex would probably have eloped with a groom or a circus rider before she + reached years of discretion!” laughed Miss Craven. “But it's a difficult + question, the problem of husband choosing,” she went on thoughtfully. + “Being a bachelor I can discuss it with perfect equanimity. But if in a + moment of madness I had married and acquired a houseful of daughters, I + should have nervous prostration every time a strange man showed his nose + inside the door.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't set us on a very high plane, dear lady,” said Peters + reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “My good soul, I set you on no plane at all—know too much about + you!” she smiled. Peters laughed. “What's your opinion, Barry?” + </p> + <p> + Since his one interruption Craven had been silent, as if the discussion + had ceased to interest him. He did not answer Peters' question for some + time and when at last he spoke his voice was curiously strained. “I don't + think my opinion counts for very much, but it seems to me that the woman + takes a big risk either way. A man never knows what kind of a blackguard + he may prove in circumstances that may arise.” + </p> + <p> + An awkward pause followed. Miss Craven kept her eyes fixed on the card + table with a feeling of nervous apprehension that was new to her. Her + nephew's words and the bitterness of his tone seemed fraught with hidden + meaning, and she racked her brains to find a topic that would lessen the + tension that seemed to have fallen on the room. But Peters broke the + silence before it became noticeable. “The one person present whom it most + nearly concerns has not given us her view. What do you say, Miss Locke?” + </p> + <p> + Gillian flushed faintly. It was still difficult to join in a general + conversation, to remember that she might at any moment be called upon to + put forward ideas of her own. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I am prejudiced. I was brought up in a convent—in + France,” she said hesitatingly. “Then you hold with the French custom of + arranged marriages?” suggested Peters. Her dark eyes looked seriously into + his. “I think it is—safer,” she said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And consequently, happier?” The colour deepened in her face. “Oh, I don't + know. I do not understand English ways. I can speak only of France. We + talked of it in the convent—naturally, since it was forbidden, <i>que + voulez vous?</i>” she smiled. “Some of my friends were married. Their + parents arranged the marriages. It seems that—” she stammered and + went on hurriedly—“that there is much to be considered in choosing a + husband, much that—girls do not understand, that only older people + know. So it is perhaps better that they should arrange a matter which is + so serious and so—so lasting. They must know more than we do,” she + added quietly. + </p> + <p> + “And are your friends happy?” asked Miss Craven bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “They are content.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven snorted. “Content!” she said scornfully. “Marriage should + bring more than contentment. It's a meagre basis on which to found a life + partnership.” + </p> + <p> + A shadow flitted across the girl's face. + </p> + <p> + “I had a friend who married for love,” she said slowly. “She belonged to + the old noblesse, and her family wished her to make a great marriage. But + she loved an artist and married him in spite of all opposition. For six + months she was the happiest girl in France—then she found out that + her husband was unfaithful. Does it shock you that I speak of it—we + all knew in the convent. She went to Capri soon afterwards, to a villa her + father had given her, and one morning she went out to swim—it was a + daily habit, she could do anything in the water. But that morning she swam + out to sea—and she did not come back.” The low voice sank almost to + a whisper. Miss Craven looked up incredulously. “Do you mean she + deliberately drowned herself?” Gillian made a little gesture of evasion. + “She was very unhappy,” she said softly. And in the silence that followed + her troubled gaze turned almost unconsciously to her guardian. He had + risen and was standing with his hands in his pockets staring straight in + front of him, rigidly still. His attitude suggested complete detachment + from those about him, as if his spirit was ranging far afield leaving the + big frame empty, impenetrable as a figure of stone. She was sensitive to + his lack of interest. She regretted having expressed opinions that she + feared were immature and valueless. A quick sigh escaped her, and Miss + Craven, misunderstanding, patted her shoulder gently. “It's a very sad + little story, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “And one that serves to confirm your opinion that a girl does well to + accept the husband who is chosen for her, Miss Locke?” asked Peters + abruptly, as he glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + Gillian joined in the general move. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is—safer,” she said, as she had said before, and stooped + to rouse the sleeping poodle. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Miss Craven was sitting alone in the library at the Towers. She had been + reading, but the book had failed to hold her attention and lay unheeded on + her lap while she was plunged in a profound reverie. + </p> + <p> + She sat very still, her usually serene face clouded, and once or twice a + heavy sigh escaped her. + </p> + <p> + The short November day was drawing in and though still early afternoon it + was already growing dark. The declining light was more noticeable in the + library than elsewhere in the house—a sombre room once the morning + sun had passed; long and narrow and panelled in oak to a height of about + twelve feet, above which ran a gallery reached by a hammered iron + stairway, it housed a collection of calf and vellum bound books which + clothed the walls from the floor of the gallery to within a few feet of + the lofty ceiling. On the fourth side of the room, whither the gallery did + not extend, three tall narrow windows overlooked the drive. The furniture + was scanty and severely Jacobean, having for more than two hundred years + remained practically intact; a ponderous writing table, a couple of long + low cabinets, and half a dozen cavernous armchairs recushioned to suit + modern requirements of ease. Some fine old bronzes stood against the + panelled walls. There was about the room a settled peacefulness. The old + furniture had a stately air of permanence. The polished panels, and, + above, the orderly ranks of ancient books suggested durability; they + remained—while generations of men came and passed, transient figures + reflected in the shining oak, handling for a few brief years the printed + treasures that would still be read centuries after they had returned to + their dust. + </p> + <p> + The spirit of the house seemed embodied in this big silent room that was + spacious and yet intimate, formal and yet friendly. + </p> + <p> + It was Miss Craven's favourite retreat. The atmosphere was sympathetic. + Here she seemed more particularly in touch with the subtle influence of + family that seemed to pervade the whole house. In most of the rooms it was + perceptible, but in the library it was forceful. + </p> + <p> + The house and the family—they were bound up inseparably. + </p> + <p> + For hundreds of years, in an unbroken line, from father to son ... from + father to son.... Miss Craven sat bolt upright to the sound of an + unmistakable sob. She looked with amazement at two tears blistering the + page of the open book on her knee. She had not knowingly cried since + childhood. It was a good thing that she was alone she thought, with a + startled glance round the empty room. She would have to keep a firmer hold + over herself than that. She laughed a little shakily, choked, blew her + nose vigorously, and walked to the middle window. Outside was stark + November. The wind swept round the house in fierce gusts before which the + big bare-branched trees in the park swayed and bowed, and trains of late + fallen leaves caught in a whirlwind eddied skyward to scatter widely down + again. + </p> + <p> + Rain lashed the window panes. Yet even when storm-tossed the scene had its + own peculiar charm. At all seasons it was lovely. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven looked at the massive trees, beautiful in their clean + nakedness, and wondered how often she would see them bud again. Frowning, + she smothered a rising sigh and pressing closer to the window peered out + more attentively. Eastward and westward stretched long avenues that curved + and receded soon from sight. The gravelled space before the house was + wide; from it two shorter avenues encircling a large oval paddock led to + the stables, built at some distance facing the house, but hidden by a belt + of firs. + </p> + <p> + For some time Miss Craven watched, but only a game-keeper passed, a + drenched setter at his heels, and with a little shiver she turned back to + the room. She moved about restlessly, lifting books to lay them down + immediately, ransacking the cabinets for prints that at a second glance + failed to interest, and examining the bronzes that she had known from + childhood with lengthy intentness as if she saw them now for the first + time. + </p> + <p> + A footman came and silently replenished the fire. Her thoughts, + interrupted, swung into a new channel. She sat down at the writing table + and drawing toward her a sheet of paper slowly wrote the date. Beyond that + she did not get. The ink dried on the pen as she stared at the blank + sheet, unable to express as she wished the letter she had intended to + write. + </p> + <p> + She laid the silver holder down at last with a hopeless gesture and her + eyes turned to a bronze figure that served as a paper weight. It was a + piece of her own work and she handled it lovingly with a curiously sad + smile until a second hard sob broke from her and pushing it away she + covered her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Not for myself, God knows it's not for myself,” she whispered, as if in + extenuation. And mastering herself with an effort she made a second + attempt to write but at the end of half a dozen words rose impatiently, + crumpled the paper in her hand and walking to the fireplace threw it among + the blazing logs. + </p> + <p> + She watched it curl and discolour, the writing blackly distinct, and + crumble into ashes. Then from force of habit she searched for a cigarette + in a box on the mantelpiece, but as she lit it a sudden thought arrested + her and after a moment's hesitation the cigarette followed the half—written + letter into the fire. + </p> + <p> + With an impatient shrug she went back to an arm chair and again tried to + read, but though her eyes mechanically followed the words on the printed + page she did not notice what she was reading and laying the book down she + gave up all further endeavour to distract her wandering thoughts. They + were not pleasant and when, a little later, the door opened she turned her + head expectantly with a sigh of relief. Peters came in briskly. + </p> + <p> + “I've come to inquire,” he said laughing, “the family pew held me in + solitary state this morning. Time was when I never minded, but this last + year has spoiled me. I was booked for lunch but I came as soon as I could. + Nobody ill, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven looked at him for a moment before answering as he stood with + his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him, his face ruddy with + the wind and rain, his keen blue eyes on hers, reliable, unchanging. It + was a curious chance that had brought him—just at that moment. The + temptation to make an unusual confidence rose strongly. She had known him + and trusted him for more years than she cared to remember. How much to + say? Indecision held her. + </p> + <p> + “You are always thoughtful, Peter,” she temporised. “I am afraid there is + no excuse,” with a little smile; “Barry rode off somewhere quite early + this morning and Gillian went yesterday to the Horringfords. I expect her + back to-day in time for tea. For myself, I had gout or rheumatism or the + black dog on my back, I forget which! Anyhow, I stayed at home.” She + laughed and pointed to the cigarettes. He took one, tapping it on his + thumbnail. + </p> + <p> + “You were alone. Why didn't you 'phone? I should have been glad to escape + the Australians. They are enormously kind, but somewhat—er—overwhelming,” + he added with a quick laugh. + </p> + <p> + “My dear man, be thankful I never thought of it. I've been like a bear + with a sore head all day.” She looked past him into the fire, and struck + by a new note in her voice he refrained from comment, smoking slowly and + luxuriating in the warmth after a cold wet drive in an open motor. He + never used a closed car. But some words she had used struck him. “Barry is + riding—?” with a glance at the storm raging outside. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He had breakfast at an unearthly hour and went off early. Weather + seems to make no difference to him, but he will be soaked to the skin.” + </p> + <p> + “He's tough,” replied Peters shortly. “I thought he must be out. As I came + in just now Yoshio was hanging about the hall, watching the drive. Waiting + for him, I suppose,” he added, flicking a curl of ash into the fire. “He's + a treasure of a valet,” he supplemented conversationally. But Miss Craven + let the observation pass. She was still staring into the leaping flames, + drumming with her fingers on the arms of the chair. Once she tried to + speak but no words came. Peters waited. He felt unaccountably but + definitely that she wished him to wait, that what was evidently on her + mind would come with no prompting from him. He felt in her attitude a + tension that was unusual—to-day she was totally unlike herself. Once + or twice only in the course of a lifelong friendship she had shown him her + serious side. She had turned to him for help then—he seemed + presciently aware that she was turning to him for help now. He prided + himself that he knew her as well as she knew herself and he understood the + effort it would cost her to speak. That he guessed the cause of her + trouble was no short cut to getting that trouble uttered. She would take + her own time, he could not go half-way to meet her. He must stand by and + wait. When had he ever done anything else at Craven Towers? His eyes + glistened curiously in the firelight, and he rammed his hands down into + his jacket pockets with abrupt jerkiness. Suddenly Miss Craven broke the + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Peter—I'm horribly worried about Barry,” the words came with a + rush. He understood her too well to cavil. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady, so am I,” he replied with a promptness that did not console. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, what is it?” she went on breathlessly. “Barry is utterly changed. + You see it as well as I. I don't understand—I'm all at sea—I + want your help. I couldn't discuss him with anybody else, but you—you + are one of us, you've always been one of us. Fair weather or foul, you've + stood by us. What we should have done without you God only knows. You care + for Barry, he's as dear to you as he is to me, can't you do something? The + suffering in his face—the tragedy in his eyes—I wake up in the + night seeing them! Peter, can't you <i>do</i> something?” She was beside + him, clutching at the mantel-shelf, shaking with emotion. The sight of her + unnerved, almost incoherent, shocked him. He realised the depth of the + impression that had been made upon her—deep indeed to produce such a + result. But what she asked was impossible. He made a little negative + gesture and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady, I can't do anything. And I wonder whether you know how it + hurts to have to say so? No son could be dearer to me than Barry—for + the sake of his mother—” his voice faltered momentarily, “but the + fact remains—he is not my son. I am only his agent. There are + certain things I cannot do and say, no matter how great the wish,” he + added with a twisted smile. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven seemed scarcely to be listening. “It happened in Japan,” she + asserted in fierce low tones. “Japan! Japan!” she continued vehemently, + “how much more sorrow is that country to bring to our family! It happened + in Japan and whatever it was—Yoshio knows! You spoke of him just + now. You said he was hanging about—waiting—watching. Peter, + he's doing it all the time! He watches continually. Barry never has to + send for him—he's always there, waiting to be called. When Barry + goes out the man is restless until he comes in again—haunting the + hall—it gets on my nerves. Yet there is nothing I can actually + complain of. He doesn't intrude, he is as noiseless as a cat and vanishes + if he sees you, but you know that just out of sight he's still there—waiting—listening. + Peter, what is he waiting for? I don't think that it is apparent to the + rest of the household, I didn't notice it myself at first. But a few + months ago something happened and since then I don't seem able to get away + from it. It was in the night, about two o'clock; I was wakeful and + couldn't sleep. I thought if I read I might read myself sleepy. I hadn't a + book in my room that pleased me and I remembered a half-finished novel I + had left in the library. I didn't take a light—I know every turn in + the Towers blindfold. As you know, to reach the staircase from my room I + have to pass Barry's door, and at Barry's door I fell over something in + the darkness—something with hands of steel that saved me from an + awkward tumble and hurried me down the passage and into the moonlit + gallery before I could find a word of expostulation. Yoshio of course. I + was naturally startled and angry in consequence. I demanded an explanation + and after a great deal of hesitation he muttered something about Barry + wanting him—which is ridiculous on the face of it. If Barry had + really wanted him he would have been inside the room, not crouched outside + on the door mat. He seemed very upset and kept begging me to say nothing + about it. I don't remember how he put it but he certainly conveyed the + impression that it would not be good for Barry to know. I don't understand + it—Barry trusts him implicitly—and yet this.... I'm afraid, + and I've never been afraid in my life before.” The little break in her + voice hurt him. He felt curiously unable to cope with the situation. Her + story disturbed him more than he cared to let her see in her present + condition of unwonted agitation. Twice in the past they had stood shoulder + to shoulder through a crisis of sufficient magnitude and she had showed + then a cautious judgment, a reliability of purpose that had been purely + masculine in its strength and sanity. She had been wholly matter-of-fact + and unimaginative, unswayed by petty trivialities and broad in her + decision. She had displayed a levelness of mind which had almost excluded + feeling and which had enabled him to deal with her as with another man, + confident of her understanding and the unlikelihood of her succumbing + unexpectedly to ordinary womanly weaknesses. He had thought that he knew + her thoroughly, that no circumstance that might arise could alter + characteristics so set and inherent. But to-day her present emotion which + had come perilously near hysteria, showed her in a new light that made her + almost a stranger. He was a little bewildered with the discovery. It was + incredible after all these years, just as if an edifice that he had + thought strongly built of stone had tumbled about his ears like a pack of + cards. He could hardly grasp it. He felt that there was something behind + it all—something more than she admitted. He was tempted to ask + definitely but second reflection brought the conviction that it would be a + mistake, that it would be taking an unfair advantage. Sufficient unto the + day—his present concern was to help her regain a normal mental + poise. And to do that he must ignore half of what her suggestions seemed + to imply. He felt her breakdown acutely, he must say nothing that would + add to her distress of mind. It was better to appear obtuse than to concur + too heartily in fears, a recollection of which in a saner moment he knew + would be distasteful to her. She would never forgive herself—the + less she had to forget the better. She trusted him or she would never have + spoken at all. That he knew and he was honoured by her confidence. They + had always been friends, but in her weakness he felt nearer to her than + ever before. She was waiting for him to speak. He chose the line that + seemed the least open to argument. He spoke at last, evenly, unwilling + alike to seem incredulous or overanxious, his big steady hand closing + warmly over her twitching fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think there is any cause—any reason to doubt Yoshio's + fidelity. The man is devoted to Barry. His behaviour certainly sounds—curious, + but can be attributed I am convinced to over-zealousness. He is an alien + in a strange land, cut off from his own natural distractions and + amusements, and with time on his hands his devotion to his master takes a + more noticeable form than is usual with an ordinary English man-servant. + That he designs any harm I cannot believe. He has been with Barry a long + time—on the several occasions when he stayed with him at your house + in London did you notice anything in his behaviour then similar to the + attitude you have observed recently? No? Then I take it that it is due to + the same anxiety that we ourselves have felt since Barry's return. Only in + Yoshio's case it is probably based on definite knowledge, whereas ours is + pure conjecture. Barry has undoubtedly been up against something—momentous. + Between ourselves we can admit the fact frankly. It is a different man who + has come back to us—and we can only carry on and notice nothing. He + is trying to forget something. He has worked like a nigger since he came + home, slogging away down at the estate office as if he had his bread to + earn. He does the work of two men—and he hates it. I see him + sometimes, forgetful of his surroundings, staring out of the window, and + the look on his face brings a confounded lump into my throat. Thank God + he's young—perhaps in time—” he shrugged and broke off + inconclusively, conscious of the futility of platitudes. And they were all + he had to offer. There was no suggestion he could make, nothing he could + do. It was repetition of history, again he had to stand by and watch + suffering he was powerless to aid, powerless to relieve. The mother first + and now the son—it would seem almost as if he had failed both. The + sense of helplessness was bitter and his face was drawn with pain as he + stared dumbly at the window against which the storm was beating with + renewed violence. The sight of the angry elements brought almost a feeling + of relief; it would be something that he could contend with and overcome, + something that would go towards mitigating the galling sense of impotence + that chafed him. He felt the room suddenly stifling, he wanted the cold + sting of the rain against his face, the roar of the wind in the trees + above his head. Abruptly he buttoned his jacket in preparation for + departure. Miss Craven pulled herself together. She laid a detaining hand + on his arm. “Peter,” she said slowly, “do you think that Barry's trouble + has any connection with—my brother? The change of pictures in the + dining-room—it was so strange. He said it was a reparation. Do you + think Barry—found out something in Japan?” + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. “God knows,” he said gruffly. For a moment there was + silence, then with a sigh Miss Craven moved towards a bell. + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay for tea?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, no. I've got a man coming over, I'll have to go. Give my love to + Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon for deserting me this + morning. Has she lost that nasty cough yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost. I didn't want her to go to the Horringfords, but she promised to + be careful.” Miss Craven paused, then: + </p> + <p> + “What did we do without Gillian, Peter?” she said with an odd little + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “'You've got me guessing,' as Atherton says. She's a witch, bless her!” he + replied, holding out his hands. Miss Craven took them and held them for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “You're the best pal I ever had, Peter,” she said unsteadily, “and you've + given all your life to us Cravens.” + </p> + <p> + The sudden gripping of his hands was painful, then he bent his head and + unexpectedly put his lips to the fingers he held so closely. + </p> + <p> + “I'm always here—when you want me,” he said huskily, and was gone. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven stood still looking after him with a curious smile. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God for Peter,” she said fervently, and went back to her station by + the window. It was considerably darker than before, but for some distance + the double avenue leading to the stables was visible. As she watched, + playing absently with the blind-cord, her mind dwelt on the long + connection between Peter Peters and her family. Thirty years—the + best of his life. And in exchange sorrow and an undying memory. The woman + he loved had chosen not him but handsome inconsequent Barry Craven and, + for her choice, had reaped misery and loneliness. And because he had known + that inevitably a day would come when she would need assistance and + support he had sunk his own feelings and retained his post. Her brief + happiness had been hard to watch—the subsequent long years of her + desertion a protracted torture. He had raged at his own helplessness. And + ignorant of his love and the motive that kept him at Craven Towers she had + come to lean on him and refer all to him. But for his care the Craven + properties would have been ruined, and the Craven interests neglected + beyond repair. + </p> + <p> + For some time before her sister-in-law's death Miss Craven had known, as + only a woman can know, but now for the first time she had heard from his + lips a half-confession of the love that he had guarded jealously for + thirty years. + </p> + <p> + The unusual tears that to-day seemed so curiously near the surface rose + despite her and she blinked the moisture from her eyes with a feeling of + irritated shame. + </p> + <p> + Then a figure, almost indistinguishable in the gloom, coming from the + stables, caught her eye and she gave a sharp sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + He was walking slowly, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders + hunched against the storm of wind and rain that beat on his broad back. + His movements suggested intense weariness, yet nearing the house his step + lagged even more as if, despite physical fatigue and the inclement + weather, he was rather forcing himself to return than showing a natural + desire for shelter. + </p> + <p> + There was in his tread a heaviness that contrasted forcibly with the + elasticity that had formerly been characteristic. As he passed close by + the window where Miss Craven was standing she saw that he was splashed + from head to foot. She thought with sudden compassion of the horse that he + had ridden. She had been in the stables only a few weeks before when he + had handed over another jaded mud-caked brute trembling in every limb and + showing signs of merciless riding to the old head groom who had maintained + a stony silence as was his duty but whose grim face was eloquent of all he + might not say. It was so unlike Barry to be inconsiderate, toward animals + he had been always peculiarly tender-hearted. + </p> + <p> + She hurried out to the hall, almost cannoning with a little dark-clad + figure who gave way with a deep Oriental reverence. “Master very wet,” he + murmured, and vanished. + </p> + <p> + “There's some sense in him,” she muttered grudgingly. And quite suddenly a + wholly unexpected sympathy dawned for the inscrutable Japanese whom she + had hitherto disliked. But she had no time to dwell on her unaccountable + change of feeling for through the glass of the inner door she saw Craven + in the vestibule struggling stiffly to rid himself of a dripping + mackintosh. It had been no protection for the driving rain had penetrated + freely, and as he fumbled at the buttons with slow cold fingers the water + ran off him in little trickling streams on to the mat. + </p> + <p> + She had no wish to convey the impression that she had been waiting for + him. She met him as if by accident, hailing him with surprise that rang + genuine. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo, Barry, just in time for tea! I know you don't usually indulge, but + you can do an act of grace on this one occasion by cheering my solitude. + Peter looked in for ten minutes but had to hurry away for an engagement, + and Gillian is not yet back.” + </p> + <p> + His face was haggard but he smiled in reply, “All right. In the library? + Then in five minutes—I'm a little wet.” + </p> + <p> + In an incredibly short time he joined her, changed and immaculate. She + looked up from the tea urn she was manipulating, her eyes resting on him + with the pleasure his physical appearance always gave her. “You've been + quick!” + </p> + <p> + “Yoshio,” he replied laconically, handing her buttered toast. + </p> + <p> + He ate little himself but drank two cups of tea, smoking the while + innumerable cigarettes. Miss Craven chatted easily until the tea table was + taken away and Craven had withdrawn to his usual position on the + hearthrug, lounging against the mantelshelf. + </p> + <p> + Then she fell silent, looking at him furtively from time to time, her + hands restless in her lap, nerving herself to speak. What she had to say + was even more difficult to formulate than her confidence to Peters. But it + had to be spoken and she might never find a more favourable moment. She + took her courage in both hands. + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you of Gillian,” she said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + He looked up sharply. “What of Gillian?” The question was abrupt, an + accent almost of suspicion in his voice and she moved uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Bless the boy, don't jump down my throat,” she parried, with a nervous + little laugh; “nothing of Gillian but what is sweet and good and dear ... + and yet that's not all the truth—it's more than that. I find it hard + to say. It's something serious, Barry, about Gillian's future,” she + paused, hoping that he would volunteer some remark that would make her + task easier. But he volunteered nothing and, stealing a glance at him she + saw on his face an expression of peculiar stoniness to which she had + lately become accustomed. The new taciturnity, which she still found so + strange, seemed to have fallen on him suddenly. She stifled a sigh and + hurried on: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if the matter of Gillian's future has ever occurred to you? It + has been in my mind often and lately I have had to give it more serious + attention. Time has run away so quickly. It is incredible that nearly two + years have passed since she became your ward. She will be twenty-one in + March—of age, and her own mistress. The question is—what is + she to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? There is no question of her <i>doing</i> anything,” he replied + shortly. “You mean that her coming of age will make no difference—that + things will go on as they are?” Miss Craven eyed him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You know less of Gillian than I thought you did.” The old caustic tone + was sharp in her voice. + </p> + <p> + He looked surprised. “Isn't she happy here?” + </p> + <p> + “Happy!” Miss Craven laughed oddly. “It's a little word to mean so much. + Yes, she is happy—happy as the day is long—but that won't keep + her. She loves the Towers, she is adored on the estate, she has a corner + in that great heart of hers for all who live here—but still that + won't keep her. In her way of thinking she has a debt to pay, and all + these months, studying, working, hoping, she has been striving to that + end. She is determined to make her own way in the world, to repay what has + been expended on her——” + </p> + <p> + “That's dam' nonsense,” he interrupted hotly. + </p> + <p> + “It's not nonsense from Gillian's point of view,” Miss Craven answered + quickly, “it's just common honesty. We have argued the matter, she and I, + scores of times. I have told her repeatedly that in view of your + guardianship you stand <i>in loco parentis</i> and, therefore, as long as + she is your ward her maintenance and artistic education are merely her + just due, that there can be no question of repayment. She does not see it + in that light. Personally—though I would not for the world have her + know it—I understand and sympathize with her entirely. Her + independence, her pride, are out of all proportion to her strength. I + cannot condemn, I can only admire—though I take good care to hide my + admiration ... and if you could persuade her to let the past rest, there + is still the question of her future.” + </p> + <p> + “That I can provide for.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “That you can not provide for,” she said gravely. + </p> + <p> + The flat contradiction stirred him. He jerked upright from his former + lounging attitude and stood erect, scowling down at her from his great + height. “Why not?” he demanded haughtily. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven shrugged. “What would you propose to do?” He caught the + challenge in her tone and for a moment was disconcerted. “There would be + ways—” he said, rather vaguely. “Something could be arranged—” + </p> + <p> + “You would offer her—charity?” suggested Miss Craven, wilfully + dense. + </p> + <p> + “Charity be damned.” + </p> + <p> + “Charity generally is damnable to those who have to suffer it. No, Barry, + that won't do.” + </p> + <p> + He jingled the keys in his pocket and the scowl on his face deepened. + </p> + <p> + “I could settle something on her, something that would be adequate, and it + could be represented that some old investment of her father's had turned + up trumps unexpectedly.” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Craven shook her head again. “Clever, Barry, but not clever + enough. Gillian is no fool. She knows her father had no money, that he + existed on a pittance doled out to him by exasperated relatives which + ceased with his death. He told her plainly in his last letter that there + was nothing in the world for her—except your charity. Think of what + Gillian is, Barry, and think what she must have suffered—waiting for + your coming from Japan, and, to a less extent, in the dependence of these + last years.” + </p> + <p> + He moved uncomfortably, as if he resented the plainness of his aunt's + words, and having found a cigarette lit it slowly. Then he walked to the + window, which was still unshuttered, and looked out into the darkness, his + back turned uncompromisingly to the room. His inattentive attitude seemed + almost to suggest that the matter was not of vital interest to him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven's face grew graver and she waited long before she spoke again. + “There is also another reason why I have strenuously opposed Gillian's + desire to make her own way in the world, a reason of which she is + ignorant. She is not physically strong enough to attempt to earn her own + living, to endure the hard work, the privations it would entail. You + remember how bronchitis pulled her down last year; I am anxious about her + this winter. She is constitutionally delicate, she may grow out of it—or + she may not. Heaven knows what seeds of mischief she has inherited from + such parents as hers. She needs the greatest care, everything in the way + of comfort—she is not fitted for a rough and tumble life. And, + Barry, I can't tell her. It would break her heart.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were fixed on him intently and she waited with eager + breathlessness for him to speak. But when at length he answered his words + brought a look of swift disappointment and she relaxed in her chair with + an air of weary despondency. He replied without moving. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you arrange something, Aunt Caro? You are very fond of Gillian, you + would miss her society terribly; cannot you persuade her that she is + necessary to you—that it would be possible for her to work and still + remain with you? I know that some day you will want to go back to your own + house in London, to take up your own interests again, and to travel. I + can't expect you to take pity much longer on a lonely bachelor. You have + given up much to help me—it cannot go on for ever. For what you have + done I can never thank you, it is beyond thanks, but I must not trade on + your generosity. If you put it to Gillian that you, personally, do not + want to part with her—that she is dear to you—it's true, isn't + it?” he added with sudden eagerness. And in surprise at her silence he + swung on his heel and faced her. She was leaning back in the big armchair + in a listless manner that was not usual to her. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you cannot count on me, Barry,” she said slowly. He stared in + sheer amazement. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Aunt Caro?—you do care for her, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Care for her?” echoed Miss Craven, with a laugh that was curiously like a + sob, “yes, I do care for her. I care so much that I am going to venture a + great deal—for her sake. But I cannot propose that she should live + permanently with me because all future permanencies have been taken out of + my hands. I hate talking about myself, but you had to know some day, this + only accelerates it. I have not been feeling myself for some time—a + little while ago I went to London for definite information. The man had + the grace to be honest with me—he bade me put my house in order.” + Her tone left no possibility of misunderstanding. He was across the room + in a couple of hasty strides, on his knees beside her, his hands clasped + over hers. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Caro!” The genuine and deep concern in his voice almost broke her + self-control. She turned her head, catching her lip between her teeth, + then with a little shrug she recovered herself and smiled at him. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy, it must come some day—it has come a little sooner than I + expected, that is all. I'm not grumbling, I've had a wonderful life—I've + been able to do something with it. I have not sat altogether idle in the + market-place.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure? Doctors are not infallible.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure,” she answered steadily; “the man I went to was very kind, + very thorough. He insisted I should have other opinions. There was a + council of big-wigs and they all arrived at the same conclusion, which was + at least consoling. A diversity of opinion would have torn my nerves to + tatters. I couldn't tell you before, it would have worried me. I hate a + fuss. I don't want it mentioned again. You know—and there's an end + of it.” She squeezed his hands tightly for a moment, then got up abruptly + and went to the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “I have only one regret—Gillian,” she said as he followed her. “You + see now that it is impossible for me to make a definite home for her, even + supposing that she were to agree to such a proposal. They gave me two or + three years at the longest—it might be any time.” + </p> + <p> + Craven stood beside her miserable and tongue-tied. Her news affected him + deeply, he was stunned with the suddenness of it and amazed at the courage + she displayed. She might almost have been discoursing on the probable + death of a stranger. And yet, he reflected, it was only in keeping with + her general character. She had been fearless all through life, and for her + death held no terrors. + </p> + <p> + He tried to speak but words failed him. And presently she spoke again, + hurriedly, disjointedly. + </p> + <p> + “I am helpless. I can do nothing for Gillian. I could have left her money + in my will, despite her pride she would have had to accept it. I can't + even do that. At my death all I have, as you know, goes back into the + estate. I have never saved anything—there never seemed any reason. + And what I made with my work I gave away. There is only you—only one + way—Barry, won't you—Barry!” She was crying undisguisedly, + unconscious even of the unaccustomed tears. “You know what I mean—you + must know,” she whispered entreatingly, struggling with emotion. + </p> + <p> + He was standing rigid, to her strained fancy he seemed almost to have + stopped breathing and there was in his attitude something that frightened + her. It came to her suddenly that, after all, he was to all intents and + purposes a stranger to her. Even the intimacy of these last months, living + in close contiguity to him in his own house had not broken down the + barrier that his sojourn in Japan had raised. She understood him no better + than on the day of his arrival in Paris. He had been uniformly thoughtful + and affectionate but had never reverted to the old Barry whom she had + known so well. He had, as it were, retired within himself. He lived his + life apart, with them but not of them, daily carrying through the arduous + work he set himself with a dogged determination in which there was no + pleasure. Yet, beyond a certain gravity, to the casual observer there was + in him no great change. He entertained frequently and was a popular host, + interesting and appearing interested. Only Miss Craven and Peters, more + intimate, saw the effort that he made. To Miss Craven it seemed sometimes + as if he were deliberately living through a self-appointed period—she + had found herself wondering what cataclysm would end it. She was conscious + of the impression, which she tried vainly to dismiss as absurd, of living + over an active volcano. What would be the result of the upheaval when it + came? She had prayed earnestly for some counter-distraction that might + become powerful enough to surmount the tragic memory with which he lived—a + memory she was convinced and the tragedy was present in his face. She had + cherished a hope, born in the early days of their return to Craven Towers + and maintained in the face of seeming improbability of fulfilment, that + had grown to be an ardent desire. In the realization of that hope she + thought she saw his salvation. With the knowledge of her own precarious + hold on life she clung even more closely to what had become the strongest + wish she had ever known. She had never deluded herself into imagining the + consummation of her wish imminent, she had frankly acknowledged to herself + that his inscrutability was impenetrable, and now hope seemed almost + extinguished. She realized it with a feeling of helplessness. And yet she + had a curious impulse, an inner conviction that urged with a + peremptoriness that over-rode subterfuge. She would speak plainly, be the + consequences what they were. It was for the ultimate happiness of the two + beings whom she loved best on earth—for that surely she might + venture something. She had never been afraid of plain speaking, it would + be strange if she let convention deter her now. Convention! it had wrecked + many a life—so had interference, she thought with sudden racking + indecision. What if by interference she hindered now, rather than helped? + What if speech did more mischief than silence? Irresolutely she wavered, + and to her indecision there came suddenly the further disturbing thought—if + Barry acceded to her earnest wish what ground had she for pre-supposing + that it would result in his happiness? She had no definite knowledge, no + positive assurance wherewith to press her request. The inmost feelings of + both were hidden from her. Her meddling might only bring more sorrow to + him who seemed already weighed down under a crushing burden of grief. + Gratitude and an intense admiration she knew existed. But between + admiration and any deeper feeling there was a wide gulf. And yet what + might not be hidden behind the grave seriousness of those great dark eyes + that looked with apparently equal frankness at every member of the + household? Months spent in the proximity of an unusually handsome man, the + romance of the tie between them—it was an experience that any woman, + least of all an unsophisticated convent-bred girl, could hardly pass + through unscathed. It was surely enough to gamble on, she reflected with + grim humour that did not amuse. It was a great hazzard, the highest stakes + she had ever played for who had never been afraid of losing. The thought + spurred her. If it was to be the last throw then let there be no + hesitation. A reputation for courage and coolness had gone with her + through life. + </p> + <p> + She turned to him abruptly, all indecision gone, complete mistress of + herself again. + </p> + <p> + “Barry, don't you understand?” she said with slow distinctness. “I want + you to ask Gillian to marry you.” + </p> + <p> + He started as if she had stabbed him. + </p> + <p> + “Good God,” he cried violently, “you don't know what you are saying!” And + from his tortured face she averted her eyes hastily, sick at heart. But + she held her ground, aware that retreat was not now possible. + </p> + <p> + She answered gently, steadying her voice with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so extraordinary that I should wish it, should hope for it? I care + for you both so deeply. To know that your mother's place would be filled + by one who is worthy to follow her—how worthy only I, who have been + admitted to her high ideals, appreciate; to know that there would be the + happiness of home ties here for you, to know that I leave Gillian safe in + your hands—it would make my going very easy, Barry.” + </p> + <p> + His head was down on his arms on the mantelshelf, his face hidden from + her. “Gillian—safe—in my hands—<i>my God</i>!” he + groaned, and shuddered like a man in mortal agony. + </p> + <p> + All the deep love she had for him, all the fears she entertained for him + leaped up in her with sudden strength, forcing utterance and breaking down + the reticence she had imposed upon herself. She caught his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Barry, what is it—for heaven's sake speak! Do you think I have been + blind all these months, that I have seen nothing? Can't you tell me—anything?” + her voice, quivering with emotion, was strange to him, strange enough to + recall him to himself. He straightened slowly and drew away from her with + a little shiver. “There is nothing I can tell you,” he replied dully, + “nothing that I can explain, only this—I went through hell in Japan. + I don't want any sympathy—it was my own fault, my own doing.... Just + now I made a fool of myself, I was off my guard, your words startled me. + Forget it, you can do me no good by remembering.” + </p> + <p> + He made an abrupt movement as if to leave the room but Miss Craven stood + squarely in front of him, her chin raised stubbornly. She knew now that + she was face to face with something even more terrible than she had + imagined. He had avoided a definite answer. By all reasoning she should + have accepted his rebuff but intuition, stronger than reason, impelled + her. If he went now it would be the end. She knew that positively. The + question could never be opened up again. She could not let it pass without + a final effort. It was inconceivable that this shadow could always lie + across his life. Whatever tragical event had occurred belonged to the past—surely + the future might hold some alleviation, some happiness that might + compensate for the sorrow that had lined his face and brought the silver + threads that gleamed in his thick dark hair. Surely in the care for + another life memory might be dulled and there might dawn for him a new + hope, a new peace. Despite his broken suggestive words her trust in him + was still maintained; she had no fear for Gillian—with him her + future would be assured. And there seemed no other alternative. Her + confidence in herself furthermore was not shaken, she had a deep + unalterable conviction that the wish for the union she so desired was + based upon something deeper than mere fancy. It was not anything that she + could put into words or even into concrete thought, but the belief was + strong. It was a vivid assurance that went beyond reasoning, that made it + possible for her to speak again. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to let the past dominate the rest of your life,” she asked + slowly, “is the future to count for nothing? There are, in all + probability, many years ahead of you—cannot you, in them, obliterate + what has gone before?” + </p> + <p> + He turned from her with a hopeless gesture and a muttered word she could + not catch. But he did not go as she feared he would. He lingered in the + room, staring into the heart of the glowing fire and Miss Craven played + her last card. + </p> + <p> + “And—Gillian?” she said firmly, all the Craven obstinacy in her + voice, and waited long for his answer. When it came it was flat, + monotonous. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot marry her. I cannot marry—anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you married already?” The question escaped before she could bite it + back. With a quickening heartbeat she awaited an outburst, a retort that + would end everything. But he answered quietly, in the same toneless voice: + “No, I am not married.” + </p> + <p> + She caught at the loop-hole it seemed to offer. “If there is no bar——” + she began eagerly, but he cut her short. “I have done with all that sort + of thing,” he said harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she persisted, with a doggedness that matched his own. “If you have + known sorrow, does that necessarily mean that you can never again know + happiness? Must you for a—a memory, turn your back irrevocably on + any chance that may restore your peace of mind? I believe that such a + chance is waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with strange intentness. “For me....” he smiled bitterly. + “If you only knew!” + </p> + <p> + “I only know that you are hesitating at what most men would jump at,” she + retorted, suddenly conscious of strained nerves and feeling as if she were + battering impotently against a granite rock-face. His hands clenched but + he did not reply and swift contrition fell on her. She turned to him + impulsively. “Forgive me, Barry. I shouldn't have said that, but I want + this thing so desperately. I am convinced that it would mean happiness for + you, for you both. And when I think of Gillian—alone—fighting + against the world——” She broke down completely and he gripped + her hands with a strength that made her wince. + </p> + <p> + “She'll never do that if I can help it,” he said swiftly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven looked up with sudden hope. “You will ask her?” she whispered + expectantly. He put her from him gently. “I can promise nothing. I must + think,” he said deliberately, and there was in his face a look that held + her silent. + </p> + <p> + With uncertain feelings she watched him leave the room.... Inevitable + re-action set in, doubts overwhelmed her. Had she done what was best or + had she blundered irretrievably? She went unsteadily to a chair, + extraordinarily tired, exhausted in her new weakness by the emotional + strain through which she had passed. She was beginning to be a little + aghast at what she had done, at the force that she had set moving. And yet + she had been actuated by the highest motives. She believed implicitly that + the joining of the two lives whose future was all her care would result in + the ultimate happiness of both. They had grown used to each other. A + closer relationship than that of guardian and ward seemed, in view of the + comparatively slight difference in age, a natural outcome of the intimacy + into which they had been thrown. It was not without precedent; similar + events had happened before and would doubtless happen again, she argued, + striving to stifle the still lingering doubt that whispered that she had + gone beyond her prerogative. And what she had done was in a way + inexplicable even to herself. All through she had felt that involuntary + forceful impulse that had been almost fatalistic, she had urged through + the prompting of an inward conviction. She had perhaps attached too much + importance to it, her own wish had been magnified until it assumed the + appearance of fate. + </p> + <p> + Her closed eyes quivered as she leaned back in the chair. + </p> + <p> + She had done it for the best, she kept repeating mechanically to herself, + to try and bring happiness into his life; to insure the safety of the girl + who had become so dear to her. Had it been his thought too, even before + she spoke? His manner had been so strange. He had recoiled from her + suggestion but she had been left with the impression that it was no new + one to him. She had caught a fleeting look, before his face had taken on + that impenetrable mask, that had given the lie to his emphatic words. He + had seemed to be wrestling with himself, she had seen the moisture thick + on his forehead, his set face had looked as if it could never soften + again. When he had gone he had given her no definite promise and she had + no possibility of guessing what his decision would be. But on reflection + she found hope in his deferring reply. It was all that was left to her. + She had done her utmost, the rest lay with him. She sighed deeply, she had + never felt such weariness of mind and body. As she gave way to a feeling + of growing lassitude drowsiness came over her which she was too tired to + combat and for some time she slept heavily. She awoke with a start to find + Gillian, wide-eyed with concern, kneeling beside her, the girl's slim warm + fingers clasped closely round her sleep-numbed hands. Dazed with sudden + waking she looked up without speaking at the fresh young face that bent + over her. Gillian rubbed the cold hands gently. “Aunt Caro, you were + asleep! I've never caught you napping before,” she laughed, but a hint of + anxiety mingled with the wonder in her voice. Miss Craven slowly smiled + reassurance. Her weakness seemed to have vanished with sleep, she felt + herself once more strong enough to hide from the searching affectionate + eyes anything that might give pain or cause uneasiness. She sat up + straighter. + </p> + <p> + “Laziness, my dear, sheer laziness,” she said sturdily. Gillian looked at + her gravely. “Sure?” she asked, “you are sure that you are quite well? You + looked so tired—your face was quite white.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure—unbeliever! And you—did you have a good time; did + you remember to take your tonic, and did you keep warm?” + </p> + <p> + Gillian laughed softly and stood up, ticking off the items on her fingers. + “I did have a good time, I did remember to take my tonic, and this + heavenly coat has kept me as warm as pie—Nina Atherton taught me + that. That nice family considerably enlarged my vocabulary,” she added + with enjoyment, slipping out of a heavy fur coat and coming back to perch + on the arm of Miss Craven's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Not yours only,” was the answer, “Peter was quoting the husband this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for a moment thinking of the three charming + Americans who had spent a couple of months at the Towers the previous + summer, bringing with them an adored scrap of humanity and a host of + nurses, valets and maids. + </p> + <p> + Then Gillian drew her arm closer around Miss Craven. + </p> + <p> + “Alex pressed me to stay until to-morrow, I had the greatest trouble to + get away. But I promised to come back this afternoon, and, do you know, + Aunt Caro, I had the queerest feeling this morning. I thought you <i>wanted</i> + me, wanted me urgently. As if you could ever want anybody urgently, you + self-reliant wonder.” She gave the shoulder she was caressing an + affectionate hug. “But it was odd, wasn't it? I nearly telephoned, and + then I concluded you would think I had taken leave of my senses.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven sat very still. + </p> + <p> + “I should have,” she replied, and hoped that her voice appeared more + natural than it sounded to herself. Gillian laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, I'm glad you had Mr. Peters to cheer your solitary tea. I hated + to think of you being alone.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't. He left early. But Barry condescended to take pity on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Craven!” There was the slightest pause before she added: “I thought + he scorned <i>le five o'clock</i>. He's not nearly so domesticated as + David.” + </p> + <p> + “As who, my dear?” asked Miss Craven, staring. Gillian gave another little + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's my private name for Mr. Peters—he doesn't mind—he + spoils me dreadfully—'the sweet singer in Israel'—you know. He + has got the most beautiful tenor voice I have ever listened to.” + </p> + <p> + “Peter—sing! I've never heard him sing,” said Miss Craven in wonder, + and she looked up with a new curiosity. “I've known him for thirty years, + and in less than that number of months you discover an accomplishment of + which everybody else is ignorant. How did you manage it, child?” + </p> + <p> + “By accident, one evening in the summer. You were dining out, and Mouston + and I had gone for a ramble in the park—it's gorgeous there in the + <i>crepuscule</i>—and we were quite close to the Hermitage. I heard + him and I eaves-dropped—is there such a word? It was so lovely that + I had to clap and he came out and found an unexpected audience on the + windowsill. Wasn't it dreadful? He was so dear about it and explained that + it was a very private form of amusement, but since the cat was out of the + bag there was an end of the matter, only he positively declined to perform + in public. I bullied him into singing some more, and then he walked home + with me.” + </p> + <p> + “You twist Peter round your little finger and trade on his good nature + shamelessly,” said Miss Craven severely, but her teasing held no terrors. + </p> + <p> + “He's such a dear,” the girl repeated softly, and slipping off the arm of + the chair she went to the fire and knelt down to put back a log that had + fallen on to the hearth and was smouldering uselessly. Miss Craven looked + at her as, the log replaced, she still knelt on the rug and held her hands + mechanically to the blaze. She had an intense and wholly futile longing to + speak what was in her mind and, demanding confidence for confidence, + penetrate the secret of the heart that had confided to her all but this + one thing. Little by little through no pressure but by mere telepathic + sympathy, reserve had melted away and hopes and aspirations had been + submitted and discussed. But of this one thing there could be no + discussion. Miss Craven realised it and stifled a regretful sigh. Even + she, dear as she knew herself to be, might not intrude so intimately. For + by such an intrusion she might lose all that she had gained. She could not + forfeit the confidence that had grown to mean so much to her, it was too + high a price to pay even for the knowledge she sought. She must have + patience, she thought, as she ran her fingers with the old gesture through + her grey curls. But it was hard to be patient when any moment might bring + the summons that would put her beyond the ken of earthly events. To go, + leaving this problem still unsolved! She set her teeth and sat rigid, + gripping the oak rails of the chair until her fingers ached, battling with + herself. She looked again at the slim kneeling figure, the pale oval face + half turned to her, the thick dark hair piled high on the small proud head + glistening in the firelight. A thing of grace and beauty—in mind and + body desirable. How could he hesitate.... + </p> + <p> + “Barry was riding—all day—in this atrocious weather. He came + in soaked,” she said abruptly, almost querulously, unlike her usual + tolerant intonation. There was no immediate answer and for a moment she + thought she had not been heard. The girl had moved slightly, turning her + face away, and with a steady hand was building the dying fire into a + pyramid. She completed the operation carefully and sat back on her heels + flourishing the tiny brass tongs. + </p> + <p> + “He's tough,” she said lightly, unconsciously echoing Peters' words and + apparently heedless of the interval between Miss Craven's remark and her + own reply. She seemed more interested in the fire than in her guardian. + Laying the tongs away leisurely she came back to Miss Craven's chair and + settled down on the floor beside her, her arms crossed on the elder + woman's knee. She looked up frankly, a faint smile lightening her serious + brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think Mr. Craven wants any sympathy, <i>cherie</i>,” she said + slowly, “I reserve all mine for Yoshio, he fusses so dreadfully when the + 'honourable master' goes for those tremendous long rides or is out + hunting. Have you noticed that he always waits in the hall, to be ready at + the first moment to rush away and get dry clothes and a hot bath and all + the other Oriental paraphernalia for checking chills and driving the ache + out of sore bones? I don't suppose Mr. Craven has ever had sore bones—he + is so splendidly strong—and Yoshio certainly seems determined he + never shall. Mary thoroughly approves of him, she's a fusser by nature + too; she deplores his heathenism but says he has more sense than many a + Christian. Soon after we came here I found him in the hall one day staring + through the window, looking the picture of misery, his funny little yellow + face all puckered up. He saw me out of the back of his head, truly he did, + for he never turned, and tried to slip away. But I made him stay and talk + to me. I sat on the stairs and he folded himself up on the mat—I + can't describe it any other way—and told me all about Japan, and + California and Algeria and all the other queer places he has been to with + Mr. Craven. He has such a quaint dramatic way of speaking and lapses into + unintelligible Japanese just at the exciting moments—so tantalising! + They seem to have been in some very—what do you say?—tight + corners. We got quite sociable. I was so interested in listening to his + description of the wonderful gardens they make in Japan that I never heard + Mr. Craven come in and did not realise that he was standing near us until + Yoshio suddenly shot up and fled, literally vanished, and left me <i>planteel</i>! + I felt so idiotic sitting on the stairs hugging my knees and Mr. Craven, + all splashed and muddy, waiting for me to let him pass—I was + dreadfully frightened of him in those days,” the faintest colour tinged + her cheeks. “I longed for an earthquake to swallow me up,” she laughed and + scrambled to her feet, gathering the heap of furs into her arms and + holding them dark and silky against her face. “You shouldn't have + encouraged in me a love of beautiful furs, Aunt Caro,” she said + inconsequently, with sudden seriousness. “I've sense enough left to know + that I shouldn't indulge it—and I'm human enough to adore them.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish! furs suit you—please my sense of the artistic. I would not + encourage you if you had a face like a harvest moon and no carriage—I + can't bear sloppiness in anything,” snapped Miss Craven in quite her old + style. “When do the Horringfords start for Egypt?” she added by way of + definitely changing the subject. + </p> + <p> + Gillian rubbed her cheek against the soft sealskin with an understanding + smile. It was hopeless to try and curb Miss Craven's generosity, hopeless + to attempt to argue against it. “Next week,” she answered the inquiry. + “Tuesday, probably. They stay in Paris for a month <i>en route;</i> Lord + Horringford wants some data from the Louvre and also to arrange some + preliminaries with the French Egyptologist who is joining their party.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! And Alex—still interested in mummies?” + </p> + <p> + “More than ever, she is full of enthusiasm. She talks of dynasties and + tribal deities, of kings and <i>Kas</i> and symbols until my head spins. + Lord Horringford teases her but it is easy to see that her interest + pleases him. He says she is the mascot of the expedition, that she brought + luck to the digging last year.” + </p> + <p> + “Alex has had many hobbies but never one that ran for two seasons,” said + Miss Craven thoughtfully; “I am glad she has found an interest at last + that promises to be permanent.” + </p> + <p> + Gillian gathered the furs closer in her arms and made a few steps toward + the door. “She has found more than that,” she said softly, and the colour + flamed in her sensitive face. Miss Craven nodded. “You mean that in + unearthing the buried treasure of a dead past she has found the living + treasure of a man's love? Yes, and not any too soon, poor silly child. Men + like Horringford don't bear playing with. I wonder whether she knows how + near she has been to making shipwreck of her life.” + </p> + <p> + “I think she knows—now,” said Gillian, with a little wise smile as + she left the room. + </p> + <p> + The sound of her soft contralto singing an old French nursery rhyme echoed + faintly back to the library: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mon père m'a donné un petit mari, + Mon Dieu, quel homme!” + </pre> + <p> + And, listening, Miss Craven smiled half-sadly, for the quaint words + carried her back to the days of her own childhood. But the exigencies of + the present thrust aside past memories. She sat on, wrapped in her + thoughts until the dropping temperature of the room sent through her a + sudden chill, so she rose with a shiver and a startled glance at her + watch. + </p> + <p> + “Dry bones and love,” she said musingly, “it's a curious combination! + Peter, my man, you gave wise advice there.... But not all your wisdom can + help <i>my</i> trouble.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + December had brought a complete change of weather. It was within a few + days of Christmas, a typical old-fashioned Yuletide with a firm white + mantle of snow lying thick over the country. + </p> + <p> + Underneath the ground was iron and for two weeks all hunting had been + stopped. + </p> + <p> + Craven was returning to the Towers after an absence of ten days. The motor + crawled through the park for in places the frozen road was slippery as + glass and the chauffeur was a cautious North-countryman whose faith in the + chains locked round the wheels was not unlimited; he was driving + carefully, with a wary eye for the worst patches noted on the outward run, + and, beside him, equally alert, sat Yoshio muffled to the ears in an + immense overcoat, a shapeless bundle. + </p> + <p> + It was early afternoon, calm and clear, and in the air the intense + stillness that succeeds a heavy snowfall. The pale sun, that earlier in + the day had iridised the snow, was now too low to affect the dead + whiteness of the scene against which the trees showed magnified and + sharply black. Here and there across the smooth surface stretching on + either side of the road lay the curiously differing tracks of animals. + From the back seat of the car where he sat alone Craven marked them + mechanically. He knew every separate spoor and could have named the owner + of each; ordinarily they would have claimed from him a certain interest + but today he passed them without a second thought. He did not resent the + slow progress of the car, he was in no hurry to reach the Towers. He had + come to a momentous decision but shrank from the action that must + necessarily follow; once at the house he knew that he would permit himself + no further delay, he would put his purpose into effect at the earliest + opportunity—today if possible; here there was still time—vaguely + he wondered for what? Not for reflection, that was done with. He had + striven with all his strength to arrive at a right determination; he had + thought until reasoning became a mere repetition of fixed ideas moving in + a circle and arriving always at an unvaried starting point. There seemed + no consequence that he had not weighed in his mind, no issue that he had + not considered. To ponder afresh would be to cover again uselessly ground + that he had gone over a hundred times. Three days ago he had made his + choice, he had no intention of departing from it. For good or ill the + thing must go forward now. And, after all, the ultimate decision did not + lie with him. Admitting it his thoughts became introspective. Throughout + his deliberations he had put self on one side, there had been no question + of his own wishes; now for the first time he allowed personal + considerations to rise unchecked. For what did he hope? He knew the reason + of his reluctance to reach the house—he desired success and yet he + feared it, feared the consequences that might result, feared the strength + of his own will to persevere in the course he had chosen. For him there + was no other way but, merciful God, it would be hard! He set his teeth and + stared at the frozen landscape with unseeing eyes. Since her outburst four + weeks ago Miss Craven had not spoken again of the wish that was nearest + her heart, but he knew that she was waiting for an answer, knew that that + answer must be given. One way or the other. Day had succeeded day in + torturing indecision. He had lived, slept with the problem, at no time was + it out of his mind. In the course of the long rides that had become more + frequent, obtruding during the monotonous hours spent in the estate + office, the problem persisted. In the sleepless hours of the night he + wrestled with it. If it had been a matter of personal inclination, if the + past had not risen between them there would have been no hesitation. He + would have gone to her months ago, would have begged the priceless gift + that she alone could give. He wanted her, almost above the hope of + salvation, and the inducement to ignore the past had been all but + overpowering. He loved and desired with all the strength of the passionate + nature he had inherited. He craved for her with an intensity that was + anguish, that set him wondering how far the power of endurance reached, + how much a man could bear. He was torn with the fierce promptings of + primeval forces. To take her, willing or unwilling, despite honour, + despite all that stood between them, to make her his and hold her in the + face of all the world—at times the temptation had been maddening. + There had been days when he had not dared to look on her, when he had + drawn himself more than ever apart from the common life, fearful of + himself, fearful of circumstances that seemed beyond his ordering. And the + thought that another could take what he might not had engendered an + insensate jealousy that was beyond reason. He did not recognise himself, + he had not known the depths of his own nature. If there had been no bar, + if she could have come to him willingly, if there could indeed have been + for him the full ties of home—the thought was agony. Miss Craven's + words had been a sword turning in an open wound. To the burden he already + carried had been added this. + </p> + <p> + The future of his ward had been his problem as well as Miss Craven's. Only + a little while ago a way had seemed clear, not a way to his own happiness—by + his own act he had put himself beyond all possibility of that—but a + way that would mean security and happiness for her who had come to mean + more than life to him. For her safety he would have given his soul. The + term of his guardianship was drawing to an end, in a few months his legal + control over her terminated. Miss Craven who had surrendered her + independence for two years would be returning to her own home, to her old + life; it had seemed a foregone conclusion that Gillian would accompany + her. + </p> + <p> + But the double shock in the revelation of Miss Craven's precarious state + and Gillian's delicacy had been staggering. He had not been prepared for a + contingency that seemed to cut the ground from under his feet. With all + the will in the world his aunt was powerless to further the plan he + proposed, any day might bring the Great Summons. And Gillian! The little + persistent cough rang in his ears always. Gillian and poverty—by day + it haunted him, he woke in the night sweating at the very thought. It was + intolerable. And yet there appeared no means of escaping it—save + one. For a moment, with a fierce joy, he saw fate aiding him, forcing into + his hands what he yearned to gather to himself, then he recoiled from even + the thought of her purity linked with the stain of his past. He had racked + his brain to discover an alternative. To force upon her an adequate income + that would put her beyond want and the necessity of work would be easy. To + induce her to use the money thus provided he divined would be impossible, + he seemed to know intuitively that her will would not give way to his. + During these last weeks he had looked at her with new understanding, it + seemed incredible that he had never before recognised the determination + that underlay her shy gentleness. Character shone in the frank brown eyes, + there was a firmness that was unmistakable in the arched lips that were + the only patch of colour in her delicate face. From his wealth she would + accept nothing. Would she accept him—all that he dared offer? It was + no new idea, the thought had been in his mind often but always he + resolutely put it from him with a feeling of abhorrence. It was an insult + to her womanhood, an expedient that nothing could justify. And yet step by + step he was forced back upon it—there seemed no other way to save + her from herself. Days of harrassing indecision, his only thought she, + brought him no nearer to a conclusion. And time was passing. He had + reached a point when further deliberation was beyond his power; when all + his strength seemed to turn into hopeless longing that, to the exclusion + of all else, craved even the mockery of possession; when days were torment + and nights a sleepless horror. Then change of scene had aided final + determination. The factor of the Scotch estate had written of a sudden and + unexpected difficulty for which he asked personal advice. A telegram had + stopped his proposed visit to the Towers and Craven had himself gone + instead to Scotland. And in the solitude of his northern home he had + decided on the only course that seemed open to him. He would go to her + with his poor offer, the poorest surely that ever a man made to a woman, + and the rest would lie with her. But how would she receive it? He had a + vision of the soft brown eyes blazing with scorn, of the slender figure he + ached to hold in his arms turning from him in cold disgust, and he + clenched his hands until the nails bit deep into his wet palms. + </p> + <p> + A bad skid that slewed the car half round broke his thoughts and in a few + minutes they were at the house. + </p> + <p> + Forbes, the elderly butler who had been an under footman when Peters first + came to the Towers, was waiting for him in the hall, informative with the + garrulousness of an old and privileged servant. A late luncheon was + waiting—he sighed patiently on hearing that it was not required—Miss + Craven had gone to the Vicarage for tea; Mr. Peters was expected to dinner + that night and he had telephoned in the morning to tell Mr. Craven—Craven + cut him short. Peter's message could wait, only one thing seemed to matter + just now. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Miss Locke?” he asked curtly. “In the studio, sir,” replied + Forbes with resignation. If Mr. Barry didn't want to hear what Mr. Peters + had got to say he, for one, was not going to press the matter. Mr. Barry + had had his own way of doing things since the days when he sat on the + pantry table kicking his heels and flourishing stolen jam under Forbes' + very nose—a masterful one always, he was. And if it was a case of + Miss Gillian—Forbes retired with an armful of ulster and rugs into + the cloakroom to hide a sympathetic grin. + </p> + <p> + Craven crossed the hall and went into the study. He looked without + interest through an accumulation of letters lying on the writing table, + then threw them down indifferently. Walking to the fireplace he lit a + cigarette and stood staring at the cheerful blaze. At last he raised his + head and gazed with deliberation at himself in the glass over the mantle. + He scowled at the stern worn face reflected in the mirror, looking + curiously at its deep cut lines, at the silver patches in the thick brown + hair. Then with a violent exclamation he swung abruptly on his heel, flung + the cigarette into the fire and left the room. He went upstairs slowly, surprised + at the feeling of apathy that had come over him. In the face of direct + action the high tension of the last few weeks had snapped, leaving him + dull, almost inert, and reluctance to go forward grew with every step. But + at the head of the stairs his mood changed suddenly. All that the coming + interview meant to him revealed itself with startling clearness. With a + deep breath he caught at the rail, for he was shaking uncontrollably, and + covered his face with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “God!” he whispered, and again: “God!” + </p> + <p> + Then he gripped himself and went quickly across the gallery, turning down + the corridor that led to the west wing. He followed the oddly twisting + passage, contorted at the whim of succeeding generations where rooms had + been enlarged or abolished, passing rows of closed doors and another + staircase. The corridor terminated in the room he was seeking. It had been + the old playroom; at the extreme end of the wing it faced northward and + westward and was well suited for the studio into which it had been + converted. It was Gillian's own domain and he had never asked to visit it. + As he reached the door he heard from within the shrill treble of a boy's + mirth and then a low soft laugh that made his heart beat quicker. He + tapped and went in and for a moment stared in amazement. He did not + recognise the room, it was a totally unexpected French <i>atelier</i> + tucked away in the corner of a typically English house. + </p> + <p> + The polished rug-laid floor, the fluted folds of <i>toile-de-genes</i> + clothing the walls, the litter of sketches and pictures, casts and easels, + the familiar lay-figure grotesquely attitudinising in a corner, above all + the atmosphere carried him straight to Paris. It was the room of an + artist, and a French artist. His eyes leaped to her. She was standing + before a big easel looking wonderingly over her shoulder at the opening + door, the brush she was using poised in her hand, her eyes wide with + astonishment, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + In the picturesque painter's blouse, her brown hair loosely framing her + face, she seemed altogether different. He could not define wherein lay the + change, he had no time to discriminate, he only knew that seen thus she + was a thousand times more desirable than she had ever been and that his + heart cried out for her more fiercely than before. He looked at her with + hungry longing, then quickly—lest his eyes should betray him—from + her to her model. A boy of ten with an intelligent small brown face, a mop + of black curls, and red lips parted in a mischievous smile, he stood on + the raised platform with the easy assurance of a professional. + </p> + <p> + Craven shut the door behind him and came forward. She turned to meet him + and the colour rushed in a crimson wave to the roots of her hair. “<i>Monsieur + ... vous etes de retour ... mais, soyez le bienvenu</i>!” she stammered, + with surprise unconsciously lapsing into the language of childhood. Then + she caught herself up with a little laugh of confusion and hurried on in + English: “I am so sorry ... there is nobody in but me. Will you have some + tea? It is only three o'clock,” with a glance at her wrist, “but I expect + you lunched early.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any tea,” he said bluntly. “I came to see you.” He spoke in + French, mindful of two sharp ears on the platform. The colour in her face + deepened painfully and her eyes fell under his steady gaze. She moved + slowly back to the easel. + </p> + <p> + “If you could wait a few moments——” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to interrupt,” he said hastily. “Please finish your work. + You don't mind if I stay? I haven't been here since I was a boy; you have + changed the room incredibly. May I look round?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded assent over a tube of colour, and returned to her study. + </p> + <p> + Left to himself he wandered leisurely round the room, examining the + pictures and sketches that were heaped indiscriminately. He had never + before displayed any interest in her work, and was now amazed at what he + saw. There was power in it that surprised him, that made him wonder what + intuition had given the convent-bred girl the knowledge she exhibited. The + tardy recognition of her talent strengthened his stranger feeling toward + her. He went thoughtfully to the fireplace, and, from the rug, surveyed + the room and its occupants. The atmosphere recalled old memories—he + had studied in Paris after leaving Oxford—only one thing seemed + lacking. + </p> + <p> + “May I smoke?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Gillian turned with a quick smile. + </p> + <p> + “But, of course. What need to ask? After Aunt Caro has been here for an + hour the room is blue.” + </p> + <p> + For another ten minutes he watched her in silence, free to look as he + would, for her back was toward him and in his position before the fire he + was beyond the range of the little model's inquisitive black eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then she laid palette and brushes on a near table and stepped back, + frowning at what she had done until a smile came slowly to chase the + creases from her forehead. She spoke without moving, still looking at the + canvas: “That is all for to-day, Danny. The light has gone.” + </p> + <p> + The small boy stretched himself luxuriously, and descending from the + platform, joined her and gazed with evident interest at his portrait. He + peered in unconscious but faithful imitation of her own critical attitude, + his head slanted at the same angle as hers. “It's coming on,” he announced + solemnly, and Craven guessed from the girl's laugh that it was a + repetition of some remark heard and stored up for future use. The boy + grinned in response, and slipping behind her went to the table where she + had laid her tools. “Can I clean palut?” he asked hopefully, his hand + already half-way to the coveted mass of colour. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day, thanks, Danny.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I fetch th' dog, Miss?” more hopefully. Gillian turned to him + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “He bit you last time.” + </p> + <p> + Danny wriggled his feet and his small white teeth flashed in a wide smile. + “He won't bite I again,” he said confidently. “Mammy said 'twas 'cos he + loved you and hated to have folks near you. She said I was to whisper in + his ear I loved you too, 'cos then he wouldn't touch me. Dad he says 'tis + a damned black devil,” he added with candid relish and a sidelong glance + of mischief at his employer. + </p> + <p> + Gillian laughed and gave his shoulder a little pat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he is,” she admitted ruefully. The boy threw his head back. “I + ain't afeard o' he,” he said stoutly. “<i>Shall</i> I fetch 'im?” + </p> + <p> + “I think we'll leave him where he is, Danny,” she said gravely, as if in + confidence. “He's probably very happy. Now run away and come again on + Saturday.” She waved a paint-stained rag at him and turned again to the + picture. Obediently he started towards the door, then hesitated, glancing + irresolutely at Craven, and tip-toed back to the easel. + </p> + <p> + “Them things in the drawer,” he muttered sepulchrally, in a voice not + intended to reach the ears of the rather awe-inspiring personage on the + hearthrug. Gillian whipped round contritely. “Danny, I forgot them!” she + apologised, and tweaking a black curl went to a bureau and produced a + square cardboard box. Danny tucked it under his arm with murmured thanks + and a duck of the head, and crossing the room noiselessly went out, + closing the door behind him softly. Craven came slowly to her. She moved + to give him place before the easel. Craven looked at the small alert brown + face, the odd black eyes dancing with almost unearthly merriment, the red + lips curving upward to an enigmatical smile, and his wonder and admiration + grew. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” he asked curiously, puzzled by a likeness he seemed to + recognise dimly and yet was unable to place. + </p> + <p> + “Danny Major—the son of one of your gamekeepers,” said Gillian; “his + mother has gipsy blood in her.” + </p> + <p> + Craven whistled. “I remember,” he said, interested. “Old Major was + head-keeper. Young Major lost his heart to a gipsy lass and his father + kicked him out of doors. Peters, as usual, smoothed things over and kept + the fellow on at his job, in spite of a great deal of opposition—he + had seen the girl and formed his own opinion. I asked once or twice and he + said that it had turned out satisfactorily. So this is the son—he's + a rum-looking little beggar.” + </p> + <p> + Gillian was cleaning brushes at the side table. “He's the terror of the + neighbourhood,” she said smiling, “but for some reason he is a perfect + angel when he comes here. It isn't the chocolates,” she added hastily as + she saw a fleeting smile on his face, “he just likes coming. And he tells + me the most wonderful things about the woods and the wood beasties.” + </p> + <p> + “He would,” said Craven significantly, “it's in the blood. What's this?” + he asked, pointing to a smaller board propped face inward against the big + canvas. For a moment she did not answer and the colour flamed into her + face again. She put the brushes away, and wiping her fingers on a cloth, + lifted the board and gave it into his hands. + </p> + <p> + “It's Danny as I see him,” she said in an odd voice. And, looking at it, + Craven realised that the cleverness of the painted head on the large + canvas paled to mediocrity beside the brilliance of the sepia sketch he + held. It was the same head—but marvellously different—set on + the body of a faun. The dancing limbs were pulsing with life, the tiny + hoofs stamping the flower-strewn earth in an ecstasy of movement; the head + was thrown forward, bent as though to catch a distant echo, and among the + tossing curls showed two small curving horns; to the enigmatical smile of + the original had been added a subtle touch of mockery, and the wide eyes + held a look of mystical knowledge that was uncanny. Craven held it + silently, it seemed an incredible piece of work for the girl to have + conceived. And, beside him, she waited nervously for his verdict, with + close-locked twitching fingers. He had never come before, had never shown + any interest in the work that meant so much to her. She was hungry for his + praise, fearful of his censure. If he saw nothing in it now but the + immature efforts of an amateur! Her heart tightened. She drew a little + nearer to him, her eyes fixed apprehensively on his intent face, her + breath coming quickly. At length he replaced the sketch carefully. “You + have a wonderful talent,” he said slowly. A little gasp of relief escaped + her and her lips trembled in spite of all efforts to keep them steady. + “You like it?” she whispered eagerly, and was terrified at the awful + pallor that overspread his face. For a moment he could not speak. The + words, the intonation! He was back again in Japan, looking at the painting + of a lonely fir tree clinging to a jutting sea-washed cliff—the + faintest scent of oriental perfume seemed stealing through the air. He + drew his hand across his eyes. “Merciful God ... not here ... not now!” he + prayed in silent agony. Then with a desperate effort he mastered himself + and turned to the frightened girl with a forced smile. “Forgive me—I've + a beastly headache—the room went spinning round for a minute,” he + said jerkily, wiping the moisture from his forehead. She looked at him + gravely. “I think you are very tired, and I don't believe you had any + lunch,” she said with quiet decision. “I'm going to make some coffee. Aunt + Caro says my coffee drinking is more vicious than her smoking,” she went + on, purposely giving him time to recover himself, and crossing the room + she collected little cups and a small brass pot. “Any how it's the real + article, and in spite of what she says Aunt Caro doesn't scorn it. She + comes regularly to drink my <i>cafe noir</i> with her after-lunch + cigarette.” + </p> + <p> + Craven dropped down heavily on the broad cushioned window seat, his hands + clasped over his throbbing temples, fighting to regain his shaken nerve. + And yet there was a great hope dawning. For the first time the threatening + vision had failed to materialise, and the fact gave him courage. If a time + should come when it would definitely cease to haunt him! He could never + forget, never cease to regret, but he would feel that in the Land of + Understanding the hapless victim of his crime had forgiven the sin that + had robbed her of her young life. + </p> + <p> + And as he grew calmer he began to be conscious that in the room where he + sat there was a restfulness that he had not felt in any other part of the + house since his return to Craven Towers. It was acting on him curiously + and he wondered what it portended. And as he pondered it Gillian came to + him with a cup of coffee in either hand. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Monsieur est servi,”</i> she said with a little laugh. She seemed to + have suddenly overcome shyness as if, in her own domain, the first + surprise of his visit over, her surroundings gave her confidence. Or, + perhaps, the womanliness that had been called out to meet his passing + weakness had set her on another plane. All signs of giddiness had left him + and, with her usual intuition, she did not trouble him with questions. For + the first time she found it easy to speak to him, and talked as she would + have done to Peters. She spoke of his northern visit and, following his + lead, of her work, freely and without embarrassment. Every moment the + restraint that had been between them seemed growing less. She marvelled + that she had ever found him unapproachable and wondered, contritely, if + her shyness had been alone to blame. She had been always constrained and + silent with him—small wonder that he had avoided her, she thought + humbly. Yet how could it have been otherwise? The tie between them, the + wonderful generosity he had shown, the aloofness he had maintained, had + made it impossible for her to view him as an ordinary human being. She + owed him everything and passionate recognition and a sense of her + indebtedness had grown with equal fervour. She had almost worshipped him. + He had taken her from a life that had grown unbearable, he had given her + the opportunity to follow the career for which she longed. She could never + repay him, she found it difficult to put into words even to herself just + what she felt towards him. From the first she had raised him to the empty + pedestal vacated by that fallen idol, her father. And out of hero-worship + had grown love, at first the exalted devotion of an immature girl, + adoration that was purely sexless and selfless—a mystical love + without passion, spiritual. He had appeared to her as a being of another + sphere and, mentally, she had knelt at his feet as to a patron saint. But + with her own development love had expanded. She realised that what she + felt for him was no longer childish adoration, but a greater, more + wonderful emotion. She had grown to a full understanding of her own heart, + the divinity had become a man for whose love she yearned. But she loved + hopelessly as she loved deeply, she had no thought that her love could be + returned. His proximity had always troubled her, and to-day as she sat on + the window seat beside him she was conscious of a greater unrest than she + had ever before felt, and her heart throbbed painfully with the vague + formless longings, inexplicable and frightening, that stirred within her + until it seemed impossible that her agitation could pass unnoticed. + Shyness fell on her again, the ready words faltered, and gradually she + became silent. Craven took the empty coffee cups and replaced them on the + table by the fire. Going back to the window he found her kneeling up on + the cushioned seat, her hands clasped before her, looking out at the white + world. The childish attitude that seemed in keeping with the artist's + blouse and tumbled hair made her look singularly young. He stood beside + her, so close that he almost touched her shoulder, and his eyes ranged + hungrily over the whole slim beauty of her, lingering on the little bent + brown head, the soft curve of her girlish bosom, until the yearning for + her grew intolerable and the restraint he put upon himself took all his + resolution. The temptation to gather her into his arms was almost more + than he could resist, he folded them tightly across his chest—he + could not trust them. He could barely trust himself. The unwonted + intimacy, the subtle torture of her nearness set his pulses leaping madly. + The blood beat in his head, his body quivered with the passionate longing, + the fierce desire that rushed over him. In the agony of the moment only + the elemental man existed, and he was sensible alone of the burning + physical need that rose above all higher purer sentiment. To hold her + crushed against his throbbing heart, to bury his face in the fragrance of + her soft hair, to kiss her lips till she should beg his mercy—there + seemed no greater joy on earth. He wanted her as he had wanted nothing in + his life before. And yet, if he gained what he had come to ask he knew + that what he suffered now would be as nothing to what he would have to + endure. To know her his wife, bound in every sense to him—and to + turn his face from the happiness that by all laws was his! Had he the + strength? Almost it seemed that he had not. He was only human—and + there was a limit to human endurance. If circumstances proved too hard.... + The sound of a little smothered cough checked his thoughts abruptly. He + realised that in self-commiseration he had lost sight of the purpose of + his visit. It was only she who mattered; her health, her happiness that + must be considered. He cursed himself and searched vainly for words to + express what he must say. And the more he thought the more utterly speech + evaded him. Then chance aided. She coughed again and with a little + impatient gesture rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Caro has decided to go to Cimiez for the rest of the winter—because + of my cough. She settled it while you were away. I don't want to go, my + cough is nothing. I wouldn't exchange this”—pointing to the + snow-clad park—“for all the warmth and sunshine of the Riviera. I + want to store up all the memories I can. You don't know how I have learned + to love the Towers.” It was as if the last words had escaped + unintentionally for she flushed and turned again abruptly to the darkening + window. His heart gave a sudden leap but he did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Then why leave it?” he asked brusquely. + </p> + <p> + She leaned her forehead on the frosting glass and her eyes grew misty. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>know</i>,” she said softly, and her voice trembled. “In all the + world I have only my—my talent and my self-respect. If I were to do + what you and Aunt Caro, in your wonderful generosity, propose—oh, + don't stop me, you <i>must</i> listen—I should only have my talent + left. Can't you see, can't you understand that I must work, that I must + prove my self-respect? For all that you have done, for all that you have + given me I have tried to thank you—often. Always you have stopped + me. Do you grudge me the only way in which I can show my gratitude, the + only way in which I can prove myself worthy of your esteem?” Her voice + broke in a little sob. Then she turned to him quickly, her hands + out-stretched and quivering. “If I could only do something to repay——” + she cried, with a passionate earnestness he had never heard in her before. + He caught at the opening that offered. “You can,” he said quietly, “but it + is so big a thing—it would more than swamp the debt you think you + owe me.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she whispered urgently as he paused. + </p> + <p> + He turned from her eager questioning face with acute embarrassment. He + hated himself, he hated his task, only the darkness of the room seemed to + make it possible. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian,” he said, with constrained gravity. “I came to you to-day + deliberately to ask you what I believe no man has any right to ask a + woman. I have tried all the afternoon to tell you. Something you said just + now makes it easier. You say you love the Towers—do you love it well + enough to stay here as its mistress, on the only terms that I can offer?” + </p> + <p> + The look of incredulous horror that leaped into her startled eyes made him + realise suddenly the interpretation that might be put upon his words. He + caught her hands almost roughly. “Good heavens, child, not that!” he cried + aghast. “What do you take me for? I am asking you to marry me—but + not the kind of marriage that every woman has the right to expect. If I + could offer you that, God knows how willingly I would. But there has been + that in my life which comes between me and the happiness that other men + can look forward to. For me that part of life is over. I have only + friendship to offer. I know I am asking more than it seems possible for + you to grant, more, a thousand times more than I ought to ask you—but + I do ask it, most earnestly. If you can bring yourself to make so great a + sacrifice, if you can accept a marriage that will be a marriage only in + name——” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered from him with a bitter cry. “You are offering me <i>charity</i>!” + she wailed, struggling to free her hands. But he held them firmer. “I am + asking you to take pity on a very lonely man,” he said gently. “I am + asking you to care for a very lonely house. You have brought sunshine into + the Towers, you have brought sunshine into the lives of many people living + on the estate. I am asking you to stay where you are so much wanted—so + much—loved.” + </p> + <p> + Then he let her go and she walked unsteadily to the fireplace. She stood + for a moment, her fingers working convulsively, staring into the + smouldering embers, and then sank into a chair, for her limbs were shaking + under her. He followed slowly and stooped to stir the fire to a blaze. + Covertly she looked at him as the red light illuminated his face and + scalding tears gathered in her eyes. And, curiously, it was not wholly of + herself that she was thinking. She was envying, with a feeling of hopeless + intolerable pain, that other woman whom he had loved. For his words could + only have meant one thing, and the great sorrow she had imagined seemed + all at once explained. She wondered what manner of woman she had been, if + she had died—or if she had proved unworthy. And the last thought + roused a sudden fierce resentment—how could a woman who had won his + love throw it back at his feet, unwanted! The envious tears welled over + and she brushed them furtively away. Then her thoughts turned in + compassion to him. Through death or faithlessness love had brought no joy + to him—he suffered as she was suffering now. She looked at the + silver threads gleaming in his hair, at the deep lines in his face and the + pain in her eyes gave place to a wonderful tenderness. She had prayed for + a chance to show her gratitude; if what he asked could bring any + alleviation to his life, if her presence could bring any sort of comfort + to his loneliness, was not even that more than she had ever dared to hope? + That he should turn to her was understandable. He had men friends in + plenty, but women he openly and undisguisedly avoided. He had grown used + to her presence at the Towers, a marriage such as he proposed would call + for no great alteration in the daily routine to which he had become + accustomed. If by doing this she could in any way repay.... + </p> + <p> + The replenished fire was filling the room with soft flickering light, it + cast strange shadows on the curtained walls and revealed the girl's + strained white face pitilessly. Craven had risen and was standing looking + down on her. She grew aware of his scrutiny and flinched, the hot blood + rolling slowly, painfully over her face and neck. He spoke abruptly, as if + the words were forced from him: + </p> + <p> + “But I want you to realise fully what this marriage with me would mean, + for it is a very big sacrifice I am asking of you. Whatever happened, you + would be bound to me. If”—his voice faltered momentarily—“if + you were sometime to meet a man—and love him—you would be my + wife, you would not be free to follow your heart.” + </p> + <p> + She stared straight before her, her hands clasped tight around her knees, + shivering slightly. “I shall never—want to marry—in that way,” + she said in a strangled voice. He smiled sadly. “You think that now—you + are very young,” he argued, “but we have the future to think of.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer and in the silence that ensued he wondered what had + induced him to put forward an argument that might defeat his purpose. In + any other case it would have been only the honourable thing to do, but in + this it was a risk he should not have taken. He moved impatiently. Then + suddenly he leaned forward and laid his hands on her shoulders, drawing + her gently to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly she raised her head. The touch of his hands was almost more than + she could bear, but she steadied her trembling lips and met his gaze + bravely as he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “If you will agree to this—this <i>mariage de convenance</i>, I will + do all that lies in my power to make your life happy. You will be free in + everything. I ask nothing but that you will look on me as a friend to whom + you can always come in any difficulty or any trouble. You will be complete + mistress of yourself, your time, your inclinations. I will not interfere + with you in any way.” + </p> + <p> + She searched his face, trying to read what lay behind his inscrutable + expression. His eyes were kind, but there was in them a curious underlying + gleam that she could not understand. And his voice puzzled her. She was + bewildered, torn with conflicting doubts. Sensitively she shrank from his + inexplicable suggestion, she could see no reason for his amazing proposal + save an extraordinary generosity that filled her with gratitude and yet + against which she revolted. + </p> + <p> + “You are doing this in pity!” she cried miserably. + </p> + <p> + “Before God I swear that I am not,” he said, with unexpected fierceness + that startled her, and the sudden painful gripping of the strong hands on + her shoulders made her for the first time aware of his strength. She + thought of it wonderingly. If it had been otherwise, if he had loved her, + how gladly she would have surrendered to it. It would have stood between + her and the unknown world that loomed sometimes in spite of her confidence + with a sinister horror on which she dared not dwell. In the safety of his + arms she would never have known fear, his strength would have shielded her + through life. And, in a lesser degree, his strength might still be hers to + turn to, if she would. A new conception of the future she had planned + rushed over her, the confidence she had felt fell suddenly away, leaving + fear and dread and a terror of loneliness. His touch had destroyed her + faith in herself. It had done more. In some subtle way it seemed to her he + had by his touch claimed her. And with his hands still pressing her + shoulders she felt a strange inability to oppose him. He had sworn that it + was not pity that dictated his offer. He had said that love did not exist + for him. What then could be his motive? She could find none. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't lie to me?” she whispered, tormented with doubt, “you wish + this—this marriage—truly?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it, truly,” he said firmly. + </p> + <p> + “You would let me go on with my work?” she faltered, fighting for time. + </p> + <p> + “I have said that I would not interfere with you in any way, that you + would be free in everything,” he answered, and as if in earnest of the + freedom promised his hands slipped from her. + </p> + <p> + The fire had died down again, and the room was almost dark, he could + hardly see her where she stood. He waited, hoping she would speak, then + abruptly: “Can you give me an answer, Gillian?” + </p> + <p> + He heard the quick intake of her breath, felt her trembling beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you would give me time,” she murmured entreatingly. “I want to + think. It means so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Take all the time you wish,” he said, and went quietly away. And his + going brought a sudden desolation. She longed to call him back, to promise + what he asked, to yield without further struggle. But uncertainty held + her. Motionless she stood staring through the darkness at the dim outline + of the door that had closed behind him, her breast heaving tumultuously, + until tears blinded her and with a gasping sob she slipped to the floor. + She had never dared to hope that he could love her, but the truth from his + own lips was bitter. And for a time the realisation of that bitterness + deadened all other feeling. Overwrought with the emotion of the last few + hours, her nerves strained to breaking point, she was unable to check the + tide of grief that shook her to the very depths of her being. With her + face hidden in the soft rug, her outflung hands clenching convulsively, + she wept in an abandonment of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + If he had never spoken, if he had never made this strange proposal but had + maintained until the end the detached reserve that had seemed to set so + wide a gulf between them, it would have been easier to bear. He would have + passed out of her life, inscrutable as he had always been. But with his + change of attitude, in the intimacy of the few hours they had spent alone, + she had seen him with new eyes. The mysterious unapproachable guardian had + gone for ever, and in his place was a very human man revealing + characteristics she had never imagined to exist, showing an interest and a + gentleness she had never suspected. He had exhibited a similarity of + tastes and ideas that agreed extraordinarily with her own, he had talked + as to a comrade. The companionship had been very sweet—very + sorrowful. She could never think of him again as he had been, and the new + conception of him gave a poignant stab to her grief. In the brief + happiness of the afternoon she had had a fleeting vision of what might + have been “if he had loved me,” she moaned, and it seemed to her that she + had never known until now the real depth of her own love. What she had + felt before was not comparable with the overwhelming passion that the + touch of his hands had quickened. It swept her like a raging torrent, + carrying her beyond the limit of her understanding, bringing with it + strange yearnings that, half-understood, she shuddered from, ashamed. + </p> + <p> + Torn with emotion she wept until she had no tears left, until the hard + racking sobs died away and her tired sorrow-shaken body lay still. For the + moment, exhausted, her agony of mind was dulled and time was non-existent. + She did not move or lift her head from the tear-wet rug. A great weariness + seemed to deaden all faculty. The minutes passed unnoticed. Then some + latent consciousness stirred in her brain and she looked up startled. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark and she realised, shivering, that the room had grown + very cold. The calm afternoon had given place to a stormy night and heavy + gusts of wind were sweeping round the angle of the house, shrieking and + whistling eerily; from the window came the soft <i>swish swish</i> of dry + hard snow beating against the panes. She started to her feet. She had no + idea of the hour but she knew it must be late. Perhaps the dinner gong had + already sounded and, missed, somebody might come in search of her. She + shrank from being found thus. Feeling her way to a lamp she turned the + switch and the soft light flooding the room made her wince. A glance at + her watch showed that she had still a few moments in which to gain her + room unobserved. + </p> + <p> + She felt oddly lightheaded and her feet dragged wearily. The tortuous + passage had never seemed so interminable, the succession of closed doors + appeared unending. Reaching her own room she collapsed on to a sofa that + was drawn up before the fire, her head aching, her limbs shivering + uncontrollably, worn out with emotion. Exhausted in mind and body she + seemed unable even to frame a thought logically or coherently—only + an interrupted medley of unconnected ideas chased through her tired brain + until her temples throbbed agonisingly. She knew that sometime she would + have to rouse herself, that sometime a decision would have to be made, but + not now. Now she could only lie still and make no effort. She was angry + with herself, contemptuous of her weakness. She had disdained nerves, she + was humiliated now by her present lack of control. But even self-scorn was + a passing thought from which she turned wearily. + </p> + <p> + One fact only remained, clear and distinct from the confusion in her mind—he + did not love her. He did not love her. It hurt so. She hid her face in the + pillows, writhing with the shame the knowledge of her own love brought + her. The deep booming of the dinner gong awoke her to the necessity of + some kind of action. She rang the bell that hung within reach of her hand + and, by the maid who answered her summons, sent her excuses to Miss + Craven, pleading a headache for remaining upstairs. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later Mary, grim-visaged and big-hearted, appeared with a + tray, headache remedies and multifarious messages from the dining room. + She bathed the girl's aching head, brushing the tumbled brown hair and + piling it afresh into a soft loose knot. Grumbling gently at the long + hours of work to which she attributed the unusual indisposition, she took + full advantage of the rare opportunity of rendering personal attention and + fussed to her heart's content, stripping off the stained overall and + substituting a loose velvet wrapper; and then stood over her, a kindly + martinet, until the light dinner she had brought was eaten. Afterwards she + packed pillows, made up the fire, and administered a particularly nauseous + specific emanating from a homeopathic medicine chest that was her greatest + pride, and then took herself away, still mildly admonishing. + </p> + <p> + Gillian leaned back against the cushions with a feeling of greater ease + and restfulness. Food had given her strength and under Mary's + ministrations her mental poise had steadied. She would not let herself + dwell on the question that must before long be settled, Miss Craven would + be coming soon, and until she had been and gone no definite settlement + could be attempted. + </p> + <p> + She lay looking at the fire, endeavouring to keep her mind a blank. It was + odd to be alone, she missed the familiar black form lying on the + hearth-rug, but tonight she could not bear even Mouston's presence, and + Mary had taken a request to Yoshio, to whose room the dog had been + banished from the studio, that he would keep him until the morning. + </p> + <p> + A tap at the door and Miss Craven appeared, anxious and questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Only a headache?—my dear, I don't believe it!” she protested, + plumping down on the side of the sofa and clutching at her hair, that sure + sign of perturbation. “You've never had a headache like this before. + You've been working too hard. You were painting all the morning and they + tell me you worked throughout the afternoon and had no tea. Gillian, dear, + when will you learn sense? I don't at all approve of you having tea sent + to the studio <i>only</i> when you ring for it. Young people require + regular meals and as often as not neglect 'em; young artists are the worst + offenders—you needn't contradict me, I know all about it. I did it + myself.” She patted the clasped hands lying near her and scrutinised the + girl more closely. “You're as pale as a ghost and your eyes are too + bright. Did Mary take your temperature? No?—the woman must have lost + her senses. I'll telephone to Doctor Harris to come and see you in the + morning. If you looked a fraction more feverish I'd send for you to-night, + storm or no storm. Peter braved it, open car as usual. He sent his love. + Barry turned up from Scotland this afternoon. He looks very tired—says + he had a bothering time and a wretched journey—Gillian!” she cried + sharply as the girl slid from the sofa on to her knees beside her and + raised a quivering piteous face. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Caro, I'm not ill,” the words came in tumbling haste, “there's + nothing bodily the matter with me—I'm only dreadfully unhappy. I + know Mr. Craven is back—he came to me in the studio this afternoon. + He asked me to marry him,” the troubled voice sank to a whisper, “and I—I + don't know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear.” The tenderness of Miss Craven's tone sent a strangling wave of + emotion into Gillian's throat. “Aunt Caro, did you know? Do you wish it + too?” she murmured wistfully. + </p> + <p> + Unwilling to admit a previous knowledge which would be difficult to + explain, Miss Craven temporised. “I very greatly hoped for it,” she said + guardedly; “you and Barry are all I have to care for, and you are both so—alone. + I know you think of a very different life, I know you have dreams of + making a career for yourself. But a career is not all that a woman wants + in her life; it can perhaps mean independence and fame, it can also mean + great loneliness and the loss of the full and perfect happiness that + should be every woman's. You mustn't judge all cases by me. I have been + happy in my own way but I want a greater, richer happiness for you, dear. + I want for you the best that the world can give, and that best I believe + to be the shelter and the safety of a man's love.” + </p> + <p> + The brown head dropped on her knee. “You are thinking of me—I am + thinking of him,” came a stifled whisper. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven stroked the soft hair tenderly. “Then why not give him what he + asks, my dear,” she said gently. “He has known sorrow and suffering. If + through you, he can forget the past in a new happiness, will you not grant + it him? Oh, Gillian, I have so hoped that you might care for each other; + that, together, you might make the Towers the perfect home it should be, a + home of mutual trust and love. You and Barry and, please God, after you—your + children.” She choked with unexpected emotion and brushed the mist from + her eyes impatiently. + </p> + <p> + And at her knee Gillian knelt motionless, her lip held fast between her + teeth to stop the bitter cry that nearly escaped her, her heart almost + bursting. The picture Miss Craven's words called up was an ideal of + happiness that might have been. The suffering that reality promised seemed + more than she could contemplate. What happiness could come from such a + travesty? The strange yearnings she had experienced seemed suddenly + crystallised into form, and the knowledge was a greater pain than she had + known. What she would have gone down to the gates of death to give him he + did not require—the unutterable joy that Miss Craven suggested would + never be hers. She searched for words, for an explanation of her silence + that must seem strange to the elder woman. Miss Craven obviously knew + nothing of the unusual conditions attached to his proposal, her words + proved it, and Gillian could not tell her. She could not betray his + confidence even if she had so wished. If she could but speak frankly and + show all her difficulty to the friend who had never yet failed in love and + sympathy——She sought refuge in prevarication. “How can I marry + him?” she cried miserably. “You don't know anything about me. I'm not a + fit person to be his wife—my antecedents——” + </p> + <p> + “Bother your antecedents!” interrupted Miss Craven, with a somewhat shaky + laugh. “My dearest girl, Barry isn't going to marry them, he's going to + marry you. They can have been anything you like or imagine but it does not + alter the fact that their daughter is the one woman on earth I want for + Barry's wife.” She stooped and gathered the girl into her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian, can you give us, Barry and me, this great happiness?” + </p> + <p> + Gently Gillian disengaged herself and rose slowly to her feet. She made a + little helpless gesture, swaying as she stood. “What can I say?” she said + brokenly. “Do you think it means nothing to me! Don't you know that what I + already owe you and Mr. Craven is almost more than I can bear, that I + would give my life for either of you? But this—oh, you don't + understand—I can't tell you—I can't explain——” She + dropped back on the sofa and her voice came muffled and entreatingly from + among the silken cushions, “If you knew how I long to repay you for your + wonderful goodness, if you knew what your love has meant to me! Oh, + dearest, I'd give the world to please you! But I don't know what to do, I + don't know what is honest—and you can't help me, nobody can help me. + I've got to settle it myself. I've got to think——” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven guessed the crying need for solitude conveyed in the last + faltering words and rose in obedience to the unspoken request. She stood + for a moment, looking tenderly down on the slim prostrate figure, and a + fear that grew momentarily stronger came to her that in her endeavour to + bring happiness to these two lives she had blundered fatally. She had been + a fool, rushing in. And with almost a feeling of dismay she realised it + was beyond her ability now to stay what she had put in motion. She was as + one who, having wantonly released some complex mechanism, stands aghast + and powerless at the consequence of his rashness. And yet, despite the + seeming setback to her hopes, the conviction that had urged her to this + step was still strong in her; she still had faith in its ultimate + achievement. She touched the girl's shoulder in a quick caress. “You are + worn out, child. Go to bed and rest now, and think to-morrow,” she said + soothingly. + </p> + <p> + For long after she left the room Gillian lay without moving. Then with a + long shuddering sigh she sat up. She tried to concentrate on the decision + she must make but her thoughts, ungovernable, dwelt persistently on the + unknown woman whom she had convinced herself he must have loved, and the + passionate envy she had felt before swept her again until the pain of it + sent a whispered prayer to her lips for strength to put it from her. + Huddled on the side of the sofa, her head supported on her hands, she + stared fixedly into the fire as if seeking in the leaping flames the + answer to the problem that confronted her. Then in her agony of mind + inaction became impossible and she rose and paced the room with hurried + nervous tread. + </p> + <p> + To do what was right—to do what was honourable; to conquer the + clamorous self that cried out for acceptance of this semblance of + happiness that was offered. To bear his name, to have the right to be near + him, to care for him and for his interests as far as she might. To be his + wife—even if only in name. Dear God, did he know how he had tempted + her? But she had no right. The crushing burden of debt she owed rose like + an unsurpassable mountain between her and what she longed for. Only by + repayment could she keep her self-respect. The dreams of independence, the + place she had thought to make for herself in the world, the + re-establishing of her father's name—could she forego what she had + planned? Was it not a nobler aim than the gratification of self that urged + the easier way? Yet would it be the easier way? Was she not really in her + heart shrinking from the difficulty and sadness that this loveless + marriage would bring? Was it not cowardice that prompted a supposed + nobility of thought that now appeared ignoble? She wrung her hands in + desperation. Had she no courage or steadfastness at all? Was the weakness + of purpose that had ruined her father's life to be her curse as it had + been his? + </p> + <p> + She felt suddenly very young, very inexperienced. Her early training that + had denied the exercise of individual responsibility and had inculcated a + passivity of mind that precluded self-determination had bitten deeper than + she knew. Her life since leaving the convent had been smooth and + uneventful, there had been no occasion to practise the new liberty of + thought and action that was hers. And now before a decision that would be + so irrevocable, that would involve her whole life—and not hers alone—she + felt to the full the disability of her upbringing. Alone she must make her + choice and she shrank from the burden of responsibility that fell upon + her. She had nobody to turn to for counsel or advice. In her loneliness + she longed for the solace of a mother's tenderness, the shelter of a + mother's arms, and bitterness came to her as she thought of the parents + who had each in their turn abandoned her so callously. She had been robbed + of her birthright of love and care. She was alone in the world, alone to + fight her own battles, alone in the moment of her direst need. + </p> + <p> + Then all at once she seemed to see in the trend of her thoughts only a + supreme selfishness that had lost sight of all but personal consideration. + Was her love of so little worth that in thought for herself she had + forgotten him? He had asked her to pity his loneliness—and she had + had only pity for herself. Her lips quivered as she whispered his name in + an agony of self-condemnation. + </p> + <p> + Coming back slowly to the fireside she slipped to the floor and leaned her + head against the sofa listening to the storm that beat with increasing + violence against the house, and the roar of the tempest without seemed in + strange agreement with the tumult that was raging in her heart. The words + he had used came back to her. Did it really lie in her power to lessen the + loneliness of his life? To give him what he asked—was not that, + after all, the true way to pay her debt? With a little sob she bowed her + head on her hands.... An hour later she rose stiffly, cramped with long + sitting, and moving nearer to the fire chafed her cold hands mechanically. + Her face was very sad and her wide eyes heavy with unshed tears. She drew + a long sobbing breath. “Because I love him,” she murmured. “If I didn't + love him I couldn't do it.” A thought that brought new hope came to her. + She loved him so deeply, might not her love, she wondered wistfully, + perhaps some day be strong enough to heal the wound he had sustained—strong + enough even to compel his love? Then doubt seized hold on her again. Would + she, in the limited scope that she would have, find opportunity—would + he ever allow her to get near enough to him?... She flung her hands out in + passionate appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God! if this thing that I am doing is wrong, if it brings sorrow and + unhappiness, let me be the only one to pay!” + </p> + <p> + A sudden longing to make retraction impossible came over her. She looked + anxiously at her watch. Was it too late to go to him to-night? Only when + she had told him would she be sure of herself. Her word once given there + could be no withdrawal. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight but she knew he rarely left his study until later. + Peters would be gone, he was methodical in his habits and retired + punctually at eleven o'clock with a regularity that was unvarying. She was + sure of finding him alone. She dared not wait until the morning, she must + go now while she had the courage. Delay might bring new doubts, new + uncertainty. Impulsively she started towards the door, then paused on a + sudden thought that sent the warm blood in a painful wave to her face. + Would he misunderstand, think her unwomanly, attribute her hasty decision + to a sordid desire for material gain, for the ease that would be hers, for + the position that his name would give? It was the natural thought for him + who offered so much to one who would give nothing in return. And not for + him alone—in the eyes of the world she would be only a little + adventuress who had skilfully seized the opportunity that circumstance had + given to advantage herself. But the world did not matter, she thought with + scornful curling lip, it was only in his eyes that she desired to stand + well. Then with quick shame she knew that the sentiments she had ascribed + to him were unworthy, the outcome only of her own strained imagination, + and she put them from her. She went quickly to the gallery, dimly lit from + a single lamp left alight in the hall below—left for Craven as she + knew. Silence brooded over the great house. The storm that earlier had + beat tempestuously against the dome as if striving to shatter the massive + glass plates that opposed its fury had blown itself out and glancing + upward Gillian saw the huge cupola shrouded with snow that gleamed palely + in the soft light. The stillness oppressed her and odd thoughts chased + through her mind. She looked to right and left nervously and in a sudden + inexplicable panic sped down the wide staircase and across the shadowy + hall until she reached the study door. There she halted with wildly + beating heart, panting and breathless. It was a room which she had never + before entered, and an almost paralysing shyness made her shake from head + to foot. Nerving herself with a strong effort she tapped with trembling + fingers and, at the sound of an answering voice, went in. + </p> + <p> + Strength seemed all at once to leave her. Physically and mentally + exhausted, a feeling of unreality supervened. The strange room swam before + her eyes. As in a dream she saw him start to his feet and come swiftly to + her across a seemingly unending length of carpet that billowed and wavered + curiously, his big frame oddly magnified until he appeared a very giant + towering above her; as in a dream she felt him take her ice-cold hands in + his. But the warm strong grasp, the grave eyes bent compellingly on her, + dragged her back from the shuddering abyss into which she was sinking. Far + away, as though coming from a great distance, she heard him speaking. And + his voice, gentler than she had ever known it, gave her courage to + whisper, so low that he had to bend his tall head to catch the fluttering + words, the promise she had come to give. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + On an afternoon in early September eighteen months after her marriage + Gillian was driving across the park toward the little village of Craven + that, old world and quite unspoiled, clustered round a tiny Norman church + two miles distant from the Towers. She leaned back in the victoria, her + hands clasped in her lap, preoccupied and thoughtful. A scented heap of + deep crimson roses and carnations lay at her feet; beside her, in contrast + to her listless attitude, Mouston sat up tense and watchful, his sharp + muzzle thrust forward, his black nose twitching eagerly at the distracting + agitating smells borne on the warm air tempting him from monotonous + inactivity to a soul satisfying scamper over the short cropped grass but, + conscious of the dignity of his position, ignoring them with a gravity of + demeanour that was almost comical. Once or twice when his wrinkling + nostrils caught some particularly attractive odour his pads kneaded the + cushions vigorously and a snarly gurgle rose in his throat. But no other + sign of restlessness escaped him—it was patience bred of experience. + For miles around he was a well-known figure, sitting grave and motionless + on his accustomed side of the victoria as it rolled through the country + lanes. To the villagers of Craven, all directly or indirectly dependent on + the estate, he was welcome in that he was inseparable from the gentle + tender-hearted girl whom they worshipped, but their welcome was a + qualified one that never descended to the familiar; his strange appearance + and disdainful aloofness made him an object of curiosity to be viewed with + most safety from a respectful distance; time had not accustomed them to + him and tales of his uncanny understanding filtering through, richly + embroidered, to the village from the house, did not tend to lessen the awe + with which he was regarded. They marvelled, without comprehension, at the + partiality of his mistress; he was the “black French devil” to more + households than that of Major, the gamekeeper, an “unorranary brute” to + those of less gifted imagination. + </p> + <p> + To Mouston Gillian's periodical visits to the village were a tedium + endured for the sake of the coveted seat beside her. + </p> + <p> + The passing of a herd of deer, feeding intently and—save for one or + two more timid hinds who started nervously—too used to the carriage + to heed its approach, roused the poodle, as always, to a high pitch of + excitement; they were old enemies and his annoyance gave vent to a sharp + yelp as he sidled close to Gillian and endeavoured to attract her + attention with an insistent paw. But for once she was heedless of the + hints of her dumb companion, and, whining, he slunk back into his own + corner, curling up on the seat with his forepaws brushing the mass of + scented blossom. And ignorant of the pleading brown eyes fixed + pathetically on her, Gillian followed the train of her own troubled + thoughts. For eighteen months she had been Barry Craven's wife, for + eighteen months she had endeavoured to fulfill her share of the contract + they had made—and to herself she admitted failure. + </p> + <p> + The strain was becoming unendurable. + </p> + <p> + In the eyes of the world an ideal couple, in reality—she wondered if + in the whole universe there were two more lonely souls than they. She knew + now that the task she had set herself that stormy December night was + beyond her power, that it had been the unattainable dream of an immature + love-sick girl. She had fought to retain her high ideals, to believe that + love—as great, as unselfish as hers—must beget love, but she + had come to realise the utter futility of her dream and to wonder at the + childish ignorance that had inspired it. The sustaining hope that she + might indeed be a comfort to his loneliness had died hard, but surely. For + he gave her no opportunity. Despite unfailing kindness and overwhelming + generosity he maintained always a baffling reserve she found impossible to + penetrate. Of his inner self she knew no more than she had ever done, she + could get no nearer to him. But in all matters that dealt with their + common life he was scrupulously frank and out-spoken; he had insisted on + her acquiring a knowledge of his interests and a working idea of his + affairs, from which she had shrunk sensitively, but he had persisted, + arguing that in the event of his death—Peters not being immortal—it + was necessary that she should be able to administer possessions that would + be hers—and the thought of those possessions crushed her. It was + only after a long struggle, in distress that horrified him, that she + persuaded him to forego the big settlement he proposed making. If she had + not loved him his liberality would have hurt her less, but because of her + love his money was a scourge. She hated the wealth to which she felt she + had no right, to herself she seemed an impostor, a cheat. She felt + degraded. She would rather he had bought her, as women have from time + immemorial been bought, that she might have paid the price, as they pay, + and so retained the self-respect that now seemed for ever lost. It would + have been a means of re-establishing herself in her own eyes, of easing + the burden of his bounty that grew daily heavier and from which she could + never escape. It was evident in all about her; in the greater state and + ceremony observed at the Towers since their marriage, which, while it + pleased the household, who rejoiced in the restoration of the old régime, + oppressed her unspeakably; in the charities she dispensed—his + charities that brought her no sense of sacrifice, no joy of self-denial; + in the social duties that poured in upon her. + </p> + <p> + His wealth served only to strengthen the barrier between them, but for + that she might have been to him what she longed to be. If the talent that + now seemed so useless could have been used for him she would have found a + measure of happiness even if love had never come to crown her service. In + poverty she would have worked for him, slaved for him, with the strength + and tirelessness that only love can give. But here the gladness of giving, + of serving, was denied, here there was nothing she might do and the + futility of her life choked her. She had conscientiously endeavoured to + assume the responsibilities and duties of her new position, but there + seemed little for her to do, for the big household ran smoothly on oiled + wheels under the capable administration of Forbes and Mrs. Appleyard, with + whom, both honest and devoted to the interests of the family they had + served so long and faithfully, she knew it was unnecessary and unwise to + interfere. In any unusual circumstance they would refer to her with + tactful deference but for the rest she knew that, perforce, she must be + content to remain a figure-head. Even her work—interrupted + constantly by the social duties incumbent on her and performed from a + sense of obligation—failed to comfort and distract. It was all so + utterly useless and purposeless. The gift with which she had thought to do + so much was wasted. She could do nothing with it. She was no longer + Gillian Locke who had dreamed of independence, who had hoped by toil and + endeavour to clear the stain from her father's name. She was the rich Mrs. + Craven—who must smile to hide a breaking heart, who must play the + part expected of her, who must appear always care-free and happy. And the + constant effort was almost more than she could achieve. In the ceaseless + watch she set upon herself, in the rigid self-suppression she exercised, + it seemed to her as if her true self had died, and her entity faded into + an automaton that moved in mechanical obedience to the driving of her + will. Only during the long night hours or in the safe seclusion of the + studio could she relax, could she be natural for a little while. That + Craven might never learn the misery of her life, that she might not fail + him as she had failed herself, was her one prayer. She welcomed eagerly + the advent of guests, of foreign guests—more exigent in their + demands upon her society—particularly; with the house filled the + time of host and hostess was fully occupied and the difficult days passed + more easily, more quickly. The weeks they spent alone she dreaded; from + the morning greeting in the breakfast room to the moment when he gave her + the quiet “Good-night” that might have come from an undemonstrative + brother, she was in terror lest an unguarded word, a chance expression, + might tell him what she sought to keep from him. But so insensible did his + own constant pre-occupation of mind make him appear of much that passed, + that she feared his intuition less than that of Peters who she was + convinced had a very shrewd idea of the state of affairs existing between + them. It was manifested in diverse ways; not by any spoken word direct or + indirect, but by additional fatherly tenderness of manner, by unfailing + tactfulness, by quick intervention that had saved many awkward situations. + It was practically impossible in view of his almost daily association with + the house and its inmates that he could be unaware of certain facts. But + the wise kindly eyes that she had feared most were closed for ever. + </p> + <p> + The Great Summons for which Miss Craven had been so calmly prepared had + come more suddenly, more tragically even than she had anticipated. She had + passed over as she would have wished, had she been given the choice, not + in the awful loneliness of death but one of a company of heroic souls who + had voluntarily and willingly stood aside that others might have the + chance to live. + </p> + <p> + A few months after the marriage on which she had set her heart the family + curse had seized her as suddenly and as imperatively as it had ever done + her nephew. An exhibition of statuary in America had served as an adequate + excuse and she had started at comparatively short notice, accompanied by + the faithful Mary, after a stormy interview with her doctor, whose gloomy + warnings she refuted with the undeniable truism that one land was as good + as another to die in. Within a few hours of the American coast the + tragedy, short and overwhelming, had occurred. From the parent ice a + thousand miles away in the north the stupendous white destruction had + moved majestically down its appointed course to loom out of the + pitch-black night with appalling consequence. A sudden crash, slight + enough to be unnoticed by hundreds, a convulsive shudder of the great ship + like the death struggle of a Titan, had been followed by unquellable + panic, confusion of darkness, inadequate boats and jamming bulkheads. Miss + Craven and Mary were among the first on deck and for the short space of + time that remained they worked side by side among the terror-stricken + women and children, their own life-belts early transferred to dazed + mothers who clutched wild-eyed at wailing babes. Together they had stood + back from the overcrowded boats, smiling and unafraid; together they had + gone down into the mystery of the deep, two gallant women, no longer + mistress and maid but sisters in sacrifice and in the knowledge of that + greater love for which they cheerfully laid down their lives. + </p> + <p> + And while Gillian mourned her bitterly she was yet glad that Miss Craven + was spared the sadness of witnessing the complete failure of her cherished + dream. + </p> + <p> + In the little Norman church toward which Gillian was driving there had + been added yet another memorial to a Craven who had died tragically and + far from home; a record of disastrous calamity that, beginning four + hundred years before with the Elizabethan gallant, had relentlessly + pursued an ill-starred family. The church lay on the outskirts of the + village and close to the south entrance of the park. + </p> + <p> + Gillian stopped the carriage for a few moments to speak to the + anxious-looking woman who had hurried out from the creeper-covered lodge + to open the gates. Behind one of the casements of the cottage a child was + fighting for life, a cripple, with an exquisite face, whom Gillian had + painted. To the sorrowful mother the eager tender words, the soft + impulsive hand that clasped her own work-roughened palm, the wide dark + eyes, misty with sympathy were worth infinitely more than the material + aid, so carefully packed by Mrs. Appleyard, that the footman carried up + the narrow nagged path to the cottage door. + </p> + <p> + And as the impatient horses drew the carriage swiftly on again Gillian + leaned back in her seat with a quivering sigh. The woman at the lodge, + despite her burden of sorrow, despite her humbleness, was yet richer than + she and, with intolerable pain, she envied her the crowning joy of + womanhood that would never be her own. The child she longed for would + never by the touch baby hands bring consolation to her starved and lonely + heart. Her thoughts turned to her husband in a sudden passion of hopeless + love and longing. To bear him a child—to hold in her arms a tiny + replica of the beloved figure that was so dear to her, to watch and + rejoice in the dawning resemblance that the ardour of her love would make + inevitable.... Hastily she brushed away the gathering tears as the + carriage stopped abruptly with a jingle of harness at the lichgate. + </p> + <p> + Coaxing the reluctant Mouston from the seat where he still sulked she tied + him to the gate, took the armful of flowers from the grave-faced footman, + and dismissing the carriage walked slowly up the lime-bordered avenue. The + orderliness and beauty of the churchyard struck her as it always did—a + veritable garden of sleep, with level close-shorn turf set thick with + standard rose trees, that even the clustering headstones could not make + chill and sombre. + </p> + <p> + From the radiant sunshine without she passed into the cool dimness of the + little building. With its tiny proportions, ornate and numerous Craven + memorials and—for its size—curiously large chancel, it seemed + less the parish church it had become than the private chapel for which it + had been built. Then the house had been close by, but during the troublous + years of Mary Tudor was pulled down and rebuilt on the present site. + </p> + <p> + Through the quiet silence Gillian made her way up the short central aisle + until she reached the chancel steps. For a few minutes she knelt, her face + crushed against the flowers she held, in silent passionate prayer that + knew neither form nor words—a soundless supplication that was an + inchoate appeal to a God of infinite understanding. Then rising slowly she + pushed back the iron gate and went into the chancel. Directly to the left + the new monument gleamed cleanly white against the old dark wall. Simple + and bold, as she would herself have designed it, the sculptor's memorial + was the work of the greatest genius of the day who had willingly come from + France at Craven's invitation to perpetuate the memory of a sister artist + who had also been a lifelong friend. + </p> + <p> + A rugged pedestal of green bronze—with an inset panel representing + the tragedy—rose upward in the shape of billowing curling waves + supporting a marble Christ standing erect with outstretched pitying hand, + majestic and yet wholly human. + </p> + <p> + Gillian gazed upward with quivering lips at the Saviour's inclined tender + face, and opening her arms let the scented mass of crimson blossom fall + slowly to the slab at her feet that bore Miss Craven's name and Mary's cut + side by side. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>“Greater love hath no man than this, that + a man lay down his life for his friends.”</i> +</pre> + <p> + She read the words aloud, and with a stifled sob slipped down among the + roses and carnations that Caro Craven had loved, and leaned her aching + head against the cool hard bronze. “Dearest,” she whispered, in an agony + of tears, “I wonder can you hear? I wonder are you allowed, where you are, + to know what happens here on earth? Oh, Aunt Caro, <i>cherie</i>, do you + know that I have failed—failed to bring him the peace and + consolation I thought my love was strong enough to give, I have tried so + hard to understand, to help ... I have prayed so earnestly that he might + turn to me, that I might be to him what you would have me be ... but I + have not been able ... I have failed him ... failed you ... myself. Oh, + dearest, do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Prone among the roses, at the feet of the pitying Christ, she cried aloud + in her desperate loneliness to the dead woman who had given her the + tenderest love she had ever known. The shadows lengthened widely before + she rose and drew the scattered flowers into a fragrant heap. She stood + for a while studying intently the relief of the wreck; it suggested a + train of thought, and with a sudden impulse she traversed the chancel and + sought among the memorials of dead Cravens for the tablets commemorating + those who had disappeared or died tragically. By chance at first and later + by design these had all been placed within the confines of the chancel + that formed so large a part of the tiny church. Before the florid Italian + monument that recorded all that was known of the short life of the + Elizabethan adventurer she paused long, looking with quickening heart-beat + at the graceful kneeling figure whose face and form were those of the man + she loved. + </p> + <p> + <i>Barry Craven ... he set his eyes unto the west</i>.... Amongst the + calamitous record there were four more of the name—their bodies + scattered widely in distant unknown graves, victims of the spirit of + adventure and unrest. She moved slowly from one to the other, reading + again the tragical inscriptions she knew by heart, cut as deeply in her + memory as on the marble slabs before her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Barry Craven—Lost in the Amazon Forest</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—In the silence of the frozen seas</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—Perished in a sandstorm in the Sahara</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—In Japan</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—Barry Craven</i>. +</pre> + <p> + The name leaped at her from all sides until, with a shudder, she buried + her face in her hands to shut out the staring capitals that flamed in + black and gold before her eyes. The dread that was with her always seemed + suddenly closer than it had ever been, menacing, inevitable. Would the + fear that haunted her day and night become at some not far distant time an + actual fact? Would the curse that had already led to ten years' perpetual + wandering lay hold of him again—would he, too, in quest of the peace + he had never found, disappear as they had done? Was it for this that he + had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his affairs? With the quick + intuition of love she had come to understand the deep unrest that beset + him periodically, an unrest she recognised as wholly apart and separate + from the other shadow that lay across his life. With unfailing patience + she had learned to discriminate. Covertly she had watched him, striving to + fathom the varying moods that swayed him, endeavouring to anticipate the + alternating frames of mind that made any definite comprehension of his + character so difficult. The charm of manner and apparent serenity that led + others to think of him as one endowed beyond further desire with all that + life could give did not deceive her. He played a part, as she did, a part + that was contrary to his nature, contrary to his whole inclination. She + guessed at the strain on him, a strain it seemed impossible for him to + endure, which some day she felt must inevitably break. His habitual + self-control was extraordinary—once only during their married life + had he lost it when some event, jarring on his overstrung nerves, had + evoked a blaze of anger that seemed totally out of proportion to the + circumstance, that would have given her proof, had she needed one, of his + state of mind. + </p> + <p> + His outburst had been a perfectly natural reaction, but while she admitted + the fact she felt a nervous dread of its recurrence. + </p> + <p> + She feared anything that might precipitate the upheaval that loomed always + before her like a threatening cloud. For sooner or later the unrest that + filled him would have to be satisfied. The curse of Craven would claim him + again and he would leave her. And she would have to watch him go and wait + in agony for his return as other women of the race had watched and + agonised. And if he went would he ever return? or would she too know the + anguish of suspense, the long drawn horror of uncertainty, the fading hope + that year by year would become slighter until at last it would vanish + altogether and the bitter waters of despair close over her head? A moan, + like the cry of a wounded animal, broke from her. In vivid self-torturing + imagination she saw among the sinister record around her another tablet—that + would mean finality. He was the last of the Cravens. Did it mean nothing + to him—had the sorrow of that past that was unknown to her but which + had become woven into her own life so inextricably, so terribly, killed in + him even the pride of race? Had he, deep down in the heart that was hidden + from her, no thought of parenthood, no desire to perpetuate the family + name, the family traditions? It would seem that he had not—and yet + she wondered. The woman he had loved—of whose existence she had + convinced herself—if she had lived, or proved faithful, would he + still have desired no son? She shrank from the stabbing thought with a + very bitter sob. + </p> + <p> + A sudden horror of her environment came over her. Around her were + suggestions from which she shuddered, evidences that raised the haunting + dread with which she lived to a culmination of fear. It had never seemed + so near, so strong. It was stronger than her will to put it from her and + in it, with inherent superstition, she saw a premonition. The little + peaceful church became all at once a place of terror, a grisly charnel + house of vanished hopes and lives. The spirits of countless Cravens seemed + all about her, hostile, malign, triumphing in her weakness, rejoicing in + her fear—spectral figures of the dead crowding, hurrying, + threatening. She seemed to see them, a dense and awful concourse, closing + round her, to hear them whispering, muttering, jibing—at her, a + thing apart, an alien soul whose presence they resented. The clamorous + voices rang in her ears; vague shapes, illusive and shadowy, appeared to + float before her eyes. She shrank from what seemed the contact of actual + bodily forms. Unnerved and overwrought she yielded to the horror of her + own imagination. With a stifled cry she turned and fled, her arms + outstretched to fend from her the invisible host that seemed so real, not + daring even to look again at the pitying Christ whose calm serenity formed + such a striking contrast to her storm-tossed heart. + </p> + <p> + Blindly she sped down the chancel steps, along the short central aisle, + out into the timbered porch, where she blundered sharply into somebody who + was on the point of entering. Who, it did not at the moment seem to matter—enough + that it was a human creature, real and tangible, to whom she clung + trembling and incoherent. A strong arm held her, and against its strength + she leaned for a few moments in the weakness of reaction from the nervous + strain through which she had passed. Then as she slowly regained control + of herself she realised the awkwardness of her position, and her cheeks + burned hotly. She drew back, her fingers uncurling from the tweed coat + they clutched so tightly, and, trying to slip clear of the arm that still + lay about her shoulders, looked up shyly with murmured thanks. + </p> + <p> + Then: “David,” she cried. “Oh, David——” and burst into tears. + Guiding her to the bench that rested against the side of the porch Peters + drew her down beside him. “Just David,” he said, with rather a sad little + smile, “I was passing and Mouston told me you were here.” He spoke slowly, + giving her time to recover herself, thanking fate that she had collapsed + into his arms rather than into those of some chattering village busybody. + He had caught a glimpse of her face as she came through the church door + and knew that her agitation was caused by something more than sorrow for + Miss Craven, great as that sorrow was. He had seen fear in the hunted eyes + that looked unrecognisingly into his—a fear that he somehow resented + with a feeling of helpless anger. + </p> + <p> + The affection he had for her was such as he would have given the daughter + that might have been his had providence been kinder. And with the insight + that affection gave he had seen, with acute uneasiness, a steadily + increasing change in her during the last eighteen months. The marriage + from which he, as well as Miss Craven, had hoped so much seemed after all + to have brought no joy to either husband or wife. With his intimate + knowledge and close association he saw deeper than the casual visitor to + whom the family life at the Towers appeared an ideal of domestic happiness + and concord. There was nothing he could actually take hold of, Craven was + at all times considerate and thoughtful, Gillian a model of wifely + attention. But there was an atmosphere that, super-sensitive, he + discerned, a vague underlying feeling of tension that he tried to persuade + himself was mere imagination but which at the bottom of his heart he knew + existed. There had been times when he had seen them both, as it were, off + their guard, had read in the face of each the same bitter pain, the same + look of unsatisfied longing. Possessing in so high a degree everything + that life could give they appeared to have yet missed the happiness that + should by all reasoning have been theirs. Whose was the fault? Caring for + them both it was a question that he turned from in aversion, he had no + wish to judge between them, no desire to probe their hidden affairs. + Thrown constantly into their society while guessing much he shut his eyes + to more. But anxiety remained, fostered by the memory of the tragedy of + Barry's father and mother. Was he fated to see just such another tragedy + played out before him with no power to avert the ruin of two more lives? + The pity of it! He could do nothing and his helplessness galled him. + </p> + <p> + To-day as he sat in the little porch with Gillian's hand clasped in his he + felt more than ever the extreme delicacy of his position. Intuitively he + guessed that he was nearer than he had ever been to penetrating the cloud + that shadowed her life and Barry's but with equal intuition he knew he + must convey no hint of his understanding. He gauged her shy sensitive mind + too accurately and his own loyalty debarred him from forcing such a + confidence. Instead he spoke as though the visit to Miss Craven's memorial + must naturally be the cause of her agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Why come, my dear, if it distresses you?” he said, in quiet remonstrance; + “she would not misunderstand. She had the sanest, the healthiest + conception of death. She died nobly—willingly. It would sadden her + immeasurably if she knew how you grieved.” Her fingers worked convulsively + in his. “I know—I know,” she whispered, “but, oh, David, I miss her + so—so inexpressibly.” + </p> + <p> + “We all do,” he answered; “one cannot lose a friend like Caro Craven + lightly. But while we mourn the dead we have the living to consider—and + you have Barry,” he added, with almost cruel deliberation. She faced him + with steady eyes from which she had brushed all trace of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Barry understands,” she said with quick loyalty; “he mourns her too—but + he doesn't <i>need</i> her as I do.” It was an undeniable truth that + reduced Peters to silence and for a while Gillian also was silent. Then + she turned to him again with a little tremulous smile, the colour flooding + her delicate face. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad it was only you, David, just now. Please forget it. I don't know + what's the matter with me to-day, I let my nerves get the upper hand—I'm + tired—the sun was hot——” + </p> + <p> + “So of course you sent the carriage away and proposed walking two miles + home by way of a rest cure!” he interrupted, jumping up with alacrity, and + taking advantage of the turn in the conversation. “Luckily I've got the + car. Plenty of room for you and the pampered one.” And waving aside her + protests he tucked her into the little two-seater, bundling Mouston + unceremoniously in after her. + </p> + <p> + The village school was near the church, and while Peters steered the car + carefully through groups of children who were loitering in the road she + sat silent beside him, wondering, in miserable self-condemnation, how much + she had betrayed during those few moments of hysterical outburst. + Resolutely she determined that she would be strong, strong enough to put + away the dread that haunted her, strong enough to meet trouble only when + it came. + </p> + <p> + Clear of the children and running smoothly through the park Peters + condescended to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “How went Scotland?” he asked, slowing down behind a frightened fawn who + was straying on the carriage road and cantering ahead of the car in + panicky haste. “Your letters were not satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't taught to write letters. I never had any to write,” she said + with a smile that made the sensitive man beside her wince. “I did my best, + David, dear. And there wasn't much to tell. There were only men—Barry + said he couldn't stand women with the guns again after the bother they + were last year. They were nice men, shy silent creatures, big game hunters + mostly, and two doctors who have been doing research work in Central + Africa. When any of them could be induced to talk of their experiences it + was a revelation to me of what men will endure and yet consider enjoyment. + You would have liked them, David. Why didn't you come? It would have done + you more good than that horrid little yacht. And we were alone the last + two weeks—we missed you,” she added reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + Peters had had his own reasons for absenting himself from the Scotch + lodge, reasons that, connected as they were with Craven and his wife, he + could not enlarge upon. He turned the question with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The yacht was better suited to a crusty old bachelor, my dear,” he + smiled. Then he gave her a searching glance. “And what did you do all day + long by yourself while the men were on the hills?” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little shrug. + </p> + <p> + “I sketched—and—oh, lots of things,” she answered, rather + vaguely. “There's always plenty to do wherever you are if you take the + trouble to look for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Which most people don't,” he replied, bringing the car to a standstill + before the front door. + </p> + <p> + “Is Barry back from London?” + </p> + <p> + “Coming this afternoon. Thanks for the lift, David, you've been a Good + Samaritan this afternoon. I don't think I could have walked. Goodbye—and + please forget,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He smile reassuringly and waved his hand as he restarted the car. + </p> + <p> + Calling to Mouston, who was rolling happily on the cool grass, she went + slowly into the house. With the poodle rushing round her she mounted + thoughtfully the wide stairs and turned down the corridor leading to the + studio. It seemed of all rooms the one best suited to her mood. She wanted + to be alone, beyond the reach of any chance caller, beyond the possibility + of interruption, and it was understood by all that in the studio she must + not be disturbed. + </p> + <p> + In the passage she met her maid and, giving her her hat and gloves, + ordered tea to be sent to her. + </p> + <p> + Mouston trotted on ahead into the room with the confident air of a + proprietor, fussily inspecting the contents with the usual canine interest + as if suspicious that some familiar article of furniture had been removed + during his absence and anxious to reassure himself that all things were as + he had left them. Then he curled up with a satisfied grunt on the + chesterfield beside which he knew tea would be placed. Gillian looked + about her with a sigh. The room, much as she loved it, had never been the + same to her since that December afternoon that seemed so much longer than + a bare eighteen months ago. The peace it had given formerly was gone. Now + there was associated with it always the memory of bitter pain. She had + never been able to recapture the old feeling of freedom and happiness it + had inspired. It was her refuge still, where she came to wrestle with + herself in solitude, where she sought forgetfulness in long hours of work + but it was no longer the antechamber to a castle of dreams. There were no + dreams left, only a crushing numbling reality. She thought of her husband, + and the question that was always in her mind seemed to-day more than ever + insistent. Why had he married her? The reason he had given had been + disproved by his subsequent attitude. He had asked her to take pity on a + lonely man—and he had given her no opportunity. She had tried by + every means in her power to get nearer to him, to be to him what she + thought he meant her to be and all her endeavour had come to nothing. Had + she tried enough, done enough? Miserably she wondered would another have + succeeded where she had failed? And had she failed because, after all, the + reason he had given was no true reason? And suddenly, for the first time, + in a vivid flash of illuminating comprehension she seemed to realise the + true reason and the quixotic generosity that had prompted it. It was as if + a veil had been rudely torn from before her eyes. It explained much, + letting in an entirely new light upon many things that had puzzled her. It + placed her in a new position, changing her whole mental standpoint. How + could she have been so stupidly blind, so dense—how could she have + misunderstood? He had lied to her, a kindly noble lie, but a lie + notwithstanding—he had married her out of pity, to provide for her + in the lack of faith he had in her power to provide for herself. To him, + then, her dreams of independence had been only a childish ambition that he + judged unsubstantial, and in his dilemma he had conceived it his duty to + do what seemed to her now a thing intolerable. A burning wave of shame + went through her. She was humiliated to the very dust, crushed with the + sense of obligation. She was only another burden thrust upon him by a man + who had had no claim to his liberality. Her father—the superman of + her childish dreams! How had he dared? If love for him had not died years + before it would have died at that moment in the fierce resentment that + burned in her. But to the man who had so willingly accepted such an + imposition her heart went out in greater love and deeper gratitude than + she had yet known. + </p> + <p> + Yet, how, with this new knowledge searing her soul, could she ever face + him again? She longed to creep away and hide like a stricken animal—and + he was coming home to-day. Within a few hours she would have to meet him, + conscious at last of the full extent of her indebtedness and conscious + also of the impossibility of communicating her discovery. For she knew + that she could never bring herself to refer to it, and she knew him well + enough to be aware that any such reference was out of the question. The + gulf between them was too wide. The two days she had spent alone at the + Towers had seemed interminable, but with a revulsion of feeling she wished + now that his coming could be delayed. She shrank from even the thought of + seeing him. Though she called herself coward she determined to postpone + the meeting she dreaded until dinner, when the presence of Forbes and a + couple of footmen would brace her to meet the situation and give her time + to prepare for the later more difficult hours when she would be alone with + him. For he made a practice, rigidly adhered to, of sitting with her in + the evenings during the short time she remained downstairs. He was + punctilious in that courtesy as in all other acts of consideration. His + own bed-hour was very much later and she often wondered what he did, what + were his thoughts, alone in the solitary study that was his refuge as the + studio was hers. + </p> + <p> + But she had come almost to fear the evening hours they spent together, the + feeling of constraint was becoming more and more an embarrassment. The + last two weeks in Scotland had been more difficult than any preceding + them. Craven's restlessness had been more apparent, more pronounced. And + looking back on it now she wondered whether it was association with the + men with whom he had travelled and shot in distant countries that was + stirring in him more acutely the wander-hunger that was in his blood. + During the after dinner reminiscences in the Scotch shooting lodge he had + himself been curiously silent, but he had sat listening with a kind of + fierce intentness that to her anxious watching eyes had been like the + forced calm of a caged animal enduring captivity with seeming resignation + but cherishing always thoughts of escape. + </p> + <p> + It was then that her vague dread leaped suddenly into concrete fear. An + incident that had occurred a few days after the big game hunters had left + them had further disquieted her. On going to him for advice on some + domestic difficulty she had found him poring over a large map. He had + rolled it up at her approach and his manner had made it impossible for her + to express an interest that would otherwise have seemed natural. With the + reticence to which she had schooled herself she had made no comment, but + the thought of that rolled up hidden canvas and its possible significance + remained with her. It might mean only a renewed interest in the scenes of + past exploits—fervently she hoped it did. But it might also mean the + projection of new activities.... + </p> + <p> + The arrival of a footman bringing tea put a period to her thoughts. While + the man arranged the simple necessaries that were more suited to the + studio than the elaborate display Forbes considered indispensable + downstairs, she crossed the room to an easel where stood a half-finished + picture. She looked at it critically. Was he right—was there, after + all, nothing in her work but the mediocre endeavour of an amateur? She had + been so confident, so sure. And the master in Paris who had taught her—he + also had been confident and sure. Yet as she studied the uncompleted + sketch before her she felt her confidence waver. It had not satisfied her + while she was working on it, it seemed now hopelessly and utterly bad. + With a heavy sigh she stared at it despondently, seeing in it the failure + of all her hopes. Then in quick recoil courage came again. One piece of + bad work did not constitute failure—she would not admit failure. She + had worked on it at a time of extreme depression, when all the world had + seemed black and hopeless, and the deplorable result was due to lack of + concentration. She had allowed her own disturbed thoughts to intrude too + vividly, and her wandering attention, her unhappiness, had reacted + disastrously on her work. It must be so. Her own judgment she might have + doubted, but the word of her teacher—no. She <i>had</i> to succeed, + she had to justify herself, to justify de Myères. “<i>Travaillez, + travaillez, et puis encore travaillez</i>,” she murmured, as she had heard + him say a hundred times, and tore the sketch across and across, tossing + the pieces into a large wicker basket. With a little shrug she turned to + the tea table beside which Mouston was sitting up in eager expectation, + watching the dancing kettle lid with solemn brown eyes. She made tea and + then drew the dog close to her, hugging him with almost passionate + fervour. It was not a frequent event, but there were times when her + starved affections, craving outlet, were expended in default of other + medium upon the poodle who gave in return a devotion that was entirely + single-minded. Yoshio was still the only member of the household who could + touch him with impunity, and toward Craven his attitude was a curious + mixture of hatred and fear. To Mouston—her only confidant—she + whispered now the new projects she had formed during the last two solitary + days for a better understanding of the obscure mind that had hitherto + baffled her, for a further endeavour to break through the barrier existing + between them. To speak, if only to a dog, was relief and she was too + engrossed to notice the sound the poodle's quick ears caught directly. + With a growl he wrenched his head free of her arm and, startled, she + looked up expecting to see a servant. + </p> + <p> + She saw instead her husband. His unexpected appearance in a room he + habitually avoided robbed her, all unprepared to meet him as she was, of + the power of speech. White-lipped she stared at him, unable to formulate + even a conventional greeting, her heart beating rapidly as she watched him + cross the room. He, too, seemed to have no words, and she saw with + increased nervousness that his face was dark with obvious displeasure. The + silence that was fast becoming marked was broken by Mouston who with + another angry snarl leaped suddenly at Craven with jealous hostility, to + be caught up swiftly by a pair of powerful hands and flung into a far + corner, where he landed heavily with a shrill yelp of surprise and pain + that died away in a broken whimper as, cowed by the unlooked-for + retribution, he crawled under a big bureau that seemed to offer a safe + retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Barry!” Gillian's exclamation of incredulous amazement made Craven + sensible that the punishment he had inflicted must seem to her + unnecessarily severe. She could not be expected to see into his mind, + could not possibly know the feeling of loathing inspired by the sight of + the poodle in her arms. He was jealous—of a dog and in no mood to + curb the temper that his jealousy roused. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said shortly. “I didn't mind him going for me, it's + perhaps natural that he should—but I hate to see you kiss the dam' + brute,” he added with a sudden violence in his voice that braced her as a + more temperate explanation would not have done. To be deliberately cruel + to an animal, no matter how great the provocation, was unlike Craven; she + felt convinced that Mouston was not the primary cause of his irritability. + Something must have occurred previously to disturb him—the business, + perhaps, for which he had waited in London, and, seeking her, the scene he + had surprised had grated on fretted nerves. He had never before commented + on her affection for the dog who was her shadow; he had never even + remonstrated with her, as Peters had many times, for spoiling him. His + present attitude seemed therefore the more inexplicable—but she + realised the impossibility of remonstrance. The dog had behaved badly and + had suffered for his indiscretion; she could not defend him—had she + wanted to. And she did not want to. At the moment Mouston hardly seemed to + matter—nothing mattered but the unbearable fact of Craven's + displeasure. If she could have known the real cause of that displeasure it + would have made speech easier. She feared to aggravate his mood but she + knew some answer was expected of her. Silence might be misconstrued. + </p> + <p> + With calmness she did not feel she forced her voice to steadiness. + </p> + <p> + “Most women make fools of themselves over some animal, <i>faute de mieux,”</i> + she said lightly. “I only follow the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it <i>faute de mieux</i> with you?” The sharp rejoinder struck her + like a physical blow. Unable to trust herself, unable to check the + quivering of her lips, she turned away to get another cup and saucer from + a near cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me, Gillian,” he said tensely. “Is it for want of something better + that you give so much affection to that cringing beast”—he pointed + to the poodle who was crawling abjectly on his stomach toward her from the + bureau where he had taken refuge—“is it a child that your arms are + wanting—not a dog?” His face was drawn, and he stared at her with + fierce hunger smouldering in his eyes. He was hurting himself beyond + belief—was he hurting her too? Could anything that he might say + touch her, stir her from the calm placidity that sometimes, in + contradiction to his own restlessness, was almost more than he could + tolerate? She had fulfilled the terms of their bargain faithfully, + apparently satisfied with its limitation. She appeared content with this + damnable life they were living. But a sudden impulse had come to him to + assure himself that his supposition was a true one, that the outward + content she manifested did not cover longings and desires that she sought + to hide. Yet how would it benefit either of them for him to wring from her + a secret to which he, by his own doing, had no right? In winning her + consent to this divided marriage he had already done her injury enough—he + need not make her life harder. And just now, in a moment of ungovernable + passion, he had said a brutal thing, a thing beyond all forgiveness. His + face grew more drawn as he moved nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian, I asked you a question,” he began unsteadily. She confronted him + swiftly. Her eyes were steady under his, though the pallor of her face was + ghastly. + </p> + <p> + “You are the one person who has no right to ask me that question, Barry.” + There was no anger in her voice, there was not even reproach, but a gentle + dignity that almost unmanned him. He turned away with a gesture of + infinite regret. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said, in a strangled voice. “I was a cur—what + I said was damnable.” He faced her again with sudden vehemence. “I wish to + God I had left you free. I had no right to marry you, to ruin your life + with my selfishness, to bar you from the love and children that should + have been yours. You might have met a man who would have given you both, + who would have given you the full happy life you ought to have. In my + cursed egoism I have done you almost the greatest injury a man can do a + woman. My God, I wonder you don't hate me!” + </p> + <p> + She forced back the words that rushed to her lips. She knew the danger of + an unconsidered answer, the danger of the whole situation. The durability + of their future life seemed to depend on her reply, its continuance to + hang on a slender thread that, perilously strained, threatened momentarily + to snap. She was fearful of precipitating the crisis she had long realised + was pending and which now seemed drawing to a head. An unconsidered word, + an intonation even, might bring about the catastrophe she feared. + </p> + <p> + She sought for time, praying for inspiration to guide her. The waiting tea + table supplied her immediate want. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically she filled the cups and cut cake with deliberate precision + while her mind worked feverishly. + </p> + <p> + His distress weighed with her more than her own. + </p> + <p> + Positive as she now was of the true reason that had prompted him to marry + her she saw in his outburst only another chivalrous attempt to hide that + reason from her. He had purposely endeavoured to misrepresent himself, + and, understanding, a wave of passionate gratitude filled her. + </p> + <p> + Her love was clamouring for audible expression. If she could only speak! + If she could only break through the restrictions that hampered her, tell + him all that was in her heart, measure the force of her living love + against the phantom of that dead past that had killed in him all the joy + of life. But she could not speak. Pride kept her silent, and the knowledge + that she could not add to the burden he already bore the embarrassment of + an unsought love. + </p> + <p> + But something she must say, and that before he noticed the hesitation that + might rob her words of any worth. Only by refusing to attach an undue + value to the significance of what he had said could she arrest the + dangerous trend of the conversation and bring it to a safer level. + </p> + <p> + She sat down slowly, re-arranging the simple tray with ostentatious care. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't force me to marry you, Barry,” she said quietly. “I knew what + I was doing, I realised the difficulties that might arise. But you have + nothing to reproach yourself with. You have been kind and considerate in + everything. I am enormously grateful to you—and I am very content + with my life. Please believe that. There is only one thing that I could + wish changed; you said that we were to be friends—and you have let + me be only a fair weather friend. Won't you let me sometimes share and + help in the difficulties, as well as in the pleasures? Your interests, + your obligations are so great—” she went on hurriedly, lest he + should think she was aiming at deeper, more personal concerns—“I + can't help knowing that there must be difficulties. If you would only let + me take my part—” She looked up, meeting his gloomy stare at last, + and a faint appeal crept into her eyes. “I'm not a child, Barry, to be + shown only the sunny side of life.” + </p> + <p> + An indescribable expression flitted across his face, changing it + marvellously. + </p> + <p> + “I would never have you know the dark side,” he said briefly, as he took + the cup she held out to him. + </p> + <p> + She was conscious that the tension, though lessened had not altogether + disappeared. There was in his manner a constraint that set her heart + throbbing painfully. She glanced furtively from time to time at his stern + worn face, and the weariness in his eyes brought a lump into her throat. + </p> + <p> + He talked spasmodically, of friends whom he had seen in London, of a + hundred and one trivial matters, but of the business that had kept him in + town he said nothing and she wondered what had been in his mind when he + had departed from an established rule and deliberately sought her in a + room that he never entered. Had he come with any express intention, any + confidence that had been thwarted by Mouston's stupid behaviour? She + stifled a sigh of disappointment. He might never again be moved by the + same impulse. + </p> + <p> + With growing anxiety she noticed that his restlessness was greater even + than usual. Refusing a second cup of tea he lit a cigarette, pacing up and + down as he talked, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + In one of the silences that punctuated his jerky periods he paused by a + little table on which lay a portfolio, and lifting it idly looked at the + sketches it contained. With a sudden look of apprehension Gillian started + and made a half movement as if to rise, then with a shrug she sank back on + the sofa, watching him intently. It was her private sketch book, and there + was in it one portrait in particular, his own, that she had no wish for + him to see. But remonstrance would only call attention to what she hoped + might pass unnoticed. Craven turned over the sketches slowly. He had seen + little of his wife's work since their marriage, she was shy of submitting + it to him, and with the policy of non-interference he had adopted he had + expressed no curiosity. He recognised many faces, and, recognising, + remembered wherein lay her special skill. He found himself looking for + characteristics that were known to him in the portraits of the men and + women he was studying. There was no attempt at concealment—vices and + virtues, liberality of mind, pettiness of soul were set forth in naked + truth. A sympathetic picture of Peters arrested him, though the name + written beneath it puzzled. He looked at the kindly generous countenance + with its friendly half-sad eyes and tender mouth with a feeling of envy. + He would have given years of his life to have possessed the peace of mind + that was manifested in the calm serenity of his agent's face. + </p> + <p> + His lips tightened as he laid the sketch down. With his thoughts lingering + on the last portrait for a second or two he looked at the next one + absently. Then a stifled exclamation broke from him and he peered at it + closer. And, watching, Gillian drew a deep breath, clenching her hands + convulsively. He stood quite still for what seemed an eternity, then came + slowly across the room and stood directly in front of her. And for the + first time she was afraid of meeting his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like—that?” + </p> + <p> + Her head drooped lower, her fingers twining and intertwining nervously, + and her dry lips almost refused their office. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen you like that,” very slowly and almost inaudibly, but he + caught the reluctant admission. + </p> + <p> + “So—<i>damnable</i>?” + </p> + <p> + She flinched from the loathing in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> sorry—” she murmured faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” the profanity was wrung from him, but had he thought of it he + would have considered it justified, for the face at which he was staring + was the beautiful tormented face of a fallen angel. He looked with a kind + of horror at the hungry passionate eyes fierce with unsatisfied longing, + shadowed with terrible memory, tortured, hopeless; at the set mouth, a + straight grim line under the trim golden brown moustache; at the + bitterness and revolt expressed in all the deep cut lines of the tragic + face. He laid it down with a feeling of repulsion. She saw him like that! + The pain of it was intolerable. + </p> + <p> + He laughed with a harsh mirthlessness that made her quiver. + </p> + <p> + “It is a truer estimation of my character than the one you gave me a few + minutes ago,” he said bitterly, “and you may thank heaven I am your + husband only in name. God keep you from a nearer acquaintance with me.” + And turning on his heel he left her. Long after he had gone she sat on + motionless, her fingers picking mechanically at the chintz cover of the + sofa, staring into space with wide eyes brimming with tears. She knew it + was a cruel sketch, but she had never meant him to see it. It had taken + shape unconsciously under her hand, and while she hated it she had kept it + because of the remarkable likeness and because it was the only picture she + had of him. + </p> + <p> + The dreams of a better understanding seemed swept away by her own + thoughtlessness and folly. She had hurt him and she could never explain. + To refer to it, to try and make him understand, would do more harm than + good. With a pitiful sob she covered her face with her hands, and, beside + her, Mouston the pampered cringed and whimpered unheeded and forgotten. + </p> + <p> + She had looked forward to his return with such high hopes and now they lay + shattered at her feet. During a brief hour that might have drawn them + nearer together they had contrived to hurt each other as it must seem to + both by deliberate intent. For herself she knew that she was innocent of + any such intention—but was he? He had never hurt her before, even in + his most difficult moods he had been to her unfailingly kind and + considerate. But to-day—shudderingly she wondered did it mark a new + era in their relations? And in miserable futile longing she wished that + this afternoon had never been. + </p> + <p> + After what had occurred the thought of facing him across a table during an + interminable dinner and sitting with him alone for the long hours of a + summer evening drove her to a state bordering on panic. She pushed the + thick hair off her forhead with a little gasp. It was cowardly—but + she could not, would not. Despising herself she crossed the room to the + telephone. + </p> + <p> + At the Hermitage Peters was indulging in a well-earned rest after a long + hot day that had been both irksome and tiring. Wearing an old tweed coat + he lounged comfortably in a big chair, a couple of sleepy setters at his + feet, a foul and ancient pipe in full blast. The room, flooded with the + evening sun, was filled with a heterogeneous collection of books and music + manuscript, guns, fishing rods and whips. The homely room had stamped on + it the characteristics of its owner. It was a room to work in, and equally + a room in which to relax. The owner was now relaxing, but the bodily rest + he enjoyed did not extend to his mind, which was very actively disturbed. + His usually genial face was furrowed and he sucked at the old pipe with an + energy that enveloped him in a haze of blue smoke. The ringing of the + telephone in the opposite corner of the room came as an unwelcome + interruption. He glared at it resentfully, disinclined to move, but at the + second ring rose reluctantly with a grunt of annoyance, pushing the drowsy + setters to one side. He took down the receiver with no undue haste and + answered the call gruffly, but his bored expression changed rapidly as he + listened. The soft voice came clearly but hesitatingly: + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, David? Could you come up to dinner—if—if you're + not going anywhere else—I've got a tiresome headache and it will be + so stupid for Barry. I don't want him to be dull the first evening at + home. So if you could—please, David—” + </p> + <p> + His face grew grim as he detected the quiver in the faltering indecisive + words, but he answered briskly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'll come. I'd love to,” he said, with a cheeriness he was far + from feeling. He hung up the receiver with a heavy sigh. But he had hardly + moved when the telephone rang again sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Damn the thing!” he muttered irritably. + </p> + <p> + This time a very different voice, curt and uncompromising: + </p> + <p> + “—that you, Peter?—Yes!—Doing anything tonight?—Not?—Then + for God's sake come up to dinner.” And then the receiver jammed down + savagely. + </p> + <p> + With grimmer face Peters moved thoughtfully across the room and touched a + bell in the wall by the fireplace. His call was answered with the usual + promptness, and when he had given the necessary orders and the man had + gone he laid aside his pipe, tidied a few papers, and went slowly to an + adjoining room. + </p> + <p> + The Hermitage was properly the dower house of the Towers, but for the last + two generations had not been required as such. The room Peters now entered + had originally been the drawing room, but for the thirty years he had + lived in the house he had kept it as a music room. Panelled in oak, with + polished floor and innocent of hangings, the only furniture a grand piano + and a portrait, it was at once a sanctuary and a shrine. And during those + thirty years to only two people had he given the right of entrance. To the + woman whose portrait hung on the wall and, latterly, to the girl who had + succeeded her as mistress of Craven Towers. To this room, to the portrait + and the piano, he brought all his difficulties; it was here he wrestled + with the loneliness and sadness that the world had never suspected. + To-night he felt that only the peace that room invariably brought would + enable him to fulfil the task he had in hand. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Craven was alone in the hall when he arrived, and it was not until the + gong sounded that Gillian made a tardy appearance, very pale but with a + feverish spot on either cheek. Peters' quick eye noticed the absence of + the black shadow that was always at her heels. “Where is the faithful + Mouston? Not in disgrace, surely—the paragon?” he teased, and was + disconcerted at the painful flush that overspread her face. But she thrust + her arm through his and forced a little laugh. “Mouston is becoming rather + incorrigible, I'm afraid I've spoiled him hopelessly. I'll tell him you + inquired, it will cheer him up, poor darling. He's doing penance with a + bone upstairs. Shall we go in—I'm famished.” + </p> + <p> + But as dinner progressed she did not appear to be famished, for she ate + scarcely anything, but talked fitfully with jerky nervousness. Craven, + too, was at first almost entirely silent, and on Peters fell the main + burden of conversation, until by a direct question he managed to start his + host on a topic that was of interest to both and lasted until Gillian left + them. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing room, after she had finished her coffee, she opened the + piano and then subsided wearily on to the big sofa. The emotions of the + day and the effort of appearing at dinner had exhausted her, and in her + despondency the future had never seemed so black, so beset with + difficulties. While she was immeasurably thankful for Peters' presence + to-night she knew it was impossible for him to act continually as a buffer + between them. But from the problem of to-morrow, and innumerable + to-morrows, she turned with a fixed determination to live for the moment. + <i>A chaque jour suffit sa peine</i>. + </p> + <p> + She lay with relaxed muscles and closed eyes. It seemed a long while + before the men joined her. She wondered what they were talking about—whether + to Peters would be imparted the information that had been withheld from + her. For the feeling of a nearly impending calamity was strong within her. + When at last they came she looked with covert anxiety from one to the + other, but their faces told her nothing. For a few minutes Peters lingered + beside her chatting and then gravitated toward the piano, as she had hoped + he would. Arranging the heaped up cushions more comfortably around her she + gave herself up to the delight of his music and it seemed to her that she + had never heard him play so well. + </p> + <p> + Near her Craven was standing before the fern-filled fireplace, leaning + against the mantel, a cigarette drooping between his lips. From where she + lay she could watch him unperceived, for his own gaze was directed through + the open French window out on to the terrace, and she studied his set + handsome face with sorrowful attention. He appeared to be thinking deeply, + and, from his detached manner, heedless of the harmony of sound that + filled the room. But her supposition was soon rudely shaken. Peters had + paused in his playing. When a few moments later the plaintive melody of an + operatic air stole through the room she saw her husband start violently, + and the terrible pallor she had witnessed once before sweep across his + face. She clenched her teeth on her lip to keep back the cry that rose, + and breathlessly watched him stride across the room and drop an arresting + hand on Peters' shoulder. “For God's sake don't play that damned thing!” + she heard him say in a voice that was almost unrecognisable. And then he + passed out swiftly, into the garden. + </p> + <p> + A spasm of jealous agony shook her from head to foot. With quick intuition + she guessed that the air that was unknown to her must be connected in some + way with the sorrow that darkened his life, and the spectre of the past + she tried to forget seemed to rise and grin at her triumphantly. She + shivered. Would its power last until life ended? Would it stand between + them always, rivalling her, thwarting her every effort? + </p> + <p> + For a long time she dared not look at Peters, who had responded without + hesitation to Craven's unceremonious request, but when at length she + summoned courage to glance at him it seemed as if he had already forgotten + the interruption. His face wore the absent, almost spiritual look that was + usual when he was at the piano and his playing gave no indication of + either annoyance or surprise. She breathed a quick sigh of relief and, + slightly altering her position, lay where she could see the solitary + figure on the terrace. Erect by the stone ballustrade, his arms folded + across his chest, staring intently into the night as if his gaze went far + beyond the confines of the great park, he seemed to her a symbol of + incarnate loneliness, and her heart contracted at the thought of the + suffering and solitude she might not share. If he would only turn to her! + If she had only the right to go to him and plead her love, beg the + confidence she craved, and stand beside him in his sorrow! But he stood + alone, beyond her reach, even unaware of her longing. + </p> + <p> + The slow tears gathered thick in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + For long after the keyboard became an indistinguishable blur Peters played + on untiringly. But at last he rose, closed the piano and turned on an + electric lamp that stood near. + </p> + <p> + “Eleven o'clock,” he exclaimed contritely. “Bless my soul, why didn't you + stop me! I forget the time when I'm playing. I've tired you out. Go to + bed, you pale child. I'm walking home, I'll see Barry on the terrace as I + pass.” + </p> + <p> + She slid from the sofa and took his outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + “Your playing never tires me!” she answered, with a little upward glance. + “You've magic at the ends of your fingers, David dear.” + </p> + <p> + She went to the open window to watch him go, and presently saw him + reappear round the angle of the house and join Craven on the terrace. They + stood talking for a few minutes and then together descended the long + flight of stone steps to the rose garden, from which, by a short cut + through a little copse, could be reached the path that crossing the park + led to the Hermitage. It was the habit of Peters when he had been dining + at the big house to walk home thus and, as to-night, Craven almost always + accompanied him. + </p> + <p> + Gillian had long known her husband's propensity for night rambling and she + knew it might be hours before he returned. Was he angry with her still + that he had omitted the punctilious good-night he had never before + forgotten? Her lips quivered like a disappointed child's as she turned + back slowly into the room. But as she passed through the hall and climbed + the long stairs she knew in her heart that she had misjudged him. He was + not capable of petty retaliation. He had only forgotten—why indeed + should he remember? It was a small matter to him, he could not know what + it meant to her. In her bedroom she dismissed her maid and went to an open + window. She was very tired, but restless, and disinclined for bed. + Dropping down on the low seat she stared out over the moonlit landscape. + The repentant Mouston, abject at her continued neglect, crawled from his + basket and crept tentatively to her, and as absently her hand went out to + him gained courage and climbed up beside her. Inch by inch he sidled + nearer, and unrepulsed grew bolder until he finally subsided with his head + across her knees, whining his satisfaction. Mechanically she caressed him + until his shivering starting body lay quiet under her soothing touch. The + night was close and very silent. No breath of wind came to stir the + heavily leafed trees, no sound broke the stillness. She listened vainly + for the cry of an owl, for the sharp alarm note of a pheasant to pierce + the brooding hush that seemed to have fallen even over nature. A coppery + moon hung like a ball of fire in the sky. At the far end of the terrace a + group of tall trees cast inky black shadows across the short smooth lawn + and the white tracery of the stone balustrade. The faint scent of jasmine + drifted in through the open window and she leaned forward eagerly to catch + the sweet intermittent perfume that brought back memories of the peaceful + courtyard of the convent school. A night of intense beauty, mysterious, + disturbing, called her compellingly. The restlessness that had assailed + her grew suddenly intolerable, and she glanced back into the spacious room + with a feeling of suffocation. + </p> + <p> + The four walls seemed closing in about her. She knew that the big white + bed would bring no rest, that she would toss in feverish misery until the + morning, and she turned with dread from the thought of the long weary + hours. Night after night she lay awake in loneliness and longing until + exhaustion brought fitful sleep that, dream-haunted, gave no refreshment. + </p> + <p> + Sleep was impossible—the room that witnessed her nightly vigil a + prison house of dark sad thoughts. Her head throbbed with the heat; she + craved the space, the freshness of the moonlit garden. + </p> + <p> + Rousing the slumbering dog she went out on to the gallery and down the + staircase she had climbed so wearily an hour before. By the solitary light + still burning in the hall she knew that Craven had not yet returned. + Through the darkness of the drawing room she groped her way until her + outstretched hands touched shutters. Slipping the bar softly and + unlatching the window she passed out. For a moment she stood still, + breathing deeply, drinking in the beauty of the scene, exhilarated with + the sudden feeling of freedom that came to her. The silent garden, + beautiful always but more beautiful still in the mystery of the night, + appealed to her as never before. It was the same, yet wonderfully, + curiously unlike. A glamour hung over it, a certain settled peace that + soothed the tumult of her mind and calmed her nerves. Surrendering to the + charm of its almost unearthly loveliness she slowly paced the long length + of the terrace, the wondering Mouston pressing close beside her. + </p> + <p> + Then when her tired limbs could go no further she halted by the steps and + leant her arms on the coping of the balustrade. Cupping her chin in her + hands she looked down at the rose garden beneath her and smiled at its + quaint formality. Running parallel with the terrace on the one side the + three remaining sides were enclosed by a high yew hedge through which a + door, facing the terrace steps, led to a path that gave access to the + copse that was Peters' short cut. The shadow of the high dense yew + stretched far across the garden and she gazed dreamily into its dusky + depths, conjuring up the past, peopling the solitude about her with + forgotten ghosts who in the silks and satins of a bygone age had walked + those same flagged paths and talked and laughed and wept among the roses. + Poor lonely ghosts—were they lonelier than she? + </p> + <p> + The silence broke at last. Far off from the trees in the park an owl + called softly to its mate and the swift answering note seemed to mock her + desolation. Her whole being shuddered into one great soundless cry of + utter longing: “Barry! Oh, Barry, Barry!” + </p> + <p> + And as if in answer to her prayer she heard a sound that sent the quick + blood leaping to her heart. + </p> + <p> + In the deep shadow of the yew hedge the door that had opened shut with a + sudden clang. Her hands crept to her breast as she strained her eyes into + the darkness. Then the echo of a firm tread, and Craven's tall figure + emerged from the surrounding gloom. With fluttering breath she watched him + slowly cross the bright strip of moonlight lying athwart the rose garden + and mount the steps. Only when he reached the terrace did he seem aware of + her presence, and joined her with an exclamation of surprise, “You—Gillian?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't sleep—it was so hot—the garden tempted me,” she + faltered, in sudden fear lest he might think she spied on him. But the + fascination of the night was to Craven too natural to evoke comment. He + lit a cigarette and smoked in a silence she did not know how to break, and + a cold wave of chill foreboding passed over her as she waited with nervous + constraint for him to speak. He turned to her at last with a certain + deliberation and spoke with blunt directness. + </p> + <p> + “I have been asked to lead an expedition in Central Africa. It is partly a + hunting trip, partly a scientific mission. They have approached me because + I know the country, and because I am interested in tropical diseases and + am willing to defray a proportion of the expense which will be necessarily + heavy—I should gladly have done so in any case whether I went with + the party or not. The question of leading the expedition I deferred as + long as I could for obvious reasons.—I had not only myself to + consider. But I have been pressed to give a definite answer and have + agreed to go. There are plenty of other men who would do the job better + than myself but, as I said, I happen to know the locality and speak + several of the dialects, so my going may make things easier for them. But + that is not what has weighed with me most, it is you. Do you think I don't + know how completely I have failed you—how difficult your life is? I + do know. And because I know I am going. For I see no other way of making + your life even bearable for you. It has become impossible for us to go on + as we are—and the fault is mine, only mine. You have been an angel + of goodness and patience, you have done all that was humanly possible for + any woman to do, but circumstances were against us. I had no right to ask + you to make such a marriage. I cannot undo it. I cannot give you your + freedom, but I can by my absence make your life easier than it has been. I + have arranged everything with the lawyers in London and with Peters, here + to-night. If I do not return, for there are of course risks, everything is + left in your control—it is the only satisfaction in my power. If I + do return—God give me grace to be kinder to you than I have been in + the past.” + </p> + <p> + The blow she had been waiting for had fallen at last, in fulfilment of her + premonition. In her heart she had always known it would come, but its + suddenness paralysed. She had nothing to say. Silently she stood beside + him, her hands tight-locked, numbed with a desperate fear. He would go—and + he would never return. It hammered in her brain, making her want to + shriek. She felt to the full her own powerlessness, nothing she could say + would turn him from his purpose. It was the end she had always foreseen, + the end of all her dreams, the end of everything but sorrow and pain and + loneliness unspeakable. And for him—danger and possibly death. He + had admitted risk, he had set his house in order. From Craven it meant + much. She had learned his complete disregard for danger from the men who + had stayed with them in Scotland; his recklessness in the hunting field, + which was a by-word in the county, was already known to her. He set no + value on his own life—what reason was there to suppose that, in the + mysterious land of sudden and terrible death, he would take even ordinary + precautions? Was he going with a pre-conceived determination to end a life + that had become unbearable? In agony that seemed to rive her heart she + closed her eyes lest he might see in them the anguish she knew was there. + How long a time was left to her before the parting that would leave her + desolate? “When do you go?” The question burst from her, and Craven + glanced at her keenly, trying to read the colourless face that was like a + still white mask. He fancied he had caught a tremor in her voice, then he + called himself a fool as he noted the composure that seemed to argue + indifference. Her calmness stung while it strengthened him. Why should she + care, he asked himself bitterly. His going could mean to her only relief. + And disappointment made his own voice ring cold and distant. “Within the + next few weeks. The exact date is not yet fixed,” he said evasively. Again + she was silent while he wondered what were her thoughts. Suddenly she + turned to him, words pouring out in stammering haste, “While you are away—may + I go to France—to Paris—to work? This life of idleness is + killing me!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in amazement, startled at her passionate utterance, + dismayed at a suggestion he had never contemplated. To think of her at the + Towers, in the position he would have her fill, watched over by Peters, + was the only comfort he could take away with him. For a second he + meditated a refusal that seemed within his right, arbitrary though it + might be. But the promise he had made to leave her free stayed him. He + could not break that promise now. “As you please,” he said, with forced + unconcern, “you are your own mistress. You can do whatever you wish.” And + with a slight shrug he turned toward the house. She walked beside him in a + tumult of emotion. He would now never know the love she bore him, the + aching passion that throbbed like a living thing within her. She could not + speak, the gulf between them was too wide to bridge, and he would leave + her, thinking her indifferent, callous! Tears blinded her as she stumbled + through the dark drawing room. In the dimly lit hall, standing at the foot + of the staircase with his hand clenched on the oaken rail, Craven watched + with tortured eyes the slender drooping figure move slowly upward, + battling with himself, praying for strength to let her go—for he + knew that if she even turned her head his self-control would shatter. It + was weakening now and the sweat broke out in heavy drops on his forehead + as he strove to crush an insidious inward voice that bade him forget the + past and take what was his. “Only one life,” it seemed to shout in mocking + derision, “live while you can, take what you can! What is done, is done; + only the present matters. Of what use is regret, of what use an abstinence + that mortifies yet feeds desire? Fool, fool to set aside the chance of + happiness!” + </p> + <p> + With a deep breath that was almost a groan he sprang forward. Then, in + deadly fear, he checked himself, and wrenching his eyes away from the + woman he craved fled out into the night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + In a little tent pitched in the midst of an Arab camp in the extreme south + of Southern Algeria Craven sat writing. A day of intense heat had been + succeeded by a night airless and suffocating, and he was wet with + perspiration that dripped from his forehead and formed in sticky pools + under his hand, making writing laborious and difficult, impossible indeed + except for the sheet of blotting paper on which his fingers rested. His + thin silk shirt, widely open at the throat, the sleeves rolled up above + his elbows, clung limply to his broad shoulders. A multitude of tiny flies + attracted by the light circled round the lamp eddying in the heat of the + flame, immolating themselves, and falling thickly on the closely written + sheets of paper that strewed the camp table, smeared the still wet ink and + clogged his pen. He swept them away impatiently from time to time. + Squatting on his heels in a corner, his inscrutable yellow face damp and + glistening, Yoshio was cleaning a revolver with his usual thoroughness and + precision. A ragged square of canvas beside him held the implements + necessary to his work, set out in methodical order, and as he cleaned, and + oiled and polished assiduously without raising his eyes his deft fingers + selected unerringly the tool he required. The weapon appeared already + speckless, but for some time he continued to rub vigorously, handling it + with almost affectionate care as if loth to put it down; at last with a + grunt of demur he reluctantly laid aside the cloth he was using and + wrapping the revolver in a silk handkerchief slid it slowly into a + leathern holster which his care had kept soft and pliable. Placing it + noiselessly on the ground before him he turned his oblique gaze on Craven + and watched him for a moment or two intently. Assured at length that his + master was too absorbed in his own task to notice the doings of his + servant he reached his hand behind him and produced a second revolver, + which he began to clean more hurriedly, more superficially than the first, + keeping the while a wary eye on the stooping figure at the table. When + that too was finished to his satisfaction and restored to his hip pocket, + a flicker of almost childlike amusement crossed his usually immobile + features and he started operations with an air of fine unconsciousness + upon one of a couple of rifles that stood propped against the tent wall + near him. Two years of hardships and danger had left no mark upon him, the + deadly climate of the region through which he had passed had not impaired + his powerful physique, and disease that had ravaged the scientific mission + had left him, like Craven, unscathed. With no care beyond his master's + comfort, indifferent to fatigue and perils, the months spent in Central + Africa had been far more to his taste than the dull monotony of the life + at Craven Towers. But with his face turned, though indirectly, toward home—the + home of his adoption—Yoshio was still cheerful. For him life held + only one incentive—the man who had years before saved his life in + California. Where Craven was Yoshio was content. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the Arab camp was in an uproar. Groups of tribesmen passed the + tent continually, conversing eagerly, their raucous voices rising shrill, + shouting, arguing, in noisy excitement. The neighing of horses came from + near by and once a screaming stallion backed heavily against the canvas + wall where Yoshio was sitting, rousing the phlegmatic Japanese to an + unwonted ejaculation of wrath as he ducked and grabbed into safety the + remaining rifle before the animal was hauled clear with a wealth of + detailed Arabic expletives, and he grinned broadly when an authoritative + voice broke into the Arabs' clamour and a subsequent sudden silence fell + in the vicinity of the stranger's tent. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of the disturbance resounding from all quarters of the camp + Craven wrote on steadily for some time longer. Then with a short sigh he + shuffled the scattered sheets together, brushed clear the clinging + accumulation of scorched wings and tiny shrivelled bodies, and without + re-reading the closely written pages stuffed them into an envelope, and + having closed and directed it, leaned back with an exclamation of relief. + </p> + <p> + The letter to Peters was finished but there remained still the more + difficult letter he had yet to address to his wife—a letter he + dreaded and yet longed to write. A letter which, reaching her after the + death he confidently expected and earnestly prayed for, would reveal to + her fully the secret of his past and the passion that had driven him, + unworthy, from her. For never during the two years of adventure and peril + had death seemed more imminent than now, and before he died he would give + himself this one satisfaction—he would break the silence of years + that had eaten like a canker into his soul. At last she would know all he + had never dared to tell her, all his hopeless love, all his remorse and + shame, all his passionate desire for her happiness. + </p> + <p> + Scores of times during the last two years he had attempted to write such a + letter and had as often refrained, but to-night his need was imperative. + It was his last chance. In the early hours of the dawn he would ride with + his Arab hosts on a punitive expedition from which he had no intention of + returning alive. Death that he had courted openly since leaving England + would surely be easy to find amid the warring tribes with whom he had + thrown in his lot. A curious smile lit his face for an instant, then + passed abruptly at the doubt that shook his confidence. Would fate again + refuse him release from a life that had become more than ever intolerable? + </p> + <p> + Haunted as he was with the memory of O Hara San, tortured with longing for + the woman he had made his wife, the double burden had become too heavy to + bear. He had grasped at the opportunity offered by the scientific mission. + The dangerous nature of the country, the fever that saturated its swamps + and forests, was known to him and he had gone to Africa courting a death + that would free him and yet leave no stain on the name borne by his wife. + And the death that would free him would free her too! The bitter justice + of it made him set his teeth. For he had left her his fortune and his + great possessions unrestrictedly to deal with as she would. Young, rich + and free! Who would claim what he had surrendered? Even now, after months + of mental struggle, the thought was torment. + </p> + <p> + But death that had laid a heavy toll on his companions had turned away + from him. Disease and disaster had dogged the mission from the outset. The + medical and scientific researches had proved satisfactory beyond + expectation, but the attendant loss of life had been terrible, and himself + utterly reckless and heedless of all precautions Craven had watched + tragedy after tragedy with envy he had been hardly able to hide. Immune + from the sudden and deadly fevers that had swept the camps periodically + with fatal results he had worked fearlessly and untiringly among the + stricken members of the mission and the fast dwindling army of demoralised + porters who had succumbed with alarming rapidity. With the stolid Japanese + always beside him he had wrestled entire nights and days to save the + expedition from extermination. And in the intervals of nursing, and + shepherding the unwilling carriers, he had ranged far and wide in search + of fresh food to supply the wants of the camp. The danger he deliberately + sought, with a rashness that had provoked open comment, had miraculously + evaded him. He had borne a charmed life. He had snatched at every + hazardous enterprise, he had exposed himself consistently to risk until + one evening shortly before the expedition was due to start on the return + march to civilization, when a chance word spoken by the camp fire had + brought home to him abruptly the dependence of the remnant of the mission + on him to bring them to the coast in safety. By some strange dealing of + fate it had been among the non-scientific members of the expedition that + mortality had ranged highest; the big game hunters, though hardier and + physically better equipped than the students of the party for hardship and + endurance had, with the exception of Craven himself, been wiped out to a + man. It had been an unpremeditated remark uttered in all good faith with + no ulterior motive by a shuddering fever-stricken scientist writing up his + notes and diary by the light of the fire with trembling fingers that could + scarcely hold the fountain pen that moved laboriously driven by an + indomitable will. A grim jest, horrible in its significance, had followed + the startling utterance and Craven had looked with perplexity at the + shivering figure with its drawn yellow face from which a pair of + glittering eyes burned with an almost uncanny brilliance until the meaning + of the man's words slowly penetrated. But the true importance of the + suggestion once realised had aroused in him a full understanding of the + duty he owed to the men he had undertaken to lead. Of those who could have + convoyed the expedition on its homeward march only he remained. Without + him the survivors of the once large party might eventually reach safety + but it was made clear to him that night how completely his companions + relied on him for a quick return and for the management of the train of + porters whose frequent mutinies only Craven seemed able to quell. He had + sat far into the night, staring gloomily into the blazing fire, smoking + pipe after pipe, listening to the multifarious noises of the forest—the + sudden distant crash of falling trees, the incessant hum of insect life, + the long-drawn howl of beasts of prey hovering on the outskirts of the + camp, the soft whoo-whoo of an owl whose cry brought vividly to his mind + the cool fragrance of the garden at Craven Towers and the nearer more + ominous sounds of muffled agony that came from a tent close beside him + where yet another victim of science was gasping his life away. + </p> + <p> + Hour after hour he sat thinking. There was no getting away from it—it + was only despicable that he had not himself recognised it earlier. The + narrow path of duty lay before him from which he might not turn aside to + ease the burden of a private grief. He was bound to the men who trusted + him. Honour demanded that he should forego the project he had formed—until + his obligation had been discharged. Loyalty to his companions must come + before every selfish consideration. After all it was only a postponement, + he reflected with a kind of grim satisfaction. The residue of the mission + once safely conducted to the coast his responsibility would end and he + would be free to pursue the course that would liberate the woman he loved. + </p> + <p> + In the chill silence of the hour that precedes the dawn he had risen + cramped and shivering from his seat by the dying fire and too late then to + take the rest he had neglected, had roused Yoshio and started on the usual + foraging expedition that was his daily occupation. And from that time he + had been careful of a life which, though valueless to him, was invaluable + to his companions. From that time, too, the ill-luck that had pursued them + ceased. There had been no more deaths, no more desertions from the already + depleted train of carriers. The work had gone forward with continuing + success and, six months ago, after a hazardous march through a hostile + country, Craven had led the remnant of the expedition safely to the coast. + He had waited for some weeks at the African port after the mission had + returned to England, and then embarking on a small trading steamer, had + made his way northward to an obscure station on the Moroccan seaboard, + when by a leisurely and indirect route he had slowly crossed the desert to + the district where he now was and which he had reached only a week ago. + Twice before he had visited the tribe as the guest of the Sheik Mukair Ibn + Zarrarah's younger son, an officer of Spahis whom he had met in Paris, and + the warm hospitality shown him had left a deep impression. A sudden + unaccountable impulse had led him to revisit a locality where he had spent + some of the happiest months of his life. He had conceived an intense + admiration and liking for the stern old Arab Chief and his two utterly + dissimilar sons; the elder a grave habitually silent man, who clung to the + old traditions with the rigid tenacity of the orthodox Mohammedan, + disdainful of the French jurisdiction under which he was compelled to + live, and occupied solely with the affairs of the tribe and his beautiful + and adored wife who reigned alone in his harem, despite the fact that she + had given him no child; the younger in total contrast to his brother, a + dashing ultra-modern young Arab as deeply imbued with French tendencies as + the conservative Omar was opposed to them. The wealthy and powerful old + Sheik, whose friendship had been assiduously sought by the French + Administration to ensure the co-operation of a tribe that with its far + reaching influence might have proved a dangerous element in an unsettled + district, shared in his inmost heart the sentiments of his heir, but with + a larger and more discriminating wisdom saw the desirability of + associating at least one of his family with the Government he was obliged, + though grudgingly and half contemptuously, to acknowledge. He had hovered + long between prejudice and policy before he reluctantly gave his consent + for Saïd to be placed on the roll of the regiment of Spahis. And the + unusual love existing between the two brothers had survived a test that + might have proved too strong for its continuance; Omar, bowing to the + decision of the autocratic old Chief, had refrained even from comment, and + Saïd, despite his enthusiasm, had carefully avoided inflaming his + brother's deeply rooted hatred of the nation the younger man was proud to + serve. His easy-going nature adapted itself readily to the two wholly + separate lives he lived, and though secretly preferring the months spent + with his regiment he contrived to extract every possible enjoyment from + the periods of leave for which he returned to the tribe where, laying + aside the picturesque uniform his ardent soul rejoiced in and scrupulously + suppressing every indication of his Francophile inclinations he resumed + with consummate tact the somewhat invidious position of younger son of the + house. + </p> + <p> + The meeting of the young Spahi with Craven in Paris had led to the + discovery of similar tastes and ultimately to an intimate friendship. + Together in Algeria they had shot panther and Barbary sheep and eventually + Craven had been induced to visit the tribe, where he had seen the true + life of the desert that appealed strongly to his unconventional wandering + disposition. The heartiness of his reception had been unqualified, even + the taciturn Omar had unbent to the representative of a nation he felt he + could respect with no loss of prestige. To Craven the weeks passed in the + Arab camp had been a time of uninterrupted enjoyment and a second visit + had strengthened mutual esteem. Situated on the extreme fringe of the + Algerian frontier, in the heart of a perpetually disturbed country, the + element of danger prevailing in the district was to Craven not the least + of its attractions. It had been a source of keen disappointment that + during both his visits there had been a cessation of the intertribal + warfare that was carried on in spite of the Government's endeavours to + preserve peace among the great desert families. For generations the tribe + of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah had been at feud with another powerful tribe which, + living further to the south and virtually beyond the suzerainty of the + nominal rulers of the country, harried the border continually. But, aware + of the growing power and resources of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, for many years + the marauders had avoided collision with him and confined their attention + to less dangerous adversaries. The apparent neglect of his hereditary + enemies had not, however, lessened the old Sheik's precautions. With + characteristic oriental distrust he maintained a continual watch upon them + and a well organized system of espionage kept him conversant with all + their movements. Often during his visits Craven had listened to the + stories of past encounters and in the fierce eager faces around him he had + read the deep longing for renewed hostilities that animated the younger + members of the tribe in particular and had wondered what spark would + eventually set ablaze the smouldering fires of hatred and rivalry that had + so long lain dormant. And it had been really a subconscious presage of + such an outbreak that had brought him back to the camp of Mukair Ibn + Zarrarah. His presentiment, the outcome of earnest desire, had been + fulfilled, and in its fulfilment attended with horrible details which, had + it not been already his intention, would have driven him to beg a place in + the ranks of the punitive force that was preparing to avenge an outrage + that involved the honour of the tribe. A week ago he had arrived to find + the camp seething with an infuriated and passion-swayed people who bore no + kind of resemblance to the orderly well-disciplined tribesmen he had seen + on his former visits, and the daily arrival of reinforcements from + outlying districts had kept the tension strained and swelled the + excitement that rioted day and night. + </p> + <p> + In the barbaric sumptuousness of his big tent and with a calm dignity that + even tragedy could not shake the old Sheik had received him alone, for the + unhappy Omar was hidden in the desolate solitude of his ravished harem. To + the Englishman, before whom he could speak openly the old man had revealed + the whole terrible story with vivid dramatic force and all the flowery + eloquence of which he was master. It was a tale of misplaced confidence + and faithlessness that, detected and punished with oriental severity, had + led to swift and dastardly revenge. A headman of the tribe whom both the + Sheik and his elder son trusted implicitly had proved guilty of grave + indiscretion that undetected might have seriously impaired the prestige of + the ruling house. Deposed from his headmanship, and deserted with + characteristic vacillation by the adherents on whom he counted, the + delinquent had fled to the camp of the rival tribe, with whom he had + already been in secret negotiation. This much Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's spies + had ascertained, but not in time to prevent the catastrophe that followed. + Plans thought to be known only to the Sheik and his son had been disclosed + to the marauding Chief, who had long sought an opportunity of aiming an + effectual blow at his hated rival, and on one of Omar's periodical tours + of inspection to the more remote encampments of the large and scattered + tribe, the little caravan had been surrounded by an overwhelmingly + superior force led by the hereditary enemy and the renegade tribesman. + Hemmed in around the litter of the dearly loved young wife, from whom he + rarely parted, Omar and his small bodyguard had fought desperately, but + the outcome had been inevitable from the first. Outnumbered they had + fallen one by one under the vigorous onslaughts of the attacking party + who, victorious, had retired southward as quickly as they had come, + carrying with them the beautiful Safiya—the price of the traitor's + treachery. Covered with wounds and left for dead under a heap of dying + followers Omar and two others had alone survived, and with death in his + heart the young man had lived only for the hour when he might avenge his + honour. Animated by the one fierce desire that sustained him he had + struggled back to life to superintend the preparations for retaliation + that should be both decisive and final. To old injuries had been added + this crowning insult, and the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, roused to the + highest pitch of fury, were resolved to a man to exterminate or be + exterminated. The preparations had been almost completed when Craven + arrived at the camp, and tonight, for the first time, at a final war + council of all the principal headmen held in the Sheik's tent, he had seen + the stricken man and had hardly recognized in the gaunt attenuated figure + that only an inflexible will seemed to keep upright, the handsome stalwart + Arab who of all the tribe had most nearly approached his own powerful + physique. The frenzied despair in the dark flashing eyes that met his + struck an answering chord in his own heart and the silent handclasp that + passed between them seemed to ratify a common desire. Here, too, was a man + who for love of a woman sought death that he might escape a life of + terrible memory. A sudden sympathy born of tacit understanding seemed to + leap from one to the other, an affinity of purpose that drew them + strangely close together and brought to Craven an odd sense of kinship + that dispelled the difference he had felt and enabled him to enter + reservedly into the discussions that followed. After this meeting he had + gone back to his tent to make his own final preparations with a feeling + almost of exhilaration. To Yoshio, more than usually stolid, he had given + all necessary instructions for the conveyance of his belongings to + England. + </p> + <p> + Remained only the letter to his wife—a letter that seemed curiously + hard to begin. Pushing the writing materials from him he leant back + further in his chair, and searching in his pockets found and filled a pipe + with slow almost meticulous deliberation. Another search failed to produce + the match he required, and rising with a prolonged stretch he bent over + the table and lit his pipe at the lamp. Crossing the tent he stood for a + few moments in the doorway, but movements did not seem to produce + inspiration, and with an impatient shrug he returned to his seat and sat + staring gloomily at the blank sheet of paper before him. The flaring light + of the lamp illuminated his deeply tanned face and lean muscular figure. + In perfect physical condition and bronzed with the African sun, he looked + younger than when he had left England. At that moment death and Barry + Craven seemed very widely separated—and yet in a few hours, he + reflected with a curiosity that was oddly impersonal, the vultures might + be congregating round the body that was now so strong and virile. + “Handsome Barry Craven.” He had heard a woman say it in Lagos with a + feeling of contemptuous amusement—a cynical smile crossed his face + as the remark recurred to him and he pictured the loathing that would + succeed admiration in the same woman's eyes if she could see what would + remain of him after the scavengers of the desert had done their work. The + thought gave him personally no feeling of disgust. He had lived always too + near to Nature to shrink from contemplation of her merciless laws. + </p> + <p> + He filled another pipe and strove to collect his wandering thoughts, but + the power of definite expression seemed beyond him as there rose in him + with almost overwhelming force the terrible longing that never left him—the + craving to see her, to hear her voice. Of his own free will he was putting + away all that life could mean or hold for him, and in the flood of natural + reaction that set in he called himself a fool and revolted at his + self-imposed sentence. The old struggle recommenced, the old temptation + gripped him in all its bitterness, and never so bitterly as to-night. In + the revulsion of feeling that beset him it was not death he shrank from + but the thought of eternity—alone. Neither in this world nor in the + life everlasting would she be his, and in an agony of longing his soul + cried out in anguished loneliness. The yearning for her grew intolerable, + a burning physical ache that was torture; but stronger far rose the finer + nobler desire for the perfect spiritual companionship that he would never + know. By his own act it would be denied him. By his own act he had made + this hell in which he lived, of his own making would be the hell of the + hereafter. Always he had recognised the justice of it, he did not attempt + to deny the justice of it now. But if it had been otherwise—if he + had been free to woo her, free to win her to his arms! It was not the + least of his punishment that, deep down in his heart, he had the firm + conviction that despite her assertions to the contrary, love was lying + dormant in her. And that love might have been his, would have been his, + for the strength and tenderness of his own passion would have compelled + it. She must have turned to him at last and in his love found happiness. + And to him her love would have been the crown of life—a life of + exquisite joy and beauty, a union of perfect and undivided sympathy. + Together they might have made the Towers a paradise on earth; together + they might have broken the curse of Craven; together they might have + brought happiness into the lives of many. And in the dream of what might + have been there came to him for the first time the longing for parenthood, + the desire for a child born of the woman he adored, a child who joining in + his tiny personality the essentials of each would be a tangible proof of + their mutual love, a child who would perpetuate the race he sprang from. + Craven's breath came fast with a new and tremendous emotion. Then with + terrible suddenness came a lightning flash of recollection, a stabbing + remembrance that laid his dream in pieces at his feet. He heard again the + low soft sobbing voice, “Are you not glad?” He saw again O Hara San's + pleading tear-filled eyes, felt again her slender sorrow-shaken body + trembling in his arms, and he bowed his head on his hands in shuddering + horror.... + </p> + <p> + Numbed with the pain of memory and self-loathing he was unaware of the + renewal of noisy demonstration in the camp that to Yoshio's attentive and + interested ears pointed to the arrival of yet another adherent of Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah, an adherent of some special standing, judging from the + warmth of his reception. Moved by curiosity the Jap rose noiselessly and + passing unnoticed by his master vanished silently into the night. + </p> + <p> + Some little while later the sound of a clear tenor voice calling to him + loudly by name sent Craven stumbling to his feet. He turned quickly with + outstretched hands to meet the tall young Arab, who burst unceremoniously + into the tent and flung himself upon him in boisterous greeting. Gripped + by a pair of muscular arms Craven submitted with an Englishman's + diffidence to the fervid oriental embrace that was succeeded to his + greater liking by a hearty and prolonged English handshake and a storm of + welcoming excited and almost incoherent speech. “<i>C'est bien toi, mon + vieux</i>! You are more welcome than you have ever been—though I + could wish you a thousand miles away, <i>mon ami</i>, but of that, more, + later. <i>Dame</i>, but I have ridden! As though the hosts of Eblis were + behind me. I was on leave when the messenger came for me—he seems to + have been peremptory in his demands, that same Selim. Telegrams despatched + to every likely place—one caught me fortunately at Marseilles. Yes, + I had been in Paris. I hastened to headquarters and asked for long and + indefinite leave on urgent private affairs, all the lies I thought <i>mon + colonel</i> would swallow, but no word of war, <i>bien entendu</i>! Praise + be to <i>Allah</i> they put no obstacle in my way and I left at once. + Since then I have ridden almost without stopping, night and day. Two + horses I have killed, the last lies dead of a broken heart before my + father's tent—you remember her?—my little Mimi, a chestnut + with a white star on her forehead, dear to me as the core of my heart. For + none but Omar would I have driven so, for I loved her, look you, <i>mon + ami</i>, as I could never love a woman. A woman! Bah! No woman in the + world was worth a toss of my Mimi's head. And I killed her, Craven. Killed + her who loved and trusted me, who never failed me. My little Mimi! For the + love of <i>Allah</i> give me a whisky.” And laughing and crying together + he collapsed with a groan on to Craven's bed but sat up again immediately + to gulp down the prohibited drink that was almost the last in a nearly + depleted flask. + </p> + <p> + “The Prophet never tasted whisky or he would not have forbidden it to the + true believer,” he said with a boyish grin, as he handed back the empty + cup. + </p> + <p> + “Which you are not,” commented Craven with a faint smile. “In the sense + you mean, no,” replied Saïd, swinging his heels to the ground and + searching in the folds of his burnous for a cigarette, which he lit and + smoked for a few minutes thoughtfully. Then with all trace of his former + excitement gone he began to discuss soberly the exigency of the moment, + revealing a sound judgment and levelness of mind that appeared + incompatible with his seemingly careless and easy-going disposition. It + was a deeper studiously hidden side of his character that Craven had + guessed very early in their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + He talked now with unconcealed seriousness of the gravity of the + situation. In the short time he had been with his father before seeking + his friend he had mastered the particulars of the projected expedition + and, with his European knowledge, had suggested and even—with a + force of personality he had never before displayed in the old Sheik's + presence—insisted on certain alterations which he detailed now for + Craven's benefit, who concurred heartily, for they were identical with + suggestions put forward by himself which had been rejected as impossible + innovations by the conservative headmen, and conscious of his position as + guest he had not pressed them. Then with a sudden change of tone the young + Arab turned to Craven in frowning inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “But you, mon cher, what are you doing in this affair? It was that I meant + when I said I wished you a thousand miles away. You are my friend, the + friend of all of us, but friendship does not demand that you ride with us + to-night. That you would offer—yes—it was only to be expected. + But that we should accept your offer—no! a hundred times no! you are + an Englishman, a big man in your own country, what have you to do with the + tribal warfare of minor Arab Chiefs—voyez vous, I have my moments of + modesty! If anything should happen—as happen it very likely will—what + will your paternal British Government say? It will only add to my father's + difficulties with our own over-lords.” There was a laugh in his eyes + though his voice was serious. Craven brushed his objection aside with an + indifferent hand. + </p> + <p> + “The British Government will not distress itself about me,” he said dryly. + “I am not of sufficient importance.” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments the Arab sat silent, smoking rapidly, then he raised his + dark eyes tentatively to Craven's face. + </p> + <p> + “In Paris they told me you were married,” he said slowly, and the remark + was in itself ample indication of his European tendencies. + </p> + <p> + Craven turned away with an abrupt movement and bent over the lamp to light + his pipe. “They told you the truth,” he said, with a certain reluctance, + his face hidden by a cloud of smoke. “<i>Pourtant</i>, I ride with you + to-night.” There was a note of brusque finality in his voice that Saïd + recognised, and he shrugged acquiescence as he lit another cigarette. “It + is almost certain death,” he said, with nonchalant oriental calm. But + Craven did not answer and Saïd relapsed into a silence that was + protracted. From the midst of the blue haze surrounding him, his earnest + scrutiny hidden by the thick lashes that curved downwards to his swarthy + cheek, he gazed intently through half-closed eyes at the friend whose + presence he found for the first time embarrassing. Fatalist though he was + in all things that concerned himself, western influence had bitten deep + enough to make him realise that the same doctrine did not extend to + Craven. He recognised that self-determination came more largely into the + Englishman's creed than into his own. Whether he himself lived or died was + a matter of no great moment. But with Craven it was otherwise and he had + no liking for the thought that should the morrow's venture go against them + his friend's blood would, virtually, be upon his hands! So far had his + Francophile tendencies taken him. And the more he dwelt upon the + uncomfortable fact the less he liked it. He turned his attention more + directly upon the man himself and he noted changes that surprised and + disturbed him. The stern weary looking face was not the careless smiling + one he remembered. The man he had known had been vividly alive, care-free + and animated; one who had jested alike at life and death with an + indifferent laugh, but one who though careless of danger even to the + extent of foolhardiness had never given any indication of a desire to quit + a life that was obviously easy and attractive. But this man was different, + grave and abrupt of speech, with an air of tired suffering, and a grim + purposefulness in his determination to ignore his friend's warning that + conveyed an impression of underlying sinister intent that set the Arab + wondering what sting had poisoned his life even to the desire to sacrifice + it. For the look on Craven's face was not new to him, he had seen it + before—on the face of a French officer in Algiers who had + subsequently taken his own life, and again this very evening on the face + of his brother Omar. The personalities of the three men were widely + different, but the expression of each was identical. The deduction was + simple and yet to him wholly inexplicable. A woman—without doubt a + woman! In the first two cases it was certainly so, he seemed to know + instinctively that here, too, he was not mistaken in his supposition. A + puzzled look crept into his fine dark eyes and a cynical smile hovered + round his mouth as he viewed these three dissimilar men from the height of + his own contemptuous indifference towards any and every woman. It was a + weakness he did not understand, a phase of life that held no meaning for + him at all. He had never bestowed a second glance on any woman of his own + race, the attentions of European women in Paris and Algiers had been met + with cold scorn that he masked with racial gravity of demeanour or frank + insolence according to circumstances. For him women did not exist; he + lived for his horses, for his regiment and for sport. To his strangely + cold nature the influence that women exercised over other men was a thing + inconceivable—the houris of the paradise of his fathers' creed were + to him no incentive to enter the realms of the blessed. A character apart, + incomprehensible alike to the warm-blooded Frenchmen with whom he + associated and to his own passionate countrymen, he maintained his + peculiarity tranquilly, undisturbed by the banter of his friends and the + admonitions of his father, who in view of his heir's childlessness + regarded his younger son's temperament with growing uneasiness as the + years advanced. + </p> + <p> + The action of the French officer in Algiers had provoked in Saïd only + intolerant contempt but, as he realised tonight, contempt was not possible + in the cases of Craven and his brother. He pondered it with a curious + feeling of irritation. What was it after all, this emotion of which he was + ignorant—this compelling impulse that entered into a man driving him + beyond the power of endurance? It was past his comprehension. And he + wondered suddenly for the first time why he had been made so different to + the generality of men. But introspection was foreign to him, he had not + been in the habit of dissecting his own personality and his thoughts + turned quickly with greater interest to the man who sat near him plunged + like himself into silent reverie. And as he looked he scowled with angry + irritation. The Frenchman in Algiers had not mattered, but Omar and Craven + mattered very much. He resented the suffering he did not understand—the + termination of a friendship he valued, for it was almost inevitable should + Craven persist in his decision and the loss of a brother who was dearer to + him than he would admit and whose death would mean a greater change in his + own life than he cared to contemplate. That through a woman this should be + possible! With hearty thoroughness and picturesque attention to detail he + silently cursed all women in general and two women in particular. For the + seriousness of the venture lay, at the moment, heavily upon him. He was + tired and his enthusiasm temporarily damped by the unexpected and + incomprehensible attitude of the two men by whom alone he permitted + himself to be influenced. But gradually his natural buoyancy reasserted + itself, and abandoning as insoluble the perplexing problem, he spoke again + eagerly of the impending meeting with his hereditary foes. For half an + hour they talked earnestly and then Saïd rose, announcing his intention of + getting a few hours sleep before the early start. But he deferred his + going, making one pretext after another for remaining, walking about the + little tent in undecided hesitation, plainly embarrassed. Finally he swung + toward Craven with a characteristic gesture of his long arms. + </p> + <p> + “Can I say nothing to deter you from this expedition?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” replied Craven; “you always promised me a fight some day—do + you want to do me out of it now, you selfish devil?” he added with a + laugh, to which Saïd did not respond. With an inarticulate grunt he moved + toward the door, pausing as he went out to fling over his shoulder: “I'll + send you a burnous and the rest of the kit.” + </p> + <p> + “A burnous—what for?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” echoed Saïd, coming back into the tent, his eyes wide with + astonishment. “<i>Allah</i>! to wear, of course, <i>mon cher</i>. You + can't go as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + The Arab rolled his eyes heavenward and waved his hands in protest as he + burst out vehemently: “Because they will take you for a Frenchman, a spy, + an agent of the Government, and they will finish you off even before they + turn their attention to us. They hate us, by the Koran! but they hate a + Frenchman worse. You wouldn't have the shadow of a chance.” + </p> + <p> + Craven looked at him curiously for a few moments, and then he smiled. + “You're a good fellow, Saïd,” he said quietly, taking the cigarette the + other offered, “but I'll go as I am, all the same. I'm not used to your + picturesque togs, they would only hamper me.” + </p> + <p> + For a little while longer Saïd remained arguing and entreating by turns + and then went away suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and for a few + minutes Craven stood in the door of the tent watching his retreating + figure by the light of the newly risen moon with a smile that softened his + face incredibly. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned back into the tent and once more drew toward him the + writing materials. + </p> + <p> + The difficulty he had before felt had passed away. It seemed suddenly + quite easy to write and he wondered why it had appeared so impossible + earlier in the evening. Words, phrases, leaped to his mind, sentences + seemed to form themselves, and, with rapidly moving pen, he wrote without + faltering for the best part of an hour—all he had never dared to + say, more almost than he had ever dared to think. He did not spare + himself. The tragic history of O Hara San he gave in all its pitifulness + without attempting to extenuate or shield himself in any way; he sketched + frankly the girl's loneliness and childish ignorance, his own casual and + selfish acceptance of the sacrifice she made and the terrible catastrophe + that had brought him to abrupt and horrible conviction of himself, and his + subsequent determination to end the life he had marred and wasted. He + wrote of the coming of John Locke's letter at the moment of his deepest + abasement, and of the chance it had seemed to offer; of her own entry into + his life and the love for her that almost from the first moment had sprung + up within him. + </p> + <p> + In its entirety he laid bare the burning hopeless passion that consumed + him, the torturing longing that possessed him, and the knowledge of his + own unworthiness that had driven him from her that she might be free with + a freedom that would be at last absolute. But even in this letter which + tore down so completely the barrier between them he did not admit to her + the true reason of his marriage, he preferred to leave it obscure as it + had always been, even should the motive she might attribute to him be the + wrong one. He must chance that and the impression it might leave with her. + Her future life he alluded to very briefly not caring to dwell on business + that was already cut and dried, but referring her to Peters who was fully + instructed and on whose advice and help she could count. He expressed no + wish with regard to Craven Towers and his other properties, leaving her + free to dispose of or retain them as she pleased. He shrank from + suggesting in any way that she benefited by his death. + </p> + <p> + He saw her before him as he wrote. It seemed almost as if the ardent + passionate wards were spoken to present listening ears, and as with + Peters' letter he did not reread the many closely written sheets. What + use? He did not wish to alter or amend anything he had said. He had done, + and a deeper peace came to him than he had known since those far away days + in Japan. + </p> + <p> + He called to Yoshio. Almost before the words had left his lips the man was + beside him. And as the Jap listened to the minute instructions given him + the light that had sprung to his eyes died out of them and his face became + if possible more than usually stolid and inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + “You quite understand?” said Craven in conclusion. “You will wait here + until it becomes evident that further waiting is useless. Then you are to + go straight back to England and give those letters into Mrs. Craven's own + hand.” + </p> + <p> + With marked reluctance Yoshio slowly took up the two heavy packets and + fingered them for a time silently. Then with a sudden exclamation in his + own language he shook his head and pushed them back across the table. + “Going with master,” he announced phlegmatically, and raised his eyes with + a glance that was at once provocative and stubborn. Craven met his direct + stare with a feeling of surprise. Only once before had the docile Japanese + asserted himself definitely and the memory of it made anger now + impossible. He pointed to the letters lying on the table between them. + “You have your orders,” he said quietly, and cut short further protests + with a quick gesture of authority. “Do as you're told, you obstinate + little devil,” he added, with a short laugh. And like a chidden child + Yoshio pocketed the letters sullenly. Stifling a yawn Craven kicked off + his boots and moved over to the bed with a glance at his watch. He flung + himself down, dressed as he was. + </p> + <p> + “Two hours, Yoshio—not a minute longer,” he murmured drowsily, and + slept almost before his head touched the pillow. + </p> + <p> + For an hour or more, squatting motionless on his heels in the middle of + the tent, Yoshio watched him, his mask-like face expressionless, his eyes + fixed in an unwavering stare. Then he rose cautiously and glided from the + tent. + </p> + <p> + During the last two years Craven had become accustomed to snatching a few + hours of sleep when and how he could. He slept now deeply and dreamlessly. + And when the two hours were passed and Yoshio woke him he sprang up, wide + awake on the instant, refreshed by the short rest. In silence that was no + longer sullen the valet indicated a complete Arab outfit he had brought + back with him to the tent, but Craven waved it aside with a smile at the + thought of Saïd's pertinacity and finished his dressing quickly. As he + concluded his hasty preparations he found time to wonder at his own frame + of mind. He had an odd feeling of aloofness that precluded even + excitement. It was as if his spirit, already freed, looked down from some + immeasurable height with scant interest upon the doings of a being who + wore the earthly semblance of himself but who mattered not at all. He + seemed to be above and beyond actualities. He heard himself repeating the + instructions he had given earlier to Yoshio, he found himself taking leave + of the faithful little Jap and wondering slightly at the man's apparent + unconcern. But outside the little tent the strange feeling left him + suddenly as it had come. The cool wind that an hour later would usher in + the dawn blew about his face dispelling the visionary sensation that had + taken hold of him. He drew a deep breath looking eagerly at the beauty of + the moon-lit night, feeling himself once more keenly alive, keenly excited + at the prospect of the coming venture. + </p> + <p> + Excitement was rife also in the camp and he made his way with difficulty + through the jostling throng of men and horses towards the rallying point + before the old Sheik's tent. The noise was deafening, and trampling + screaming horses wheeled and backed among the crowd pressing around them. + With shouts of acclamation a way was made for the Englishman and he passed + through the dense ranks to the open space where Mukair Ibn Zarrarah with + his two sons and a little group of headmen were standing. They welcomed + him with characteristic gravity and Saïd proffered the inevitable + cigarette with a reproachful glance at his khaki clothing. For a few + moments they conversed and then the Sheik stepped forward with uplifted + hand. The clamour of the people gave way to a deep silence. In a short + impassioned speech the old man bade his tribe go forward in the name of + the one God, Merciful and Beneficent. And as his arm dropped to his side + again a mighty shout broke from the assembled multitude. <i>Allah! Allah!</i> + the fierce exultant cry rose in a swelling volume of sound as the fighting + men leaped to their maddened horses dragging them back into orderly ranks + from among the press of onlookers and tossing their long guns in the air + in frenzied excitement. A magnificent black stallion was led up to Craven, + and the Sheik soothed the beautiful quivering creature, caressing his + shapely head with trembling nervy fingers. “He is my favourite, he will + carry you well,” he murmured with a proud smile as he watched Craven + handling the spirited animal. Mounted Craven bent down and wrung Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah's hand and in another moment he found himself riding between + Omar and Saïd at the head of the troop as it moved off followed by the + ringing shouts of those who were left behind. He had a last momentary + glimpse of the old Sheik, a solitary upright figure of pathetic dignity, + standing before his tent, and then the camp seemed to slide away behind + them as the pace increased and they reached the edge of the oasis and + emerged on to the open desert. A few minutes more and the fretting horses + settled down into a steady gallop. The dense ranks of tribesmen were + silent at last, and only the rythmical thud of hoofs sounded with a + muffled beat against the soft shifting sand. + </p> + <p> + Craven felt himself in strange accordance with the men with whom he rode. + The love of hazardous adventure that was in his blood leaped into activity + and a keen fierce pleasure swept him at the thought of the coming + conflict. The death he sought was the death he had always hoped for—the + crashing clamour of the battlefield, the wild tumultuous impact of + contending forces, with the whining scream of flying bullets in his ears. + To die—and, dying, to atone! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “<i>Come to Me all ye who ... are heavy laden + and I will give you rest</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + Might that ineffable rest that was promised be even for him? Would his + deep repentance, the agony of spirit he had endured, be payment enough? + Eternal death—the everlasting hell of the Jehovah of the ancients! + Not that, merciful God, but the compassion of Christ: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “<i>He that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + On that terrible day in Yokohama that seemed so many weary years ago + Craven had laid his sin-stained soul in all sincerity and humbleness at + the feet of the Divine Redeemer, but with no thought or hope of + forgiveness. Always the necessity of personal atonement had remained with + him, without which by his reasoning there could be no salvation. That + offered, but not until then, he would trust in the compassion that passed + man's understanding. And to-night—to-day—he seemed nearer than + he had ever been to the fulfilment of his desire. The mental burden that + had lain like an actual crushing weight upon him seemed to slip away into + nothingness. A long deep sigh of wonderful relief escaped him and he drew + himself straighter in the saddle, a new peace dawning in his eyes as he + raised them to the starlit sky. Out of the past there flashed into his + mind the picture—forgotten since the days of childhood—of + Christian freed of his burden at the foot of the Cross, as represented in + the old copy of the “Pilgrim's Progress” over which he had pored as a boy, + enthralled by the quaint text which he had known nearly by heart and + fascinated by the curious illustrations that had appealed to his young + imagination. + </p> + <p> + The years rolled back, he saw himself again a little lad stretched on the + rug before the fire in the library at Craven Towers, the big book propped + open before him, studying with a child's love of the grotesque the grisly + picture of Apollyon whose hideous black-winged form had to his boyish mind + been the actual image of the devil, a tangible demon whom he had longed to + conquer like Christian armed with sword and shield. The childish idea, a + bodily adversary to contend with—it would have been simpler. But the + devil in a man's own heart, the insidious inward prompting to sin that + unrepelled grows imperceptibly stronger and greater until the realisation + of sin committed comes with horrible suddenness! To Craven, as to many + others, came the futile longing to have his life to live again, to start + afresh from the days of innocency when he had hung, enraptured, over the + woodcuts of the “Pilgrim's Progress.” He forced his thoughts back to the + present. Death, not life, lay before him. Instinctively he glanced at the + man who rode at his right hand. In the cold white moonlight the Arab's + face was like a piece of beautiful carved bronze, still and terrible in + its fixed intentness. Sitting his horse with evident difficulty, animated + by mere strength of will, his wasted frame rigidly upright, his sombre + tragic eyes peering steadfastly ahead, he seemed in his grim + purposefulness the very incarnation of avenging justice. And as Craven + looked at him covertly he wondered what lay hidden behind those set + features, what of hope, what of fear, what of despair was seething in the + fierce heart of the desert man. Of the dearly loved wife who had been + ravished from him there had come no further word, her fate was unknown. + Had she died, or did she still live—in shameful captivity, the slave + of the renegade who had made her the price of his treachery? What + additional horror still awaited the unhappy husband who rode to avenge + her? With a slight shudder Craven turned from the contemplation of a + sorrow that seemed to him even greater than his own and sought his left + hand neighbour. With a quick smile Saïd's eyes met his. With an easy swing + of his graceful body he drew his horse nearer to the spirited stallion + Craven was riding but did not speak. The ready flow of conversation that + was habitual had apparently forsaken him. + </p> + <p> + The young Arab's silence was welcome, Craven had himself no desire to + speak. The dawn wind was blowing cool against his forehead, soothing him. + The easy gallop of the horse between his knees, tractable and steady now + he was allowed free rein, was to him the height of physical enjoyment. He + would get from it what he could, he thought with a swift smile of self + mockery—the flesh still urged in contradiction to his firm resolve. + It was a blind country through which they were riding, though seemingly + level the ground rose and fell in a succession of long undulating sweeps + that made a wide outlook impossible. A regiment could lie hidden in the + hollows among the twisting deviating sandy hillocks and be passed + unnoticed. And as he topped each rise at the head of the Arab troop Craven + looked forward eagerly with unfailing interest. He hardly knew for what he + looked for their destination lay many miles further southward and the + possibility of unexpected attack had been foreseen by Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, + whose scouts had ranged the district for weeks past, but the impression + once aroused of an impending something lingered persistently and fixed his + attention. + </p> + <p> + From time to time the waiting scouts joined them, solitary horsemen riding + with reckless speed over the broken ground or slipping silently from the + shadow of a side track to make a brief report and then take their place + among the ranks of tribesmen. So far they told no more than was already + known. The wind blew keener as the dawn approached. Far in the east the + first faint pinky streaks were spreading across the sky, overhead the + twinkling stars paled one by one and vanished. The atmosphere grew + suddenly chill. The surrounding desert had before been strangely silent, + not so much as the wailing cry of a jackal had broken the intense + stillness, but now an even deeper hush, mysterious and pregnant, closed + down over the land. For the time all nature seemed to hang in suspense, + waiting, watching. To Craven the wonder of the dawn was not new, he had + seen if often in many countries, but it was a marvel of which he never + tired. And there was about this sunrise a significance that had been + attached to no other he had ever witnessed. Eagerly he watched the faint + flush brighten and intensify, the pale streaks spread and widen into far + flung bars of flaming gold and crimson. Daylight came with startling + suddenness and as the glowing disc of the sun rose red above the horizon a + horseman broke from the galloping ranks, and spurring in advance of the + troop, wheeled his horse and dragged him to an abrupt standstill. Rising + in his stirrups he flung his arms in fervid ecstasy toward the heavens. + Craven recognised in him a young Mullah of fanatical tendencies who had + been particularly active in the camp during the preceding week. That the + opposing tribe was of a different sect, abhorred by the followers of + Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had been an original cause of dissent between them, + and the priests had made good use of the opportunity of fanning religious + zeal. + </p> + <p> + The cavalcade came to a sudden halt, and as Craven with difficulty reined + in his own horse the sustained and penetrating cry of the muezzin rose + weirdly high and clear on the morning air, “<i>al-ilah-ilah</i>.” The + arresting and solemn invocation had always had for Craven a peculiar + fascination, and as the last lingering notes died away it was not purely + from a motive of expediency that he followed the common impulse and knelt + among the prostrate Arabs. His creed differed from theirs but he + worshipped the same God as they, and in his heart he respected their overt + profession of faith. + </p> + <p> + As he rose from his knees he caught Saïd's eyes bent on him with a curious + look in them of interrogation that was at once faintly mocking and yet + sad. But the expression passed quickly into a boyish grin as he waved an + unlit cigarette toward the fiery young priest who had seized the chance to + embark on a passionate harangue. + </p> + <p> + “When prayer is ended disperse yourselves through the land as ye list,” he + murmured, with a flippant laugh at the perverted quotation. “The holy man + will preach till our tongues blacken with thirst.” And he turned to his + brother to urge him to give the order to remount. Omar was leaning against + his horse, his tall figure sagging with fatigue. He started violently as + Saïd spoke to him, and, staggering, would have fallen but for the strong + arm slipped round him. And, watching Craven saw with dismay a dark stain + mar the whiteness of his robes where a wound had broken out afresh, and he + wondered whether the weakened body would be able to respond to the urging + of the resolute will that drove it mercilessly, or, when almost within + view, the fiercely longed for revenge would yet be snatched from him. + </p> + <p> + But with an effort the Arab pulled himself together and, mounting, + painfully cut short the Mullah's eloquence and gave in a firm tone the + desired order. + </p> + <p> + The swift gallop southward was resumed. + </p> + <p> + The breeze dropped gradually and finally died away, but for an hour or + more the refreshing coolness lingered. Then as the sun rose higher and + gained in strength the air grew steadily warmer until the heat became + intense and Craven began to look eagerly for the oasis that was to be + their first halting place. In full daylight the landscape that by night + had seemed to possess an eerie charm developed a dull monotony. The + successive rise and fall of the land, always with its limited outlook, + became tedious, and the labyrinthine hillocks with their intricate + windings seemed to enclose them inextricably. But on reaching the summit + of a longer steeper incline that had perceptibly slowed the galloping + horses, he saw spread out before him a level tract of country stretching + far into the distance, with a faint blue smudge beyond of the chain of + hills that Saïd told him marked the boundary of the territory that Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah regarded as his own, the boundary, too, of French + jurisdiction. Through a defile in the hills lay the enemy country. + </p> + <p> + The change was welcome to men and horses alike, the latter—aware + with unerring instinct of the nearness of water—of their own accord + increased their pace and thundering down the last long shifting slope + pressed forward eagerly toward the oasis that Craven judged to be between + two and three miles away. In the clear deceptive atmosphere it appeared + much nearer, and yet as they raced onward it seemed to come no closer but + rather to recede as though some malevolent demon of the desert in wanton + sport was conjuring it tantalizingly further and further from them. The + tall feathery palms, seen through the shimmering heat haze, took an + exaggerated height towering fantastically above the scrub of bushy thorn + trees. + </p> + <p> + Craven had even a moment's doubt whether the mirage-like oasis actually + existed or was merely a delusion bred of fancy and desire. But the + absurdity of the doubt came home to him as he looked again at the outline + of the distant hills—too conspicuous a landmark to allow of any + error on the part of his companions to whom the country was familiar. + </p> + <p> + The prospect of the welcome shade made him more sensitive to the scorching + strength of the sun that up till now he had endured without more than a + passing sensation of discomfort. He was inured to heat, but to-day's heat + was extraordinary, and even the Arabs were beginning to show signs of + distress. It was many hours since they started and the pace had been + killing. His mouth was parched and his eyeballs smarted with the blinding + glare. With the thirst that increased each moment the last half mile + seemed longer than all the preceding ride, and when the oasis was at + length reached he slipped from his sweating horse with an exclamation of + relief. + </p> + <p> + The Arabs crowded round the well and in a moment the little peaceful spot + was the scene of noisy confusion; men shouting, scrambling and + gesticulating, horses squealing, and above all the creaking whine of the + tackling over the well droning mournfully as the bucket rose and fell. + Saïd swung himself easily to the ground and held his brother's plunging + horse while he dismounted. For a few moments they conversed together in a + rapid undertone, and then the younger man turned to Craven, a cloud on his + handsome face. “Our communication has broken down. Two scouts should have + met us here,” he said, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “It + disconcerts our scheme for we counted on their report. They may be late—it + is hardly likely. They had ample time. More probably they have been + ambushed—the country is filled with spies—in which event the + advantage lies with the other side. They will know that we have started, + while we shall have no further information. The two men who are missing + were the only ones operating beyond the border. The last scout who + reported himself was in touch with them last night. From them he learned + that two days ago the enemy were forty miles south of the hills yonder. We + had hoped to catch them unawares, but they may have got wind of our + intentions and be nearer than we expect. The curse of <i>Allah</i> on + them!” he added impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Craven with a backward glance at the + dismounted tribesmen clustering round the well and busily employed in + making preparations for rest and food. Saïd beckoned to a passing Arab and + dispatched him with a hurried order. Then he turned again to Craven. “The + horses must rest though the men would go forward at a word. I am sending + two scouts to reconnoitre the defile and bring back what information they + can,” he said. And as he spoke the two men he had sent for appeared with + disciplined promptness and reined in beside him. Having received their + brief instructions they started off in a cloud of dust and sand at the + usual headlong gallop. Saïd turned away immediately and disappeared among + the jostling crowd, but Craven lingered at the edge of the oasis looking + after the fast receding horsemen who, crouched low in their saddles, their + long white cloaks swelling round them, were very literally carrying out + their orders to ride “swift as the messengers of Azrael.” He had known + them both on his previous visits, though he had not recognised them in the + dark hours of the dawn when they joined the troop, and remembered them as + two of the most dare-devil and intrepid of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's + followers. A moment since they had grinned at him in cheery greeting, + exhibiting almost childlike pleasure when he had called them by name, and + had set off with an obeisance as deep to him as to their leader. + </p> + <p> + Incidents of those earlier visits flashed through his mind as he watched + them speeding across the glaring plain and a feeling almost of regret came + to him that it should be these two particular men who had been selected + for the hazardous mission. For he guessed that their chance of return was + slight. And yet hardly slighter than for the rest of them! With a shrug he + moved away slowly and sought the shadow of a camel thorn. He lay on his + back in the welcome patch of shade, his helmet tilted over his eyes, + drawing vigorously at a cigarette in the vain hope of lessening the + attentions of the swarms of tormenting flies that buzzed about him, and + waiting patiently for the desired water before he swallowed the dark brown + unsavoury mass of crushed dates which, warm from his pocket and gritty + with the sand that penetrated everything, was the only food available. + Saïd was still busy among the throng of men and horses, but near him Omar + sat plunged in gloomy silence, his melancholy eyes fixed on the distant + hills. He had re-adjusted his robes, screening the ominous stain that + revealed what he wished to hide. His hands, which alone might have + betrayed the emotion surging under his outward passivity, were concealed + in the folds of his enveloping burnous. When the immediate wants of men + and horses were assuaged the prevailing clamour gave place to sudden quiet + as the Arabs lay down and, muffling their heads in their cloaks, seemed to + fall instantly asleep. His supervision ended, Saïd reappeared, and + following the example of his men was soon snoring peacefully. Craven + rolled over on his side, and lighting another cigarette settled himself + more comfortably on the warm ground. For a time he watched the solitary + sentinel sitting motionless on his horse at no great distance from the + oasis. Then a vulture winging its slow heavy way across the heavens + claimed his attention and he followed it with his eyes until it passed + beyond his vision. He was too lazy and too comfortable to turn his head. + He lay listening to the shrill hum of countless insect life, smoking + cigarette after cigarette till the ground around him was littered with + stubs and match ends. The hours passed slowly. When he looked at the guard + again the Arab was varying the monotony by walking his horse to and fro, + but he had not moved further into the desert. And suddenly as Craven + watched him he wheeled and galloped back toward the camp. Craven started + up on his arm, screening his eyes from the sun and staring intently in the + direction of the hills. But there was nothing to be seen in the wide empty + plain, and he sank down again with a smile at his own impatience as the + reason of the man's return occurred to him. Reaching the oasis the Arab + led his horse among the prostrate sleepers and kicked a comrade into + wakefulness to take his place. From time to time the intense stillness was + broken by a movement among the horses, and once or twice a vicious scream + came from a stallion resenting the attentions of a restless neighbour. The + slumbering Arabs lay like sheeted figures of the dead save when some + uneasy dreamer rolled over with a smothered grunt into a different + position. Craven had begun to wonder how much longer the siesta would be + protracted when Omar rose stiffly, and going to his brother's side awoke + him with a hand on his shoulder. Saïd sat up blinking sleepily and then + leaped alertly to his feet. In a few minutes the oasis was once more + filled with noisy activity. But this time there was no confusion. The men + mounted quickly and the troop was reformed with the utmost dispatch. The + horses broke almost immediately into the long swinging gallop that seemed + to eat up the miles under their feet. + </p> + <p> + The fiercest heat of the day was passed. The haze that had hung shimmering + over the plain had cleared away and the hills they were steadily nearing + grew more clearly defined. Soon the conformation of the range was easily + discernible, the rocky surface breaking up into innumerable gullies and + ravines, the jagged ridges standing out clean against the deep blue of the + sky. Another mile and Saïd turned to him with outstretched hand, pointing + eagerly. “See, to the right, there, by that shaft of rock that looks like + a minaret, is the entrance to the defile. It is well masked. It comes upon + one suddenly. A stranger would hardly find the opening until he was close + upon it. In the dawn when the shadows are black I have ridden past it + myself once or twice and had to—<i>Allah</i>! Selim—and + alone!” he cried suddenly, and shot ahead of his companions. The troop + halted at Omar's shouted command, but Craven galloped after his friend. He + had caught sight of the horseman emerging from the pass a moment after + Saïd had seen him and the same thought had leaped to the mind of each—the + news on which so much depended might still never reach them. The spy came + on toward them slowly, his horse reeling under him, and man and beast + alike were nearly shot to pieces. As Saïd drew alongside of them the + wounded horse collapsed and the dying man fell with him, unable to + extricate himself. In a flash the Arab Chief was on his feet, and with a + tremendous effort pulled the dead animal clear of his follower's crushed + and quivering limbs. Slipping an arm about him he raised him gently, and + bending low to catch the faint words he could scarcely hear, held him + until the fluttering whisper trailed into silence, and with a convulsive + shudder the man died in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Laying the corpse back on the sand he wiped his blood-stained hands on the + folds of his cloak, then swung into the saddle again and turned to Craven, + his eyes blazing with anger and excitement. “They were trapped in the + defile—ten against two—but Selim got through somehow to make + his reconnaissance, and they finished him off on the way back—though + I don't think he left many behind him! Either our plans have been betrayed—or + it may be merely a coincidence. Whichever it is they are waiting for us + yonder, on the other side of the hills. They have saved us a day's journey—at + the very least,” he added with a short laugh that was full of eager + anticipation. + </p> + <p> + They waited until Omar and the troop joined them, and after a short + consultation with the headmen it was decided to press forward without + delay. Aware that but few hours of daylight remained, Craven deemed it a + foolhardy decision, but Omar was deeply stirred at the nearness of the man + who had wronged him—for Selim had managed to extract that + information from one of his opponents before killing him—and the + tribesmen were eager for immediate action. The horses, too, were fresh + enough, thanks to the mid-day rest. The troop moved on again, a guard of + fifty picked men slightly in advance of the main body. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the hills they drew rein to reform for the defile only + admitted of three horses walking abreast, and as Craven waited for his own + turn to come to enter the narrow pass he looked curiously at the bare rock + face that rose almost perpendicularly out of the sand and towered starkly + above him. But he had no time for a lengthy inspection, and in a few + minutes, with Omar and Saïd on either hand, he guided his horse round the + jutting spur of rock that masked the opening and rode into the sombre + shade of the defile. The change was startling, and he shivered with the + sudden chill that seemed so much cooler by contrast with the heat of the + plain. Hemmed in by sheer sinister looking cliffs, which were broken at + intervals by lateral ravines, the tortuous track led over rough slippery + ground sprinkled with huge boulders that made any pace beyond a walk + impossible. The horses stumbled continually and the necessity of keeping a + sharp look-out for each succeeding obstacle drove from Craven's mind + everything but the matter in hand. He forgot to wonder how near or how far + from the other side of the hills lay the opposing force, or whether they + would have time to reform before being attacked or be picked off by + waiting marksmen as they emerged from the pass without any possibility of + putting up a fight. For himself it didn't after all very much matter one + way or the other, but it would be hard luck, he reflected, if Omar did not + get a chance at the renegade and Saïd was shot before the encounter he was + aching for—and broke off to swear at his horse, which had stumbled + badly for the sixth time. + </p> + <p> + Omar was riding a pace or two in advance, bending forward in the saddle + and occasionally swaying as if from weakness, his burning eyes filled with + an almost mystical light as if he saw some vision that, hidden from the + others, was revealed to him alone. The dark stain on his robe had spread + beyond concealment and he had not spoken since they entered the defile. To + Craven, who had never before traversed it, the pass was baffling. He did + not know its extent and he had no idea of the depth of the hills. But soon + a growing excitement on the part of Saïd made him aware that the exit must + be near and the continued silence argued that the vanguard had got through + unmolested. He slipped the button of his holster and freed his revolver + from the silk handkerchief in which Yoshio had wrapped it. + </p> + <p> + A sharp turn to the right revealed the scene of the ambuscade, where in + one of the lateral openings Selim and his companion had been trapped. The + bodies of men and horses had been pulled clear of the track by the advance + guard as they went by a few minutes earlier. The old sheik's horse showed + the utmost repugnance to the grim pile of corpses, snorting and rearing + dangerously, and Craven wrestled with him for some moments before he + bounded suddenly past them with a clatter of hoofs that sent the loose + stones flying in all directions. + </p> + <p> + Another turn to the right, an equally sharp bend to the left, where the + track widened considerably, and they debouched abruptly into open desert. + </p> + <p> + The vanguard was drawn up in order and their leader spurred to Omar's side + in eager haste to communicate what was patent to the eyes of all. A little + ripple of excitement went through Craven as he saw the dense body of + horsemen, still about two miles away, who were galloping steadily towards + them. It had come then. With a curious smile he bent forward and patted + the neck of his fretting horse, which was fidgeting badly. The opposing + force appeared to outnumber them considerably, but he knew from Saïd that + Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's men were better equipped and better trained. It + would be skill against brute force, though it yet remained to be seen how + far Omar's men would respond to their training when put to the test. Would + they be able to control their own headstrong inclinations or would their + zeal carry them away in defiance of carefully rehearsed orders? + </p> + <p> + Word of the near presence of the enemy had been sent back to those who + were still moving up the pass, and so far discipline was holding good. The + men were pouring out from the yawning mouth of the file in a steady + stream, the horses crowded together as closely as possible, and as each + detachment arrived it reformed smartly under its own headman. + </p> + <p> + Watching the rapid approach of the hostile tribe, Craven wondered whether + there would be time for their own force to reassemble to enable them to + carry out the agreed tactics. + </p> + <p> + Already they were within half a mile. He had reined back to speak to Omar, + when a shout of exultation from Saïd, taken up by his followers till the + rocks above them echoed with the ringing cry, heralded the arrival of the + last party. There was no time to recapitulate orders or to urge steadiness + among the men. With almost no sign from Omar, or so it seemed to Craven, + with another deafening shout that drowned the yelling of the enemy the + whole force leaped forward simultaneously. Craven's teeth clenched on his + lip in sudden fear for Omar's plan of attack, but a quick glance assured + him that the madly galloping horses were being kept in good formation, and + that fast as was the pace the right and left wing were, according to + instructions, steadily opening out and drawing forward in an extended + line. The feeling of excitement had left him, and, revolver in hand, he + sat down firmer in the saddle with no more emotion than if he were in the + hunting field at home. + </p> + <p> + They were now close enough to distinguish faces—it would be an + almighty crash when it did come! It was surprising that up till now there + had been no shooting. Accustomed to the Arabs' usually reckless + expenditure of ammunition he had been prepared minutes ago for a hail of + bullets. And with the thought came a solitary whining scream past his ear, + and Saïd, close on his left, flung him a look of reproach and shouted + something of which he only caught the words, “Frenchman ... burnous.” + </p> + <p> + But there was no time left to reply. Following rapidly on the single shot + a volley was poured in among them, but the shooting was inaccurate and did + very little damage. That it had been intended to break the charge and + cause confusion in the orderly ranks was apparent from the further + repeated volleys that, nearer, did more deadly execution than the first + one. But, bending low in their saddles, Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's men swept on + in obedience to Omar's command. His purpose was, by the sheer strength of + his onset, to cut through the opposing force with his centre while the + wings closed in on either side. To effect this he had bidden his men ride + as they had never ridden before and reserve their fire till the last + moment, when it would be most effectual. And the swift silent onslaught + seemed to be other than the enemy had expected, for there were among them + signs of hesitation, their advance was checked, and the firing became + wilder and more erratic. Omar and his immediate companions appeared to + bear charmed lives, bullets sang past them, over and around them, and + though here and there a man fell from the saddle or a horse dropped + suddenly, the main body raced on unscathed, or with wounds they did not + heed in the frenzy of the moment. + </p> + <p> + The pace was terrific, and when at last Omar gave the signal for which his + men were waiting, the crackling reverberation of their rifles had not died + away when the impact came. But the shattering crash that Craven had + expected did not occur. Giving way before them and scattering to right and + left a break came in the ranks of the opposing force, through which they + drove like a living wedge. Then with fierce yells of execration the enemy + rallied and the next moment Craven found himself in the midst of a + confused mêlée where friends and foes were almost indistinguishable. The + thundering of horses' hoofs, the raucous shouting of the Arabs, the rattle + of musketry, combined in deafening uproar. The air was dense with clouds + of sand and smoke, heavy with the reek of powder. He had lost sight of + Omar, he tried to keep near to Saïd, but in the throng of struggling men + he was carried away, cut off from his own party, hemmed in on every side, + fighting alone. He had forgotten his desire for death, his heart was + leaping with a kind of delirious happiness that found nothing but fierce + enjoyment in the scene around him. The stench in his nostrils of blood and + sulphur seemed to awaken memories of another existence when he had fought + for his life as he was doing now, unafraid, and caring little for the + outcome. He was shooting steadily, exulting in his markmanship with no + thought in his mind but the passionate wish to kill and kill, and he + laughed with almost horrible pleasure as he emptied his revolver at the + raving Arabs who surrounded him. Drunk with the blood lust of an + unremembered past for the moment he was only a savage like them. And to + the superstitious desert men he seemed possessed, and with sudden awe they + had begun to draw away from him when a further party galloped up to + reinforce them. Craven swung his horse to meet the new-comers and at the + same moment realised that he had no cartridges left. With another reckless + laugh he dashed his empty revolver in the face of the nearest Arab and, + wheeling, spurred forward in an attempt to break through the circle round + him. But he found retreat cut off. Three men bore down upon him + simultaneously with levelled rifles. He saw them fire, felt a sharp + searing as of a red hot wire through his side, and, reeling in the saddle, + heard dimly their howl of triumph as they raced toward him—heard + also another yell that rose above the Arabs' clamour, a piercing yell that + sounded strangely different to the Arabic intonation ringing in his ears. + And as he gripped himself and raised his head he had a vision of another + horseman mounted on a frenzied trampling roan that, apparently out of + control and mad with excitement, was charging down upon them, a horseman + whose fluttering close-drawn headgear shaded features that were curiously + Mongolian—and then he went down in a welter of men and horses. A + flying hoof touched the back of his head and consciousness ceased. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Craven woke to a burning pain in his side, a racking headache and an + intolerable thirst. It was not a sudden waking but a gradual dawning + consciousness in which time and place as yet meant nothing, and only + bodily suffering obtruded on a still partially clouded mind. Fragmentary + waves of thought, disconnected and transitory, passed through his brain, + leaving no permanent impression, and he made no effort to unravel them. + Effort of any kind, mental or physical, seemed for the moment beyond him. + He was too tired even to open his eyes, and lay with them closed, + wondering feebly at the pain and discomfort of his whole body. He had the + sensation of having been battered, he felt bruised from head to foot. + Suffering was new to him. He had never been ill in his life, and in all + his years of travel and hazardous adventure he had sustained only trivial + injuries which had healed readily and been regarded as merely part of the + day's work. + </p> + <p> + But now, as his mind grew clearer, he realised that some accident must + have occurred to induce this pain and lassitude that made him lie like a + log with throbbing head and powerless limbs. He pondered it, trying to + pierce the fog that dulled his intellect. He had a subconscious impression + of some strenuous adventure through which he had passed, but knowledge + still hovered on the borderland of fancy and actuality. He had no + recollection of the fight or of events preceding it. That he was Barry + Craven he knew; but of where he had no idea—nor what his life had + been. Of his personality there remained only his name, he was quite sure + about that. And out of the past emerged only one clear memory—a + woman's face. And yet as he dwelt on it the image of another woman's face + rose beside it, mingling with and absorbing it until the two faces seemed + strangely merged the one into the other, alike and yet wholly different. + And the effort to disentangle them and keep them separate was greater than + his tired brain could achieve, and made his head ache more violently. + Confused, and with a sudden feeling of aversion, he stirred impatiently, + and the sharp pain that shot through him brought him abruptly to a sense + of his physical state and forced utterance of his greatest need. It had + not hitherto occurred to him to wonder whether he were alone, or even + where he was. But as he spoke an arm was slipped under him raising him + slightly and a cup held to his lips. He drank eagerly and, as he was again + lowered gently to the pillow, raised his eyes to the face of the man who + bent over him, a puckered yellow face whose imperturbability for once had + given place to patent anxiety. Craven stared at it for a few moments in + perplexity. Where had he seen it before? Struggling to recall what had + happened prior to this curiously obscured awakening there dawned a dim + recollection of shattering noise and tumult, of blood and death and fierce + unbridled human passion, of a horde of wild-eyed dark-skinned men who + surged and struggled round him—and of a yelling Arab on a fiery + roan. Memory came in a flash. He gave a weak little croaking laugh. “You + damned insubordinate little devil,” he murmured, and drifted once more + into unconsciousness. When he woke again it was with complete remembrance + of everything that had passed. He felt ridiculously weak, but his head did + not ache so badly and his mind was perfectly clear. Only of the time that + had elapsed between the moment when he had gone down under the Arabs' + charge and his awakening a little while ago he had no recollection. How + long had he been unconscious? He found himself mildly puzzled, but without + any great interest as yet. Plenty of time to find out about that and what + had befallen Omar and Saïd. It was not that he did not care, but that, for + the moment, he was too tired and listless to do more than lie still and + endure his own discomfort. His side throbbed painfully and there was + something curious about his left arm, a dead feeling of numbness that made + him wonder whether it was there at all. He glanced down at it with sudden + apprehension—he had no fancy for a maimed existence—and was + relieved to find it still in place but bent stiffly across his chest + wrapped in a multitude of bandages—broken, presumably. His eyes + wandered with growing interest round the little tent where he lay. It was + his own, from which he inferred that the fight must have gone in favour of + Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's forces or he would never have been brought back here + to it. He glanced from one familiar object to another with a drowsy + feeling of contentment. + </p> + <p> + Presently he became aware that somebody had entered and turning his head + he found Yoshio beside him eyeing him with a look in which solicitude, + satisfaction, and a faint diffidence struggled for supremacy. Craven + guessed the reason of his embarrassment, but he had no mind to refer to an + order given, and disobeyed through overzealousness. That, too, could wait—or + be forgotten. He contented himself with a single question. “How long?” he + asked laconically. With equal brevity the Jap replied: “Two days,” and + postponed further inquiries by slipping a clinical thermometer into his + master's mouth. He had always been useful in attending on minor camp + accidents, and during the last two years in Central Africa he had picked + up a certain amount of rough surgical knowledge which now stood him in + good stead, and which he proceeded to put into practice with a gravity of + demeanour that made Craven, in his weakened state, want to giggle + hysterically. But he suppressed the inclination and held on to the + thermometer until Yoshio solemnly removed it, studied it intently, and + nodded approval. With the exact attention to detail that was his ruling + passion he carefully rinsed the tiny glass instrument and returned it to + its case before leaving the tent. He was back again in a few minutes with + a bowl of steaming soup, and handling Craven as if he were a child, fed + him with the gentleness of a woman. Then he busied himself about the room, + tidying it and reducing its confusion to order. + </p> + <p> + Craven watched him at first idly and then with a more definite desire to + know what had occurred. But to the questions he put Yoshio returned + evasive answers, and, resuming his professional manner, spoke gravely of + the loss of blood Craven had sustained, of the kick on the head from which + he had lain two days insensible, and his consequent need of rest and + sleep, finally departing as if to remove temptation from him. Craven + chafed at the little Jap's caution and swore at his obstinacy, but a + pleasant drowsiness was stealing over him and he surrendered to it without + further struggle. + </p> + <p> + It was more than twelve hours before he opened his eyes again, to find the + morning sunlight streaming into the tent. + </p> + <p> + Yoshio hovered about him, deft-handed and noiseless of tread, feeding him + and redressing the wounds in his side where the bullet had entered and + passed out. After which he relaxed the faintly superior tone he had + adopted and condescended to consult with his patient as to which of the + scanty drugs in the tiny medicine chest would be the best to administer. + He was disappointed but acquiescent in Craven's decision to trust to his + own hardy constitution as long as the wounds appeared healthy and leave + nature to do her own work. And again recommending sleep he glided away. + </p> + <p> + But Craven had no desire or even inclination to sleep. He was tremendously + wide awake, his whole being in revolt, facing once more the problem he had + thought done with for ever. Again fate had intervened to thwart his + determination. For the third time death, for which he longed, had been + withheld, and life that was so bitter, so valueless, restored. To what + end? Why had the peace he craved for been torn from him—why had he + been forced to begin again an existence of hideous struggle? Had he not + repented, suffered as few men suffer, and striven to atone? What more was + required of him, he wondered bitterly. A galling sense of impotence swept + him and he raged at his own nothingness. Self-determination seemed to have + been taken from him and with fierce resentment he saw himself as merely a + pawn in the game of life; a puppet to fulfil, not his own will, but the + will of a greater power than his. In the black despair that came over him + he cursed that greater power until, shuddering, he realised his own + blasphemy, and a broken prayer burst from his lips. He had come to the end + of all things, he was fighting through abysmal darkness. His need was + overwhelming—alone he could not go forward, and desperately, he + turned to the Divine Mercy and prayed for strength and guidance. + </p> + <p> + Too weary in spirit to mark the slow passing of the hours he fought his + last fight. And gradually he grew calmer, calm enough to accept—if + not to understand—the inscrutable rulings of Providence. He had + arrogated to himself the disposal of his life, but it was made clear to + him that a higher wisdom had decreed otherwise. He did not attempt to seek + the purpose of his preservation, enough that for some unfathomable reason + it was once more plainly indicated that there was to be no shirking. He + had to live, and to do what was possible with the life left him. Gillian! + the thought of her was torment. He had tried to free her, and she was + still bound. It would be part of his punishment that, suffering, he would + have to watch her suffer too. With a groan he flung his uninjured arm + across his eyes and lay very still. The day wore on. He roused himself to + take the food that Yoshio brought at regular intervals but feigned a + drowsiness he did not feel to secure the solitude his mood demanded. And + Yoshio, enjoying to the full his state of temporary authority, sat outside + the door of the tent and kept away inquirers. Listlessly Craven watched + the evening shadows deepen and darken. For hours he had thought, not of + himself but of the woman he loved, until his bruised head ached + intolerably. And all his deliberation had taken him no further than where + he had begun. He was to take up anew the difficult life he had fled from—for + that was what it amounted to. He had deserted her who had in all the world + no one but him. It had an ugly sound and he flinched from the naked truth + of it, but he had done with subterfuges and evasions. He had made her his + wife and he had left her—nothing could alter the fact or mitigate + the shame. Past experience had taught him nothing; once again he had left + a woman in her need to fend for herself. She was his wife, his to shield + and to protect, doubly so in her equivocal position that subjected her to + much that would not affect one happily married. During the few months they + had lived at Craven Towers after their marriage she had shown by every + means in her power her desire to be to him the comrade he had asked her to + be. And he had repelled her. He had feared himself and the strength of his + resolution. Now, as he thought of it with bitter self-reproach, he + realised how much more he could have done to make her life easier, to + smooth the difficulties of their relationship. Instead he had added to + them, and under the strain he had broken down, not she. The egoism he had + thought conquered had triumphed over him again to his undoing. Crushing + shame filled him, but regrets were useless. The past was past—what + of the future? He was going back to her. He was to have the torturing + happiness of seeing her again—but what would his re-entry into her + life mean to her? What had these two years of which he knew nothing done + for her? There had been an accumulated mail waiting for him at Lagos. She + had written regularly—but she had told him nothing. Her short + letters had been filled with inquiries for the mission, references to + Peters' occasional visits to Paris, trivialities of the weather—stilted + laborious communications in which he read effort and constraint. How would + she receive him—would she even receive him at all? It seemed + incredible that she should. He knew her innate gentleness, the + selflessness of her disposition, but he knew also that there was a limit + to all things. Would she not see in his return the reappearance of a + master, a jailer who would curb even that small measure of freedom that + had been hers? For bound to him the freedom he had promised her was a + mockery. And how was he to explain his prolonged absence? She could not + have failed to see some mention of the return of the medical mission, to + have wondered why he still lingered in Africa. The letter he had written + and entrusted to Yoshio could never now be delivered. She must not learn + what he had meant her to know only after his death. He could not explain, + he must leave her to put whatever interpretation she would upon it. And + what but the most obvious could she put? He writhed in sudden agony of + mind, and the physical pain the abrupt movement caused was easier to bear + than the thought of her scorn. It was all so hopeless, so complicated. He + turned from it with a weary sigh and fell to dreaming of the woman + herself. + </p> + <p> + The tent had grown quite dark. Outside the camp noises were dying away. + The sound of subdued voices reached him occasionally, and once or twice he + heard Yoshio speak to some passer by. + </p> + <p> + Then, not far away, the mournful chant of a singer rose clearly out of the + evening stillness, penetrating and yet curiously soft—a plaintive + little desert air of haunting melancholy, vibrant with passion. It stopped + abruptly as it had begun and Craven was glad when it ended. It chimed too + intimately with his own sad thoughts and longings. He was relieved when + Yoshio came presently to light the lamp and attend to his wants. The Jap + chatted with unusual animation as he went about his duties and Craven let + him talk uninterrupted. The functions of nurse and valet were quickly + carried through and in a short time preparations for the night were + finished and Yoshio, wrapped in a blanket, asleep at the foot of Craven's + bed. He had scarcely closed his eyes since the day before the punitive + force set out, but tonight, conscious that his vigilance might be relaxed, + he slept heavily. + </p> + <p> + Craven himself could not sleep. He lay listening to his servant's even + breathing, looking at the tiny flame of the little lamp, which was small + enough not to add to the heat of the tent and too weak to illuminate it + more than partially, thinking deeply. He strove to stem the current of his + thoughts, to keep his mind a blank, or to concentrate on trivialities—he + followed with exaggerated interest the swift erratic course of a bat that + had flown in through the open door flap, counted the familiar objects + around him showing dimly in the flickering light, counted innumerable + sheep passing through the traditional gate, counted the seconds + represented in the periodical silences that punctuated a cicada's + monotonous shrilling. But always he found himself harking back to the + problem of the future that he could not banish from his mind. His mental + distress reacted on his body. He grew restless, but every movement was + still attended by pain and he compelled himself to lie still, though his + limbs twitched almost uncontrollably. He was infinitely weary of the + forced posture that was not habitual with him, infinitely weary of + himself. + </p> + <p> + The moon rose late, but when it came its clear white light filled the tent + with a cold brilliance that killed the feeble efforts of the little lamp + and intensified the shadows where its rays did not penetrate. Craven + looked at the silvery beam streaming across the room, and quite suddenly + he thought of the moonlight in Japan—the moonlight filtering through + the tall dark fir trees in the garden of enchantment; he heard the night + wind sighing softly round the tiny screen-built house; the air became + heavy with the cloying smell of pines and languorous scented flowers, + redolent with the well-remembered dreaded fragrance of the perfume she had + used. Bathed in perspiration, shuddering with terrible prescience, he + stared wild-eyed at the moonlit strip where a nebulous form was rising and + gathering into definite shape. An icy chill ran through him. Suffocated + with the rapid pounding of his heart, sick with horror at the impending + vision he knew to be inevitable, he watched the shadowy figure slowly + substantiate into the semblance of a living, breathing body. Not + intangible as she had always appeared before, but material as she had been + in life, she stood erect in the brilliant pathway of light, facing him. He + could see the outline of her slender limbs, solid against the shimmering + background; he could mark the rise and fall of the bosom on which her + delicate hands lay clasped; he recognised the very obi that she wore—his + last gift, sent from Tokio during his three weeks' absence. The little + oval face was placid and serene, but he waited, with fearful apprehension, + for the fast closed eyes to open and reveal the agony he knew that he + would see in them. He prayed that they might open soon, that his torture + might be brief, but the terrible reality of her presence seemed to + paralyse him. He could not turn his eyes away, could not move a muscle of + his throbbing, shivering body. She seemed to sway, gently, almost + imperceptibly, from side to side—as though she waited for some sign + or impellent force to guide her. Then with horrible dread he became aware + that she was coming slowly, glidingly, toward him and the spell that had + kept him motionless broke and he shrank back among the pillows, his sound + hand clenched upon the covering over him, his parched lips moving in dumb + supplication. Nearer she came and nearer till at last she stood beside him + and he wondered, in the freezing coldness that settled round his heart, + did her coming presage death—had her soul been sent to claim his + that had brought upon her such fearful destruction? A muffled cry that was + scarcely human broke from him, his eyes dilated and the clammy sweat + poured down his face as she bent toward him and he saw the dusky lashes + tremble on her dead white cheek and knew that in a second the anguished + eyes would open to him in all their accusing awfulness. The bed shook with + the spasm that passed through him. Slowly the heavy lids were raised and + Craven looked once more into the misty depths of the great grey eyes that + were the facsimile of his own. Then a tearing sob of wonderful and almost + unbelievable relief escaped him, for the agony he dreaded was not visible—the + face so close to his was the face of the happy girl who had loved him + before the knowledge of despair had touched her, the tender luminous eyes + fixed on him were alight with trust and adoration. Lower and lower she + bent and he saw the parted lips curve in a smile of exquisite welcome—or + was it fare-well? For as he waited, scarcely breathing and tense with a + new wild hope, the definite outline of her figure seemed to fade and + tremble; a cold breath like the impress of a ghostly kiss lay for an + instant on his forehead, he seemed to hear the faint thin echo of a + whispered word—and she was gone. Had she ever been at all? + Exhausted, he had no strength to probe what had passed, he was only + conscious of a firm conviction that he would never see again the dreaded + vision that had haunted him. His rigid limbs relaxed, and with a gasping + prayer of unutterable thankfulness he turned his face to the darkness and + broke down completely, crying like a child, burying his head in the pillow + lest Yoshio should be awakened by the sound of his terrible sobs. And, + presently, worn out, he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly mid-day when he woke again, in less pain and feeling + stronger than the day before. + </p> + <p> + The vision of the previous night was vivid in his recollection, but he + would not let himself ponder it. It was to him a message from the dead, an + almost sacred sign that the spirit of the woman he had wronged was at rest + and had vouchsafed the forgiveness for which he had never hoped. He would + rather have it so. He shrank from brutally dissecting impressions that + might after all be only the result of remorse working on a fevered + imagination. The peace that had come to him was too precious to be lightly + let go. She had forgiven him though he could never forgive himself. + </p> + <p> + But despite the tranquillizing sense of pardon he felt he knew that the + penalty of his fault was not yet paid, that it would never be paid. The + tragic memory of little O Kara San still rose between him and happiness. + He was still bound, still trapped in the pit he had himself dug. He was + unclean, unfit, debarred by his sin from following the dictates of his + heart. A deep sadness and an overwhelming sense of loss filled him as he + thought of the woman he had married. She was his wife, he loved her + passionately, longed for her with all the strength of his ardent nature, + but, sin-stained, he dared not claim her. In her spotless purity she was + beyond his desire. And because of him she must go through life robbed of + her woman's heritage. In marrying her he had wronged her irreparably. He + had always known it, but at the time there had seemed no other course open + to him. Yet surely there must have been some alternative if he had set + himself seriously to find it. But had he? Doggedly he argued that he had—that + personal consideration had not swayed him in his decision. But even as he + persisted in his assertion accusing conscience rose up and stripped from + him the last shred of personal deception that had blinded him, and he + acknowledged to himself that he had married her that she might not become + the wife of any other man. He had been the meanest kind of dog in the + manger. At the time he had not realised it—he had thought himself + influenced solely by her need, not his. But his selfishness seemed very + patent to him now. And what was to be the end of it? How was he ever to + compensate for the wrong done her? + </p> + <p> + Yoshio's entry put a stop to introspection that was both bitter and + painful. And when he left him an hour later Craven was in no mood to + resume speculation that was futile and led nowhere. He had touched bedrock—he + could not think worse of himself than he did. The less he thought of + himself the better. His immediate business seemed to be to get well as + quickly as possible and return to England—beyond that he could not + see. The sound of Saïd's voice outside was a welcome relief. He appeared + to be arguing with Yoshio, who was obstinately refusing him entrance. + Craven cut short the discussion. + </p> + <p> + “Let the Sheik come in, Yoshio!” he called, and laughed at the weakness of + his own voice. But it was strong enough to carry as far as the tent door, + and, with a flutter of draperies, the Arab Chief strode in. He grasped + Craven's outstretched hand and stood looking down on him for a moment with + a broad smile on his handsome face. “<i>Enfin, mon brave</i>, I thought I + should never see you! Always you were asleep, or so it was reported to + me,” he said with a laugh, dropping to his heels on the mat and lighting a + cigarette. Then he gave a quick searching glance at the bandaged figure on + the bed and laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be dead, you know, would have been dead if it hadn't been + for that man of yours,” with a backward jerk of his head toward the door. + “You owe him your life, my friend. You know he came with us that night, + borrowed a horse and the burnous you wouldn't wear, and kept out of sight + till the last minute. He was close behind you when we charged, lost you in + the mêlée, and found you again just in the nick of time. I was cut off + from you myself for the moment, but I saw you wounded, saw him break a way + through to you and then saw you both go down. I thought you were done for. + It was just then the tide turned in our favour and I managed to reach you, + with no hope of finding you alive. I was never more astonished in my life + than when I saw that little devil of a Japanese crawl out from under a + heap of men and horses dragging you after him. He was bruised and dazed, + he didn't know friend from foe, bu he had enough sense left to know that + you were alive and he meant to keep you so. He laid you out on the sand + and he sat on you—you can laugh, but it's true—and blazed away + with his revolver at everybody who came near, howling his national war cry + till I wept with laughter. And after it was all over he snarled like a + panther when I tried to touch you, and, refusing any assistance, carried + you back here on the saddle in front of him—and you were no light + weight. A man, by <i>Allah</i>!” he concluded enthusiastically. Craven + smiled at the Arab's graphic description, but he found it in his heart to + wish that Yoshio's zeal had not been so forward and so successful. But + there were other lives than his that had been involved. + </p> + <p> + “Omar?” he asked anxiously. The laughter died abruptly from Saïd's eyes + and his face grew grave. + </p> + <p> + “Dead,” he said briefly; “he did not try to live. Life held nothing for + him without Safiya,” he added, with an expressive shrug that was eloquent + of his inability to understand such an attitude. + </p> + <p> + “And she—?” + </p> + <p> + “Killed herself the night she was taken. Her abductor got no pleasure of + her and Omar's honour was unsmirched—though he never knew it, poor + devil. He killed his man,” added Saïd, with a smile of grim satisfaction. + “It made no difference, he was renegade, a traitor, ripe for death. The + Chief fell to my lot. It was from him I learned about Safiya—he + talked before he died.” The short hard laugh that followed the meaning + words was pure Arab. He lit another cigarette and for some time sat + smoking silently, while Craven lay looking into space trying not to envy + the dead man who had found the rest that he himself had been denied. + </p> + <p> + To curb the trend of his thoughts he turned again to Saïd. Animation had + vanished from the Arab's face, and he was staring gloomily at the strip of + carpet on which he squatted. His dejected bearing did not betoken the + conqueror he undoubtedly was. That his brother's death was a deep grief to + him Craven knew without telling, but he guessed that something more than + regret for Omar was at the bottom of his depression. + </p> + <p> + “It was decisive, I suppose,” he said, rather vaguely, thinking of the + action of four days ago. Saïd nodded. “It was a rout,” he said with a hint + of contempt in his voice. “Dogs who could plunder and kill when no + resistance was offered, but when it came to a fight they had no stomach + for it. Yet they were men once, and, like fools, we thought they were men + still. They had talked enough, bragged enough, by <i>Allah</i>! and it is + true there were a few who rallied round their Chief. But the rank and file—bah!” + He spat his cigarette on to the floor with an air of scorn. “It promised + well enough at first,” he grumbled. “I thought we were going to have an + opportunity of seeing what stuff my men were made of. But they had no + organisation. After the first half hour we did what we liked with them. It + was a walk over,” he added in English, about the only words he knew. + </p> + <p> + Craven laughed at his disgusted tone. + </p> + <p> + “And you, who were spoiling for a fight! No luck, Sheik.” + </p> + <p> + Saïd looked up with a grin, but it passed quickly, leaving his face + melancholy as before. Craven made a guess at the trouble. + </p> + <p> + “It will make a difference to you—Omar's death, I mean,” he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + Saïd gave a little harsh laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Difference!” he echoed bitterly. “It is the end of everything,” and he + made a violent gesture with his hands. “I must give up my regiment,” he + went on drearily, “my comrades, my racing stable in France—all I + care for and that makes life pleasant to me. For what? To rule a tribe who + have become too powerful to have enemies; to listen to interminable tales + of theft and disputed inheritances and administer justice to people who + swear by the Koran and then lie in your face; to marry a wife and beget + sons that the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah may not die out. <i>Grand Dieu</i>, + what a life!” The tragic misery of his voice left no doubt as to his + sincerity. And Craven, who knew him, was not inclined to doubt. The + expedient that had been adopted in Saïd's case was justifiable while he + remained a younger son with no immediate prospect of succeeding to the + leadership of the tribe—there had always been the hope that Omar's + wife would eventually provide an heir—but as events had turned out + it had been a mistake, totally unfitting him for the part he was now + called upon to play. His innate European tendencies, inexplicable both to + himself and to his family, had been developed and strengthened by + association with the French officers among whom he had been thrown, and + who had welcomed him primarily as the representative of a powerful desert + tribe and then, very shortly afterwards, for himself. His personal charm + had won their affections and he had very easily become the most popular + native officer in the regiment. Courted and feted, shown off, and extolled + for his liberality of mind and purse, his own good sense had alone + prevented him from becoming completely spoiled. To the impecunious + Frenchmen his wealth was a distinct asset in his favour, for racing was + the ruling passion in the regiment, and the fine horses he was able to + provide insured to them the preservation of the inter-regimental trophy + that had for some years past graced their mess table. He had thrown + himself into the life whole-heartedly, becoming more and more influenced + by western thought and culture, but without losing his own individuality. + He had assimilated the best of civilization without acquiring its vices. + But the experience was not likely to conduce to his future happiness. + Craven thought of the life led by the Spahi in Algiers, and during periods + of leave in Paris, and contrasted it with the life that was lying before + him, a changed and very different existence. He foresaw the difficulties + that would have to be met, the problems that would arise, and above all he + understood Saïd's chief objection—the marriage from which his + misogynous soul recoiled. Like himself the Arab was facing a crisis that + was momentous. Two widely different cases but analogous nevertheless. + While he was working out his salvation in England Saïd would be doing the + same in his desert fastness. The thought strengthened his friendship for + the despondent young Arab. He would have given much to be able to help him + but his natural reserve kept him silent. He had made a sufficient failure + of his own life. He did not feel himself competent to offer advice to + another. + </p> + <p> + “It's a funny world,” he said with a half sigh, “though I suppose it isn't + the world that's at fault but the people who live in it,” and in his + abstraction he spoke in his own language. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Plait-il?</i>” Saïd's puzzled face recalled him to himself and he + translated, adding: “It's rotten luck for you, Sheik, but it's kismet. All + things are ordained,” he concluded almost shyly, feeling himself the worst + kind of Job's comforter. The Arab shrugged. “To those who believe,” he + repeated gloomily, “and I, my friend, have no beliefs. What would you? All + my life I have doubted, I have never been an orthodox Mohammedan—though + I have had to keep my ideas to myself <i>bien entendu</i>! And the last + few years I have lived among men who have no faith, no god, no thought + beyond the world and its pleasures. Islam is nothing to me. 'The will of + <i>Allah</i>—the peace of <i>Allah</i>,' what are they but words, + empty meaningless words! What peace did <i>Allah</i> give to Omar, who was + a strict believer? What peace has <i>Allah</i> given to my father, who + sits all day in his tent mourning for his first-born? I swear myself by <i>Allah</i> + and by the Prophet, but it is from custom, not from any feeling I attach + to the terms. I have read a French translation of a life of Mohammed + written by an American. I was not impressed. It did not tend to make me + look with any more favour on his doctrine. I have my own religion—I + do not lie, I do not steal, I do not break my word. Does the devout + follower of the Prophet invariably do as much? You know, and I know, that + he does not. Wherein then is he a better man than I? And if there be a + future life, which I am quite open to admit, I am inclined to think that + my qualifications will be as good as any true son of the faith,” he + laughed unmirthfully, and swung to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “There are—other religions,” said Craven awkwardly. He had no desire + to proselytise and avoided religious discussions as much as possible, but + Saïd's confidence had touched him. He was aware that to no one else would + the Arab have spoken so frankly. But Saïd shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I will keep my own religion. It will serve,” he said shortly. Then he + shrugged again as if throwing aside the troubles that perplexed him and + looked down on Craven with a quick laugh. “And you, my poor friend, who + had so much better have taken the burnous I offered you, you will stay and + watch the metamorphosis of the Spahi, <i>hein</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could,” said Craven with an answering smile, “but I have my own + work waiting for me in England. I'll have to go as soon as I'm + sufficiently patched up.” + </p> + <p> + Saïd nodded gravely. He was perfectly well aware of the fact that Craven + had deliberately sought death when he had ridden with the tribe against + their enemies. That a change had come over him since the night of the raid + was plainly visible even to one less astute than the sharp-eyed Arab, and + his expressed intention of returning to England confirmed the fact. What + had caused the change did not seem to matter, enough that, to Saïd, it + marked a return to sanity. For it had been a fit of madness, of course—in + no other light could he regard it. But since it had passed and his English + friend was once more in full possession of his senses he could only + acquiesce in a decision that personally he regretted. He would like to + have kept him with him indefinitely. Craven stood for the past, he was a + link with the life the Francophile Arab was reluctantly surrendering. But + it was not the moment to argue. Craven looked suddenly exhausted, and + Yoshio who had stolen in noiselessly, was standing at the head of the bed + beyond the range of his master's eyes making urgent signals to the visitor + to go. + </p> + <p> + With a jest and a cheery word Saïd obediently removed his picturesque + person. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + It was nearly four months before Craven left the camp of Mukair Ibn + Zarrarah. His injuries had healed quickly and he had rapidly regained his + former strength. He was anxious to return to England without delay, but he + had yielded to Saïd's pressing entreaties to wait until they could ride to + Algiers together. There had been much for the young Sheik to do. He was + already virtual leader of the tribe. Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, elderly when his + sons had been born, had aged with startling suddenness since the death of + Omar. He had all at once become an old man, unable to rally from the shock + of his bereavement, bewailing the fate of his elder and favourite son, and + trembling for the future of his beloved tribe left to the tender mercies + of a man he now recognised to be more Frenchman than Arab. He exaggerated + every Francophile tendency he saw in Saïd and cursed the French as + heartily as ever Omar had done, forgetting that he himself was largely + responsible for the inclinations he objected to. And his terrors were + mainly imaginary. A few innovations Saïd certainly instituted but he was + too astute to make any material changes in the management of his people. + They were loyal and attached to the ruling house and he was clever enough + to leave well alone; broad-minded enough to know that he could not run a + large and scattered tribe on the same plan as a regiment of Spahis; + philosophical enough to realise that he had turned down a page in his + life's history and must be content to follow, more or less, in the + footsteps of his forebears. The fighting men were with him solidly, even + those who had been inclined to object to his European tactics had, in view + of his brilliant generalship, been obliged to concede him the honour that + was his due. For his victory had not been altogether the walkover he had + airily described to Craven. The older men—the headmen in particular—more + prejudiced still, who, like Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had centred all their + hopes on Omar, were beginning to comprehend that their fears of Saïd's + rule were unfounded and that his long sojourn among the hated dominant + race had neither impaired his courage nor fostered practices abhorrent to + them. Craven watched with interest the gradual establishment of mutual + goodwill between the young Sheik and his petty Chiefs. Since his recovery + he had attended several of the councils called in consequence of the old + Sheik's retirement from active leadership of the tribe, and he had been + struck by Saïd's restrained and conciliatory attitude toward his headmen. + He had met them half-way, sinking his own inclinations and disarming their + suspicions of him. At the same time he had let it be clearly understood + that he meant to be absolute as his father had been. In spite of the + civilisation that had bitten so deeply he was still too much an Arab, too + much the son of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, to be anything but an autocrat at + heart. And his assumption of power had been favourably looked upon by the + minor Chiefs. They were used to being ruled by an iron hand and would have + despised a weak leader. They had feared the effects of foreign influence, + dreaded a régime that might have lessened the prestige of the tribe. Their + doubts set at rest they had rallied with enthusiasm round their new Chief. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had been able to get about again Craven had visited Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah in his darkened tent and been shocked at his changed + appearance. He could hardly believe that the bowed stricken figure who + barely heeded his entrance, but, absorbed in grief, continued to sway + monotonously to and fro murmuring passages from the Koran alternately with + the name of his dead son, was the vigorous alert old man he had seen only + a few weeks before dominating a frenzied crowd with the strength of his + personality and addressing them in tones that had carried to the furthest + extent of the listening multitude. Crushing sorrow and the weight of years + suddenly felt had changed him into a wreck that was fast falling to + pieces. + </p> + <p> + Saïd had followed him out into the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “You see how it is with him,” he said. “I cannot leave him now. As soon as + possible I will go to Algiers to give in my resignation and smooth matters + with the Government. We shall not be in very good odour over this affair. + We have kept the peace so long in this quarter of the country that + deliberate action on our part will take a lot of explaining. They will + admit provocation but will blame our mode of retaliation. They may blame!” + he laughed and shrugged. “I shall be called hasty, ill-advised. The + Governor will haul me over the coals unmercifully—you know him, that + fat old Faidherbe? He is always trembling for his position, seeing an + organized revolt in the petty squabbles of every little tribe, and fearful + of an outbreak that might lead to his recall. A mountain of flesh with the + heart of a chicken! He will rave and shout and talk a great deal about the + beneficent French administration and the ingratitude of Chiefs like myself + who add to the Government's difficulties. But my Colonel will back me up, + unofficially of course, and his word goes with the Governor. A very + different man, by <i>Allah</i>! It would be a good thing for this country + if he were where Faidherbe is. But he is only a soldier and no politician, + so he is likely to end his days a simple Colonel of Spahis.” + </p> + <p> + As they moved away from the tent they discussed the French methods of + administration as carried out in Algeria, and Craven learned a great deal + that astonished him and would also have considerably astonished the + Minister of the Interior sitting quietly in his office in the Place + Beauveau. Saïd had seen and heard much. His known sympathies had made him + the recipient of many confidences and even his Francophile tendencies had + not blinded him to evils that were rampant, corruption and double dealing, + bribes freely offered and accepted by highly placed officials, fortunes + amassed in crooked speculations with Government money—the faults of + individuals who had abused their official positions and exploited the + country they had been sent to administer. + </p> + <p> + As Craven listened to these frank revelations from the only honest Arab he + had ever met he wondered what effect Saïd's intimate knowledge would have + upon his life, how far it would influence him, and what were likely to be + his future relations with the masters of the country. With a Chief less + broadminded and of less innate integrity the result might easily be + disastrous. But Saïd had had larger experience than most Arab Chiefs and + his adherence to the French was due to what he had seen in France rather + than to what had been brought to his notice in Algeria. + </p> + <p> + It was early in January when they started on the long ride across the + desert. For some weeks Craven had been impatient to get away, only his + promise to Saïd kept him. + </p> + <p> + It was a large cavalcade that left the oasis, for the new Chief required a + bigger escort to support his dignity than the Captain of Spahis had done. + The days passed without incident. Despite Craven's desire to reach England + the journey was in every way enjoyable. When he had actually started his + restlessness decreased, for each successive sunrise meant a day nearer + home. And Saïd, too, had thrown off the depression and new gravity that + had come to him and talked more hopefully of the future. As they travelled + northward they reached a region of greater cultivation and in their route + passed some of the big fruit farms that were becoming more and more a + feature of the country. Spots of beauty in the wilderness, carved out of + arid desert by patience and perseverance and threatened always by the + devastating locust, though no longer subjected to the Arab raids that had + been a daily menace twenty or thirty years before. The motley gangs of + European and native workers toiling more or less diligently in the + vineyards and among the groves of fruit trees invariably collected to + watch the passing of the Sheik's troop, a welcome break in the monotony of + their existence, and once or twice Saïd accepted the hospitality of + farmers he knew. + </p> + <p> + Craven stayed only one night in Algiers. When writing home from Lagos he + had given, without expecting to make use of it, an address in Algiers to + which letters might be sent, but when he called at the office the morning + after his arrival he found that owing to the mistake of a clerk his mail + had been returned to England. The lack of news made him uneasy. He was + gripped by a sudden fear that something might have happened to Gillian, + and he wondered whether he should go first to Paris, to the flat he had + taken for her. But second thoughts decided him to adhere to his original + intention of proceeding straight to Craven—surely she must by this + time have returned to the Towers. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to do but telegraph to Peters that he was on his way + home and make arrangements for leaving Africa at the earliest opportunity. + He found there was no steamer leaving for Marseilles for nearly a week but + he was able to secure berths for himself and Yoshio on a coasting boat + crossing that night to Gibraltar, and at sunset he was on board waving + fare-well to Saïd, who had come down to the quay to see the last of him, + and was standing a distinctive figure among the rabble of loafers and + water-side loungers of all nationalities who congregated night and morning + to watch the arrival and departure of steamers. The tide was out and the + littered fore-shore was lined with fishing-boats drawn up in picturesque + confusion, and in the shallow water out among the rocks bare-legged native + women were collecting shell fish and seaweed into great baskets fastened + to their backs, while naked children splashed about them or stood with + their knuckles to their teeth to watch the thrashing paddle wheels of the + little steamer as she churned slowly away from the quay. Craven leant on + the rail of the ship, a pipe between his teeth—he had existed for + the last four months on Saïd's cigarettes—and waved a response to + the young Sheik's final salute, then watched him stalk through the + heterogeneous crowd to where two of his mounted followers were waiting for + him holding his own impatient horse. He saw him mount and the passers-by + scatter as the three riders set off with the usual Arab impetuosity, and + then a group of buildings hid him from sight. + </p> + <p> + The idlers by the waterside held no interest for Craven, he was too used + to them, too familiar with the riff-raff of foreign ports even to glance + at them. But he lingered for a moment to look up at the church of Notre + Dame d'Afrique that, set high above the harbour and standing out sharply + against the skyline, was glowing warmly in the golden rays of the setting + sun. + </p> + <p> + Then he went below to the stuffy little cabin where dinner was waiting. + </p> + <p> + The next four days he kicked his heels impatiently in Gibraltar waiting to + pick up a passage on a home bound Indian boat. When it came it was half + empty, as was to be expected at that time of year, and the gale they ran + into immediately drove the majority of the passengers into the saloons, + and Craven was able to tramp the deck in comparative solitude without + having to listen to the grumbles of shivering Anglo-Indians returning home + at an unpropitious season. In a borrowed oilskin he spent hours watching + the storm, looking at the white topped waves that piled up against the + ship and threatened to engulf her, then slid astern in a welter of spray. + The savage beauty of the sea fascinated him, and the heavy lowering clouds + that drove rapidly across a leaden sky, and the stinging whip of the wind + formed a welcome change after more than two years of pitiless African sun + and intense heat. + </p> + <p> + They passed up the Thames dead slow in a dense fog that grew thicker and + murkier as they neared the docks, but they berthed early enough to enable + Craven to catch a train that would bring him home in time for dinner. It + was better than wasting a night in London. + </p> + <p> + He had a compartment to himself and spent the time staring out of the + misty rain-spattered windows, a prey to violent anxiety and impatience. + The five-hour journey had never seemed so long. He had bought a number of + papers and periodicals but they lay unheeded on the seat beside him. He + was out of touch with current events, and had stopped at the bookstall + more from force of habit than from any real interest. He had wired to + Peters again from the docks. Would she be waiting for him at the station? + It was scarcely probable. Their meeting could not be other than + constrained, the platform of a wayside railway station was hardly a + suitable place. And why in heaven's name should she do him so much honour? + He had no right to expect it, no right to expect anything. That she should + be even civil to him was more than he deserved. Would she be changed in + any way? God, how he longed to see her! His heart beat furiously even at + the thought. With his coat collar turned up about his ears and his cap + pulled down over his eyes he shivered in a corner of the cold carriage and + dreamed of her as the hours drew out in maddening slowness. Outside it was + growing dusk and the window panes had become too steamy for him to + recognise familiar landmarks. The train seemed to crawl. There had been an + unaccountable wait at the last stopping place, and they did not appear to + be making up the lost time. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange homecoming, he thought suddenly. Stranger even than when, + rather more than six years ago, he had travelled down to Craven with his + aunt and the shy silent girl whom fate and John Locke had made his ward. + Was she also thinking of that time and wishing that a kinder future had + been reserved for her? Was she shrinking from his coming, deploring the + day he had ever crossed her path? It was unlikely that she could feel + otherwise toward him. He had done nothing to make her happy, everything to + make her unhappy. With a stifled groan he leant forward and buried his + face in his hands, loathing himself. How would she meet him? Suppose she + refused to resume the equivocal relationship that had been fraught with so + much misery, refused to surrender the greater freedom she had enjoyed + during his absence, claimed the right to live her own life apart from him. + It would be only natural for her to do so. And morally he would have no + right to refuse her. He had forfeited that. And in any case it was not a + question of his allowing or refusing anything, it was a question solely of + her happiness and her wishes. + </p> + <p> + Darkness had fallen when the train drew up with a jerk and he stepped out + on to the little platform. It was a cheerless night and the wind tore at + him as he peered through the gloom and the driving rain, wondering whether + anybody had come to meet him. Then he made out Peters' sturdy familiar + figure standing under the feeble light of a flickering lamp. Craven + hurried toward him with a smile softening his face. His life had been made + up of journeys, it seemed to him suddenly, and always at the end of them + was Peters waiting for him, Peters who stuck to the job he himself + shirked, Peters who stood loyally by an employer he must in his heart + despise, Peters whose boots he was not fit to clean. + </p> + <p> + The two men met quietly, as if weeks not years had elapsed since they had + parted on the same little platform. + </p> + <p> + “Beastly night,” grumbled the agent, though his indifference to bad + weather was notorious, “must feel it cold after the tropics. I brought a + man to help Yoshio with your kit. Wait a minute while I see that it's all + right.” He started off briskly, and with the uncomfortable embarrassment + he always felt when Peters chose to emphasise their relative positions, + Craven strode after him and grabbed him back with an iron hand. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't any need,” he said gruffly. “I wish you wouldn't always + behave as if you were a kind of upper servant, Peter. It's dam' nonsense. + Yoshio is quite capable of looking after the kit, there's very little in + any case. I left the bulk of it in Algiers, it wasn't worth bringing + along. There are only the gun cases and a couple of bags. We haven't much + more than what we stand up in.” + </p> + <p> + Peters acquiesced good-temperedly and led the way to the closed car that + was waiting at the station entrance. As the motor started Craven turned to + him eagerly, with the question that had been on his lips for the last ten + minutes. + </p> + <p> + “How is Gillian?” + </p> + <p> + Peters shot a sidelong glance at him. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't say,” he said shortly; “she didn't mention her health when she + wrote last—but then she never does.” + </p> + <p> + “When she wrote—” echoed Craven, and his voice was dull with + disappointment; “isn't she at the Towers? I missed my mail at Algiers—some + mistake of a fool of a clerk. I haven't had any home news for nearly a + year.” + </p> + <p> + “She is still in Paris,” replied Peters dryly, and to Craven his tone + sounded faintly accusing. He frowned and stared out into the darkness for + a few minutes without speaking, wondering how much Peters knew. He had + disapproved of the African expedition, stating his opinion frankly when + Craven had discussed it with him, and it was obvious that since then his + views had undergone no change. Craven understood perfectly what those + views were and in what light he must appear to him. He could not excuse + himself, could give no explanation. He doubted very much whether Peters + would understand if he did explain—his moral code was too simple, + his sense of right and wrong too fine to comprehend or to countenance + suicide. Craven also felt sure that had he been aware of the circumstances + Peters would not have hesitated to oppose his marriage. Why hadn't he told + Peters the whole beastly story when he returned from Japan? Peters had + never failed a Craven, he would not have failed him then. He stifled a + bitter sigh of useless regret and turned again to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Then I take it the Towers is shut up. Are you giving me a bed at the + Hermitage?” he asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “No. I have kept the house open so that it might be ready if at any time + your wife suddenly decided to come home. I imagined that would be your + wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course,” said Craven hurriedly, “you did quite right.” Then + he glanced about him and frowned again thoughtfully. “Isn't this the + Daimler Gillian took to France with her—surely that is Phillipe + driving?” he asked abruptly, peering through the window at the chauffeur's + back illuminated by the electric lamp in the roof of the car. + </p> + <p> + “She sent it back a few months afterwards—said she had no need for + it,” replied Peters. “I kept Phillipe on because he was a better mechanic + than the other man. There was no need for two.” + </p> + <p> + Craven refrained from comment and relapsed into silence, which was + unbroken until they reached the house. + </p> + <p> + During dinner the conversation was mainly of Africa and the scientific + success of the mission, and of local events, topics that could safely be + discussed in the hearing of Forbes and the footmen. From time to time + Craven glanced about the big room with tightened lips. It seemed chill and + empty for lack of the slight girlish figure whose presence had brought + sunshine into the great house. If she chose never to return! It was + unthinkable that he could live in it alone, it would be haunted by + memories, he would see her in every room. And yet the thought of leaving + it again hurt him. He had never known until he had gone to Africa with no + intention of returning how dear the place was to him. He had suddenly + realised that he was a Craven of Craven, and all that it meant. But + without Gillian it was valueless. A shrine without a treasure. An empty + symbol that would stand for nothing. Her personality had stamped itself on + the house, even yet her influence lingered in the huge formal dining room + where he sat. It had been her whim when they were alone to banish the + large table that seemed so preposterously big for two people and + substitute a small round one which was more intimate, and across which it + was possible to talk with greater ease. Forbes was a man of fixed ideas + and devoted to his mistress. Though absent her wishes were faithfully + carried out. Mrs. Craven had decreed that for less than four people the + family board was an archaic and cumbersome piece of furniture, + consequently tonight the little round table was there, and brought home to + Craven even more vividly the sense of her absence. It seemed almost a + desecration to see Peters sitting opposite in her place. He grew impatient + of the lengthy and ceremonious meal the old butler was superintending with + such evident enjoyment, and gradually he became more silent and heedless, + responding mechanically and often inaptly to Peters' flow of conversation. + He wished now he had obeyed the impulse that had come to him in Algiers to + go straight to Paris. By now he would have seen her, have learned his + fate, and the whole miserable business would have been settled one way or + the other. He could not wonder that she had elected to remain abroad. He + had put her in a horrible position. By lingering in Africa after the + return of the rest of the mission he had made her an object of idle + curiosity and speculation. He had left her as the elder Barry Craven had + left his mother, to the mercy of gossip-mongers and to the pity and + compassion of her friends which, though even unexpressed, she must have + felt and resented. He glanced at the portrait of the beautiful sad woman + in the panel over the mantelpiece and a dull red crept over his face. It + was well that his mother had died before she realised how completely the + idolised son was to follow in the footsteps of the husband who had broken + her heart. It was a tradition in the family. From one motive or another + the Cravens had consistently been pitiless to their womenkind. And he, the + last of them, had gone the way of all the others. A greater shame and + bitterness than he had yet felt came to him, and a passionate longing to + undo what he had done. And what was left for him to do was so pitifully + little. But he would do it without further delay, he would start for Paris + the next day. Even the few hours of waiting seemed almost unbearable. The + thought occurred to him to motor to London that night to catch the morning + boat train from Victoria, but a glance at his watch convinced him of the + impossibility of the idea. Owing to the delay of the train it had been + nine o'clock before he reached the Towers. It was ten now. Another hour + would be wasted before Phillipe and the car would be ready for the long + run. And it was a wicked night to take a man out, the strain of driving + under such conditions at top speed through the darkness would be + tremendous. Reluctantly he abandoned the project. There was nothing for it + but to wait until the morning. + </p> + <p> + Forbes at his elbow recalled him to his duties as host. With a murmured + apology to Peters he rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Coffee in the study, please,” he said, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + In the study, in chairs drawn up to the blazing fire, the two men smoked + for some time in silence. Though consumed with anxiety to hear more of his + wife Craven felt a certain diffident in mentioning her name, and Peters + volunteered nothing. After a time the agent began to speak of the estate. + “I want to give an account of my stewardship,” he said, with an odd ring + in his voice that Craven did not understand. And for the best part of an + hour he talked of farms and leases, of cottage property and timber, of + improvements and alterations carried out during Craven's absence or in + progress, of the conditions under which certain of the bigger houses + scattered about the property were let—a complete history of the + working and management of the estate extending back many years until + Craven grew more and more bewildered as to the reason of this detailed + revelation that seemed to him somewhat unnecessary and certainly + ill-timed. He did not want to be bothered with business the very moment of + his arrival. Peters was punctilious of course, always had been, but his + stewardship had never been called in question and there was surely no need + for this complicated and lengthy narrative of affairs tonight. + </p> + <p> + “And then there are the accounts,” concluded the agent, in the dry + curiously formal voice he had adopted all the evening. Craven made a + gesture of protest. “The accounts can wait,” he said shortly. “I don't + know why on earth you want to bother about all this tonight, Peter. There + will be plenty of time later. Have I ever criticised anything you did? I'm + not such a fool. You've forgotten more than I ever knew about the estate.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like you to see them,” persisted Peters, drawing a big bundle of + papers from his pocket and proceeding to remove and roll up with his usual + precise neatness the tape that confined them. He pushed the typed sheets + across the little table. “I don't think you will find any error. The + estate accounts are all straightforward. But there is an item in the + personal accounts that I must ask you to consider. It is a sum of eight + thousand pounds standing to your credit that I do not know what to do + with. You will remember that when you went to Africa you instructed me to + pay your wife four thousand a year during your absence. I have sent her + the money every quarter, which she has acknowledged. Three months ago the + London bank advised me that eight thousand pounds had been paid into you + account by Mrs. Craven, the total amount of her allowance, in fact, during + the time you have been away.” + </p> + <p> + There was a lengthy pause after Peters stopped speaking, and then Craven + looked up slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” he said thickly; “all her allowance! What has she + been living on—what the devil does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + Peters shrugged. “I don't know any more about it than you do. I am simply + telling you what is the case. It was not for me to question her on such a + matter,” he said coldly. + </p> + <p> + “But, Good Heavens, man,” began Craven hotly, and then checked himself. He + felt stunned by Peters' bald statement of fact, unable, quite, for the + moment, to grasp it. Heavens above, how she must hate him! To decline to + touch the money he had assured her was hers, not his! On what or on whom + had she been living? His face became suddenly congested. Then he put the + hateful thought from him. It was not possible to connect such a thing with + Gillian. Only his own foul mind could have imagined it. And yet, if she + had been other than she was, if it had been so, if in her loneliness and + misery she had found love and protection she had been unable to withstand—the + fault would be his, not hers. He would have driven her to it. He would be + responsible. For a moment the room went black. Then, he pulled himself + together. Putting the bundle of accounts back on to the table he met + steadily Peters' intent gaze. “My wife is quite at liberty to do what she + chooses with her own money,” he said slowly, “though I admit I don't + understand her action. Doubtless she will explain it in due course. Until + then the money can continue to lie idle. It is not such a large sum that + you need be in such a fierce hurry about it. In any case I am going to + Paris tomorrow. I can let you know further when I have seen her.” His + voice was harsh with the effort it cost him to steady it. “And having seen + her—what are you going to do to her?” The question, and the manner + of asking it, made Craven look at Peters in sudden amazement. The agent's + face was stern and curiously pale, high up on his cheek a little pulse was + beating visibly and his eyes were blazing direct challenge. Craven's brows + drew together slowly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Peters leant forward, resting one arm on his knee, and the knuckles of his + clenched hand shone white. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you in so many words what you were going to do to her,” he said, + in a voice vibrant with emotion. “You will say it is no business of mine. + But I am going to make it my business. Good God, Barry, do you think I've + seen nothing all these years? Do you think I can sit down and watch + history repeat itself and make no effort to avert it for lack of moral + courage? I can't. When you were a boy I had to stand aside and see your + mother's heart broken, and I'm damned if I'm going to keep silent while + you break Gillian's heart. I loved your mother, the light went out for me + when she died. For her sake I carried on here, hoping I might be of use to + you—because you were her son. And then Gillian came and helped to + fill the blank she had left. She honoured me with her friendship, she + brought brightness into my life until gradually she has become as dear to + me as if she were my own daughter. All I care about is her happiness—and + yours. But she comes first, poor lonely child. Why did you marry her if it + was only to leave her desolate again? Wasn't her past history sad enough? + She was happy here at first, before your marriage. But afterwards—were + you blind to the change that came over her? Couldn't you see that she was + unhappy? I could. And I tell you I was hard put to it sometimes to hold my + tongue. It wasn't my place to interfere, it wasn't my place to see + anything, but I couldn't help seeing what was patent to the eye of anybody + who was interested. You left her, and you have come back. For what? You + are her husband, in name at any rate—oh, yes, I know all about that, + I know a great deal more than I am supposed to know, and do you think I am + the only one?—legally she is bound to you, though I do not doubt she + could easily procure her freedom if she so wished, so I ask you again—what + are you going to do? She is wholly in your power, utterly at your mercy. + What more is she to endure at your hands? I am speaking plainly because it + seems to me to be a time for plain speaking. I can't help what you think, + I am afraid I don't care. You've been like a son to me. I promised your + mother on her death-bed that I would never fail you, I could have forgiven + you any mortal thing on earth—but Gillian. It's Gillian and me, + Barry. And if it's a case of fighting for her happiness—by God, I'll + fight! And now you know why I have told you all that I have tonight, why I + have rendered an account of my stewardship. If you want me to go I shall + quite understand. I know I have exceeded my prerogative but I can't help + it. I've left everything in order, easy for anybody to take over—” + Craven's head had sunk into his hands, now he sprang to his feet unable to + control himself any longer. “Peter—for God's sake—” he cried + chokingly, and stumbling to the window he wrenched back the curtain and + flung up the sash, lifting his face to the storm of wind and rain that + beat in about him, his chest heaving, his arms held rigid to his sides. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I don't care?” he said at last, brokenly. “Do you think it + hasn't nearly killed me to see her unhappiness—to be able to do + nothing. You don't know—I wasn't fit to be near her, to touch her. I + hoped by going to Africa to set her free. But I couldn't die. I tried, God + knows I tried, by every means in my power short of deliberately blowing my + brains out—a suicide's widow—I couldn't brand her like that. + When men were dying around me like flies death passed me by—I wasn't + fit even for that, I suppose.” He gave a ghastly little mirthless laugh + that made Peters wince and came back slowly into the room, heedless of the + window he had left open, and walked to the fireplace dropping his head on + his arm on the mantel. “You asked me just now what I meant to do to her—it + is not a question of me at all but what Gillian elects to do. I am going + to her tomorrow. The future rests with her. If she turns me down—and + you turn me down—I shall go to the devil the quickest way possible. + It's not a threat, I'm not trying to make bargains, it's just that I'm at + the end of my tether. I've made a damnable mess of my life, I've brought + misery to the woman I love. For I do love her, God help me. I married her + because I loved her, because I couldn't bear to lose her. I was mad with + jealousy. And heaven knows I've been punished for it. My life's been hell. + But it doesn't matter about me—it's only Gillian who matters, only + Gillian who counts for anything.” His voice sank into a whisper and a long + shudder passed over him. + </p> + <p> + The anger had died out of Peters' face and the old tenderness crept back + into his eyes as they rested on the tall bowed figure by the fireplace. He + rose and went to the window, shutting it and drawing the curtain back + neatly into position. Then he crossed the room slowly and laid his hand + for an instant on Craven's shoulder with a quick firm pressure that + conveyed more than words. “Sit down,” he said gruffly, and going back to + the little table splashed some whisky into a glass and held it under the + syphon. Craven took the drink from him mechanically but set it down barely + tasted as he dropped again into the chair he had left a few minutes + before. He lit a cigarette, and Peters, as he filled his own pipe, noticed + that his hands were shaking. He was silent for a long time, the cigarette, + neglected, smouldering between his fingers, his face hidden by his other + hand. At last he looked up, his grey eyes filled with an almost desperate + appeal. + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay, Peter—for the sake of the place?” he said unsteadily. + “You made it what it is, it would go to pieces if you went. And I can't go + without you—if you chuck me it will about finish me.” + </p> + <p> + Peters drew vigorously at his pipe and a momentary moisture dimmed his + vision. He was remembering another appeal made to him in this very room + thirty years before when, after a stormy interview with his employer, the + woman he had loved had begged him to remain and save the property for the + little son who was her only hold on life. It was the mother's face not the + son's he saw before him, the mother's voice that was ringing in his ears. + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay, Barry—as long as you want me,” he said at length huskily + from behind a dense cloud of smoke. A look of intense relief passed over + Craven's worn face. He tried to speak and, failing, gripped Peters' hand + with a force that left the agent's fingers numb. + </p> + <p> + There was another long pause. The blaze of the cheerful fire within and + the fury of the storm beating against the house without were the only + sounds that broke the silence. Peters was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You say you are going to her tomorrow—do you know where to find + her?” + </p> + <p> + Craven looked up with a start. + </p> + <p> + “Has she moved?” he asked uneasily. Peters stirred uncomfortably and made + a little deprecating gesture with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It was a tallish rent, you know. The flat you took was in the most + expensive quarter of Paris,” he said with reluctance. Craven winced and + his hands gripped the arms of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “But you—you write to her, you have been over several times to see + her,” he said, with a new trouble coming into his eyes, and Peters turned + from his steady stare. + </p> + <p> + “Her letters, by her own request, are sent to the bank. I was only once in + the flat, shortly after you left. I think she must have given it up almost + immediately. Since then when I have run over for a day—she never + seemed to want me to stay longer—we have met in the Louvre or in the + gardens of the Tuileries, according to weather,” he said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + Craven stiffened in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “The Louvre—the gardens of the Tuileries,” he gasped, “but what on + earth—” he broke off with a smothered word Peters did not catch, and + springing up began to pace the room with his hands plunged deep in his + pockets. His face was set and his lips compressed under the neat + moustache. His mind was in a ferment, he could hardly trust himself to + speak. He halted at last in front of Peters, his eyes narrowing as he + gazed down at him. “Do you mean to tell me that you yourself do not know + where she is?” he said fiercely. Peters shook his head. “I do not. I wish + to heaven I did. But what could I do? I couldn't question her. She made it + plain she had no wish to discuss the subject. The little I did say she put + aside. It was not for me to spy on your wife, or employ a detective to + shadow her movements, no matter how anxious I felt.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you couldn't have done that,” said Craven drearily, and turned away. + To pursue the matter further, even with Peters, seemed suddenly to him + impossible. He wanted to be alone to think out this new problem, though at + the same time he knew that no amount of thought would solve it. He would + have to wait with what patience he could until the morning when he would + be able to act instead of think. + </p> + <p> + His face was expressionless when he turned to Peters again and sat down + quietly to discuss business. Half an hour later the agent rose to go. + “I'll bring up a checque book and some money in the morning before you + start. You won't have time to go to the bank in London. Wire me your + address in Paris—and bring her back with you, Barry. The whole place + misses her,” he said with a catch in his voice, stuffing the bundle of + papers into his pocket. Craven's reply was inaudible but Peters' heart was + lighter than it had been for years as he went out into the hall to get his + coat. “Yes, I'm walking,” he replied in response to an inquiry, “bit of + rain won't hurt me, I'm too seasoned,” and he laughed for the first time + that evening. + </p> + <p> + Going back to the study Craven threw a fresh log on the fire, filled a + pipe, and drew a chair close to the hearth. It was past one but he was + disinclined for bed. Peters' revelations had staggered him. His brain was + on fire. He felt that not until he had found her and got to the bottom of + all this mystery would he be able to sleep again. And perhaps not even + then, he thought with a quickening heart-beat and a sick fear of what his + investigations in Paris might lead to. + </p> + <p> + Before leaving England he had snatched time from his African preparations + to superintend personally the arrangements for her stay in Paris. He had + himself selected the flat and installed her with every comfort and luxury + that was befitting his wife. She had demurred once or twice on the score + of extravagance, particularly in the case of the car he had insisted on + sending over for her use, but he had laughed at her protests and she had + ceased to make any further objection, accepting his wishes with the shy + gentleness that marked her usual attitude toward him. And she must have + hated it all! Why? She was his wife, what was his was hers. He had + consistently impressed that on her from the first. But it was obvious that + she had never seen it in that light. He remembered her passionate refusal—ending + in tears that had horrified him—of the big settlement he had wished + to make at the time of their marriage, her distress in taking the + allowance he had had to force upon her. Was it only his money she hated, + or was it himself as well? And to what had her hatred driven her? A + fiercer gust of wind shrieked round the house, driving the rain in + torrents against the window, and as he listened to it splashing sharply on + the glass Craven shivered. Where was she tonight? What shelter had she + found in the pitiless city of contrasts? Fragile and alone—and + penniless? His hand clenched until the stem of the pipe he was holding + snapped between his fingers and he flung the fragments into the fire, + leaning forward and staring into the dying embers with haggard eyes—picturing, + remembering. He was intimately acquainted with Paris, with two at least of + its multifarious aspects—the brilliant Paris of the rich, and the + cruel Paris of the struggling student. And yet, after all, what did his + knowledge of the latter amount to? It had amused him for a time to live in + the Latin quarter—it was in a disreputable cabaret on the south side + of the river that he had first come across John Locke—he had mixed + there with all and sundry, rubbing shoulders with the riff-raff of + nations; he had seen its vice and destitution, had mingled with its + feverish surface gaiety and known its underlying squalor and ugliness, but + always as a disinterested spectator, a transient passer by. Always he had + had money in his pocket. He had never known the deadly ever present fear + that lies coldly at the heart of even the wildest of the greater number of + its inhabitants. He had seen but never felt starvation. He had never sold + his soul for bread. But he had witnessed such a sale, not once or twice + but many times. In his carelessness he had accepted it as inevitable. But + the recollection stabbed him now with sudden poignancy. Merciful God, + toward what were his thoughts tending! He brushed his hand across his eyes + as though to clear away some hideous vision and rose slowly to his feet. + The expiring fire fell together with a little crash, flared for an instant + and then died down in a smouldering red mass that grew quickly grey and + cold. With a deep sigh Craven turned and went heavily from the room. He + lingered for a moment in the hall, dimly lit by the single lamp left + burning above, listening to the solemn ticking of the clock, that at that + moment chimed with unnatural loudness. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically he took out his watch and wound it, and then went slowly up + the wide staircase. At the head of the stairs he paused again. The great + house had never seemed so silent, so empty, so purposeless. The rows of + closed doors opening from the gallery seemed like the portals of some huge + mausoleum, vacant and chill. A house of desolation that cried to him to + fill its emptiness with life and love. With lagging steps he walked half + way along the gallery, passing two of the closed doors with averted head, + but at the third he stopped abruptly, yielding to an impulse that had come + to him. For a moment he hesitated, as though before some holy place he + feared to desecrate, then with a quick drawn breath he turned the handle + and went in. + </p> + <p> + In the darkness his hand sought and found the electric switch by the door, + and pressing it the room was flooded with soft shaded light. Peters had + spoken only the truth when he said that the house was kept in immediate + readiness for its mistress's return. Craven had never crossed the + threshold of this room before, and seeing it thus for the first time he + could hardly believe that for two years it had been tenantless. She might + have gone from it ten minutes before. It was redolent of her presence. The + little intimate details were as she had left them. A bowl of bronze + chrysanthemums stood on the dressing table where lay the tortoise-shell + toilet articles given her by Miss Craven. A tiny clock ticked + companionably on the mantelpiece. The pain in his eyes deepened as they + swept the room with hungry eagerness to take in every particular. Her + room! The room from which his unworthiness had barred him. All that he had + forfeited rose up before him, and in overwhelming shame and misery a wave + of burning colour rolled slowly over his face. Never had the distance + between them seemed so wide. Never had her purity and innocence been + brought home to him so forcibly as in this spotless white chamber. Its + simplicity and fresh almost austere beauty seemed the reflection of her + own stainless soul and the fierce passion that was consuming him seemed by + contrast hideous and brutal. It was as if he had violated the sanctuary of + a cloistered Nun. And yet might not even passion be beautiful if love + hallowed it? His arms stretched out in hopeless longing, her name burst + from his lips in a cry of desperate loneliness, and he fell on his knees + beside the bed, burying his face in the thick soft quilt, his strong brown + hands outflung, gripping and twisting its silken cover in his agony. + </p> + <p> + Hours later he raised his tired eyes to the pale light of the wintry dawn + filtering feebly through the close drawn curtains. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * +</pre> + <p> + He left that morning for Paris, alone. + </p> + <p> + It was still raining steadily and the chill depressing outlook from the + train did not tend to lighten his gloomy thoughts. + </p> + <p> + In London the rain poured down incessantly. The roads were greasy and + slippery with mud, the pavements filled with hurrying jostling crowds, + whose dripping umbrellas glistened under the flaring shop lights. Craven + peered at the cheerless prospect as he drove from one station to the other + and shivered at the gloom and wretchedness through which he was passing. + The mean streets and dreary squalid houses took on a greater significance + for him than they had ever done. The sight of a passing woman, ill-clad + and rain-drenched, sent through him a stab of horrible pain. Paris could + be as cruel, as pitiless, as this vaster, wealthier city. + </p> + <p> + He left his bag in the cloakroom at Charing Cross and spent the hours of + waiting for the boat train tramping the streets in the vicinity of the + station. He was in no mood to go to his Club, where he would find a host + of acquaintances eager for an account of his wanderings and curious + concerning his tardy return. + </p> + <p> + The time dragged heavily. He turned into a quiet restaurant to get a meal + and ate without noticing what was put before him. At the earliest + opportunity he sought the train and buried himself in the corner of a + compartment praying that the wretched night might lessen the number of + travellers. Behind an evening paper which he did not attempt to read he + smoked in silence, which the two other men in the carriage did not break. + Foreigners both, they huddled in great coats in opposite corners and were + asleep almost before the train pulled out of the station. Laying down the + paper that had no interest for him Craven surveyed them for a moment with + a feeling of envy, and tilting his hat over his eyes, endeavoured to + emulate their good example. But, despite his weariness, sleep would not + come to him. He sat listening to the rattle of the train and to the + peaceful snoring of his companions until his mind ceased to be diverted by + immediate distractions and centred wholly on the task before him. + </p> + <p> + At Dover the weather had not improved and the sea was breaking high over + the landing stage, drenching the few passengers as they hurried on to the + boat and dived below for shelter from the storm. Indifferent to the + weather Craven chose to stay on deck and stood throughout the crossing + under lea of the deckhouse where it was possible to keep a pipe alight. + </p> + <p> + Contrary to his expectation he managed to sleep in the train and slept + until they reached Paris. Avoiding a hotel where he was known he drove to + one of the smaller establishments, and engaging a room ordered breakfast + and sat down to think out his next move. + </p> + <p> + There were two possible sources of information, the flat, where she might + have left an address when she vacated it, and the bank where Peters had + told him she called for letters. He would try them before resorting to the + expedient of employing a detective, which he was loth to do until all + other means failed. He hated the idea, but there was no alternative except + the police, whose aid he had determined not to invoke unless it became + absolutely necessary. It was imperative that his search should be + conducted as quietly and as secretly as possible. He decided to visit the + flat first, and, having wired to Peters in accordance with his promise, + set out on foot. + </p> + <p> + It was not actually raining but the clouds hung low and threatening and + the air was raw. He walked fast, swinging along the crowded streets with + his eyes fixed straight in front of him. And his great height and deeply + tanned face made him a conspicuous figure that excited attention of which + he was ignorant. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the narrow street where was his hotel he emerged into the Place de + la Madeleine, and threading his way through the stream of traffic turned + into the Boulevard de Malesherbes, which he followed, cutting across the + Boulevard Haussmann and passing the Church of Saint Augustin, until the + trees in the Parc Monceau rose before him. How often in the heat of Africa + had he pictured her sitting in the shade of those great spreading planes, + reading or sketching the children who played about her? He had thought of + her every hour of the day and night, seeing her in his mind moving about + the flat he had taken and furnished with such care. How utterly futile had + been all his dreams about her. His lips tightened as he passed up the + steps of the house he remembered so well. + </p> + <p> + But to his inquiries the concierge, who was a new-comer, could give no + reply. He had no knowledge of any Madame Craven who had lived there, and + was plainly uninterested in a tenant who had left before his time. It was + past history with which he had nothing to do, and with which he made it + clear he did not care to be involved. He was curt and decisive but, with + an eye to Craven's powerful proportions, refrained from the insolence that + is customary among his kind. It was the first check, but as he walked away + Craven admitted to himself that he had not counted overmuch on obtaining + any information from that quarter, taking into account the short time she + had lived there. Remained the bank. He retraced his steps, walking + directly to the Place de l'Opéra. But the bank, which was also a tourists' + agency, could give him no assistance. The lady called for her letters at + infrequent intervals, they had no idea where she might be found. Would the + gentleman care to leave a card, which would be given to her at the first + opportunity? But Craven shook his head—the chance of her calling was + too vague—and passed out again into the busy streets. There was + nothing for it now but a detective agency, and with his face grown grimmer + he went without further delay to the bureau of a firm he knew by repute. + In the private room of the <i>Chef de Bureau</i> he detailed his + requirements with national brevity and conciseness. His knowledge of the + language stood him in good stead and the painfulness of the interview was + mitigated by the businesslike and tactful manner in which his commission + was received. The keen-eyed man who sat tapping a gold pencil case on his + thumbnail in the intervals of taking notes had a reputation to maintain + which he was not unwilling to increase; foreign clients were by no means + rare, but they did not come every day, nor were they always so apparently + full of wealth as this stern-faced Englishman, who spoke authoritatively + as one accustomed to being obeyed and yet with a turn of phrase and <i>politesse</i> + unusual in his countrymen. + </p> + <p> + Followed two days of interminable waiting and suspense, two days that to + Craven seemed like two lifetimes. He hung about the hotel, not daring to + go far afield lest he should lose some message or report. He had no wish + either to advertise his presence in Paris, he had too many friends there, + too many acquaintances whose questions would be difficult to parry. + </p> + <p> + But on the morning of the third day, about eleven o'clock, he was called + to the telephone. A feeling of dread ran through him and he was conscious + of a curious sensation of weakness as he lifted the receiver. But the + voice that hailed him was reassuring and complacently expressive of a neat + piece of work well done. The wife of <i>Monsieur</i> had been traced, they + had taken time—oh, yes, but they had followed <i>Monsieur's</i> + instructions <i>au pied de la lettre</i> and had acted with a discretion + that was above criticism. Then followed an address given minutely. For a + moment he leaned against the side of the telephone box shaking + uncontrollably. Only at this moment did he realise completely how great + his fear had been. There had been times when the recurring thought of the + Morgue and its pitiful occupants had been a foretaste of hell. The feeling + of weakness passed quickly and he went out to the entrance of the hotel + and leaped into a taxi which had just set down a fare. + </p> + <p> + He knew well the locality toward which he was driving. Years ago he could + almost have walked to it blindfold, but today time was precious. And as he + sat forward in the jolting cab, his hands locked tightly together, it + seemed to him as if every possible hindrance had combined to bar his + progress. The traffic had never appeared so congested, the efforts of the + agents on point duty so hopelessly futile. Omnibuses and motors, unwieldy + meat carts and fiacres, inextricably jammed, met them at every turn, until + at last swinging round by the corner of the Louvre the streets became + clearer and the car turned sharply to cross the river. As they approached + the address the detective had given him Craven was conscious of no + sensation of any kind. A deadly calm seemed to have taken possession of + him. He had ceased even to speculate on what lay before him. The house at + which they stopped at last was typical of its kind; in his student days he + had rented a studio in a precisely similar building, and the concierge to + whom he applied might have been the twin sister of the voluble amply + proportioned citoyenne of long ago who had kept a maternal eye on his + socks and shirts and a soft spot in her heart for the <i>bel Anglais</i> + who chaffed her unmercifully, but paid his rent with commendable + promptitude. A huge woman, with a shrewd not unkindly face, she sat in a + rocking chair with a diminutive kitten on her shoulder and a mass of + knitting in her lap. As she listened to Craven's inquiry she tossed the + kitten into a basket and bundled the shawl she was making under her arm, + while she rose ponderously to her feet and favoured the stranger with a + stare that was frankly and undisguisedly inquisitive. A pair of twinkling + eyes encased in rolls of fat swept him from head to foot in leisurely + survey, and he felt that there was no detail about him that escaped + attention, that even the texture of his clothing and the very price of the + boots he was wearing were gauged with accuracy and ease. She condescended + to speak at last in a voice that was curiously soft, and warmed into + something almost approaching enthusiasm. Madame Craven? but certainly, <i>au + quatrieme</i>. Monsieur was perhaps a patron of the arts, he desired to + buy a picture? It was well, painters were many but buyers were few. Madame + was assuredly at home, she was in fact engaged at that moment with a + model. A model—<i>Sapristi</i>!—he called himself such, but + for herself she would have called him <i>un vrai apache</i>! Of a + countenance, <i>mon Dieu</i>! She paused to wave her hands in horror and + jerk her head toward the staircase, continuing her confidences in a + lowered tone. The door of the studio was open, it was wiser when such + gentry presented themselves, and also did she not herself always sit in + the hall that she might be within call, one never knew—and Madame + was an angel with the heart of a child. A face to study—and she + thought of nothing else. But there were those who thought for her, the + blessed innocent. It was doubtless because she was English—Monsieur + was also English, she observed with another shrewd glance and a wide + smile. Madame would be glad to see a compatriot. If Monsieur would do + himself the trouble of ascending the stairs he could not mistake the door, + it was at the top, and, as she had said, it was open. + </p> + <p> + She beamed on him graciously as with a murmur of thanks Craven turned to + mount the stone staircase. A feeling of relief came to him at the thought + of the warm hearted self-appointed guardian sitting in kindly vigilance in + the big armchair below. Here, too, it would appear, Gillian had made + herself beloved. As he passed quickly upward the unnatural calm that had + come over him gave place to a very different feeling. It was brought home + to him all at once that what he had longed and prayed for was on the point + of taking effect. He realised that the ghastly waiting time was over, that + in a few moments he would see her, and his heart began to throb violently. + Every second that still separated them seemed an age and he took the last + remaining flight two steps at a time. But he stopped abruptly as he + reached the level of the landing. The open door was within a few feet of + him but screened from where he stood. + </p> + <p> + It was her voice that had arrested him, speaking with an accent of + weariness he had never heard before that sent a sudden quiver to his lips. + His fingers clenched on the soft hat he held. + </p> + <p> + “But it does not do at all,” she was saying, and the racking cough that + accompanied her words struck through Craven's heart like a knife, “it is + the expression that is wrong. If you look like that I can never believe + that you are what you say you are. Think of some of the horrible things + you have told me—try and imagine that you are still tracking down + that brute who took your little Colette from you—” A husky voice + interrupted her. “No use, Madame, when I remember that I can only think of + you and the American doctor who gave her back to me, and our happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't deserve her, and she hates the things you do,” came the quick + retort, and the man who had been speaking laughed. + </p> + <p> + “But not me,” he answered promptly, “and the things I do keep a roof over + our heads,” he added grimly. “But, see, I will try again—does that + satisfy Madame?” + </p> + <p> + Craven moved forward as he heard her eager assent and her injunction to + “hold that for a few minutes,” and in the silence that ensued he reached + the door. For a moment his entrance passed unobserved. + </p> + <p> + The stark bareness of the room was revealed to him in a single + comprehensive glance and the chill of it sent a sudden feeling of anger + surging through him. His face was drawn and his eyes almost menacing with + pain as they rested on the slight figure bending forward in unconscious + absorption over the easel propped in the middle of the rugless floor. Then + his gaze travelled slowly beyond her to the model who stood on the little + dais, and he understood in a flash the reason of the old concierge's + vigilance as he saw the manner of man she was painting. The slender darkly + clad youth with head thrust forward and sunk deep on his shoulders, with + close fitting peaked cap pulled low over his eyes shading his pale + sinister face was a typical representative of the class of criminal who + had come to be known in Paris as <i>les apaches</i>; no artist's model + masquerading as one of the dreaded assassins, but the genuine article. Of + that Craven was convinced. The risk she had taken, the quick resentment he + felt at the thought of such a presence near her forced from him an + exclamation. + </p> + <p> + Artist and model turned simultaneously. There was a moment of tense + silence as husband and wife stared into each other's eyes. Then the + palette and brushes she was holding dropped with a little chatter to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Barry,” she whispered fearfully, “Barry—” + </p> + <p> + Both men sprang forward, but it was Craven who caught her as she fell. She + lay like a featherweight in his strong clasp, and as he gazed at the + delicate face crushed against his breast a deadly fear was knocking at his + heart that he had come too late. Convulsively his arms tightened round the + pitifully light little body and he spoke abruptly to the man who was + scowling beside him. “A doctor—as quick as you can—and tell + the concierge to come up.” Anxiety roughened his voice and he turned away + without waiting to see his orders carried out. For a second the apache + glowered at him under narrowing lids, his sullen face working strangely, + then he jerked the black cap further over his eyes and slipped away with + noiseless tread. + </p> + <p> + With a broken whisper Craven caught his frail burden closer, as though + seeking by the strength and warmth of his own body to animate the fragile + limbs lying so cold and lifeless in his arms, and he bent low over the + pallid lips he craved and yet did not dare to kiss. They were not for him + to take, he reflected bitterly, and in her unconsciousness they were + sacred. + </p> + <p> + His eyes were dark with misery as he raised his head and looked about + quickly for some couch on which to lay her. But the bare studio was devoid + of any such luxury, and with his face set rigidly he carried her across + the room and pushed open a door leading to an inner sleeping apartment. + Barer it was and colder even than the studio, and its bleak poverty formed + a horrible contrast to the big white bedroom at Craven Towers. He laid her + on the narrow comfortless bed with a smothered groan that seemed to tear + his heart to pieces. And as he knelt beside her chafing her icy hands in + helpless agony there burst in on him a tempestuous fury who raved and + stormed and called on heaven to witness the iniquity of men. “<i>Bete! + animal!</i>” she raged, “what have you done to her—you and that + rat-faced devil!” and she thrust her bulky figure between him and the bed. + Then with a sudden change of manner, her voice grown soft and caressing, + she bent over the fainting girl and slipped a plump arm under her, + crooning, over her and endeavouring to restore her to consciousness. She + snapped an enquiry at Craven and he explained as best he could, and his + explanation brought down on him a wealth of biting sarcasm. The husband of + <i>cet ange la</i>! In the name of heaven! was there no limit to the + blundering stupidity of men—had he no more sense than to present + himself with such unexpectedness, after so long an absence? Small wonder + <i>la pauvre petite</i> had fainted. What folly! And lashing him with her + tongue she renewed her fruitless efforts. But Craven scarcely heeded her. + His eyes were fixed on the little white face on the pillow, and he was + praying desperately that she might be spared to him, that his punishment + might not take so terrible a form. For the change in her appalled him. + Slight and delicate always, she was now a mere shadow of what she had + been. If she died!—he clenched his teeth to keep silent—must + he be twice a murderer? O Hara San's blood was on his hands, would hers + also— + </p> + <p> + He turned quickly as a tall, loosely made man swung into the room. The + new-comer shot a swift glance at him and moved past to the bedside, + addressing the concierge in fluent French that was marked by a pronounced + American accent. He cut short her eager communication as he bent over the + bed and made a rapid examination. + </p> + <p> + “Light a fire in the stove, bring all the blankets you can find, and make + some strong coffee. I have been waiting for this, the marvel is it hasn't + happened before,” he said brusquely. And as the woman hurried away with + surprising meekness to do his bidding he turned again to Craven. “Friend + of Mrs. Craven's?” he asked with blunt directness. “Pity her friends + haven't looked her up sooner. Guess you can wait in the other room until + I'm through here—that is if you are sufficiently interested. It will + probably be a long job and the fewer people she sees about her when she + comes to, the better.” + </p> + <p> + The blood flamed into Craven's face and an angry protest rose to his lips, + but his better judgment checked it. It was not the time for explanations + or to press the claim he had to remain in the room. And had he a claim at + all, he wondered with a dull feeling of pain. “I'll wait,” he said + quietly, fighting an intolerable jealousy as he watched the doctor's + skilful hands busy about her. Strangers might tend her, but the husband + she had evidently never spoken of, was banished to an outer room to wait + “if sufficiently interested.” He winced and passed slowly into the studio. + And yet he had brought it on himself. She could have had little wish to + mention him situated as she was, the bare garret he was pacing + monotonously was evidence in itself that she had determined to cut adrift + from everything that was connected with the life and the man she had + obviously loathed. His surroundings left no doubt on that score. She had + plainly preferred to struggle independently for existence rather than be + beholden to him who was her natural protector. He recalled with an aching + heart the swift look of fear that had leapt into her eyes during that long + moment before she had lost consciousness, and the memory of it went with + him, searing cruelly, as he tramped up and down in restless anxiety that + would not allow him to keep still. To see that look in her eyes again + would be more than he could endure. + </p> + <p> + From time to time the concierge passed through the room bearing the + various necessaries the doctor had demanded, but her mouth was grimly shut + and he did not ask for information that she did not seem inclined to + vouchsafe. She did unbend so far at last as to light a fire in the stove, + but she let it be clearly understood that it was not for his benefit. “It + will help to warm the other room, and it has been empty long enough,” she + said, with a glance and a shrug that were full of meaning. But as she saw + the misery of his face her manner softened and she spoke confidently of + the skill of the American doctor, who from motives of pure philanthropy + had practised for some years in a quarter that offered much experience but + little pecuniary profit. + </p> + <p> + Then she left him to wait again alone. + </p> + <p> + He could not bring himself to look at the canvases propped against the + bare walls, they were witnesses of her toil, witnesses perhaps of a + failure that hurt him even more than it must have hurt her. And to him who + knew the spirit-crushing efforts of the unknown artist to win recognition, + her failure was both natural and intelligible. He guessed at a pride that + scorning patronage had not sought assistance but had striven to succeed by + merit alone, only to learn the bitter lesson that falls to the lot of + those who fight against established convention. She had pitted her + strength against a system and the system had broken her. Her studies might + be—they were—marked with genius, but genius without + advertisement had gone unrecognised and unrewarded. + </p> + <p> + But before the portrait of the strange model he had found with her he + paused for a long time. Still unfinished it was brilliantly clever. The + lower part of the face had evidently not satisfied her, for it was wiped + out, but the upper part was completed, and Craven looked at the deep-set + eyes of the apache staring back at him with almost the fire of life—melancholy + sinister eyes that haunted—and wondered again what circumstance had + brought such a man across her path. He remembered the fragmentary + conversation he had heard, remembered too that mention had been made of + the man who was even now with her in the adjoining room, and he sighed as + he realised how utterly ignorant he was of the life she had led during his + absence. + </p> + <p> + Had she meditated a complete severance from him, formed ties that would + bind her irrevocably to the life she had chosen? He turned from the + picture wearily. It was all a tangle. He could only wait, and waiting, + suffer. + </p> + <p> + He went to the window and leant his arms unseeingly on the high narrow + sill that looked out over the neighbouring housetops, straining to hear + the faintest sound from the inner room. It seemed to him that he must have + waited hours when at last the door opened and shut quietly and the + American came leisurely toward him. He faced him with swift unspoken + inquiry. The doctor nodded, moving toward the stove. “She's all right + now,” he said dryly, “but I don't mind telling you she gave me the fright + of my life. I have been wondering when this was going to happen, I've seen + it coming for a long time.” He paused, and looked at Craven frowningly + while he warmed his hands. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask if you are an intimate friend of Mrs. Craven's—if you + know her people? Can you put me in communication with them? She is not in + a fit state to be alone. She should have somebody with her—somebody + belonging to her, I mean. I gather there is a husband somewhere abroad—though + frankly I have always doubted his existence—but that is no good. I + want somebody here, on the spot, now. Mrs. Craven doesn't see the + necessity. I do. I'm not trying to shunt responsibility. I've shouldered a + good deal in my time and I'm not shirking now—but this is a case + that calls for more than a doctor. I should appreciate any assistance you + could give me.” + </p> + <p> + The fear he had felt when he held her in his arms was clutching anew at + Craven and his face grew grey under the deep tan. “What is the matter with + her?” Something in his voice made the doctor look at him more closely. + </p> + <p> + “That, my dear sir,” he parried, “is rather a leading question.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a right to know,” interrupted Craven quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me if I ask—what right?” was the equally quick + rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + The blood surged back hotly into Craven's face. + </p> + <p> + “The right of the man whose existence you very justly doubted,” he said + heavily. The doctor straightened himself with a jerk. “You are Mrs. + Craven's husband! Then you will forgive me if I say that you have not come + back any too soon. I am glad for your wife's sake that the myth is a + reality,” he said gravely. Craven stood rigidly still, and it seemed to + him that his heart stopped beating. “I know my wife is delicate, that her + lungs are not strong, but what is the cause of this sudden—collapse?” + he said slowly, his voice shaking painfully. For a moment the other + hesitated and shrugged in evident embarrassment. “There are a variety of + causes—I find it somewhat difficult to say—you couldn't know, + of course—” + </p> + <p> + Craven cut him short. “You needn't spare my feelings,” he said hoarsely. + “For God's sake speak plainly. + </p> + <p> + “In a word then—though I hate to have to say it—starvation.” + The keen eyes fixed on him softened into sudden compassion but Craven did + not see them. He saw nothing, for the room was spinning madly round him + and he staggered back against the window catching at the woodwork behind + him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he whispered, and wiped the blinding moisture from his eyes. + If it had been possible for her gentle nature to contemplate revenge she + could have planned no more terrible one than this. But in his heart he + knew that it was not revenge. For a moment he could not speak, then with + an effort he mastered himself. He could give no explanation to this + stranger, that lay between him and her alone. + </p> + <p> + “There was no need,” he said at last dully, forcing the words with + difficulty; “she misunderstood—I can't explain. Only tell me what I + can do—anything that will cure her. There isn't any permanent + injury, is there—I haven't really come too late?” he gasped, with an + agony of appeal in his voice. The American shook his head. “You ran it + very fine,” he said, with a quick smile, “but I guess you've come in time, + right enough. There isn't anything here that money can't cure. Her lungs + are not over strong, her heart is temporarily strained, and her nerves are + in tatters. But if you can take her to the south—or better still, + Egypt—?” he hesitated with a look of enquiry, and as Craven nodded, + continued with more assurance, “Good! then there's no reason why she + shouldn't be a well woman in time. She's constitutionally delicate but + there's nothing organically wrong. Take her away as soon as possible, feed + her up—and keep her happy. That's all she wants. I'll look in again + this evening.” And with another reassuring smile and a firm handclasp he + was gone. + </p> + <p> + As his footsteps died away Craven turned slowly toward the adjoining room + with strangely contending emotions. “... keep her happy.” The bitter irony + of the words bit into him as he crossed to the door and, tapping softly, + went in. + </p> + <p> + She was waiting for him, lying high on the pillows that were no whiter + than her face, toying nervously with the curling ends of the thick plait + of soft brown hair that reached almost to her waist. Her eyes were fixed + on him appealingly, and as he came toward her her face quivered suddenly + and again he saw the look of fear that had tortured him before. “Oh, + Barry,” she moaned, “don't be angry with me.” + </p> + <p> + It was all that he could do to keep his hungry arms from closing round + her, to keep back the passionate torrent of love that rushed to his lips. + But he dared not give way to the weakness that was tempting him. + Controlling himself with an effort of will he sat down on the edge of the + bed and covered her twitching fingers with his lean muscular hands. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not angry, dear. God knows I've no right to be,” he said gently. “I + just don't understand. I never dreamt of anything like this. Can't you + tell me—explain—help me to understand?” + </p> + <p> + She dragged her hands from his, and covering her face gave way to bitter + weeping. Her tears crucified him and his heart was breaking as he looked + at her. “Gillian, have a little pity on me,” he pleaded. “Do you think I'm + a stone that I can bear to see you cry?” + </p> + <p> + “What can I say?” she whispered sobbingly. “You wouldn't understand. You + have never understood. How should you? You were too generous. You gave me + your name, your wealth, you sacrificed your freedom to save me from a + knowledge of the callousness and cruelty of the world. You saw further + than I did. You knew that I would fail—as I have failed. And because + of that you married me in pity. Did you think I would never guess? I + didn't at first. I was a stupid ignorant child, I didn't realise what a + marriage like ours would mean. But when I did—oh, so soon—and + when I knew that I could never repay you—I think I nearly died with + shame. When I asked you to let me come to Paris it was not to lead the + life you purposed for me but because my burden of debt had grown + intolerable. I thought that if I worked here, paid my own way, got back my + lost self-respect, that it would be easier to bear. When you took the flat + I tried to make you understand but you wouldn't listen and I couldn't + trouble you when you were going away. And then later when they told me at + the convent what you had done, when I learned how much greater was my debt + than I had ever dreamt, and when I heard of the money you gave them—the + money you still give them every year—the money they call the Gillian + Craven Fund—” + </p> + <p> + “They had no right, I made it a stipulation—” + </p> + <p> + “They didn't realise, they thought because we were married that I must + surely know. I couldn't go on living in the flat, taking the allowance you + heaped on me. All you gave,—all you did—your generosity—I + couldn't bear it! Oh, can't you see—your money <i>choked</i> me!” + she wailed, with a paroxysm of tears that frightened him. He caught her + hands again, holding them firmly. “Your money as much as mine, Gillian. I + have always tried to make you realise it. What is mine is yours. You're my + wife—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not, I'm not,” she sobbed wildly. “I'm only a burden thrust on you.” + </p> + <p> + A cry burst from his lips. “A burden, my God, a burden!” he groaned. And + suddenly he reached the end of his endurance. With the agony of death in + his eyes he swept her into his arms, holding her to him with passionate + strength, his lips buried in the fragrance of her hair. “Oh, my dear, my + dear,” he murmured brokenly, “I'm not fit to touch you, but I've loved you + always, worshipped you, longed for you until the longing grew too great to + bear, and I left you because I knew that if I stayed I should not have the + strength to leave you free. I married you because I loved you, because + even this damnable mockery of a marriage was better than losing you out of + my life—I was cur enough to keep you when I knew I might not take + you. And I've wanted you, God knows how I've wanted you, all these ghastly + years. I want you now, I'd give my hope of heaven to have your love, to + hold you in my arms as my wife, to be a husband to you not only in name—but + I'm not fit. You don't know what I've done—what I've been. I had no + right to marry you, to stain your purity with my sin, to link you with one + who is fouled as I am. If you knew you'd never look at me again.” With a + terrible sob he laid her back on the pillows and dropped on his knees + beside her. Into her tear-wet eyes there came suddenly a light that was + almost divine, her quivering face became glorious in its pitiful love. + Trembling, she leant towards him, and her slender hands went out in swift + compassion, drawing the bowed shamed head close to her tender breast. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she whispered. And with her soft arms round him he told her, + waiting in despair for the moment when she would shrink from him, repel + him with the horror and disgust he dreaded. But she lay quite still until + he finished, though once or twice she shuddered and he felt the quickened + beating of her heart. And for long after his muffled voice had died away + she remained silent. Then her thin hand crept quiveringly up to his hair, + touching it shyly, and two great tears rolled down her face. “Barry, I've + been so lonely”—it was the cry of a frightened desolate child—“if + you have no pity on yourself, will you have no pity on me?” + </p> + <p> + “Gillian!” he raised his head sharply, staring at her with desperate + unbelieving eyes, “You care?” + </p> + <p> + “Care?” she gave a tremulous little sobbing laugh. “How could I help but + care! I've loved you since the day you came to me in the convent parlour. + You're all I have, and if you leave me now”—she clung to him + suddenly—“Barry, Barry, I can't bear any more. I haven't any + strength or courage left. I'm afraid! I can't face the world alone—it's + cruel—pitiless. I love you, I want you, I can't live without you,” + and with a piteous sob she strained him to her, hiding her face against + his breast, beseeching and distraught. His lips were trembling as he + gathered the shuddering little body closely in his arms, but still he + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Think, dear, think,” he muttered hoarsely, “I'm not fit to stay with you. + I've done that which is unforgivable.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm your wife, I've the right to share your burden,” she cried + passionately. “You didn't know, you couldn't know when you did that + dreadful thing. And if God punishes you let Him punish me too. But God is + love, He knows how you have suffered, and for those who repent His + punishment is forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you forgive—can you bear to come to me?” he faltered, still + only half believing. + </p> + <p> + “I love you,” she said simply, “and life without you is death,” and + lifting her face to his she gave him the lips he had not dared to take. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. Hull + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + +***** This file should be named 8143-h.htm or 8143-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8143/ + + +Text file produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. 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Hull + + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8143] +This file was first posted on June 19, 2003 +Last Updated: May 30, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE SHADOW OF THE EAST + + +By E. M. Hull + +1921 + + + + "_The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's + teeth are set on edge_." + + _Ezekiel xviii 2_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The American yacht lying off the harbour at Yokohama was brilliantly lit +from stem to stern. Between it and the shore the reflection of the +full moon glittered on the water up to the steps of the big black +landing-stage. The glamour of the eastern night and the moonlight +combined to lend enchantment to a scene that by day is blatant and +tawdry, and the countless coloured lamps twinkling along the sea wall +and dotted over the Bluff transformed the Japanese town into fairyland. + +The night was warm and still, and there was barely a ripple on the +water. The Bay was full of craft--liners, tramps, and yachts swinging +slowly with the tide, and hurrying to and fro sampans and electric +launches jostled indiscriminately. + +On board the yacht three men were lying in long chairs on the deck. +Jermyn Atherton, the millionaire owner, a tall thin American whose keen, +clever face looked singularly youthful under a thick crop of iron-grey +hair, sat forward in his chair to light a fresh cigar, and then turned +to the man on his right. "I guess I've had every official in Japan +hunting for you these last two days, Barry. If I hadn't had your wire +from Tokio this morning I should have gone to our Consul and churned up +the whole Japanese Secret Service and made an international affair of +it," he laughed. "Where in all creation were you? I should hardly have +thought it possible to get out of touch in this little old island. The +authorities, too, knew all about you, and reckoned they could lay their +hands on you in twelve hours. I rattled them up some," he added, with +evident satisfaction. + +The Englishman smiled. + +"You seem to have done," he said dryly. "When I got into Tokio this +morning I was fallen on by a hysterical inspector of police who implored +me with tears to communicate immediately with an infuriated American who +was raising Cain in Yokohama over my disappearance. As a matter of fact +I was in a little village twenty miles inland from Tokio--quite off +the beaten track. There's an old Shinto temple there that I have been +wanting to sketch for a long time." + +"Atherton's luck!" commented the American complacently. "It generally +holds good. I couldn't leave Japan without seeing you, and I must sail +tonight." + +"What's your hurry--Wall Street going to the dogs without you?" + +"No. I've cut out from Wall Street. I've made all the money I want, and +I'm only concerned with spending it now. No, the fact is I--er--I left +home rather suddenly." + +A soft chuckle came from the recumbent occupant of the third chair, but +Atherton ignored it and hurried on, twirling rapidly, as he spoke, a +single eyeglass attached to a thin black cord. + +"Ever since Nina and I were married last year we've been going the devil +of a pace. We had to entertain every one who had entertained us--and a +few more folk besides. There was something doing all day and every day +until at last it seemed to me that I never saw my wife except at the +other end of a dining table with a crowd of silly fools in between us. +I reckoned I'd just about had enough of it. Came on me just like a flash +sitting in my office down town one morning, so I buzzed home right away +in the auto and told her I was sick of the whole thing and that I wanted +her to come away with me and see what real life was like--out West or +anywhere else on earth away from that durned society crowd. I'll admit I +lost my temper and did some shouting. Nina couldn't see it from my point +of view. + +"My God, Jermyn! I should think not," drawled a sleepy voice from +the third chair, and a short, immensely stout man struggled up into a +sitting position, mopping his forehead vigorously. "You've the instincts +of a Turk rather than of an enlightened American citizen. You've not +seen my sister-in-law yet, Mr. Craven," he turned to the Englishman. +"She's a peach! Smartest little girl in N'York. Leader of +society--dollars no object--small wonder she didn't fall in with +Jermyn's prehistoric notions. You're a cave man, elder brother--I put my +money on Nina every time. Hell! isn't it hot?" He sank down again full +length, flapping his handkerchief feebly at a persistent mosquito. + +"We argued for a week," resumed Jermyn Atherton when his brother's +sleepy drawl subsided, "and didn't seem to get any further on. At last +I lost my temper completely and decided to clear out alone if Nina +wouldn't come with me. Leslie was not doing anything at the time, so I +persuaded him to come along too." + +Leslie Atherton sat up again with a jerk. + +"_Persuaded_!" he exploded, "A dam' queer notion of persuasion. +Shanghaied, I call it. Ran me to earth at the club at five o'clock, and +we sailed at eight. If my man hadn't been fond of the sea and keen on +the trip himself, I should have left America for a cruise round the +world in the clothes I stood up in--and Jermyn's duds would be about +as useful to me as a suit of reach-me-downs off the line. Persuasion? +Shucks! Jermyn thought it was kind of funny to start right off on an +ocean trip at a moment's notice and show Nina he didn't care a durn. +Crazy notion of humour." He lay back languidly and covered his face with +a large silk handkerchief. + +Barry Craven turned toward his host with amused curiosity in his grey +eyes. + +"Well?" He asked at length. + +Atherton returned his look with a slightly embarrassed smile. + +"It hasn't been so blamed funny after all," he said quietly. "A Chinese +coffin-ship from 'Frisco would be hilarious compared with this trip," +rapped a sarcastic voice from behind the silk handkerchief. + +"I've felt a brute ever since we lost sight of Sandy Hook," continued +Atherton, looking away toward the twinkling lights on shore, "and as +soon as we put in here I couldn't stand it any longer, so I cabled to +Nina that I was returning at once. I'm quite prepared to eat humble pie +and all the rest of it--in fact I shall relish it," with a sudden shy +laugh. + +His brother heaved his vast bulk clear of the deck chair with a mighty +effort. + +"Humble pie! Huh!" he snorted contemptuously. "She'll kill the fatted +calf and put a halo of glory round your head and invite in all the +neighbours 'for this my prodigal husband has returned to me!'" He ducked +with surprising swiftness to avoid a book that Atherton hurled at his +head and shook a chubby forefinger at him reprovingly. + +"Don't assault the only guide, philosopher and friend you've got who has +the courage to tell you a few home truths. Say, Jermyn, d'y'know why I +finally consented to come on this crazy cruise, anyway? Because Nina +got me on the phone while you were hammering away at me at the club +and ordered me to go right along with you and see you didn't do any dam +foolishness. Oh, she's got me to heel right enough. Well! I guess I'll +turn in and get to sleep before those fool engines start chump-chumping +under my pillow. You boys will want a pow-wow to your two selves; there +are times when three is a crowd. Good-bye, Mr. Craven, pleased to have +met you. Hope to see you in the Adirondacks next summer--a bit more +crowded than the Rockies, which are Jermyn's Mecca, but more home +comforts--appeal to a man of my build." He slipped away with the +noiseless tread that is habitual to heavy men. + +Jermyn Atherton looked after his retreating figure and laughed +uproariously. + +"Isn't he the darndest? A clam is communicative compared with Leslie. +Fancy him having that card up his sleeve all the while. Nina's had the +bulge on me right straight along." + +He pushed a cigar-box across the wicker table between them. + +"No, thanks," said Craven, taking a case from his pocket. "I'll have a +cigarette, if you don't mind." + +The American settled himself in his chair, his hands clasped behind his +head, staring at the harbour lights, his thoughts very obviously some +thousands of miles away. Craven watched him speculatively. Atherton +the big game-hunter, Atherton the mine-owner, he knew perfectly--but +Atherton the New York broker, Atherton married, he was unacquainted with +and he was trying to adjust and consolidate the two personalities. + +It was the same Atherton--but more human, more humble, if such a word +could be applied to an American millionaire. He felt a sudden curiosity +to see the woman who had brought that new look into his old friend's +keen blue eyes. He was conscious of an odd feeling of envy. Atherton +became aware at last of his attentive gaze and grinned sheepishly. + +"Must seem a bit of a fool to you, old man, but I feel like a boy going +home for the holidays and that's the truth. But I've been yapping about +my own affair all evening. What about you--staying on in Japan? Been +here quite a while now, haven't you?" + +"Just over a year." + +"Like it?" + +"Yes, Japan has got into my bones." + +"Lazy kind of life, isn't it?" + +There was no apparent change in Atherton's drawl, but Craven turned his +head quickly and looked at him before answering. + +"I'm a lazy kind of fellow," he replied quietly. + +"You weren't lazy in the Rockies," said Atherton sharply. + +"Oh, yes I was. There are grades of laziness." + +Atherton flung the stub of his cigar overboard and selecting a fresh +one, cut the end off carefully. + +"Still got that Jap boy who was with you in America?" + +"Yoshio? Yes. I picked him up in San Francisco ten years ago. He'll +never leave me now." + +"Saved his life, didn't you? He spun me a great yarn one day in camp." + +Craven laughed and shrugged. "Yoshio has an Oriental imagination and +quite a flair for romance. I did pull him out of a hole in 'Frisco but +he was putting up a very tidy little show on his own account. He's +the toughest little beggar I've ever come across and doesn't know the +meaning of fear. If I'm ever in a big scrap I hope I shall have Yoshio +behind me." + +"You seem to be pretty well known over yonder," said Atherton with a +vague movement of his head toward the shore. + +"It is not a big town and the foreign population is not vast. +Besides, there are traditions. I am the second Barry Craven to live in +Yokohama--my father lived several years and finally died here. He was +obsessed with Japan." + +"And with the Japanese?" + +"And with the Japanese." + +Atherton frowned at the glowing end of his cigar. + +"Nina and I ran down to see Craven Towers when we were on our wedding +trip in England last year," he said at length with seeming irrelevance. +"Your agent, Mr. Peters, ran us round." + +"Good old Peters," murmured Craven lazily. "The place would have gone to +the bow-wows long ago if it hadn't been for him. He adored my mother +and has the worst possible opinion of me. But he's a loyal old bird, he +probably endowed me with all the virtues for your benefit." + +But Atherton ignored the comment. He polished his eyeglass vigorously +and screwed it firmly into position. + +"If I was an Englishman with a place like Craven Towers that had been in +my family for generations," he said soberly, "I should go home and marry +a nice girl and settle down on my estate." + +"That's precisely Peters' opinion," replied Craven promptly with a +good-tempered laugh. "I get reams from him to that effect nearly every +mail--with detailed descriptions of all the eligible debutantes whom he +thinks suitable. I often wonder whether he runs the estate on the same +lines and keeps a matrimonial agency for the tenants." + +Atherton laughed with him but persisted. + +"If your own countrywomen don't appeal to you, take a run out to the +States and see what we can do for you." + +The laugh died out of Craven's eyes and he moved restlessly in his +chair. + +"It's no good, Jermyn. I'm not a marrying man," he said shortly. + +Atherton smiled grimly at the recollection of a similar remark +emphatically uttered by himself at their last meeting. + +For a time neither spoke. Each was conscious of a vague difference in +the other, developed during the years that had elapsed since their last +meeting--an intangible barrier checking the open confidence of earlier +days. + +It was growing late. The sampans had nearly all disappeared and only an +occasional launch skimmed across the harbour. + +A neighbouring yacht's band that had been silent for the last hour +began to play again--appropriately to the vicinity--Puccini's well-known +opera. The strains came subdued but clear across the water on the +scent-laden air. Craven sat forward in his chair, his heels on the +ground, his hands loosely clasped between his knees, whistling softly +the Consul's solo in the first act. From behind a cloud of cigar smoke +Atherton watched him keenly, and as he watched he was thinking rapidly. +He was used to making decisions quickly--he was accustomed to accepting +risks at which others shied, but the risk he was now contemplating meant +the taking of an unwarranted liberty that might be resented and might +result in the loss of a friendship that he valued. But he was going to +take the risk--as he had taken many another--he had known that from the +first. He screwed his eyeglass firmer into his eye, a characteristic +gesture well-known on the New York stock market. + +"Ever see _Madame Butterfly_? he asked abruptly. + +"Yes." + +Atherton blew another big cloud of smoke. + +"Damn fool, Pinkerton," he said gruffly, "Never could see the attraction +myself--dancing girls--almond eyes--and all that sort of thing." + +Craven made no answer but his whistling stopped suddenly and the +knuckles of his clasped hands whitened. Atherton looked away quickly and +his eyeglass fell with a little tinkle against a waistcoat button. There +was another long pause. Finally the music died away and the stillness +was broken only by the soft slap-slap of the water against the ship's +side. + +Atherton scowled at his immaculate deck shoes and then seized his +eyeglass again decisively. + +"Say, Barry, you saved my life in the Rockies that trip and I guess a +fellow whose life you've saved has a pull on you no one else has. Anyhow +I'll chance it, and if I'm a damned interfering meddler it's up to you +to say so and I'll apologise--handsomely. Are you in a hole?" + +Craven got up, walked away to the side of the yacht and leaning on the +rail stared down into the water. A solitary sampan was passing the +broad streak of moonlight and he watched it intently until it passed and +merged into the shadows beyond. + +"I've been the usual fool," he said at last quietly. + +"Oh, hell!" came softly from behind him. "Chuck it, Barry. Clear out +right now--with us. I'll put off sailing until tomorrow." + +"I--can't." + +Atherton rose and joined him, and for a moment his hand rested on the +younger man's shoulder. + +"I'm sorry--dashed sorry," he murmured. "Gee!" he added with a half shy, +half humorous glance, wiping his forehead frankly, "I'd rather face a +grizzly than do that again. Leslie keeps telling me that my habit of +butting in will land me in the family vault before my time." + +Craven smiled wryly. + +"It's all right. I'm grateful--really. But I must hoe my own row." + +The American swung irresolutely on his heels. + +"That's so, that's so," he agreed reluctantly. "Oh damn it all," he +burst out, "have a drink!" and going back to the table he pounded in the +stopper of a soda-water-bottle savagely. + +Craven laughed constrainedly as he tilted the whisky into a glass. + +"Universal panacea," he said a little bitterly, "but it's not my method +of oblivion." + +He put the peg tumbler down with a smothered sigh. + +"I must be off, Jermyn. It's time you were getting under way. It's been +like the old days to have had a yarn with you again. Good luck and a +quick run home--you lucky devil." + +Atherton walked with him to the head of the gangway and watched him into +the launch. + +"We shall count on you for the Adirondacks in the summer," he called out +cheerily, leaning far over the rail. + +Craven looked up with a smile and waved his hand, but did not answer and +the motor boat shot away toward the shore. + +He landed on the big pier and lingered for a moment to watch the launch +speeding back to the yacht. Then he walked slowly down the length of the +stage and at the entrance found his rickshaw waiting. The two men who +were squatting on the ground leaped up at his approach and one hurriedly +lit a great dragon-painted paper lantern while the other held out a +light dustcoat. Craven tossed it into the rickshaw and silently pointing +toward the north, climbed in. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. The +men sprang away in a quick dog-trot along the Bund, and then started +to climb the hillside at the back of the town. They wound slowly up the +narrow tortuous roads, past numberless villas, hung with lights, from +which voices floated out into the quiet air. + +The moon was brilliant and the night wonderfully light, but Craven paid +no attention to the beauty of the scene or to the gaily lit villas. +Atherton's invitation had been curiously hard to decline and even now +an almost overpowering desire came over him to bid his men retrace +their steps to the harbour. Then hard on the heels of that desire came +thoughts that softened the hard lines that had gathered about his mouth. +He pitched his cigarette away as if with it he threw from him an +actual temptation, and resolutely put out of his mind Atherton and the +suggestion of flight. + +Still climbing upward the rickshaw passed the last of the outlying +European villas and turned down a side road where there were no houses. +For a couple of miles the men raced along a level track cut on the side +of a hill that rose steeply on the one hand and on the other fell away +precipitously down to the sea until they halted with a sudden jerk +beside a wooden gateway with a creeper-covered roof on either side of +which two matsu trees stood like tall sentinels. + +Waiting by the open gate was a short, powerful looking Japanese dressed +in European clothes. He came forward as Craven alighted and gathering up +the coat and hat from the floor of the rickshaw, dismissed the Japanese +who vanished further along the road into the shadows. Then he turned +and waited for his master to precede him through the gateway, but Craven +signed to him to go on, and as the man disappeared up the garden path +he crossed the road and standing on the edge of the cliff looked down +across the harbour. The American yacht was the biggest craft of her kind +in the roads and easily discernible in the moonlight. The brilliant deck +illumination had been shut off and only a few lights showed. He gave a +quick sigh. Atherton's coming had been like a bar drawn suddenly across +the stream down which he was drifting. If Jermyn had only come last +year! The envy he had felt earlier in the evening increased. He thought +of the look he had seen in Atherton's eyes and the intonation of his +voice when the American spoke of the wife to whom he was returning. What +did love like that mean to a man? What factor in Atherton's strenuous +and adventurous life had affected him as this had done? What +were the ethics of a love that rose purely above physical +attraction--environment--temperament; a love that grew and strengthened +and absorbed until it ceased to be a part of life and became life +itself--the main issue, the fundamental essence? + +And as Craven watched he saw the yacht steam slowly down the bay. He +drew a deep breath. + +"You lucky, lucky devil," he whispered again and swung on his heel. He +paused for a moment just within the gateway where on the only level part +of the garden lay a miniature lake, hedged round with bamboo, clumps +of oleander, fed by a little twisting stream that came tumbling and +splashing down the hillside in a series of tiny waterfalls, its banks +fringed with azalea bushes and slender cherry trees. Then he walked +slowly along the path that led upward, winding to and fro through +clusters of pines and cedars and over mossy slopes to the little house +which stood in a clearing at the top of the garden surrounded by fir +trees and backed by a high creeper-clad palisade. + +From the wide verandah, built out on piles over the terrace, there was +an uninterrupted view of the harbour. He climbed the four wooden stairs +and on the top step turned and looked again down on to the bay. The +yacht was now invisible, but in his mind he followed her slipping down +toward the open sea. And Atherton--what were his thoughts while pacing +the broad deck or lying in his cabin listening to the screw whose every +revolution was taking him nearer the centre of his earthly happiness? +Were they anything like his own, he wondered, as he stood there +bareheaded in the moonlight, looking strangely big and incongruous on +the balcony of the little fairylike doll's house? + +He shrugged impatiently. The comparison was an insult, he thought +bitterly. Again he stared out to sea, straining his eyes; trying vainly +to pick up the yacht's lights far down the bay. It was very still, a +tiny breeze whispered in the pines and drifted across his face the sweet +perfume of a flowering shrub. A cicada chirped in the grass at his feet. + +Then behind him came a faint rustle of silk. He heard the soft sibilant +sound of a breath drawn quickly in. + +"Will my lord honourably be pleased to enter?" the voice was very low +and sweet and the English very slow and careful. + +Craven did not move. + +"Try again, O Hara San." + +A low bubble of girlish laughter rippled out. + +"Please to come in, Bar-ree." + +He turned slowly, looking bigger than ever by contrast with the slender +little Japanese girl who faced him. She was barely seventeen, dainty +and fragile as a porcelain figure, wholly in keeping with her exquisite +setting and yet the flush on her cheeks--free from the thick disfiguring +white paste used by the women of her country--and the vivid animation +of her face were oddly occidental, and the eyes raised so eagerly to +Craven's were as grey as his own. + +He held out his arms and she fluttered into them with a little +breathless murmur, clinging to him passionately. + +"Little O Hara San," he said gently as she pressed closer to him. He +tilted her head, stooping to kiss the tiny mouth that trembled at the +touch of his lips. She closed her eyes and he felt an almost convulsive +shudder shake her. + +"Have you missed me, O Hara San?" + +"It is a thousand moons since you are gone," she whispered unsteadily. + +"Are you glad to see me?" + +Her grey eyes opened suddenly with a look of utter content and +happiness. + +"You know, Bar-ree. Oh, Bar-ree!" + +His face clouded, the teasing word that rose to his lips died away +unspoken and he pressed her head against him almost roughly to hide the +look of trusting devotion that suddenly hurt him. For a few moments she +lay still, then slipped free of his arms and stood before him, swaying +slightly from side to side, her hands busily patting her hair into order +and smiling up at him happily. + +"Being very rude. Forgetting honourable hospitality. You please +forgive?" + +She backed a few steps toward the doorway and her pliant figure bent for +an instant in the prescribed form of Japanese courtesy and salutation. +Then she clasped both hands together with a little cry of dismay. +"Oh, so sorree," she murmured in contrition, "forgot honourable lord +forbidding that." + +"Your honourable lord will beat you with a very big stick if you forget +again," said Craven laughing as he followed her into the little room. +O Hara San pouted her scarlet lips at him and laughed softly as she +subsided on to a mat on the floor and clapped her hands. Craven sat down +opposite her more slowly. In spite of the months he had spent in Japan +he still found it difficult to adapt his long legs to the national +attitude. + +In answer to the summons an old armah brought tea and little rice cakes +which O Hara San dispensed with great dignity and seriousness. She drank +innumerable cupfuls while Craven took three or four to please her and +then lit a cigarette. He smoked in silence watching the dainty little +kneeling figure, following the quick movements of her hands as she +manipulated the fragile china on the low stool before her, the restraint +she imposed upon herself as she struggled with the excited happiness +that manifested itself in the rapid heaving of her bosom, and the +transient smile on her lips, and a heavy frown gathered on his face. She +looked up suddenly, the tiny cup poised in her hand midway to her mouth. + +"You happy in Tokio?" + +"Yes." + +It was not the answer for which she had hoped and her eyes dropped at +the curt monosyllable. She put the cup back on the tray and folded her +hands in her lap with a faint little sigh of disappointment, her head +drooping pensively. Craven knew instinctively that he had hurt her and +hated himself. It was like striking a child. But presently she looked +up again and gazed at him soberly, wrinkling her forehead in unconscious +imitation of his. + +"O Hara San very bad selfish girl. Hoping you very _un_happy in Tokio," +she said contritely. + +He laughed at the naive confession and the gloom vanished from his face +as he stood up, his long limbs cramped with the uncongenial attitude. + +"What have you been doing while I was away?" he asked, crossing the room +to look at a new kakemono on the wall. + +She flitted away silently and returned in a few moments carrying a small +panel. She put it into his hands, drawing near to him within the arm +he slipped round her and slanted her head against him, waiting for his +criticism with the innate patience of her race. + +Craven looked long at the painting. It was a study of a solitary fir +tree, growing at the edge of a cliff--wind-swept, rugged. The high +precipice on which it stood was only suggested and far below there was a +hint of boundless ocean--foam-crested. + +It was the tree that gripped attention--a lonely outpost, clinging +doggedly to its jutting headland, rearing its head proudly in its +isolation; the wind seemed to rustle through its branches, its gnarled +trunk showed rough and weather-beaten. It was a poem of loneliness and +strength. + +At last Craven laid it down carefully, and gathering up the slender +clasped hands, kissed them silently. The mute homage was more to her +than words. The colour rushed to her cheeks and her eyes devoured his +face almost hungrily. + +"You like it?" she whispered wistfully. + +"Like it?" he echoed, "Gad! little girl, it's wonderful. It's more than +a fir tree--it's power, tenacity, independence. I know that all your +work is symbolical to you. What does the tree mean--Japan?" + +She turned her head away, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her fingers +gripping his. + +"It means--more to me than Japan," she murmured. "More to me than +life--it means--you," she added almost inaudibly. + +He swept her up into his arms and carrying her out on to the verandah, +dropped into a big cane chair that was a concession to his western +limbs. + +"You make a god of me, O Hara San," he said huskily. + +"You are my god," she answered simply, and as he expostulated she laid +her soft palm over his mouth and nestled closer into his arms. + +"I talk now," she said quaintly. "I have much to tell." + +But the promised news did not seem forthcoming for she grew silent +again, lying quietly content, rubbing her head caressingly from time +to time against his arm and twisting his watch-chain round her tiny +fingers. + +The night was very quiet. No sound came from within the house, and +without only the soft wind murmuring in the trees, cicadas chirping +unceasingly and the little river dashing down the hillside, splashing +noisily, broke the stillness. Nature, the sleepless, was awake making +her influence felt with the kindly natural sounds that mitigate the awe +of absolute silence--sounds that harmonized with the peacefulness of the +little garden. Tonight the contrast between Yokohama, with its pitiful +western vulgarity obtruding at every turn, and the quiet beauty of +his surroundings struck Craven even more sharply than usual. It seemed +impossible that only two miles away was Theatre Street blazing and +rioting with all its tinsel tawdriness, flaring lights and whining +gramophones. Here was another world--and here he had found more +continuous contentment than he had known in the last ten years. The +garden was an old one, planned by a master hand. By day it was lovely, +but by night it took on a weird beauty that was almost unreal. The +light of the moon cast strong black shadows, deep and impenetrable, that +hovered among the trees like sinister spirits lurking in the darkness. + +The trees themselves, contorted in the moonlight, assumed strange +forms--vague shapes played in and out among them--the sombre bushes +seemed alive with peeping faces. It was the Garden of Enchantment, +peopled with a thousand djinns and demons of Old Japan. The atmosphere +was mysterious, the air was saturated with sweet heavy scents. + +Craven was a passionate lover of the night. The darkness, the silence, +the mystery of it appealed to him. He was familiar with its every phase +in many climates. It enticed him for long solitary rambles in all the +countries he had visited during the ten years of his wanderings. Nature, +always fascinating, was then to him doubly attractive, doubly alluring. +To the night he went for sympathy. To the night he went for inspiration. +It was during his midnight wanderings that he seemed to get nearer +the fundamental root of things. It was to the night he turned for +consolation in times of need. It was then that he exorcised the demon of +unrest that entered into him periodically. All his life the charm of the +night had called to him and all his life he had responded obediently. As +a tiny boy one of his earliest recollections was of slipping out of bed +and, evading nurses and servants, stealing out into the park at Craven +Towers to seek the healing of the night for some childish heartache. He +had crept down the long avenue and climbing the iron fence had perched +on the rail and watched the deer feeding by the light of the moon until +all the sorrow had been chased away and his baby heart was singing with +a kind of delirious happiness that he did not understand and that gave +way in its turn to a natural childish enjoyment of an adventure that +was palpably forbidden. He had slid down from the fence and retraced +his steps up the avenue until he came to the path that led to the rose +garden and eventually to the terrace near the house. He had trotted +along on his little bare feet, shivering now and then, but more from +excitement than from cold, until he had come to the long flight of stone +steps that led to the terrace. He had laboriously climbed them one foot +at a time, his toes curling at the contact with the chill stone, and at +the top he had halted suddenly, holding his breath. Close to him was +a tall indistinct figure wrapped in dark draperies. For a moment fear +gripped him and then an immense curiosity swamped every other feeling +and he moved forward cautiously. The tall figure had turned suddenly and +it was his mother's sad girlish face that looked down at him. She had +lifted him up into her arms, wrapping her warm cloak round his slightly +clad little body--she had asked no questions and she had not scolded. +She had seemed to understand, even though he gave no explanation, and +it was the beginning of a sympathy between them that had developed to an +unusual degree and lasted until her death, ten years ago. She had hugged +him tightly and he had always remembered, without fully understanding in +his childhood, the half incredulous, half regretful whisper in his ear, +"Has it come to you so soon, little son?" + +The hereditary instinct, born thus, had grown with his own growth from +boyhood to manhood until it was an integral part of himself. + +And the lure of the eastern nights--more marvellous and compelling even +than in colder climates--had become almost an obsession. + +Little O Hara San, firm believer in all devils, djinns and midnight +workers of mischief, had grown accustomed to the eccentricities of the +man who was her whole world. If it pleased him to spend long hours of +the night sitting on the verandah when ordinary folk were sensibly shut +up in their houses she did not care so long as she might be with him. No +demon in Japan could harm her while she lay securely in his strong arms. +And if unpleasant shadows crept uncomfortably near the little house she +resolutely turned her head and hiding her face against him shut out all +disagreeable sights and slept peacefully, confident in his ability +to keep far from her all danger. Her love was boundless and her trust +absolute. But tonight there was no thought of sleep. For three long +weeks she had not seen him and during that time for her the sun had +ceased to shine. She had counted each hour until his return and she +could not waste the precious moments now that he had really come. The +djinns and devils in the garden might present themselves in all their +hideousness if it so pleased them but tonight she was heedless of them. +She had eyes for nothing but the man she worshipped. Even in his silent +moods she was content. It was enough to feel his arms about her, to hear +his heart beating rhythmically beneath her head and, lying so, to look +up and see the firm curve of his chin and the slight moustache golden +brown against his tanned cheek. + +She stirred slightly in his arms with a little sigh of happiness, and +the faint movement woke him from his abstraction. + +"Sleepy?" he asked gently. + +She laughed gaily at the suggestion and sat up to show how wide awake +she was. The light from a lantern fell full on her face and Craven +studied it with an intensity of which he was hardly aware. She bore his +scrutiny in silence for a few moments and then looked away with a little +grimace. + +"Thinking me very ugly?" she hazarded tentatively. + +"No. Very pretty," he replied truthfully. She leaned forward and laid +her cheek for a second against his, then cuddled down into his arms +again with a happy laugh. He lit a cigarette and tossed the match over +the verandah rail. + +"What is your news, O Hara San?" + +She did not speak for a moment, and when she did it was no answer to his +question. She reached up her hands and drawing his head down toward her, +looked earnestly into his eyes. + +"You loving me?" she asked a little tremulously. + +"You know I love you," he answered quietly. + +"Very much?" + +"Very much." + +Her eyes flickered and her hands released their hold. + +"Men not loving like women," she murmured at length wistfully. And +then suddenly, with her face hidden against him, she told him--of the +fulfilling of all her hope, the supreme desire of eastern women, pouring +out her happiness in quick passionate sentences, her body shaking with +emotion, her fingers gripping his convulsively. + +Craven sat aghast. It was a possibility of which he had always been +aware but which with other unpleasant contingencies he had relegated +to the background of his mind. He had put it from him and had drifted, +careless and indifferent. And now the shadowy possibility had become a +definite reality and he was faced with a problem that horrified him. +His cigarette, neglected, burnt down until it reached his fingers and +he flung it away with a sharp exclamation. He did not speak and the girl +lay motionless, chilled with his silence, her happiness slowly dying +within her, vaguely conscious of a dim fear that terrified her. Was +the link that she had craved to bind them closer together to be useless +after all? Was this happiness that he had given her, the culminating +joy of all the goodness and kindness that he had lavished on her, no +happiness to him? The thought stabbed poignantly. She choked back a sob +and raised her head, but at the sight of his face the question she would +have asked froze on her lips. + +"Bar-ree! you are not angry with me?" she whispered desperately. + +"How could I be angry with you?" he replied evasively. She shivered and +clenched her teeth, but the question she feared must be asked. + +"Are you not glad?" it was a cry of entreaty. He did not speak and with +a low moan she tried to free herself from him but she was powerless +in his hold, and soon she ceased to struggle and lay still, sobbing +bitterly. He drew her closer into his arms and laid his cheek on her +dark hair, seeking for words of comfort, and finding none. She had read +the dismay in his face, had in vain waited for him to speak and no tardy +lie would convince her now. He had wounded her cruelly and he could make +no amends. He had failed her at the one moment when she had most need +of him. He cursed himself bitterly. Gradually her sobs subsided and her +hand slipped into his clutching it tightly. She sat up at last with +a little sigh, pushing the heavy hair off her forehead wearily, and +forcing herself to meet his eyes--looked at him sorrowfully, with +quivering lips. + +"Please forgive, Bar-ree," she whispered humbly and her humility hurt +him more even than her distress. + +"There is nothing to forgive, O Hara San," he said awkwardly, and as she +sought to go this time he did not keep her. She walked to the edge of +the verandah and stared down into the garden. Problematical ghosts and +demons paled to insignificance before this real trouble. She fought +with herself gallantly, crushing down her sorrow and disappointment and +striving to regain the control she had let slip. Her feminine code Was +simple--complete abnegation and self-restraint. And she had broken down +under the first trial! He would despise her, the daughter of a race +trained from childhood to conceal suffering and to suppress all signs of +emotion. He would never understand that it was the alien blood that ran +in her veins and the contact with himself that had caused her to abandon +the stoicism of her people, that had made her reveal her sorrow. He had +laughed at her undemonstrativeness, demanding expressions and proofs +of her affection that were wholly foreign to her upbringing until her +Oriental reserve had slipped from her whose only wish was to please him. +She had adopted his manners, she had made his ways her ways, forgetting +the bar that separated them. But tonight the racial difference of +temperament had risen up vividly between them. Her joy was not his +joy. If he had been a Japanese he would have understood. But he did not +understand and she must hide both joy and sorrow. It was his contentment +not hers that mattered. All through these last months of wonderful +happiness there had lurked deep down in her heart a fear that it would +not last, and she had dreaded lest any unwitting act of hers might +hasten the catastrophe. + +She glanced back furtively over her shoulder. Craven was leaning +forward in the cane chair with his head in his hands and she looked away +hastily, blinded with tears. She had troubled him--distressed him. +She had "made a scene"--the phrase, read in some English book, +flashed through her mind. Englishmen hated scenes. She gripped herself +resolutely and when he left his chair and joined her she smiled at him +bravely. + +"See, all the djinns are gone, Bar-ree," she said with a little nervous +laugh. + +He guessed the struggle she was making and chimed in with her mood. + +"Sensible fellows," he said lightly, tapping a cigarette on the verandah +rail. "Gone home to bed I expect. Time you went to bed too. I'll just +smoke this cigarette." But as she turned away obediently, he caught her +back, with a sudden exclamation: + +"By Jove! I nearly forgot." + +He took a tiny package from his pocket and gave it to her. Girlishly +eager her fingers shook with excitement as she ripped the covering from +a small gold case attached to a slender chain. She pressed the spring +and uttered a little cry of delight. The miniature of Craven had +been painted by a French artist visiting Yokohama and was a faithful +portrait. + +"Oh, Bar-ree," she gasped with shining eyes, lifting her face like +a child for his kiss. She leaned against him studying the painting +earnestly, appreciating the mastery of a fellow craftsman, ecstatically +happy--then she slipped the chain over her head and closing the case +tucked it away inside her kimono. + +"Now I have two," she murmured softly. + +"Two?" said Craven pausing as he lighted his cigarette. "What do you +mean?" + +"Wait, I show," she replied and vanished into the house. She was back +in a moment holding in her hand another locket. He took it from her +and moved closer under the lantern to look at it. It hung from a thick +twisted cable of gold, and set round with pearls it was bigger and +heavier than the dainty case O Hara San had hidden against her heart. +For a moment he hesitated, overcoming an inexplicable reluctance to open +it--then he snapped the spring sharply. + +"Good God!" he whispered slowly through dry lips. And yet he had known, +known intuitively before the lid flew back, for it was the second time +that he had handled such a locket--the first he had seen and left lying +on his dead mother's breast. + +He stood as if turned to stone, staring with horror at the replica of +his own face lying in the hollow of his hand. The thick dark hair, the +golden brown moustache, the deep grey eyes--all were the same. Only the +chin in the picture was different for it was hidden by a short pointed +beard; so was it in the miniature that was buried with his mother, +so was it in the big portrait that hung in the dining-room at Craven +Towers. + +"Who gave you this?" he asked thickly, and O Hara San stared at him in +bewilderment, frightened at the strangeness of his voice. + +"My mother," she said wonderingly. "He was Bar-ree, too. See," she added +pointing with a slender forefinger to the name engraved inside the case. + +A nightbird shrieked weirdly close to the house and a sudden gust of +wind moaned through the pine trees. The sweat stood out on Craven's +forehead in great drops and the cigarette, fallen from his hand, lay +smouldering on the matting at his feet. + +He pulled the girl to him and turning her face up stared down into +the great grey eyes, piteous now with unknown fear, and cursed his +blindness. Often the unrecognised likeness had puzzled him. He dropped +the miniature and ground it savagely to powder with his heel, heedless +of O Hara San's sharp cry of distress, and turned to the railing +gripping it with shaking hands. + +"Damn him, damn him!" + +Why had instinct never warned him? Why had he, knowing the girl's mixed +parentage and knowing his own family history, made no inquiries? A wave +of sick loathing swept over him. His head reeled. He turned to O Hara +San crouched sobbing on the matting over the little heap of crushed gold +and pearls. Was there still a loop-hole? + +"What was he to you?" he said hoarsely, and he did not recognise his own +voice. + +She looked up fearfully, then shrank back with a cry--hiding her eyes to +shut out the distorted face that bent over her. + +"He was my father," she whispered almost inaudibly. But it sounded to +Craven as if she had shouted it from the housetop. Without a word he +turned from her and stumbled toward the verandah steps. He must get +away, he must be alone--alone with the night to wrestle with this +ghastly tangle. + +O Hara San sprang to her feet in terror. She did not understand what had +happened. Her mother had rarely spoken of the man who had first betrayed +and then deserted her--she had loved him too faithfully; with the girl's +limited experience all western faces seemed curiously alike and the +similarity of an uncommon name conveyed nothing to her for she did not +realize that it was uncommon. She could not comprehend this terrible +change in the man who had never been anything but gentle with her. She +only knew that he was going, that something inexplicable was taking him +from her. A wild scream burst from her lips and she sprang across the +verandah, clinging to him frantically, her upturned face beseeching, +striving to hold him. + +"Bar-ree, Bar-ree! you must not go. I die without you. Bar-ree! my +love--" Her voice broke in a frightened whisper as he caught her head in +his hands and stared down at her with eyes that terrified her. + +"Your--love?" he repeated with a strange ring in his voice, and then he +laughed--a terrible laugh that echoed horribly in the silent night and +seemed to snap some tension in his brain. He tore away her hands and +fled down the steps into the garden. He ran blindly, instinctively +turning to the hillside track that led further into the country, +climbing steadily upward, seeking the solitary woods. He did not hear +the girl's shriek of despair, did not see her fall unconscious on the +matting, he did not see a lithe figure that bounded from the back of the +house nor hear the feet that tracked him. He heard and saw nothing. His +brain was dulled. His only impulse was that of the wounded animal--to +hide himself alone with nature and the night. He plunged on up the +hillside climbing fiercely, tirelessly, wading mountain streams and +forcing his way through thick brushwood. He had taken, off his coat +earlier in the evening and his silk shirt was ripped to ribbons. His +hair lay wet against his forehead and his cheek dripped blood where a +splintered bamboo had torn it, but he did not feel it. He came at last +to a tiny clearing in the forest where the moon shone through a break in +the trees. There he halted, rocking unsteadily on his feet, passing his +hand across his face to clear the blood and perspiration from his eyes, +and then dropped like a log. The next moment the bushes parted and his +Japanese servant crept noiselessly to his side. He bent down over him +for an instant. Craven lay motionless with his face hidden in his arms, +but as the Jap watched a shudder shook him from head to foot and the man +backed cautiously, disappearing among the bushes as silently as he had +come. + +The breeze died away and it was quite still within the moonlit clearing. +A broad shaft of cold white light fell directly on the prone figure. +He was morally stunned and for a long time the agony of his mind was +blunted. But gradually the first shock passed and full realization +rushed over him. His hands dug convulsively into the soft earth and he +writhed at his helplessness. What he had done was irremediable. It was +a sudden thunderbolt that had flashed across his clear sky. This morning +the sun had shone as usual and everything had seemed serene to him whose +life had always been easy--tonight he was wrestling in a hell of his +own making. Why had it come to him? He knew that his life had been +comparatively blameless. Why should this one sin, so common throughout +the world, recoil on him so terribly? Why should he, among all the +thousands of men who had sinned similarly, be reserved for such a +nemesis? Why of him alone should such a reckoning be demanded? Surely +the fault was not his. Surely it lay with the man who had wrecked his +mother's life and broken her heart, the man who had neglected his duties +and repudiated his responsibilities and who had been faithful to neither +wife nor mistress. He was to blame. At the thought of his father an +access of rage passed over Craven and he cursed him in a kind of dull +fury. His fingers gripped the ground as if they were about the throat of +the man whom he hated with all the strength of his being. The mystery +of his father had always lain like a shadow across his life. It was a +subject that his mother had refused to discuss. He shivered now when he +realized the agony his perpetual boyish questions must have caused her. +His petulance because "other fellows' fathers" could be produced when +necessary and were not shrouded away in unexplained obscurity. He +remembered her unfailing patience with him, the consistent loyalty she +had shown toward the husband who had failed her so utterly, the courage +with which she had taken the absent father's place with the son whom +she idolized. He understood now her intolerant hatred of Japan and +the Japanese, an intolerance for which--in his ignorance--he had often +teased her. One memory came to him with striking vividness--a winter +evening, in the dawn of his early manhood, when they had been sitting +after dinner in the library at Craven Towers--his mother lying on the +sofa that had been rolled up before the fire, and himself sprawled on +the hearthrug at her feet. Already tall and strong beyond his years and +confident in the full flush of his adolescence he had launched into a +glowing anticipation of the life that lay before him. He had noticed +that his mother's answers were monosyllabic and vague, and then when he +had broken off, hurt at her seeming lack of interest, she had suddenly +spoken--telling him what she had all the evening nerved herself to say. +Her voice had faltered once or twice but she had steadied it bravely +and gone on to the end, shirking nothing, evading nothing, dealing +faithfully with the whole sex problem as far as she was able--outraging +her own reserve that her son might learn the pitfalls and temptations +that would assuredly lie in wait for him, sacrificing her own modesty +that he might remain chaste. He remembered the vivid flush that had +risen to his face and the growing sense of hot discomfort with which he +had listened to her low voice; his half grateful, half shocked feeling. +But it was not until he had glanced furtively at her through his thick +lashes and seen her shamed scarlet cheeks and quivering downcast eyes +that he had realized what it cost her and the courage that had made it +possible for her to speak. He had mumbled incoherently, his face hidden +against her knee, and with innate chivalry had kissed the little white +hand he held between his own great brown ones--"Keep clean, Barry," +she had whispered tremulously, her hand on his ruffled hair--"only keep +clean." + +And later on in the same evening she had spoken to him of the woman who +would one day inevitably enter his life. "Be gentle to her, Barry-boy, +you are such a great strong fellow, and women, even the strongest women, +are weak compared with men. We are poor creatures, the best of us, we +_bruise_ so easily," she had said with a laugh that was more than half +a sob. And for his mother's sake he had vowed to be gentle to all women +who might cross his path. And how had he kept his vow? Tonight his +egoism had swallowed his oath and he had fled like a coward to be alone +with his misery. A great sob rose in his throat. Craven by name and +craven by nature he thought bitterly and he cursed again the father +who had bequeathed him such an inheritance, but as he did so he stopped +suddenly for a soft clear voice sounded close to his ear. "No man need +be fettered for life by an inherited weakness. Every man who is worthy +of the name can rise above hereditary deficiencies." He lay tense and +his heart gave a great throb and then he remembered. The voice was +inward--it was only another memory, an echo of the young mother who had +died, ten years before. Overwhelming shame filled him. "Mother, Mother!" +he whispered chokingly, and deep tearing sobs shook his broad shoulders. +The moon had passed beyond the break in the trees and it was dark now in +the little clearing and to the man who lay stripped of all his illusions +the blackness was merciful. He saw himself as he was clearly--his +selfishness, his arrogance, his pride, and a nausea of self-hatred +filled him. The eagerness with which he had sought to lay on his father +the blame of his own sin now seemed to him despicable. He would always +hate the memory of the man whose neglect had killed his mother, but the +responsibility for this horror rested on himself. He had made his own +hell and the burden of it lay with him only. That he had never known +the manner of his father's life in Japan and that during the time he had +himself been living in Yokohama he had cared to make no inquiries was no +excuse. He alone was to blame. + +The air seemed suddenly stifling, his head throbbed and he panted +breathlessly. Then as suddenly the sensation passed and he rolled over +on his back with a deep sigh, his limbs relaxed, too weary to move. For +a long time he lay until the first pale streaks of early dawn showed +above the tree tops, then he sat up with a shiver and looked around +curiously at the silent trees and bamboo clumps that had witnessed his +agony. His head ached intolerably, his mouth was parched and the cut +in his cheek was stiff and sore. He staggered to his feet and stood +a moment holding his head in his hands and the thought of O Hara +San persisted urgently. He shivered again as the image of the girl's +distraught face and pleading eyes rose before him--in a few hours he +would have to go to her and the thought of the interview sickened him. +But he could not go now, his appearance would terrify her, she might be +asleep and he could not wake her if nature had mercifully obliterated +her sorrow for a few hours. In his mad flight he had lost all sense of +distance and locality, but as the dawn grew stronger he recognised his +surroundings and started to tramp to his own bungalow at the top of the +Bluff. He stumbled through the woods, hurrying wearily to reach home +before the full light. It was still dusk when he arrived and crossing +the verandah went into his bedroom and flung himself, dressed as he was, +on to the bed. And the stealthy footsteps that had tracked him through +the night followed softly and stopped outside the open doorway. The Jap +stood for a few moments listening intently. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Craven woke abruptly a few hours later with a spasmodic muscular +contraction that jerked him into a sitting position. Half dazed as yet +with sleep he swung his heels to the floor and sat on the edge of the +bed looking stupidly at his dusty boots and earth-stained fingers. Then +remembrance came and he clenched his hands with a stifled groan. He +drank thirstily the tea that was on a table beside him and went to the +open window. As he crossed the room the reflection of his blood-stained +haggard face, seen in a mirror, startled him. A bath and clean clothes +were indispensable before he went back to the lonely little house on the +hillside. He lingered for a few minutes by the window, glad of the +cool morning breeze blowing against his face, trying to pull himself +together, trying to brace himself to meet the consequences of his +folly, trying to drag his disordered thoughts into something approaching +coherence. He stared down over the bay and the sunlit waters mocked him +with their dancing ripples sliding lightheartedly one after the other +toward the shore. The view that he looked upon had been until this +morning a never-failing source of pleasure, now it moved him to nothing +but the recollection of the hackneyed line in the old hymn--"where only +man is vile," and he was vile--with all power of compensation taken from +him. To some was given the chance of making reparation. For him there +was no chance. He could do nothing to mitigate the injury he had done. +She whom he had wronged must suffer for him and he was powerless to +avert that suffering. His helplessness overwhelmed him. O Hara San, +little O Hara San, who had given unstintingly, with eager generous +hands. His face was set as he turned from the window and, starting +to pull off his torn shirt, called for Yoshio. But no Yoshio was +forthcoming and at his second impatient shout another Japanese servant +bowed himself in, and, kowtowing, intimated that Yoshio had already gone +on the honourable lord's errand and would there await him, and that +in the meantime his honourable bath was prepared and his honourable +breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. + +Craven paused with his shirt half off. + +"What errand?" he said, perplexed, unaware that he was asking the +question audibly. + +The man bowed again, with hands outspread, and gravely shook his head +conveying his total ignorance of a matter that was beyond his province, +but the pantomime was lost on Craven who was wrestling with his shirt +and not even aware that he had spoken aloud. It was the first time in +ten years' service that Yoshio had failed to answer a call and Craven +wondered irritably what could have taken him away at that time in the +morning, and concluded that it was some order given by himself the day +before, now forgotten, so dismissing Yoshio and his affairs from his +mind he signed to the still gently explaining servant to go. + +His brain felt dull and tired, his thoughts were chaotic. He saw before +him no clear course. Whichever way he looked at it the horrible +tangle grew more horrible. There was a recurring sense of unreality, a +visionary feeling of detachment which enabled him to view the situation +from an impersonal standpoint, as one criticises a nightmare, confident +in the knowledge that it is only a dream. But in this case the +confidence was based on nothing tangible and the illusion faded as +quickly as it rose and left him confronted with the brutal truth from +which there was no escape. + +In the dressing room everything that he needed had been laid out in +readiness for him, and he dressed mechanically with a feverish haste +that struggled ineffectually with a refractory collar stud, and caused +him to execrate heartily the absent valet and his enigmatical errand. +Another ten minutes was lost while he hunted for his watch and cigarette +case which he suddenly remembered were in the coat that he had left +at the little house. Or had he searched genuinely? Had he not rather +been--perhaps unconsciously--procrastinating, shrinking from the task he +had in hand, putting off the evil moment? He swung on his heel violently +and passed out on to the verandah. But at the head of the steps a +vigilant figure rose up, bowing obsequiously, announcing blandly that +breakfast was waiting. + +Craven frowned at him a moment until the meaning of the words filtered +through to his tired brain, then he pushed him aside roughly. + +"Oh, damn breakfast!" he cried savagely, and cramming his sun helmet +on his head ran down the garden path to the waiting rickshaw. It never +occurred to him to wonder how it came to be there at an unusual hour. +He huddled in the back of the rickshaw, his helmet over his eyes. His +nerves were raw, his mind running in uncontrollable riot. The way +had never seemed so long. He looked up impatiently. The rickshaw was +crawling. The slow progress and the forced inaction galled him and +a dozen times he was on the point of calling to the men to stop and +jumping out, but he forced himself to sit quietly, watching the play +of their abnormally developed muscles showing plainly through the thin +cotton garments that clung to their sweat-drenched bodies, while they +toiled up the steep roads. And today the sight of the men's straining +limbs and heaving chests moved him more than usual. He used a rickshaw +of necessity, and had never overcome his distaste for them. + +Emerging from a grove of pines they neared the little gateway and as the +men flung themselves backward with a deep grunt at the physical exertion +of stopping, Craven leaped out and dashed up the path, panic-driven. He +took the verandah steps in two strides and then stopped abruptly, his +face whitening under the deep tan. + +Yoshio stood in the doorway of the outer room, his arms outstretched, +barring the entrance. His face had gone the grey leaden hue of the +frightened Oriental and his eyes held a curious look of pity. His +attitude put the crowning touch to Craven's anxiety. He went a step +forward. + +"Stand aside," he said hoarsely. + +But Yoshio did not move. + +"Master not going in," he said softly. + +Craven jerked his head. + +"Stand aside," he repeated monotonously. + +For a moment longer the Jap stood obstinately, then his eyes fell under +Craven's stare and he moved reluctantly, with a gesture of mingled +acquiescence and regret. Craven passed through into the room. It was +empty. He stood a moment hesitating--indefinite anxiety giving place to +definite fear. + +"O Hara San," he whispered, and the whisper seemed to echo mockingly +from the empty room. He listened with straining ears for her answer, +for her footstep--and he heard nothing but the heavy beating of his own +heart. Then a moan came from the inner room and he followed the sound +swiftly. The room was darkened and for a moment he halted in the +doorway, seeing nothing in the half light. The moaning grew louder and +as he became accustomed to the darkness he saw the old armah crouching +beside a pile of cushions. + +In a second he was beside her and at his coming she scrambled to her +feet with a sharp cry, staring at him wildly, then fled from the room. + +He stood alone looking down on the cushions. His heart seemed to stop +beating and for a moment he reeled, then he gripped himself and knelt +down slowly. + +"O Hara San--" he whispered again, with shaking lips, "little O Hara +San--little--" the whisper died away in a terrible gasping sob. + +She lay as if asleep--one arm stretched out along her side, the other +lying across her breast with her small hand clenched and tucked under +her chin, her head bent slightly and nestled naturally into the +cushion. The attitude was habitual. A hundred times Craven had seen her +so--asleep. It was impossible that she could be dead. + +He spoke to her again--crying aloud in agony--but the heavily fringed +eyelids did not open, no glad cry of welcome broke from the parted lips, +the little rounded bosom that had always heaved tumultuously at his +coming was still under the silken kimono. He bent over her with ashen +face and laid his hand gently on her breast, but the icy coldness struck +into his own heart and his touch seemed a profanation. He drew back with +a terrible shudder. + +How dared he touch her? Murderer! For it was murder. His work as surely +as if he had himself driven a knife into that girlish breast or squeezed +the breath from that slender throat. He was under no delusion. He +understood the Japanese character too well and he knew O Hara San too +thoroughly to deceive himself. He knew the passionate love that she had +given him, a love that had often troubled him with its intensity. He had +been her god, her everything. She had worshipped him blindly. And he +had left her--left her alone with the memory of his strangeness and his +harshness, alone with her heart breaking, alone with her fear. And she +had been so curiously alone. She had had nobody but him. She had trusted +him--and he had left her. She had trusted him. Oh, God, she had trusted +him! + +His quick imagination visualised what must have happened. Frantic with +despair and desperate at the seeming fulfilment of her fears she had not +stopped to reason nor waited for calmer reflection but with the curious +Oriental blending of impetuosity and stolid deliberation she had killed +herself, seeking release from her misery with the aid of the subtle +poison known to every Japanese woman. He flung his arm across the little +still body and his head fell on the cushion beside hers as his soul went +down into the depths. + + * * * * * + +An hour of unspeakable bitterness passed before he regained his lost +control. + +Then he forced himself to look at her again. The poison had been swift +and merciful. There was no distortion of the little oval face, no +discoloration on the fair skin. She was as beautiful as she had always +been. And with death the likeness had become intensified until it seemed +to him that he must have been blind beyond belief to have failed to +detect it earlier. + +He looked for the last time through a blur of tears. It seemed horrible +to leave her to the ministrations of others, he longed to gather up the +slender body in his arms and with his own hands lay her in the loveliest +corner of the garden she had loved so much. He tried to stammer a +prayer but the words stuck in his throat. No intercession from him was +possible, nor did she need it. She had passed into the realm of Infinite +Understanding. + +He rose to his feet slowly and lingered for a moment looking his last +round the little room that was so familiar. Here were a few of her most +treasured possessions, some that had come to her from her mother, some +that he had given her. He knew them all so well, had handled them so +often. A spasm crossed his face. It had been the home of the enchanted +princess, shut off from all the world--until he had come. And his coming +had brought desolation. Near him a valuable vase, that she had prized, +lay smashed on the floor, overturned by the old armah in the first +frenzy of her grief. It was symbolical and Craven turned from it with +quivering lips and went out heavily. + +He winced at the strong light and shaded his eyes for a moment with his +hand. + +Yoshio was waiting where he had left him. Craven walked to the edge of +the verandah and stood for a few moments in silence, steadying himself. + +"Where were you last night, Yoshio?" he asked at length, in a flat and +tired voice. + +The Jap shrugged. + +"In town," he said, with American brevity learned in California. + +"Why did you come here this morning?" + +Yoshio raised eyes of childlike surprise. + +"Master's watch. Came here to find it," he said nonchalantly, with an +air that expressed pride at his own astuteness. But it did not impress +Craven. He looked at him keenly, knowing that he was lying but not +understanding the motive and too tired to try and understand. He felt +giddy and his head was aching violently--for a moment everything seemed +to swim before his eyes and he caught blindly at the verandah rail. But +the sensation passed quickly and he pulled himself together, to find +Yoshio beside him thrusting his helmet into his hands. + +"Better Master going back to bungalow. I make all arrangements, +understanding Japanese ways," he said calmly. + +His words, matter-of-fact, almost brutal, brought Craven abruptly to +actualities. There was necessity for immediate action. This was the +East, where the grim finalities must unavoidably be hastened. But he +resented the man's suggestion. To go back to the bungalow seemed a +shirking of the responsibility that was his, the last insult he could +offer her. But Yoshio argued vehemently, blunt to a degree, and Craven +winced once or twice at the irrefutable reasons he put forward. It was +true that he could do no real good by staying. It was true that he was +of no use in the present emergency, that his absence would make things +easier. But that it was the truth made it no less hard to hear. He gave +in at last and agreed to all Yoshio's proposals--a curious compound of +devotion to his master, shrewd commonsense and knowledge of the laws +of the country. He went quickly down the winding path to the gate. The +garden hurt him. The careless splashing of the tiny waterfall jarred +poignantly--laughing water caring nothing that the hand that had planted +much of the beauty of its banks was stilled for ever. It had always +seemed a living being tumbling joyously down the hillside, it seemed +alive now--callous, self-absorbed. + +Craven had no clear impression of the run back into Yokohama and he +looked up with surprise when the men stopped. He stood outside the gate +for a moment looking over the harbour. He stared at the place in the +roadstead where the American yacht had been anchored. Only last night +had he laughed and chatted with the Athertons? It was a lifetime ago! +In one night his youth had gone from him. In one night he had piled up a +debt that was beyond payment. He gave a quick glance up at the brilliant +sky and then went into the house. In the sitting-room he started slowly +to pace the floor, his hands clasped behind him, an unlit cigarette +clenched between his teeth. The mechanical action steadied him and +enabled him to concentrate his thoughts. Monotonously he tramped up and +down the long narrow room, unconscious of time, until at last he dropped +on to a chair beside the writing table and laid his head down on his +arms with a weary sigh. The little still body seemed present with him. O +Hara San's face continually before him--piteous as he had seen it last, +joyous as she had greeted him and thoughtful as when he had first seen +it. + +That first time--the memory of it rose vividly before him. He had been +in Yokohama about a month and was settled in his bungalow. He had gone +to the woods to sketch and had found her huddled at the foot of a steep +rock from which she had slipped. Her ankle was twisted and she could not +move. He had offered his assistance and she had gazed at him, without +speaking, for a few moments, with serious grey eyes that looked oddly +out of place in her little oval face. Then she had answered him in slow +carefully pronounced English. He had laughingly insisted on carrying +her home and had just gathered her up into his arms when the old armah +arrived, voluble with excitement and alarm for her charge. But the girl +had explained to her in rapid Japanese and the woman had hurried on to +the house to prepare for them, leaving Craven to follow more slowly +with his light burden. He had stayed only a few minutes, drinking the +ceremonial tea that was offered so shyly. + +The next day he had convinced himself that it was only polite for him +to enquire about the injured foot. Then he had gone again, hoping to +relieve the tedium of her forced inactivity, until the going had become +a habit. The acquaintance had ripened quickly. From the first she had +trusted him, quickly losing her awe of him and accepting his coming with +the simplicity of a child. She had early confided to him the story of +her short life--of her solitude and friendlessness; of the mother who +had died five years before, bequeathing to her the little house which +had been the last gift of the Englishman who had been O Hara San's +father and who had tired of her mother and left her two years after +her own birth; of the poverty against which they had struggled--for the +Englishman had left no provision for them; of the faithful old servant, +who had been her mother's nurse; of O Hara San's discovery of her own +artistic talent which had enabled her to provide for the simple wants +of the little household. She had grown up alone--apart from the world, +watched over by the old woman, her mind a tangle of fairy-tales and +romance--living for her art, content with her solitude. And into her +secluded life had come Barry Craven and swept her off her feet. Child of +nature that she was she had been unable to hide from him the love that +quickly overwhelmed her. And to Craven the incident of O Hara San had +come merely as a relief to the monotony of lotus-eating, he had drifted +into the connection from sheer ennui. And then had come interest. No +woman had ever before interested him. He had never been able to define +the attraction she had had for him, the odd tenderness he had felt for +her. He had treated her as a plaything, a fragile toy to be teased and +petted. And in his hands she had developed from an innocent child into a +woman--with a woman's capacity for devotion and self-sacrifice. She +had given everything, with trust and gladness. And he had taken all +she gave, with colossal egoism, as his right--accepting lightly all +she surrendered with no thought for the innocence he contaminated, the +purity he soiled. He had stained her soul before he had killed her +body. His hands clenched and unclenched convulsively with the agony of +remorse. Recollection was torture. Repentance came too late. _Too late! +Too late!_ he words kept singing in his head as if a demon from hell was +howling them in his ear. Nothing on earth could undo what he had done. +No power could animate that little dead body. And if she had lived! He +shuddered. But she had not lived, she had died--because of him. Because +of him, Merciful God, because of him! And he could make no restitution. +What was there left for him to do? A life of expiation was not atonement +enough. There seemed only one solution--a life for a life. And that was +no reparation, only justice. He put no value on his own life--he wished +vaguely that the worth of it were greater--he had merely wasted it and +now he had forfeited it. Remained only to end it--now. There was no +reason for delay. He had no preparations to make. His affairs were all +in order. His heir was his aunt, his father's only sister, who would be +a better guardian of the Craven estates and interests than he had ever +been. Peters was independent and Yoshio provided for. There was nothing +to be done. He rose and opening a drawer in the table took out +a revolver and held it a moment in his hand, looking at it +dispassionately. It was not the ultimate purpose for which it had been +intended. He had never imagined a time when he might end his own life. +He had always vaguely connected suicide with cowardice. Was it the +coward's way? Perhaps! Who can say what cowardice or courage is required +to take the blind leap into the Great Unknown? That did not trouble him. +It was no question of courage or cowardice but he felt convinced that +his death was the only payment possible. + +But as his finger pressed the trigger there was a slight sound beside +him, his wrist and arm were caught in a vice-like grip and the weapon +exploded harmlessly in the air as he staggered back, his arm almost +broken with the jiu-jitsu hold against which even his great strength +could do nothing. He struggled fruitlessly until he was released, +then reeled against the table, with teeth set, clasping his wrenched +wrist--the sudden frustration of his purpose leaving him, shaking. He +turned stiffly. Yoshio was standing by him, phlegmatic as usual, showing +no signs of exertion or emotion as he proffered a lacquer tray, with the +usual formula: "Master's mail." + +Craven's eyes changed slowly from dull suffering to blazing wrath. +Uncontrolled rage filled him. How dared Yoshio interfere? How dared +he drag him back into the hell from which he had so nearly escaped? He +caught the man's shoulder savagely. + +"Damn you!" he cried chokingly. "What the devil do you mean--" But +the Jap's very impassiveness checked him and with an immense effort he +regained command of himself. And imperturbably Yoshio advanced the tray +again. + +"Master's mail," he repeated, in precisely the same voice as before, but +this time he raised his veiled glance to Craven's face. For a moment +the two men stared at each other, the grey eyes tortured and drawn, the +brown ones lit for an instant with deep devotion. Then Craven took the +letters mechanically and dropped heavily into a chair. The Jap picked up +the revolver and, quietly replacing it in the drawer from which it had +been taken, left the room, noiseless as he had entered it. He seemed to +know intuitively that it would be left where he put it. + +Alone, Craven leaned forward with a groan, burying his face in his +hands. + +At last he sat up wearily and his eyes fell on the letters lying +unopened on the table beside him. He fingered them listlessly and then +threw them down again while he searched his pockets absently for the +missing cigarette case. Remembering, he jerked himself to his feet with +an exclamation of pain. Was all life henceforward to be a series of +torturing recollections? He swore, and flung his head up angrily. +Coward! whining already like a kicked cur! + +He got a cigarette from a near table and picking up the letters carried +them out on to the verandah to read. There were two, both registered. +The handwriting on one envelope was familiar and his eyes widened as he +looked at it. He opened it first. It was written from Florence and dated +three months earlier. With no formal beginning it straggled up and down +the sides of various sheets of cheap foreign paper, the inferior violet +ink almost indecipherable in places. + +"I wonder in what part of the globe this letter will find you? I have +been trying to write to you for a long time--and always putting it +off--but they tell me now that if I am to write at all there must be no +more _manana_. They have cried 'wolf' so often in the last few months +that I had grown sceptical, but even I realise now that there must be +no delay. I have delayed because I have procrastinated all my life and +because I am ashamed--ashamed for the first time in all my shameless +career. But there is no need to tell you what I am--you told me candidly +enough yourself in the old days--it is sufficient to say that it is the +same John Locke as then--drunkard and gambler, spendthrift and waster! +And I don't think that my worst enemy would have much to add to this +record, but then my worst enemy has always been myself. Looking back now +over my life--queer what a stimulating effect the certainty of death has +to the desire to find even one good action wherewith to appease one's +conscience--it is a marvel to me that Providence has allowed me to +cumber the earth so long. However, it's all over now--they give me a +few days at the outside--so I must write at once or never. Barry, I'm in +trouble, the bitterest trouble I have ever experienced--not for myself, +God knows I wouldn't ask even your help, but for another who is dearer +to me than all the world and for whose future I can do nothing. You +never knew that I married. I committed that indiscretion in Rome with +a little Spanish dancer who ought to have known better than to be +attracted by my _beaux yeux_--for I had nothing else to offer her. We +existed in misery for a couple of years and then she left me, for a more +gilded position. But I had the child, which was all I cared about. Thank +God, for her sake, that I was legally married to poor little Lola, +she has at least no stain on her birth with which to reproach me. The +officious individual who is personally conducting me to the Valley of +the Shadow warns me that I must be brief--I kept the child with me as +long as I could, people were wonderfully kind, but it was no life for +her. I've come down in the social scale even since you knew me, Barry, +and at last I sent her away, though it broke my heart. Still even +that was better than seeing her day by day lose all respect for me. My +miserable pittance dies with me and she is absolutely unprovided for. My +family cast off me and all my works many years ago, but I put my pride +in my pocket and appealed for help for Gillian and they suggested--a +damned charitable institution! I was pretty nearly desperate until I +thought of you. I know no one else. For God's sake, Barry, don't fail +me. I can and I do trust Gillian to you. I have made you her guardian, +it is all legally arranged and my lawyer in London has the papers. He is +a well-known man and emanates respectability--my last claim to decency! +Gillian is at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Paris. My only +consolation is that you are so rich that financially she will be no +embarrassment to you. I realize what I am asking and the enormity of it, +but I am a dying man and my excuse is--Gillian. Oh, man, be good to my +little girl. I always hoped that something would turn up, but it didn't! +Perhaps I never went to look for it, _quien sabe?_ I shall never have +the chance again...." + +The signature was barely recognisable, the final letter terminating in a +wandering line as if the pen had dropped from nerveless fingers. + +Craven stared at the loose sheets in his hands for some time in +horrified dismay, at first hardly comprehending, then as the full +significance of John Locke's dying bequest dawned on him he flung them +down and, walking to the edge of the verandah, looked over the harbour, +tugging his moustache and scowling in utter perplexity. A child--a girl +child! How could he with his soiled hands assume the guardianship of +a child? He smiled bitterly at the irony of it. Providence was dealing +hard with the child in the Paris convent, from dissolute father +to criminal guardian. And yet Providence had already that morning +intervened on her behalf--two minutes later and there would have been +no guardian to take the trust. Providence clearly held the same views as +John Locke on charitable institutions. + +He thought of Locke as he had known him years ago, in Paris, a +man twenty years his senior--penniless and intemperate but with an +irresistible charm, rolling stone and waster but proud as a Spaniard; +a man of the world with the heart of a boy, the enemy of nobody but +himself, weak but lovable; a ragged coat and the manners of a prince; +idealist and failure. + +Craven read the letter through again. Locke had forced his hand--he had +no option but to take up the charge entrusted to him. What a legacy! +Surely if John Locke had known he would have rather committed his +daughter to the tender mercies even of the "institution." But he had not +known and he had trusted him. The thought was a sudden spur, urging +him as nothing else could have done, bringing out all that was best and +strongest in his nature. In a few hours he had crashed from the pinnacle +on which he had soared in the blindness of egoism down into depths of +self-realisation that seemed bottomless, and at the darkest moment when +his world was lying in pieces under his feet--this had come. Another +chance had been given to him. Craven's jaw set squarely as he thrust +Locke's dying appeal into his pocket. + +He ripped open the second letter. It was, as he guessed, from the lawyer +and merely confirmed Locke's letter, with the additional information +that his client had died a few hours after writing the said letter and +that he had forwarded the news to the Mother Superior of the Convent +School in Paris. + +Craven went back into the sitting-room to write cables. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Owing to a breakdown on the line the boat-train from Marseilles crawled +into the Gare du Lyon a couple of hours late. Craven had not slept. He +had given his berth in the waggon-lit to an invalid fellow passenger and +had sat up all night in an overcrowded, overheated carriage, choked with +the stifling atmosphere, his long legs cramped for lack of space. + +It was early March, and the difference between the temperature of the +train and the raw air of the station struck him unpleasantly as he +climbed down on to the platform. + +Leaving Yoshio, equally at home in Paris as in Yokohama, to collect +luggage, he signalled to a waiting taxi. He had the hood opened and, +pushing back his hat, let the keen wind blow about his face. The +cab jerked over the rough streets, at this early hour crowded with +people--working Paris going to its daily toil--and he watched them +hurrying by with the indifference of familiarity. Gradually he ceased +even to look at the varied types, the jostling traffic, the bizarre +posters and the busy newspaper kiosks. His thoughts were back +in Yokohama. It had been six weeks before he could get away, six +interminable weeks of misery and self-loathing. He had shirked nothing +and evaded nothing. Much had been saved him by the discreet courtesy +of the Japanese officials, but the ordeal had left him with jangling +nerves. Fortunately the ship was nearly empty and the solitude he +sought obtainable. He felt an outcast. To have joined as he had always +previously done in the light-hearted routine of a crowded ship bent on +amusements and gaiety would have been impossible. + +He sought mental relief in action and hours spent tramping the lonely +decks brought, if not relief, endurance. + +And, always in the background, Yoshio, capable and devoted, stood +between him and the petty annoyances that inevitably occur in +travelling--annoyances that in his overwrought state would have been +doubly annoying--with a thoughtfulness that was silently expressed in a +dozen different devices for his comfort. That the Jap knew a great deal +more than he himself did of the tragedy that had happened in the +little house on the hill Craven felt sure, but no information had been +volunteered and he had asked for none. He could not speak of it. And +Yoshio, the inscrutable, would continue to be silent. The perpetual +reminder of all that he could wish to forget Yoshio became, illogically, +more than ever indispensable to him. At first, in his stunned condition, +he had scarcely been sensible of the man's tact and care, but gradually +he had come to realize how much he owed to his Japanese servant. And yet +that was the least of his obligation. There was a greater--the matter of +a life; whatever it might mean to Craven, to Yoshio the simple payment +of a debt contracted years ago in California. That more than this had +underlain the Japanese mind when it made its quick decision Craven could +not determine; the code of the Oriental is not that of the Occidental, +the demands of honour are interpreted and satisfied differently. Life +in itself is nothing to the Japanese, the disposal of it merely the +exigency of a moment and withal a personal prerogative. By all the +accepted canons of his own national ideals Yoshio should have stood on +one side--but he had chosen to interfere. Whatever the motive, Yoshio +had paid his debt in full. + +The weeks at sea braced Craven as nothing else could have done. As the +ship neared France the perplexities of the charge he was preparing to +undertake increased. His utter unfitness filled him with dismay. On +receipt of John Locke's amazing letter he had both cabled and written to +his aunt in London explaining his dilemma, giving suitable extracts from +Locke's appeal, and imploring her help. And yet the thought of his aunt +in connection with the upbringing of a child brought a smile to his +lips. She was about as unsuited, in her own way, as he. Caro Craven was +a bachelor lady of fifty--spinster was a term wholly inapplicable to the +strong-minded little woman who had been an art student in Paris in the +days when insular hands were lifted in horror at the mere idea, and was +a designation, moreover, deprecated strongly by herself as an insult to +one who stood--at least in her own sphere--on an equality with the lords +of creation. She was a sculptor, whose work was known on both sides of +the channel. When at home she lived in a big house in London, but she +travelled much, accompanied by an elderly maid who had been with her +for thirty years. And it was of the maid as much as of the mistress that +Craven thought as the taxi bumped over the cobbled streets. + +"If we can only interest Mary." There was a gleam of hope in the +thought. "She will be the saving of the situation. She spoiled me +thoroughly when I was a nipper." And buoyed with the recollection +of grim-visaged angular Mary, who hid a very tender heart beneath a +somewhat forbidding exterior, he overpaid the chauffeur cheerfully. + +There was an accumulation of letters waiting for him at the hotel, but +he shuffled them all into his overcoat pocket, with the exception of one +from Peters which he tore open and read immediately, still standing in +the lounge. + +An hour later he set out on foot for the quiet hotel which had been his +aunt's resort since her student days, and where she was waiting for +him now, according to a telegram that he had received on his arrival at +Marseilles. The hall door of her private suite was opened by the elderly +maid, whose face lit up as she greeted him. + +"Miss Craven is waiting in the salon, sir. She has been tramping the +floor this hour or more, expecting you," she confided as she preceded +him down the corridor. + +Miss Craven was standing in a characteristic attitude before an open +fireplace, her feet planted firmly on the hearthrug, her short plump +figure clothed in a grey coat and skirt of severe masculine cut, her +hands plunged deep into her jacket pockets, her short curly grey hair +considerably ruffled. She bore down on her nephew with out-stretched +hands. + +"My dear boy, there you are at last! I have been waiting _hours_ for +you. Your train must have been very late--abominable railway service! +Have you had any breakfast? Yes? Good. Then take a cigarette--they are +in that box at your elbow--and tell me about this amazing thunderbolt +that you have hurled at me. What a preposterous proposition for two +bachelors like you and me! To be sure your extraordinary friend did not +include me in his wild scheme--though no doubt he would have, had he +known of my existence. Was the man mad? Who was he, anyhow? John Locke +of where? There are dozens of Lockes. And why did he select you of all +people? What fools men are!" She subsided suddenly into an easy chair +and crossed one neat pump over the other. "All of 'em!" she added +emphatically, flicking cigarette ash into the fire with a vigorous +sidelong jerk. Her eyes were studying his face attentively, seeking for +themselves the answer to the more personal inquiries that would have +seemed necessary to a less original woman meeting a much-loved nephew +after a lapse of years. Craven smiled at the characteristically peculiar +greeting and the well remembered formula. He settled his long limbs +comfortably into an opposite chair. + +"Even Peter?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. + +Miss Craven laughed good temperedly. + +"Peter," she rejoined succinctly, "is the one brilliant exception that +proves the rule. I have an immense respect for Peter." He looked at her +curiously. "And--me, Aunt Caro?" he asked with an odd note in his voice. +Miss Craven glanced for a moment at the big figure sprawled in the chair +near her, then looked back at the fire with pursed lips and wrinkled +forehead, and rumpled her hair more thoroughly than before. + +"My dear boy," she said at last soberly, "you resemble my unhappy +brother altogether too much for my peace of mind." + +He winced. Her words probed the still raw wound. But unaware of the +appositeness of her remark Miss Craven continued thoughtfully, still +staring into the fire: + +"The Supreme Sculptor, when He made me, denied me the good looks that +are proverbial in our family--but in compensation he endowed me with a +solid mind to match my solid body. The Family means a great deal to me, +Barry--more than anybody has ever realised--and there are times when I +wonder why the solidity of mind was given to the one member of the race +who could not perpetuate it in the direct line." She sighed, and then as +if ashamed of unwonted emotion, jerked her dishevelled grey head with a +movement that was singularly reminiscent of her nephew. Craven flushed. + +"You're the best man of the family, Aunt Caro." + +"So your mother used to say--poor child." Her voice softened suddenly. +She got up restlessly and resumed her former position before the fire, +her hands back in the pockets of her mannish coat. + +"What about your plans, Barry? What are you going to do?" she said +briskly, with an evident desire to avoid further moralising. He joined +her on the hearthrug, leaning against the mantelpiece. + +"I propose to settle down--at any rate for a time, at the Towers," he +replied. "I intend to interest myself in the estates. Peter insists +that I am wanted, and though that is nonsense and he is infinitely more +necessary than I am, still I am willing to make the trial. I owe him +more than I can even repay--we all do--and if my presence is really any +help to him--he's welcome to it. I shall be about as much real use as +the fifth wheel of a coach--a damned rotten wheel at that," he added +bitterly. And for some minutes he seemed to forget that there was more +to say, staring silently into the fire and from time to time putting +together the blazing logs with his foot. + +Miss Craven was possessed of the unfeminine attribute of holding her +tongue and reserving her comments. She refrained from comment now, +rocking gently backward and forward on her heels--a habit associated +with mental concentration. + +"I shall take the child to the Towers," he continued at length, +"and there I shall want your help, Aunt Caro." He paused stammering +awkwardly--"It's an infernal impertinence asking you to--to--" + +"To turn nursemaid at my time of life," she interrupted. "It is +certainly a career I never anticipated. And, candidly, I have doubts +about its success," she laughed and shrugged, with a comical grimace. +Then she patted his arm affectionately--"You had much better take +Peter's advice and marry a nice girl who would mother the child and give +her some brothers and sisters to play with." + +He stiffened perceptibly. + +"I shall never marry," he said shortly. Her eyebrows rose the fraction +of an inch but she bit back the answer that rose to her lips. + +"Never--is a long day," she said lightly. "The Cravens are an old +family, Barry. One has one's obligations." + +He did not reply and she changed the conversation hastily. She had a +horror of forcing a confidence. + +"Remains--Mary," she said, with the air of proposing a final expedient. +Craven's tense face relaxed. + +"Mary had also occurred to me," he admitted with an eagerness that was +almost pathetic. + +Miss Craven grunted and clutched at her hair. + +"Mary!" she repeated with a chuckle, "Mary, who has gone through life +with Wesley's sermons under her arm--and a child out of a Paris convent! +There are certainly elements of humour in the idea. But I must have some +details. Who was this Locke person?" + +When Craven had told her all he knew she stood quite still for a long +while, rolling a cigarette tube between her firm hands. + +"Dissolute English father--and Spanish mother of doubtful morals. My +poor Barry, your hands will be full." + +"Our hands," he corrected. + +"Our hands! Good heavens, the bare idea terrifies me!" She shrugged +tragically and was dumb until Mary came to announce lunch. + +Across the table she studied her nephew with an attention that she was +careful to conceal. She was used to his frequent coming and going. +Since the death of his mother he had travelled continually and she was +accustomed to his appearing more or less unexpectedly, at longer or +shorter intervals. They had always been great friends, and it was to +her house in London that he invariably went first on returning to +England--sure of his welcome, sure of himself, gay, easy-going and +debonair. She was deeply attached to him. But, with something akin to +terror, she had watched the likeness to the older Barry Craven growing +from year to year, fearful lest the moral downfall of the father might +repeat itself in the son. The temptation to speak frankly, to warn, +had been great. Natural dislike of interference, and a promise given +reluctantly to her dying sister-in-law, had kept her silent. She had +loved the tall beautiful woman who had been her brother's wife and a +promise made to her was sacred--though she had often doubted the wisdom +of a silence that might prove an incalculable danger. She respected the +fine loyalty that demanded such a promise, but her own views were more +comprehensive. She was strong enough to hold opinions that were contrary +to accepted traditions. She admitted a loyalty due to the dead, she was +also acutely conscious of a loyalty due to the living. A few minutes +before when Miss Craven had, somewhat shamefacedly, owned to a love +of the family to which they belonged she had but faintly expressed her +passionate attachment thereto. Pride of race was hers to an unusual +degree. All that was best and noblest she craved for the clan. And Barry +was the last of the Cravens. Her brother had failed her and dragged her +high ideals in the dust. Her courage had restored them to endeavour +a second time. If Barry failed her too! Hitherto her fears had had +no definite basis. There had been no real ground for anxiety, only a +developing similarity of characteristics that was vaguely disquieting. +But now, as she looked at him, she realised that the man from whom she +had parted nearly two years before was not the man who now faced her +across the table. Something had happened--something that had changed him +utterly. This man was older by far more than the actual two years. This +was a man whom she hardly recognised; hard, stern, with a curiously +bitter ring at times in his voice, and the shadow of a tragedy lying +in the dark grey eyes that had changed so incredibly for lack of their +habitual ready smile. There were lines about his mouth and a glint +of grey in his hair that she was quick to observe. Whatever had +happened--he had suffered. That was written plainly on his face. And +unless he chose to speak she was powerless to help him. She refused +to intrude, unbidden, into another's private concerns. That he was +an adored nephew, that the intimacy between them was great made no +difference, the restriction remained the same. But she was woman enough +to be fiercely jealous for him. She resented the change she saw--it +was not the change she had desired but something far beyond her +understanding that left her with the feeling that she was confronting a +total stranger. But she was careful to hide her scrutiny, and though her +mind speculated widely she continued to chatter, supplementing the home +news her scanty letters had afforded and retailing art gossip of the +moment. One question only she allowed herself. There had come a silence. +She broke it abruptly, leaning forward in her chair, watching him +keen-eyed. + +"Have you been ill--out there?"--her hand fluttered vaguely in an +easterly direction. Craven looked up in surprise. + +"No," he said shortly, "I never am ill." + +Miss Craven's nod as she rose from the table might have been taken for +assent. It was in reality satisfaction at her own perspicacity. She had +not supposed for one moment that he had been ill but in no other way +could she express what she wanted to know. It was in itself an innocuous +and natural remark, but the sudden gloom that fell on him warned her +that her ingenuity was, perhaps, not so great as she imagined. + +"Triple idiot!" she reflected wrathfully, as she poured out coffee, "you +had better have held your tongue," and she set herself to charm away the +shadow from his face and dispel any suspicion he might have formed of +her desire to probe into his affairs. She had an uncommon personality +and could talk cleverly and well when she chose. And today she did +choose, exerting all her wit to combat the taciturn fit that emphasized +so forcibly the change in him. But though he listened with apparent +attention his mind was very obviously elsewhere, and he sat staring into +the fire, mechanically flicking ash from his cigarette. Conversation +languished and at length Miss Craven gave it up, with a wry face, and +sat also silent, drumming with her fingers on the arm of the chair. Her +thoughts, in quest of his, wandered far away until the sudden ringing of +the telephone beside her made her jump violently. + +She answered the call, then handed the receiver to Craven. + +"Your heathen," she remarked dryly. + +Though the least insular of women she had never grown accustomed to +the Japanese valet. He turned from the telephone with a look of mingled +embarrassment and relief. + +"I sent a message to the convent this morning. Yoshio has just given +me the answer. The Mother Superior will see me this afternoon." He +endeavoured to make his voice indifferent, pulling down his waistcoat +and picking a minute thread from off his coat sleeve. Miss Craven's +mouth twitched at the evident signs of nervousness while she glanced at +him narrowly. Prompt action in the matter of an uncongenial duty had not +hitherto been a conspicuous trait in his character. + +"You are certainly not letting the grass grow under your feet." + +He jerked his head impatiently. + +"Waiting will not make the job more pleasant," he shrugged. "I will see +the child at once and arrange for her removal as soon as possible." + +Miss Craven eyed him from head to foot with a grim smile that changed to +a whole-hearted laugh of amusement. + +"It's a pity you have so much money, Barry, you would make your fortune +as a model. You are too criminally good looking to go fluttering into +convents." + +A ghost of the old smile flickered in his eyes. + +"Come and chaperon me, Aunt Caro." + +She shook her head laughingly. + +"Thank you--no. There are limits. I draw the line at convents. Go and +get it over, and if the child is presentable you can bring her back to +tea. I gather that Mary is anticipating a complete failure on our part +to sustain the situation and is prepared to deputise. She has already +ransacked _Au Paradis Des Enfants_ for suitable bribes wherewith to +beguile her infantile affection. I understand that there was a lively +scene over the purchase of a doll, the cost of which--clad only in its +birthday dress--was reported to me as 'a fair affront.' Even after all +these years Mary jibs at Continental prices. It is her way of keeping +up the prestige of the British Empire, bless her. An overcharge, in her +opinion, is a deliberate twist of the lion's tail." + +In the taxi he looked through the correspondence he had received that +morning for the lawyer's letter that would establish his claim to John +Locke's child. Then he leaned back and lit a cigarette. He had an absurd +feeling of nervousness and cursed Locke a dozen times before he reached +the convent. He was embarrassed with the awkward situation in which he +found himself--just how awkward he seemed only now fully to appreciate. +The more he thought of it, the less he liked it. The coming interview +with the Mother Superior was not the least of his troubles. The promise +of the morning had not been maintained, overhead the sky was leaden, and +a high wind drove rain in sharp splashes against the glass of the cab. +The pavements were running with water and the leafless trees in the +avenues swayed and creaked dismally. The appearance of the streets was +chill and depressing. Craven shivered. He thought of the warmth and +sunshine that he had left in Japan. The dreariness of the present +outlook contrasted sufficiently with the gay smiling landscape, the +riotous wealth of colour, and the scent-laden air of the land of his +recollections. A feeling almost of nostalgia came to him. But with +the thought came also a vision--a little still body lying on silken +cushions; a small pale face with fast shut eyes, the long lashes a dusky +fringe against the ice-cold cheek. The vision was terribly distinct, +horribly real--not a recollection only, as on the morning that he had +found her dead--and he waited, with the sweat pouring down his face, for +the closed eyes to open and reveal the agony he had read in them that +night, when he had torn her clinging hands away and left her. The faint +aroma of the perfume she had used was in his nostrils, choking him. The +slender limbs seemed to pulsate into life, the little breasts to stir +perceptibly, the parted lips to tremble. He could not define the actual +moment of the change but, as he bent forward, with hands close gripped, +all at once he found himself looking straight into the tortured grey +eyes--for a second only. Then the vision faded, and he was leaning back +in the cab wiping the moisture from his forehead. God, would it never +leave him! It haunted him. In the big bungalow on the Bluff; rising from +the sea as he leaned on the steamer rail; during the long nights on +the ship as he lay sleepless in the narrow brass cot; last night in the +crowded railway carriage--then it had been so vivid that he had held +his breath and glanced around stealthily with hunted eyes at his fellow +passengers looking for the horrified faces that would tell him that they +also saw what he could see. He never knew how long it lasted, minutes +or seconds, holding him rigid until it passed to leave him bathed in +perspiration. Environment seemed to make no difference. It came as +readily in a crowd as when he was alone. He lived in perpetual dread of +betraying his obsession. Once only it had happened--in the bungalow, +the night before he left Japan, and his involuntary cry had brought the +watchful valet. And as he crossed the room Craven had distinctly seen +him pass through the little recumbent figure and, with blazing eyes, had +dragged him roughly to one side, pointing and muttering incoherently. +And Yoshio had seemed to understand. Sceptical as he was about the +supernatural, at first Craven's doubt had been rudely shaken; but with +the steadying of his nerves had come the conviction that the vision +was inward, though at the moment so real that often his confidence +momentarily wavered, as last night in the train. It came with no kind of +regularity, no warning that might prepare him. And recurrence brought +no mitigation, no familiarising that could temper the acute horror it +inspired. To what pitch of actuality might it attain? To what lengths +might it drive him? He dragged his thoughts up sharply. To dwell on it +was fatal, that way lay insanity. He set his teeth and forced himself to +think of other things. There was ample material. There was primarily the +salvage of a wasted life. During the last few weeks he had been forced +to a self-examination that had been drastically thorough. The verdict +had been an adverse one. Personal criticism, once aroused, went far. The +purposeless life that he had led seemed now an insult to his manhood. It +had been in his power to do so much--he had actually done disastrously +little. He had loafed through life without a thought beyond the passing +interest of the moment. And even in the greater interests of his life, +travel and big game, he had failed to exert himself beyond a mediocre +level. He had travelled far and shot a rare beast or two, but so had +many another--and with greater difficulties to contend with than he +who had never wrestled with the disadvantages of inferior equipment and +inadequate attendance. Muscularly and constitutionally stronger than +the average, physically he could have done anything. And he had done +nothing--nothing that others had not done as well or even better. It was +sufficiently humiliating. And the outcome of his reflections had been +a keen desire for work, hard absorbing work, with the hope that bodily +fatigue might in some measure afford mental alleviation. It did not even +need finding. With a certain shame he admitted the fact. It had +waited for him any time these last ten years in his own home. The +responsibility of great possessions was his. And he had shirked. He had +evaded the duty he owed to a trust he had inherited. It was a new view +of his position that recent thought had awakened. It was still not too +late. He would go back like the prodigal--not to eat the fatted calf, +but to sit at the feet of Peters and learn from him the secret of +successful estate management. + +For thirty years Peter Peters had ruled the Craven properties, and they +were all his life. For the last ten years he had never ceased urging +his employer to assume the reins of government himself. His entreaties, +protestations and threats of resignation had been unheeded. Craven felt +sure that he would never relinquish his post, he had grown into the soil +and was as firmly fixed as the Towers itself. He was an institution in +the county, a personality on the bench. He ruled his own domains with +a kindly but absolute autocracy which succeeded perfectly on the Craven +estates and was the envy of other agents, who had not his ability to do +likewise. Well born, original and fearless he was popular in castle and +in cottage, and his advice was respected by all. He neither sought nor +abused a confidence, and in consequence was the depository of most of +the secrets of the countryside. To his sympathetic ears came both +grave offences and minor indiscretions, as to a kindly safety-valve who +advised and helped--and was subsequently silent. His exoneration was +considered final. "I confessed to Peter" became a recognised formula, +instituted by a giddy young Marchioness at the north end of the county, +whose cousin he was. And there, invariably, the matter ended. And for +Craven it was the one bright spot in the darkness before him. Life was +going to be hell--but there would always be Peter. + +At the Convent gates the taxi skidded badly at the suddenly applied +brakes, and then backed jerkily into position. Craven felt an +overwhelming inclination to take to his heels. The portress who admitted +him had evidently received orders, for she silently conducted him to a +waiting room and left him alone. It was sparsely furnished but had on +the walls some fine old rosewood panelling. The narrow heavily leaded +windows overlooked a paved quadrangle, glistening with moisture. For a +few moments the rain had ceased but drops still pattered sharply on +to the flagstones from the branches of two large chestnut trees. The +outlook was melancholy and he turned from the window, shivering. But the +chill austere room was hardly more inspiring. The atmosphere was strange +to him. It was a world apart from anything that had ever touched him. He +marvelled suddenly at the countless lives living out their allotted span +in the confined area of these and similar walls. Surely all could not +submit willingly to such a crushing captivity? Some must agonize and +spend their strength unavailingly, like birds beating their wings +against the bars of a cage for freedom. To the man who had roamed +through all the continents of the world this forced inactivity seemed +appalling--stultifying. The hampering of personal freedom, the forcing +of independent minds into one narrow prescribed channel that admitted +of no individual expansion, the waste of material and the fettering of +intellects, that were heaven-sent gifts to be put out to usury and not +shrouded away in a napkin, revolted him. The conventual system was to +him a survival of medievalism, a relic of the dark ages; the last refuge +of the shirkers of the world. The communities themselves, if he had +thought of them at all, had been regarded as a whole. He had never +troubled to consider them as composed of single individuals. Today he +thought of them as separate human beings and his intolerance increased. +An indefinite distaste never seriously considered seemed, during the +few moments in the bare waiting room, to have grown suddenly into active +dislike. He was wholly out of sympathy with his surroundings, impatient +of the necessity that brought him into contact with what he would have +chosen to avoid. He looked about with eyes grown hard and contemptuous. +The very building seemed to be the embodiment of retrogression and blind +superstition. He was filled with antagonism. His face was grim and his +figure drawn up stiffly to its full height when the door opened to +admit the Mother Superior. For a moment she hesitated, a faint look of +surprise coming into her face. And no antagonism, however intolerant, +could have braved her gentle dignity. "It is--_Monsieur_ Craven?" she +asked, a perceptible interrogation in her soft voice. + +She took the letters he gave her and read them carefully--pausing once +or twice as if searching for the correct translation of a word--then +handed them back to him in silence. She looked at him again, frankly, +with no attempt to disguise her scrutiny, and the perplexity in her eyes +grew greater. One small white hand slid to the crucifix hanging on her +breast, as if seeking aid from the familiar symbol, and Craven saw that +her fingers were trembling. A faint flush rose in her face. + +"_Monsieur_ is perhaps married, or--happily--he has a mother?" she asked +at last, and the flush deepened as she looked up at the big man standing +before her. She made a little gesture of embarrassment but her eyes +did not waver. They would not, he thought with sudden intuition. For he +realised that it was one of his own order who confronted him. It was not +what he had anticipated. The Mother Superior's low voice continuing in +gentle explanation broke into his thoughts. + +"_Monsieur_ will forgive that I catechise him thus but I had expected +one--much older." Her distress was obvious. And Craven divined that as a +prospective guardian he fell short of expectation. And yet, his lack of +years was apparently to her the only drawback. His lack of years--Good +God, and he felt so old! His youth was a disadvantage that counted for +nothing in the present instance. If she could know the truth, if the +anxious gaze that was fixed so intently on him could look into his heart +with understanding, he knew that she would shrink from him as from a +vile contamination. + +He conceived the horror dawning in her eyes, the loathing in her +attitude, and seemed to hear her passionate protest against his claim to +the child who had been sheltered in the safety of the community that he +had despised. The safety of the community--that had not before occurred +to him. For the first time he considered it a refuge to those who there +sought sanctuary and who were safeguarded from such as--he. He winced, +but did not spare himself. The sin had been only his. The child who had +died for love of him had been as innocent of sin as the birds who loved +and mated among the pine trees in her Garden of Enchantment. She had had +no will but his. Arrogantly he had taken her and she had submitted--was +he not her lord? Before his shadow fell across her path no blameless +soul within these old convent walls had been more pure and stainless +than the soul of O Hara San. It was the sins of such as he that drove +women to this shelter that offered refuge and consolation, to escape +from such as he they voluntarily immured themselves; surrendering the +purpose of their being, seeking in bodily denial the salvation of their +souls. + +The room had grown very dark. A sudden glare of light made Craven +realise that a question asked was still unanswered. He had not, in his +abstraction, been aware of any movement. Now he saw the Mother Superior +walking leisurely back from the electric switch by the door, and guessed +from her placid face that the interval had been momentary and had passed +unnoticed. Some answer was required now. He pulled himself together. + +"I am not married," his voice was strained, "and I have no mother. But +my aunt--Miss Craven--the sculptor--" he paused enquiringly and she +smiled reassurance. + +"Miss Craven's beautiful work is known to me," she said with ready tact +that put him more at ease. + +"My aunt has, most kindly, promised to--to co-operate," he finished +lamely. + +The anxiety faded from the Mother Superior's face and she sat down with +an air of relief, motioning Craven to a chair. But with a curt bow he +remained standing. He had no wish to prolong the interview beyond what +courtesy and business demanded. He listened with a variety of feelings +while the Nun spoke. Her earnestness he could not fail to perceive, but +it required a decided effort to concentrate, and follow her soft well +modulated voice. + +She spoke slowly, with feeling that broke at times the tone she strove +to make dispassionate. + +"I am glad for Gillian's sake that at last, after all these years, there +has come one who will be concerned with her future. She has no vocation +for the conventual life and--I was beginning to become anxious. For +ourselves, we shall miss her more than it is possible to say. She had +been with us so long, she has become very dear to us. I have dreaded +that her father would one day claim her. She has been spared that +contamination--God forgive me that I should speak so." For a moment she +was silent, her eyes bent on her hands lying loosely clasped in her lap. + +"Gillian is not altogether friendless," she resumed, "she will go to +you with a little more knowledge of the world than can be gained within +these old walls." She glanced round the panelled room with half-sad +affection. "She is popular and has spent vacations in the homes of some +of her fellow pupils. She has a very decided personality, and a facility +for attracting affection. She is sensitive and proud--passionate even at +times. She can be led but not driven. I tell you all this, _Monsieur_, +not censoriously but that it may help you in dealing with a character +that is extraordinarily complex, with a nature that both demands and +repels affection, that longs for and yet scorns sympathy." She looked +at Craven anxiously. His complete attention was claimed at last. A new +conception of his unknown ward was forcing itself upon him, so that +any humour there might have been in the situation died suddenly and the +difficulties of the undertaking soared. The Mother Superior smothered +a sigh. His attitude was baffling, his expression inscrutable. Had her +words touched him, had she said what was best for the welfare of the +girl who was so dear to her, and whose departure she felt so keenly? How +would she fare at this man's hands? What lay behind his stern face and +sombre tragic eyes? Her lips moved in silent prayer, but when she spoke +her voice was serene as before. + +"There is yet another thing that I must speak of. Gillian has an unusual +gift." A sentence in Locke's letter flashed into Craven's mind. + +"She doesn't _dance_?" he asked, in some dismay. + +"Dance, _Monsieur_--in a convent?" Then she pitied his hot confusion and +smiled faintly. + +"Is dancing so unusual--in the world? No, Gillian sketches--portraits. +Her talent is real. She does not merely draw a faithful likeness, her +studies are revelations of soul. I do not think she knows herself how +her effects are obtained, they grow almost unconsciously, but they +result always in the same strange delineation of character. It was so +impossible to ignore this exceptional gift that we procured for her +the best teacher in Paris, and continued her lessons even after--" She +stopped abruptly and Craven finished the broken sentence. + +"Even after the fees ceased," he said dryly. "For how many years has my +ward lived on your charity, Reverend Mother?" + +She raised a protesting hand. + +"Ah--charity. It is hardly the word--" she fenced. + +He took out a cheque book. + +"How much is owing, for everything?" he said bluntly. + +She sought for a book in a bureau standing against the rosewood +panelling and, scanning it, gave a sum with evident reluctance. + +"Gillian has never been told, but it is ten years since _Monsieur_ Locke +paid anything." There was diffidence in her voice. "In an institution +of this kind we are compelled to be businesslike. It is rare that we can +afford to make an exception, though the temptation is often great. +The head and the heart--_voyez, vous, Monsieur_--they pull in contrary +directions." And she slipped the book back into a pigeon-hole as if the +touch of it was distasteful. She glanced perfunctorily at the cheque he +handed to her, then closer, and the colour rose again to her sensitive +face. + +"But _Monsieur_ has written treble the amount," she murmured. + +"Will you accept the balance," he said hurriedly, "in the name of my +ward, for any purpose that you may think fit? There is one stipulation +only--I do not wish her to know that there has been any monetary +transaction between us." His voice was almost curt, and the Nun +found herself unable to question a condition which, though manifestly +generous, she deemed quixotic. She could only bend to his decision with +mingled thankfulness and apprehension. Despite the problem of the girl's +future she had it in her heart to wish that this singular claimant had +never presented himself. His liberality was obvious but--. She locked +the slip of paper away in the bureau with a feeling of vague uneasiness. +But for good or ill the matter was out of her hands. She had said all +that she could say. The rest lay with God. + +"I do accept it," she said, "with all gratitude. It will enable us to +carry out a scheme that has long been our hope. Your generosity will +more than pave the way. I will send Gillian to you now." + +She left him, more embarrassed than he had been at first, more than ever +dreading the task before him. He waited with a nervous impatience that +irritated himself. + +Turning to the window he looked out into the dusk. The old trees in +the courtyard were almost indistinguishable. The rain dripped again +steadily, splashing the creeper that framed the casement. A few lights +showing dimly in the windows on the opposite side of the quadrangle +served only to intensify the gloom. The time dragged. Fretfully he +drummed with his fingers on the leaded panes, his ears alert for any +sound beyond the closed door. The echo of a distant organ stole into the +room and the soft solemn notes harmonised with the melancholy pattering +of the raindrops and the gusts of wind that moaned fitfully around the +house. + +In a sudden revulsion of feeling the life he had mapped out for himself +seemed horrible beyond thought. He could not bear it. It would be tying +his hands and burdening himself with a responsibility that would curtail +his freedom and hamper him beyond endurance. A great restlessness, a +longing to escape from the irksome tie, came to him. Solitude and open +spaces; unpeopled nature; wild desert wastes--he craved for them. +The want was like a physical ache. The desert--he drew his breath +in sharply--the hot shifting sand whispering under foot, the fierce +noontide sun blazing out of a brilliant sky, the charm of it! The +fascination of its false smiling surface, its treacherous beauty luring +to hidden perils called to him imperatively. The curse of Ishmael that +was his heritage was driving him as it had driven him many times +before. He was in the grip of one of the revolts against restraint and +civilisation that periodically attacked him. The wander-hunger was in +his blood--for generations it had sent numberless ancestors into the +lonely places of the world, and against it ties of home were powerless. +In early days to the romantic glamour of the newly discovered Americas, +later to the silence of the frozen seas and to the mysterious depth +of unexplored lands the Cravens had paid a heavy toll. A Craven had +penetrated into the tangled gloom of the Amazon forests, and had never +returned. In the previous century two Cravens had succumbed to the +fascination of the North West Passage, another had vanished in Central +Asia. Barry's grandfather had perished in a dust storm in the Sahara. +And it was to the North African desert that his own thoughts turned +most longingly. Japan had satisfied him for a time--but only for a +time. Western civilisation had there obtruded too glaringly, and he had +admitted frankly to himself that it was not Japan but O Hara San that +kept him in Yokohama. The dark courtyard and the faintly lighted windows +faded. He saw instead a tiny well-remembered oasis in Southern Algeria, +heard the ceaseless chatter of Arabs, the shrill squeal of a stallion, +the peevish grunt of a camel, and, rising above all other sounds, the +whine of the tackling above the well. And the smell--the cloying smell +that goes with camel caravans, it was pungent! He flung up his head +inhaling deeply, then realised that the scent that filled the room was +not the acrid smell of the desert but the penetrating odour of incense +filtering in through the opened door. It shut and he turned reluctantly. + +He saw at first only a pair of great brown eyes, staring almost +defiantly, set in a small pale face, that looked paler by contrast with +the frame of dark brown hair. Then his gaze travelled slowly over the +slender black-clad figure silhouetted against the polished panels. His +fear was substantiated. Not a child who could be relegated to nurses and +governesses, but a girl in the dawn of womanhood. Passionately he cursed +John Locke. + +He felt a fool, idiotically tongue-tied. He had been prepared to adopt +a suitably paternal attitude towards the small child he had expected. A +paternal attitude in connection with this self-possessed young woman was +impossible, in fact ludicrous. For the moment he seemed unable to cope +with the situation. It was the girl who spoke first. She came forward +slowly, across the long narrow room. + +"I am Gillian Locke, _Monsieur_." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +On the cushioned window seat in her bedroom at Craven Towers Gillian +Locke sat with her arms wrapped round her knees waiting for the summons +to dinner. With Miss Craven and her guardian she had left London that +morning, arriving at the Towers in the afternoon, and she was tired and +excited with the events of the day. She leant back against the panelled +embrasure, her mind dwelling on the last three crowded months they had +spent in Paris and London waiting until the house was redecorated and +ready to receive them. It had been for her a wonderful experience. The +novelty, the strangeness of it, left her breathless with the feeling +that years, not weeks, had rushed by. Already in the realisation of the +new life the convent days seemed long ago, the convent itself to have +receded into a far off past. And yet there were times when she wondered +whether she was dreaming, whether waking would be inevitable and she +would find herself once more in the old dormitory to pray passionately +that she might dream again. And until tonight there had scarcely been +time even to think, her days had been full, at night she had gone to bed +to sleep in happy dreamlessness. The hotel bedrooms with their litter +of trunks suggesting imminent flight had held no restfulness. To Gillian +the transitory sensation had strained already over-excited nerves and +heightened the dreamlike feeling that made everything seem unreal. But +here, the visible evidences of travel removed, the deep silence of a +large country house penetrating her mind and conducing to peace, she +could think at last. The surroundings were helpful. There was about the +room an air of permanence which the hotel bedrooms had never given, an +atmosphere of abiding quiet that soothed her. She was sensitive of an +influence that was wholly new to her and very sweet, that brought with +it a feeling of laughter and tears strangely mingled, that made the +room appear as no other room had ever done. It Was her room, and it had +welcomed her. It was like a big friendly silent person offering +mute reception, radiating repose. In a few hours the room had become +intimate, dear to her. She laughed happily--then checked at a guilty +feeling of treason against the grey old walls in Paris that had so long +sheltered her. She was not ungrateful, all her life she would remember +with gratitude the love and care she had received. But the convent had +been prison. Since her father had left her there, a tiny child, she +had inwardly rebelled; the life was abhorrent to her, the restraint +unbearable. With childish pride she had hidden her feelings, living +through a period of acute misery with no hint to those about her of what +she suffered. And the habit of suppression acquired in childhood had +grown with her own development. As the years passed the limitations of +the convent became more perceptible. She felt its cramping influence to +the full, as if the walls were closing in to suffocate her, to bury her +alive before she had ever known a fuller freer life. She had longed for +expansion--ideas she could not formulate, desires she could not express, +crowded, jostled in her brain. She wanted a wider outlook on life than +the narrow convent windows offered. Brief excursions into the world to +the homes of her friends had filled her with a yearning for freedom +and for independence, for a greater range of thought and action. Her +artistic studies had served to foster an unrest she struggled against +bravely and to conceal which she became daily more self-contained. Her +reserve was like a barrier about her. She was sweet and gentle to all +around her, but a little aloof and very silent. To the other girls she +had been a heroine of romance, puzzling mystery surrounded her; to the +Nuns an enigma. The Mother Superior, alone, had arrived at a partial +understanding, more than that even she could not accomplish. Gillian +loved her, but her reserve was stronger than her love. Sitting now +in the dainty English bedroom, revelling in the warm beauty of the +exquisite landscape that, mellowed in the evening light, lay spread out +beneath her eyes, Gillian thought a little sadly of her parting with the +Reverend Mother. She had tried to hide the happiness that the strange +feeling of freedom gave her, to smother any look or word that might +wound the gentle sensibility of the frail robed woman whose eyes were +sad at the approaching separation. Her conscience smote her that her own +heart held no sadness. She had said very little, nothing of the new life +that lay ahead of her. She hid her hopes of the future as jealously as +she had hidden her longings in the past, and she had left the convent as +silently as she had lived in it. She had driven back to the hotel with +a sense of relief predominating that it was all over, breathing deeply +with a sigh of relaxed tension. It seemed to her then as if she had +learned to breathe only within the last few days, as if the air itself +was lighter, more exhilarating. + +From the convent her mind went back to earlier days. She thought of +her father, the handsome dissolute man, whose image had grown dim with +years. As a tiny child she had loved him passionately, the central +figure of her chequered and wandering little life--father and mother +in one, playmate and hero. Her recollection seemed to be of constant +travelling; of long hours spent in railway trains; of arrivals at +strange places in the dark night; of departures in the early dawn, half +awake--but always happy so long as the familiar arms held her weary +little body and there was the shabby old coat on which to pillow her +brown curls. A jumbled remembrance of towns and country villages; of +kind unknown women who looked compassionate and murmured over her in a +dozen different languages. It had all been a medley of impressions and +experiences--everything transient, nothing lasting, but the big untidy +man who was her all. And then the convent. For a few years John Locke +had reappeared at irregular intervals, and on the memory of those brief +visits she had lived until he came again. Then he had ceased to +come and his letters, grown short and few, full of vague +promises--unsatisfying--meagre, had stopped abruptly. At first she had +refused to admit to herself that he had forgotten, that she could mean +so little to him, that he would deliberately put her out of his life. +She had waited, excusing, trusting, until, heart-sick with deferred +hope, she had come to think of him as dead. She was old enough then +to realise her position and in spite of the love and consideration +surrounding her she had learned misery. Her popularity even was a source +of torment, for in the happy homes of her friends she had felt more +cruelly her own destitute loneliness. + +When the lawyer's letter had come enclosing a few scrawled lines +written by her dying father she had felt that life could hold no more +bitterness. She had worshipped him--and he had abandoned her callously. +She was bone of his bone and he had made no effort even for his own +flesh. He had thrown her a burden on the convent that sheltered her so +willingly only for want of will power to conquer the weakness that had +devitalised brain and body. The thought crushed her. As she read his +confession, full of tardy remorse, her proud heart had been sick with +humiliation. She groped blindly through a sea of despair, her faith +broken, her trust gone. She hid her sorrow and her shame, fulfilling +her usual tasks, following the ordinary routine--a little more silent, +a little more reserved--her eyes alone betraying the storm that was +overwhelming her. She had loved him so dearly--that was the sting. +She had guarded her memory of him so tenderly, weaving a thousand +extravagant tales about him, pinnacling him above all men, her hero, her +knight, her _preux chevalier._ And now she realised that her memory was +no memory, that she had built up a fantastic figure of romance whose +origin rested on nothing tangible, whose elevation had been so lofty +that his overthrow was demolition. Her god had feet of clay. Her +superman was nothing. All that she had ever had, memory that was +delusion, was taken from her. Woken abruptly to the brutal truth she +felt that she had nothing left to cling to--a loneliness far greater +than she had known before. Then gradually her own honesty compelled her +to admit her fantasy. The dream man she had evolved had been of her +own making, the virtues with which she had endowed him bred of her own +imagination. Of the real man she knew nothing, and for the real man +there dawned slowly--though love for him had died--pity. It came to her, +passionately endeavouring to understand, that in the sheltered life she +led she had no knowledge of the temptations that beset a man outside +in the great world. Dimly she realised that some win out--and some go +under. He had failed. And it seemed to her that on her had fallen his +debt. She must take the place he had forfeited in the universe, she must +succeed where he had failed. Her strength must rise out of his weakness. +His honour was hers to re-establish, given the opportunity. And the +opportunity had been given. She had waited for the coming of her unknown +guardian with a feeling of dull revolt against the degradation of being +handed over inexorably to the disposal and charity of a stranger. Though +she had not been told she had guessed, years ago, that money for her +maintenance was wanting. The kindly deception of the Mother Superior +had been ineffectual. Gillian knew she was a pauper. The charity of the +convent school had been hard to bear. The charity of a stranger would +be harder. She writhed with the humiliation of it. She was nineteen--for +two years she must go and be and endure at the whim of an unknown. And +what would he be like, this man into whose hands her father had thrust +her! What choice would John Locke be capable of making--what love had he +shown during these last years that he should choose carefully and well? +From among what class of man, of the society into which he had sunk, +would he select one to give his daughter? He had written of "my old +friend, Barry Craven." The name conveyed nothing--the adjective admitted +of two interpretations. Which? Day and night she was haunted with +visions of old men--recollections of faces seen when driving with her +friends or visiting their homes; old men who had interested her, old men +from whom she had instinctively shrunk. What type of man was it that was +coming for her? There were times when her courage deserted her and the +constantly recurring question made her nearly mad with fear. She was +like a wild creature caught in a trap, listening to the feet of the +keeper nearing--nearing. She had longed for the time when she could +leave the Convent, she clung to it now with dread at the thought of the +future. The London lawyer had written that Mr. Craven was returning +from Japan to assume his guardianship, and she had traced his route with +growing fear as the days slipped by--the keeper's tread coming closer +and closer. She had masked the terror the thought of him inspired, +preserving an outward apathy that seemed to imply complete indifference. +And in the end he had come sooner than she expected, for they thought he +would go first to London. One morning she had learned he was in +Paris, that very afternoon she would know her fate. The day had been +interminable. During his interview with the Mother Superior she had +paced the room where she was waiting as it seemed for hours, her nerves +at breaking point. When the Reverend Mother came back she could have +shrieked aloud and her desperate eyes failed to interpret the expression +on the Nun's face; she tried to speak, a husky whisper that died away +inarticulately. Faintly she heard the gentle words of encouragement and +with an effort of pride she walked quickly to the door of the visitors' +room. There she paused, irresolute, and the low peaceful roll of the +organ echoing from the distant chapel seemed to mock her. So often it +had comforted, giving courage to go forward--today its very peacefulness +jarred; nerve-racked she was out of tune with the atmosphere of calm +tranquillity about her. She felt alien--that more than ever she stood +alone. Then pride flamed afresh. With head held high and lips compressed +she went in. As he turned from the window it was his great height and +broad shoulders that struck her first--men of his physique were rare +in France--and, in the thought of a moment, the well cut conventional +morning coat had seemed absurd, and mentally she had clothed his long +limbs in damascened steel. Then she had seen that he was young, how +young she could not guess, but younger far than she had imagined. As +their eyes met the sombre tragedy in his had hurt her. She divined a +sorrow before which her own paled to nothingness and quick pity killed +fear. The sadness of his face lifted her suddenly into full realisation +of her womanhood. Compassion rose above self. Instinctively she knew +that the interview that was to her so momentous was to him only an +embarrassing interlude. Shyness remained but the terror she had felt +gave place to a feeling she had not then understood. As quickly +as possible he had taken her to the hotel, leaving to his aunt all +explanations that seemed necessary. And since then he had remained +consistently in the background, delegating his authority to Miss Craven. +But from the first his proximity had troubled her--she was always +conscious of his presence. Hypersensitive from her convent upbringing +she knew intuitively when he entered a room or left it. Men were to her +an unknown quantity; the few she had met--brothers and cousins of school +friends--had been viewed from a different standpoint. Hedged about +with rigid French convention there had been no chance of acquaintance +ripening into friendship--she had been merely a schoolgirl among other +girls, touching only the fringe of the most youthful of the masculine +element in the houses where she had stayed. She had been unprepared for +the change to the daily contact with a man like Barry Craven. It would +take time to accustom herself, to become used to the continual masculine +presence. + +Miss Craven, to her nephew's relief, had taken the shy pale-faced +girl to her eccentric heart with a suddenness and enthusiasm that had +surprised herself. + +And Gillian's reserve and pride had been unable to withstand the +whirlwind little lady. Miss Craven's personality took a strong hold on +her; she loved the woman, she admired the artist, and she was quick +to recognise the real feeling and deep kindness that lay under brusque +manner and quizzical speeches. She had good reason. She glanced now +round the big room. Everywhere were evidences of lavish generosity, +showered on her regardless of protest. Gillian's eyes filled slowly with +tears. It was all a fairy story, too wonderful almost to be true. +Why were they so good to her--how would she ever be able to repay the +kindness lavished on her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the latest +gift that rose out of his basket with a sleepy yawn and stretching +luxuriously came and laid his head on her knee, looking up at her with +sad brown eyes. She had always loved animals, the possession of some dog +had been an ardent desire, and she hugged the big black poodle now with +a little sob. + +"Mouston, you pampered person, have you ever been lonely? Can you +imagine what it is like to be made to feel that you _belong_ to somebody +again?" She rubbed her cheek against his satiny head, crooning over him, +the dog thrilling to her touch with jerking limbs and sharp half-stifled +whines. It was her first experience of ownership, of responsibility +for a living creature that was dependent on her and for which she was +answerable. And it was likely to prove an arduous responsibility. He was +single-minded and jealous in his allegiance; Miss Craven he tolerated +indifferently, of Craven he was openly suspicious. He followed Gillian +like a shadow and moped in her absence, yielding to Yoshio, who had +charge of him on such occasions, a resigned obedience he gave to no +other member of the household. Through Mouston Gillian and Yoshio had +become acquainted. + +Mouston's affection this evening became over-enthusiastic and +threatening to fragile silks and laces. Gillian kissed the top of his +head, shook solemnly an insistent paw, and put him on one side. She +moved to the dressing table and inspected herself critically in the big +mirror. She looked with grave amusement. Was that Gillian Locke? She +wondered did a butterfly feel more incongruous when it shed its dull +grub skin. For so many years she had worn the sombre garb of the convent +schoolgirl, the change was still new enough to delight and the natural +woman within her responded to the fascination of pretty clothing. The +dark draperies of the convent had palled, she had craved colour with an +almost starved longing. + +The general reflection in the long glass satisfied, a more detailed +personal survey raised serious doubts. She had never recognised the +grace of her slender figure, the uncommon beauty of her pale oval +face--other types had appealed more, other colouring attracted. She had +studied her face often, disapprovingly. Once or twice, lacking a model, +she had essayed to reproduce her own features. She had failed utterly. +The faithful portraiture she achieved for others was wanting. She was +unable to express in her own likeness the almost startling exposition +of character that distinguished her ordinary work. She had been her +own limitation. Her failure had puzzled her, causing a searching mental +inquiry. She had no knowledge herself of how her special gift took form, +the work grew involuntarily under her hand. She was aware of no definite +impression received, no attempt at soul analysis. Vaguely she supposed +that in some subtle mysterious way the character of her sitter +communicated itself, influencing her; in fact her best work had often +had the least care bestowed upon it. Did her inability to transfer to +canvas a living copy of her own face argue that she herself was +without character--had she failed because there was in truth nothing to +delineate? Or was it because she sought to see something unreal--sought +to control a purely inherent impulse? It was a problem she had never +solved. + +She looked now at the mirrored figure with her usual disapproval, great +brown eyes scowling back at her from the glass, then made a little +obliterating movement with her hand and shook her head. Appearance had +never mattered before, but now she wanted so much to please--to be a +credit to the interest shown, to repay the time and money spent upon +her. Her eyes grew wistful as she leant nearer to see if there were +any tell-tale traces of tears, then danced with sudden amusement as she +picked up a powder puff and dabbed tentatively. + +"Oh, Gillian Locke, what would the Reverend Mother say!" she murmured, +and laughed. + +The poodle, jealous for attention, leaped on to a chair beside her, his +paws on the plate glass slab scattering brushes and bottles, and still +laughing she smothered his damp eager nose with powder until he sneezed +disgusted protest. + +With a conciliatory caress she left him to disarrange the dressing table +further, and went back to the window. Beneath her lawns extended to a +wide terrace, stone balustraded, from the centre of which a long flight +of steps led down to a formal rose garden sheltered by a high yew hedge +and backed by a little copse beyond which the heavily timbered park +stretched indefinitely in the evening light. The sense of space +fascinated her. She had always longed for unimpeded views, for the +stillness of the country. On the smooth shaven lawns great trees were +set like sentinels about the house; fancifully she thought of them as +living vigilant keepers maintaining for centuries a perpetual guard--and +smiled at her childish imagination. Her pleasure in the prospect +deepened. Already the charm of the Towers had taken hold of her, from +the first moment she had loved it. Throughout the long railway journey +and during the five mile drive from the station, she had anticipated, +and the actuality had outstripped her anticipation. The beauty of the +park, the herds of grazing deer, had delighted her; the old grey house +itself had stayed her spellbound. She had not imagined anything half so +lovely, so impressively enduring. She had seen nothing to compare +with its fine proportions, with the luxury of its setting. It differed +utterly from the French Chateaux where she had visited; there toil +obtruded, vineyards and rich fields of crops clustered close to the very +walls of the seigneur's dwellings, a source of wealth simply +displayed; here similar activities were banished to unseen regions, and +scrupulously kept avenues, close cut lawns and immaculate flower-beds +formed evidence of constant labour whose results charmed the eye but +were materially profitless. The formal grandeur appealed to her. She was +not altogether alien, she reflected, with a curious smile--despite his +subsequent downfall John Locke had sprung from just such stock as the +owner of this wonderful house. A sudden panic of lateness interrupted +her pleasure and she turned from the window, calling to the dog. +Her suite opened on to a circular gallery--from which bedrooms +opened--running round the central portion of the house and overlooking +the big square hall which was lit from above by a lofty glazed dome; +eastward and westward stretched long rambling wings, a story higher than +the main block, crowned with the turrets that gave the house its name. + +A low murmur of men's voices came from below, and leaning over the +balustrade she saw Craven and his agent standing talking before the +empty fireplace. Sudden shyness overcame her; her guardian was still +formidable, Peters she had seen for the first time only a few hours +ago when he had met them at the station--a short broad-shouldered man +inclining to stoutness, with thick grey hair and close-pointed beard. To +go down deliberately to them seemed impossible. But while she hesitated +in an agony of self-consciousness Mouston precipitated the inevitable +by dashing on ahead down, the stairs and plunging into the bearskin +hearthrug, ploughing the thick fur with his muzzle and sneezing wildly. +The sense of responsibility outweighed shyness and she hurried after +him, but Peters anticipated her and already had the dog's unwilling head +firmly between his hands. + +"What on earth has he got on his nose, Miss Locke?" he asked, in a tone +of wonder, but the keen blue eyes looking at her from under bushy +grey eyebrows were twinkling and her shyness was not proof against his +friendliness. + +She dropped to her knees and flicked the offended organ with a scrap of +lace and lawn. + +"Powder," she said gravely. + +"You can have no idea," she added, looking up suddenly, "how delightful +it is to powder your nose when you have been brought up in a convent. +The Nuns consider it the height of depravity," and she laughed, a +ringing girlish outburst of amusement that Craven had never yet heard. +He looked at her as she knelt on the rug soothing the poodle's outraged +feelings and smiling at Peters who was offering his own more +adequate handkerchief. That laugh was a revelation--in spite of her +self-possession, of her reserve, she was in reality only a girl, hardly +more than a child, but influenced by her quiet gravity he had forgotten +the fact. + +As he watched her a slight frown gathered on his face. It seemed that +Peters, in a few hours, had penetrated the barrier outside which he, +after months, still remained. With him she was always shyly silent. On +the few rare occasions in Paris and in London when he had found himself +alone with her she had shrunk into herself and avoided addressing him; +and he had wondered, irritably, how much was natural diffidence and +how much due to convent training. But he had made no effort at further +understanding, for the past was always present dominating inclinations +and impulses--perpetual memory, jogging at his elbow. There were days +when the only relief was physical exhaustion and he disappeared for +hours to fight his devils in solitude. And in any case he was not +wanted, it was better in every way for him to efface himself. There +was nothing for him to do--thanks to the improvidence of John Locke +no business connected with the trust. Miss Craven had taken complete +possession of Gillian and he held aloof, not attempting to establish +more intimate relations with his ward. But tonight, with a fine +inconsistency, it piqued him that she should respond so readily +to Peters. He knew he was a fool--it mattered not one particle to +him--Peters' magnetism was proverbial--but, illogically, the frown +persisted. + +As if conscious of his scrutiny Gillian turned and met his searching +gaze. The colour flooded her face and she pushed the dog aside and rose +hastily to her feet. Shyness supervened again and she was thankful for +the arrival of Miss Craven, who was breathless and apologetic. + +"Late as usual! I shall be late when the last trump sounds. But this +time it was really not my fault. Mrs. Appleyard descended upon me!--our +old housekeeper, Gillian--and her tongue has wagged for a solid hour by +the clock. I am now _au fait_ with everything that has happened at the +Towers since I was here last--do your ears burn, Peter?--metaphorically +she has dragged me at her heels from garrets to cellars and back to the +garrets again. She is pathetically pleased to have the house open once +more." + +Still talking she led the way to the dining room. It was an immense +room, panelled like most of the house, the table an oasis on a desert +of Persian carpet, a huge fireplace predominating, and some of the more +valuable family portraits on the walls. + +As Miss Craven entered she looked instinctively for the portrait of her +brother, which since his death had hung--following a family custom--in a +panel over the high carved mantelpiece. But it had been removed and +for it had been substituted a beautiful painting of Barry's mother. +She stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence. "An innovation?" she +murmured to her nephew, with her shrewd eyes on his face. + +"A reparation," he answered shortly, as he moved to his chair. And his +tone made any further comment impossible. She sat down thoughtfully and +began her soup in silence, vaguely disturbed at the departure from a +precedent that had held for generations. Unconventional and ultra-modern +as she was she still clung to the traditions of her family, and from +time immemorial the portrait of the last reigning Craven had hung +over the fireplace in the big dining room waiting to give place to its +successor. It all seemed bound up somehow with the terrible change that +had taken place in him since his return from Japan--a change she was +beginning more and more to connect with the man whose portrait had been +banished, as though unworthy, from its prominence. Unworthy indeed--but +how did Barry know? What had he learned in the country that had had +such a fatal attraction for his father? The old shameful story she had +thought buried for ever seemed rising like a horrible phantom from the +grave where it had lain so long hidden. + +With a little shudder she turned resolutely from the painful thoughts +that came crowding in upon her and entered into animated conversation +with Peters. + +Gillian, content to be unnoticed, looked about her with appreciative +interest; the big room, its sombre, rather formal furniture and fine +pictures, appealed to her. The arrangements were in perfect harmony, +nothing clashed or jarred, electric lighting was carefully hidden and +only wax candles burnt in heavy silver candlesticks on the table. + +The fascination of the old house was growing every moment more +insistent, like a spell laid on her. She gave herself up to it, to the +odd happiness it inspired. She felt it curiously familiar. A strange +feeling came to her--it was as if from childhood she had been journeying +and now come home. An absurd thought, but she loved it. She had never +had a home, but for the next two years she could pretend. To pretend +was easy. All her life she had lived in a land of dreams, tenanted with +shadowy inhabitants of her own imagining--puppets who moved obedient to +her will through all the devious paths of make-believe; a spirit world +where she ranged free of the narrow walls that restricted her liberty. +It had been easy to pretend in the convent--how much easier here in +the solid embodiment of a dream castle and stimulated by the real human +affection for which her heart had starved. The love she had hitherto +known had been unsatisfying, too impersonal, too restrained, too +interwoven with mystical devotion. Mass Craven's affection was of a +hardier, more practical nature. Blunt candour and sincerity personified, +she did not attempt to disguise her attachment. She had been attracted, +had approved, and had finally co-opted Gillian into the family. She had, +moreover, great faith in her own judgment. And to justify that faith +Gillian would have gone through fire and water. + +She looked gratefully at the solid little figure sitting at the foot of +the table and a gleam of amusement chased the seriousness from her eyes. +Miss Craven was in the throes of a heated discussion with Peters which +involved elaborate diagrams traced on the smooth cloth with a salt +spoon, and as Gillian watched she completed her design with a fine +flourish and leant back triumphant in her chair, rumpling her hair +fantastically. But the agent, unconvinced, fell upon her mercilessly +and in a moment she was bent forward again in vigorous protest, drumming +impatiently on the table with her fingers as he laughingly altered her +drawing. They were the best of friends and wrangled continually. To +Gillian it was all so fresh, so novel. Then her attention veered. +Throughout dinner Craven had been silent. When once started on a +discussion his aunt and Peters tore the controversy amicably to tatters +in complete absorption. He had not joined in the argument. As always +Gillian was too shy to address him of her own accord, but she was +acutely conscious of his nearness. She deprecated her own attitude, yet +silence was better than the banal platitudes which were all she had to +offer. Her range was so restricted, his--who had travelled the world +over--must be so great. With the exception of one subject her knowledge +was negligible. But he too was an artist--hopeless to attempt that +topic, she concluded with swift contempt for her own limitations; to +offer the opinions of a convent-bred amateur to one who had studied in +famous Paris ateliers and was acquainted with the art of many countries +would be an impertinence. But yet she knew that sometime she must break +through the wall that her own diffidence had built up; in the intimacy +of country house life the continuance of such an attitude would be both +impossible and ridiculous. Contritely she acknowledged that the tension +between them was largely her own fault, a disability due to training. +But she could not go through life sheltering behind that wholly +inadequate plea. If there was anything in her at all she must rise above +the conventions in which she had been reared; she had done with the +narrowness of the past, now she must think broadly, expansively, in all +things--even in the trivial matter of social intercourse. A saving sense +of humour sent a laugh bubbling into her throat which nearly escaped. +It was such a little thing, but she had magnified it so greatly. What, +after all, did it amount to--the awkwardness of a schoolgirl very +properly ignored by a guardian who could not be other than bored with +her society. _Tant pis!_ She could at least try to be polite. She +turned with the heroic intention of breaking the ice and plunging into +conversation, banal though it might be. But her eyes did not arrive +at his face, they were caught and held by his hand, lying on the white +cloth, turning and twisting an empty wine-glass between long strong +fingers. Hands fascinated her. They were indicative of character, +testimonies of individual peculiarities. She was sensitive to the +impression they conveyed. With the limited material available she had +studied them--nuns' hands, priests' hands, hands of the various inmates +of the houses where she had stayed, and the hands of the man who had +taught her. From him she had learned more than the mere rudiments of her +art; under his tuition a crude interest had developed into a definite +study, and as she sat looking at Barry Craven's hand a sentence from one +of his lectures recurred to her--"there are in some hands, particularly +in the case of men, characteristics denoting certain passions and +attributes that jump to the eye as forcibly as if they were expressions +of face." + +Engaged in present study she forgot her original purpose, noting the +salient points of a fresh type, enumerating details that formed +the composite whole. A strong hand that could in its strength be +merciless--could it equally in its strength be merciful? The strange +thought came unexpectedly as she watched the thin stem of the wineglass +turning rapidly and then more slowly until, with a little tinkle, +it snapped as the hand clenched suddenly, the knuckles showing white +through the tanned skin. Gillian drew a quick breath. Had she been the +cause of the mishap--had she stared noticeably, and he been angry at an +impertinence? Her cheeks burned and in a misery of shyness she forced +her eyes to his face. Her contrition was needless. Heedless of her he +was looking at the splintered glass between his fingers with a faint +expression of surprise, as if his wandering thoughts were but half +recalled by the accident. For a moment he stared at the shattered +pieces--then laid them down indifferently. + +Gillian smothered an hysterical inclination to laugh. He was so totally +negligent of her presence that even this little incident had failed to +make him sensible of her scrutiny. Immersed in his thoughts he was +very obviously miles away from Craven Towers and the vicinity of a +troublesome ward. And suddenly it hurt. She was nothing to him but a +shy _gauche_ girl whose very existence was an embarrassment. The +determination so bravely formed died before his cold detachment. More +than ever was speech impossible. + +She shrugged faintly with a little pout. So, confident of his +preoccupation, she continued to study him. Had the homecoming +intensified the sadness of his eyes and deepened the lines about his +mouth?--were memories of the mother he had adored sharpening tonight +the look of suffering on his face? Or was her imagination, over-excited, +exaggerating what she saw and fancying a great sorrow where there was +only boredom? She pondered, and had almost concluded that the latter was +the saner explanation when--watching--she saw a sudden spasm cross his +face of such agony that she caught her lip fiercely between her teeth +to stifle an exclamation. In the fleeting expression of a moment she +had seen the revelation of a soul in torment. She looked away hastily, +feeling dismayed at having trespassed. She had discovered a secret +wound. She sat tense, and a quick fear came lest the others might have +also seen. She glanced at them furtively. But the argument was +still unsettled, the tablecloth between them scored and creased with +conflicting sketches. She drew a sharp little sigh of relief. Only she +had noticed, and she did not matter. For a few moments her thoughts +ran riot until she pulled them up frowningly. It was no business of +hers--she had no right even to speculate on his affairs. Angry with +herself she turned for distraction to the portraits on the walls--they +at least would offer no disturbing problem. But her determination to +keep her thoughts from her guardian met with a check at the outset for +she found herself staring at Barry Craven as she had visualised him in +that first moment of meeting--steel-clad. It was the picture of a young +man, dressed in the style of the Elizabethan period, wearing a light +inlaid cuirass and leaning negligently against a stone balustrade, +a hooded falcon on his wrist. The resemblance to the owner of Craven +Towers was remarkable--the same build, the same haughty carriage of the +head, the same features and colouring; the mouth only of the painted +gallant differed, for the lips were not set sternly but curved in a +singularly winning smile. The portrait had recently been cleaned and +the colours stood out freshly. The pose of the figure was curiously +unrestrained for the period, a suggestion of energy--barely concealed by +the indolent attitude--broke through the conventional treatment of the +time, as if the painter had responded to an influence that had overcome +tradition. The whole body seemed to pulsate with life. Gillian looked at +it entranced; instinctively her eyes sought the pictured hands. The one +that held the falcon was covered with an embroidered leather glove, but +the other was bare, holding a set of jesses. And even the hands were +similar, the characteristics faithfully transmitted. Peters' voice +startled her. "You are looking at the first Barry Craven, Miss Locke. It +is a wonderful picture. The resemblance is extraordinary, is it not?" + +She looked up and met the agent's magnetic smile across the table. + +"It is--extraordinary," she said slowly; "it might be a costume portrait +of Mr. Craven, except that in treatment the picture is so different from +a modern painting." + +Peters laughed. + +"The professional eye, Miss Locke! But I am glad that you admit the +likeness. I should have quarrelled horribly with you if you had failed +to see it. The young man in the picture," he went on, warming to the +subject as he saw the girl's interest, "was one of the most romantic +personages of his time. He lived in the reign of Elizabeth and was +poet, sculptor, and musician--there are two volumes of his verse in +the library and the marble Hermes in the hall is his work. When he +was seventeen he left the Towers to go to court. He seems to have been +universally beloved, judging from various letters that have come down +to us. He was a close friend of Sir Philip Sidney and one of Spenser's +numerous patrons. A special favourite with Elizabeth--in fact her +partiality seems to have been a source of some embarrassment, according +to entries in his private journal. She knighted him for no particular +reason that has ever transpired, indeed it seems to have been a matter +of surprise to himself, for he records it in his journal thus: + +"'--dubbed knight this day by Gloriana. God He knoweth why, but not I.' +He was an idealist and visionary, with the power of putting his thoughts +into words--his love poems are the most beautiful I have ever read, but +they are quite impersonal. There is no evidence that his love was ever +given to any 'faire ladye.' No woman's name was ever connected with his, +and from his detached attitude towards the tender passion he earned, in +a fantastical court, the euphuistic appellation of _L'amant d' Amour._ +Quite suddenly, after ten years in the queen's household, he fitted out +an expedition to America. He gave no reason. Distaste for the artificial +existence prevailing at Court, sorrow at the death of his friend +Sidney, or a wander-hunger fed on the tales brought home by the numerous +merchant adventurers may have been the cause of this surprising step. +His decision provoked dismay among his friends and brought a furious +tirade from Elizabeth who commanded him to remain near her. But in spite +of royal oaths and entreaties--more of the former than the latter--he +sailed to Virginia on a land expedition. Two letters came from him +during the next few years, but after that--silence. His fate is +not known. He was the first of many Cravens to vanish into oblivion +searching for new lands." The pleasant voice hesitated and dropped to a +lower, more serious note. And Gillian was puzzled at the sudden anxiety +that clouded the agent's smiling blue eyes. She had listened with eager +interest. It was history brought close and made alive in its intimate +connection with the house. The dream castle was more wonderful even +than she had thought. She smiled her thanks at Peters, and drew a long +breath. + +"I like that," and looking at the picture again, "the Lover of Love!" +she repeated softly; "it's a very beautiful idea." + +"A very unsatisfactory one for any poor soul who may have been fool +enough to lose her heart to him." Miss Craven's voice was caustic. + +"I have often wondered if any demoiselle 'pined in a green and yellow +melancholy for his sake,' she added, rising from the table. + +"Reason enough, if he knew of it, for going to Virginia," said Craven, +with a hard laugh. "The family traditions have never tended to undue +consideration of the weaker sex." + +"Barry, you are horrible!" + +"Possibly, my dear aunt, but correct," he replied coolly, crossing the +room to open the door. "Even Peter, who has the family history at his +fingers' ends, cannot deny it." His voice was provocative but Peters, +beyond a mildly sarcastic "--thank you for the 'even,' Barry--" refused +to be drawn. + +Her nephew's words would formerly have aroused a storm of indignant +protest from Miss Craven, touched in a tender spot. But now some +intuition warned her to silence. She put her arm through Gillian's and +left the room without attempting to expostulate. + +In the drawing room she sat down to a patience table, lit a cigarette, +rumpled her hair, and laid out the cards frowningly. More than ever +was she convinced that in the two years he had been away some serious +disaster had occurred. His whole character appeared to have undergone +a change. He was totally different. The old Barry had been neither hard +nor cynical, the new Barry was both. In the last few weeks she had had +ample opportunity for judging. She perceived that a heavy shadow +lay upon him darkening his home-coming--she had pictured it so very +differently, and she sighed over the futility of anticipation. His +happiness meant to her so much that she raged at her inability to help +him. Until he spoke she could do nothing. And she knew that he would +never speak. The nightly occupation lost its usual zest, so she shuffled +the cards absently and began a fresh game. + +Gillian was on the hearthrug, Houston's head in her lap. She leant +against Miss Craven's chair, dreaming as she had dreamt in the old +convent until the sudden lifting of the dog's head under her hands made +her aware of Peters standing beside her. He looked down silently on the +card table for a few moments, pointed with a nicotine-stained finger to +a move Miss Craven had missed and then wandered across the room and sat +down at the piano. For a while his hands moved silently over the keys, +then he began to play, and his playing was exquisite. Gillian sat and +marvelled. Peters and music had seemed widely apart. He had appeared +so essentially a sportsman; in spite of the literary tendency that his +sympathetic account of the Elizabethan Barry Craven had suggested +she had associated him with rougher, more physical pursuits. He was +obviously an out-door man; a gun seemed a more natural complement to +his hands than the sensitive keys of a piano, his thick rather clumsy +fingers manifestly incompatible with the delicate touch that was filling +the room with wonderful harmony. It was a check to her cherished theory +which she acknowledged reluctantly. But she forgot to theorise in the +sheer joy of listening. + +"Why did he not make music a career?" she whispered, under cover of some +crashing chords. Miss Craven smiled at her eager face. + +"Can you see Peter kow-towing to concert directors, and grimacing at an +audience?" she replied, rescuing a king from her rubbish heap. + +With an answering smile Gillian subsided into her former position. +Music moved her deeply and her highly strung artistic temperament was +responding to the beauty of Peters' playing. It was a Russian folk song, +plaintive and simple, with a curious minor refrain like the sigh of an +aching heart--wild sad harmony with pain in it that gripped the throat. +Swayed by the sorrow-haunted music a wave of foreboding came over her, a +strange indefinite fear that was formless but that weighed on her like +a crushing burden. The happiness of the last few weeks seemed suddenly +swamped in the recollection of the misery rampant in the world. Who, +if their inmost hearts were known, were truly happy? And her thoughts, +becoming more personal, flitted back over the desolate days of her own +sad girlhood and then drifted to the tragedy of her father. Then, with +a forward leap that brought her suddenly to the present, she thought of +the sorrow she had seen on Craven's face in that breathless moment at +dinner time. Was there only sadness in the world? The brooding brown +eyes grew misty. A passionate prayer welled up in her heart that +complete happiness might touch her once, if only for a moment. + +Then the music changed and with it the girl's mood. She gave her head +a little backward jerk and blinked the moisture from her eyes angrily. +What was the matter with her? Surely she was the most ungrateful girl in +the universe. If there was sorrow in the world for her then it must +be of her own making. She had been shown almost unbelievable kindness, +nothing had been omitted to make her happy. The contrast of her life +only a few weeks ago and now was immeasurable. What more did she want? +Was she so selfish that she could even think of the unhappiness that was +over? Shame filled her, and she raised her eyes to the woman beside her +with a sudden rush of gratitude and love. But Miss Craven, interested at +last in her game, was blind to her surroundings, and with a little smile +Gillian turned her attention to the silent occupant of the chair near +her. Craven had come into the room a few minutes before. He was leaning +back listlessly, one hand shading his face, a neglected cigarette +dangling from the other. She looked at him long and earnestly, +wondering, as she always wondered, what association there had been +between him and such a man as her father--what had induced him to take +upon himself the burden that had been laid upon him. And her cheeks +grew hot again at the thought of the encumbrance she was to him. It was +preposterous that he should be so saddled! + +She stifled a sigh and her eyes grew dreamy as she fell to thinking of +the future that lay before her. And as she planned with eager confidence +her hand moved soothingly over the dog's head in measure to the +languorous waltz that Peters was playing. + +After a sudden unexpected chord the player rose from the piano and +joined the circle at the other end of the room. Miss Craven was +shuffling vigorously. "Thank you, Peter," she said, with a smiling nod, +"it's like old times to hear you play again. Gillian thinks you have +missed your vocation, she would like to see you at the Queen's Hall." + +Peters laughed at the girl's blushing protest and sat down near the card +table. Miss Craven paused in a deal to light a fresh cigarette. + +"What's the news in the county?" she asked, adding for Gillian's +benefit: "He's a walking chronicle, my dear." + +Peters laughed. "Nothing startling, dear lady. We have been a singularly +well-behaved community of late. Old Lacy of Holmwood is dead, Bill Lacy +reigns in his stead and is busy cutting down oaks to pay for youthful +indiscretions--none of 'em very fierce when all's said and done. The +Hamer-Banisters have gone under at last--more's the pity--and Hamer +is let to some wealthy Australians who are possessed apparently of +unlimited cash, a most curious phraseology, and an assurance which is +beautiful to behold. They had good introductions and Alex has taken them +up enthusiastically--there are kindred tastes." + +"Horses, I presume. How are the Horringfords?" + +"Much as usual," replied Peters. "Horringford is absorbed in things +Egyptian, and Alex is on the warpath again," he added darkly. + +Miss Craven grinned. + +"What is it this time?" + +Peters' eyebrows twitched quaintly. + +"Socialism!" he chuckled, "a brand new, highly original conception of +that very elastic term. I asked Alex to explain the principles of this +particular organization and she was very voluble and rather cryptic. It +appears to embrace the rights of man, the elevation of the masses, the +relations between landlord and tenant, the psychological deterioration +of the idle rich--" + +"Alex and psychology--good heavens!" interposed Miss Craven, her hands +at her hair, "and the amelioration of the downtrodden poor," continued +Peters. "It doesn't sound very original, but I'm told that the +propaganda is novel in the extreme. Alex is hard at work among their own +people," he concluded, leaning back in his chair with a laugh. + +"But--the downtrodden poor! I thought Horringford was a model landlord +and his estates an example to the kingdom." + +"Precisely. That's the humour of it. But a little detail like that +wouldn't deter Alex. It will be an interest for the summer, she's always +rather at a loose end when there's no hunting. She had taken up this +socialistic business very thoroughly, organizing meetings and lectures. +A completely new scheme for the upbringing of children seems to be a +special sideline of the campaign. I'm rather vague there--I know I made +Alex very angry by telling her that it reminded me of intensive market +gardening. That Alex has no children of her own presents no difficulty +to her--she is full of the most beautiful theories. But theories don't +seem to go down very well with the village women. She was routed the +other day by the mother of a family who told her bluntly to her face she +didn't know what she was talking about--which was doubtless perfectly +true. But the manner of telling seems to have been disagreeable and +Alex was very annoyed and complained to Thomson, the new agent. He, poor +chap, was between the devil and the deep sea, for the tenants had also +been complaining that they were being interfered with. So he had to go +to Horringford and there was a royal row. The upshot of it was that Alex +rang me up on the 'phone this morning to tell me that Horringford was +behaving like a bear, that he was so wrapped up in his musty mummies +that he hadn't a spark of philanthropy in him, and that she was coming +over to lunch tomorrow to tell me all about it--she's delighted to hear +that the house is open again, and will come on to you for tea, when +you will doubtless get a second edition of her woes. Half-an-hour later +Horringford rang me up to say that Alex had been particularly tiresome +over some new crank which had set everybody by the ears, that Thomson +was sending in a resignation daily, altogether there was the deuce to +pay, and would I use my influence and talk sense to her. It appears he +is working at high pressure to finish a monograph on one of the Pharaohs +and was considerably ruffled at being interrupted." + +"If he cared a little less for the Pharaohs and a little more for +Alex--" suggested Miss Craven, blowing smoke rings thoughtfully. Peters +shook his head. + +"He did care--that's the pity of it," he said slowly, "but what can you +expect?--you know how it was. Alex was a child married when she should +have been in the schoolroom, without a voice in the matter. Horringford +was nearly twenty years her senior, always reserved and absorbed in +his Egyptian researches. Alex hadn't an idea in the world outside the +stables. Horringford bored her infinitely, and with Alex-like honesty +she did not hesitate to tell him so. They hadn't a thought in common. +She couldn't see the sterling worth of the man, so they drifted apart +and Horringford retired more than ever into his shell." + +"And what do you propose to do, Peter?" Craven's sudden question was +startling, for he had not appeared to be listening to the conversation. + +Peters lit a cigarette and smoked for a few moments before answering. +"I shall listen to all Alex has to say," he said at last, "then I shall +tell her a few things I think she ought to know, and I shall persuade +her to ask Horringford to take her with him to Egypt next winter." + +"Why?" + +"Because Horringford in Egypt and Horringford in England are two very +different people. I know--because I have seen. It's an idea, it may +work. Anyhow it's worth trying." + +"But suppose her ladyship does not succumb to your persuasive tongue?" + +"She will--before I've done with her," replied Peters grimly, and then +he laughed. "I guessed from what she said this morning that she was a +little frightened at the hornet's nest she had raised. I imagine she +won't be sorry to run away for a while and let things settle down. She +can ease off gently in the meantime and give Egypt as an excuse for +finally withdrawing." + +"You think Alex is more to blame than Horringford?" said Miss Craven, +with a note of challenge in her voice. + +Peters shrugged. "I blame them both. But above all I blame the system +that has been responsible for the trouble." + +"You mean that Alex should have been allowed to choose her own husband? +She was such a child--" + +"And Horringford was such a devil of a good match," interposed Craven +cynically, moving from his chair to the padded fireguard. Gillian was +sitting on the arm of Miss Craven's chair, sorting the patience cards +into a leather case. She looked up quickly. "I thought that in +England all girls choose their own husbands, that they marry to please +themselves, I mean," she said in a puzzled voice. + +"Theoretically they do, my dear," replied Miss Craven, "in practice +numbers do not. The generality of girls settle their own futures and +choose their own husbands. But there are still many old-fashioned people +who arrogate to themselves the right of settling their daughters' lives, +who have so trained them that resistance to family wishes becomes almost +an impossibility. A good suitor presents himself, parental pressure is +brought to bear--and the deed is done. Witness the case of Alex. In a +few years she probably would have chosen for herself, wisely. As it was, +marriage had never entered her head." + +"She couldn't have chosen a better man," said Peters warmly, "if he had +only been content to wait a year or two--" + +"Alex would probably have eloped with a groom or a circus rider before +she reached years of discretion!" laughed Miss Craven. "But it's a +difficult question, the problem of husband choosing," she went +on thoughtfully. "Being a bachelor I can discuss it with perfect +equanimity. But if in a moment of madness I had married and acquired a +houseful of daughters, I should have nervous prostration every time a +strange man showed his nose inside the door." + +"You don't set us on a very high plane, dear lady," said Peters +reproachfully. + +"My good soul, I set you on no plane at all--know too much about you!" +she smiled. Peters laughed. "What's your opinion, Barry?" + +Since his one interruption Craven had been silent, as if the discussion +had ceased to interest him. He did not answer Peters' question for some +time and when at last he spoke his voice was curiously strained. "I +don't think my opinion counts for very much, but it seems to me that +the woman takes a big risk either way. A man never knows what kind of a +blackguard he may prove in circumstances that may arise." + +An awkward pause followed. Miss Craven kept her eyes fixed on the card +table with a feeling of nervous apprehension that was new to her. Her +nephew's words and the bitterness of his tone seemed fraught with hidden +meaning, and she racked her brains to find a topic that would lessen +the tension that seemed to have fallen on the room. But Peters broke +the silence before it became noticeable. "The one person present whom +it most nearly concerns has not given us her view. What do you say, Miss +Locke?" + +Gillian flushed faintly. It was still difficult to join in a general +conversation, to remember that she might at any moment be called upon to +put forward ideas of her own. + +"I am afraid I am prejudiced. I was brought up in a convent--in France," +she said hesitatingly. "Then you hold with the French custom of arranged +marriages?" suggested Peters. Her dark eyes looked seriously into his. +"I think it is--safer," she said slowly. + +"And consequently, happier?" The colour deepened in her face. "Oh, +I don't know. I do not understand English ways. I can speak only +of France. We talked of it in the convent--naturally, since it was +forbidden, _que voulez vous?_" she smiled. "Some of my friends were +married. Their parents arranged the marriages. It seems that--" she +stammered and went on hurriedly--"that there is much to be considered in +choosing a husband, much that--girls do not understand, that only older +people know. So it is perhaps better that they should arrange a matter +which is so serious and so--so lasting. They must know more than we do," +she added quietly. + +"And are your friends happy?" asked Miss Craven bluntly. + +"They are content." + +Miss Craven snorted. "Content!" she said scornfully. "Marriage should +bring more than contentment. It's a meagre basis on which to found a +life partnership." + +A shadow flitted across the girl's face. + +"I had a friend who married for love," she said slowly. "She belonged +to the old noblesse, and her family wished her to make a great marriage. +But she loved an artist and married him in spite of all opposition. For +six months she was the happiest girl in France--then she found out that +her husband was unfaithful. Does it shock you that I speak of it--we all +knew in the convent. She went to Capri soon afterwards, to a villa her +father had given her, and one morning she went out to swim--it was a +daily habit, she could do anything in the water. But that morning she +swam out to sea--and she did not come back." The low voice sank almost +to a whisper. Miss Craven looked up incredulously. "Do you mean she +deliberately drowned herself?" Gillian made a little gesture of evasion. +"She was very unhappy," she said softly. And in the silence that +followed her troubled gaze turned almost unconsciously to her guardian. +He had risen and was standing with his hands in his pockets staring +straight in front of him, rigidly still. His attitude suggested complete +detachment from those about him, as if his spirit was ranging far afield +leaving the big frame empty, impenetrable as a figure of stone. She +was sensitive to his lack of interest. She regretted having expressed +opinions that she feared were immature and valueless. A quick sigh +escaped her, and Miss Craven, misunderstanding, patted her shoulder +gently. "It's a very sad little story, my dear." + +"And one that serves to confirm your opinion that a girl does well to +accept the husband who is chosen for her, Miss Locke?" asked Peters +abruptly, as he glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. + +Gillian joined in the general move. + +"I think it is--safer," she said, as she had said before, and stooped to +rouse the sleeping poodle. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Miss Craven was sitting alone in the library at the Towers. She had been +reading, but the book had failed to hold her attention and lay unheeded +on her lap while she was plunged in a profound reverie. + +She sat very still, her usually serene face clouded, and once or twice a +heavy sigh escaped her. + +The short November day was drawing in and though still early afternoon +it was already growing dark. The declining light was more noticeable in +the library than elsewhere in the house--a sombre room once the morning +sun had passed; long and narrow and panelled in oak to a height of +about twelve feet, above which ran a gallery reached by a hammered iron +stairway, it housed a collection of calf and vellum bound books which +clothed the walls from the floor of the gallery to within a few feet of +the lofty ceiling. On the fourth side of the room, whither the gallery +did not extend, three tall narrow windows overlooked the drive. The +furniture was scanty and severely Jacobean, having for more than two +hundred years remained practically intact; a ponderous writing table, +a couple of long low cabinets, and half a dozen cavernous armchairs +recushioned to suit modern requirements of ease. Some fine old bronzes +stood against the panelled walls. There was about the room a settled +peacefulness. The old furniture had a stately air of permanence. +The polished panels, and, above, the orderly ranks of ancient books +suggested durability; they remained--while generations of men came and +passed, transient figures reflected in the shining oak, handling for a +few brief years the printed treasures that would still be read centuries +after they had returned to their dust. + +The spirit of the house seemed embodied in this big silent room that was +spacious and yet intimate, formal and yet friendly. + +It was Miss Craven's favourite retreat. The atmosphere was sympathetic. +Here she seemed more particularly in touch with the subtle influence of +family that seemed to pervade the whole house. In most of the rooms it +was perceptible, but in the library it was forceful. + +The house and the family--they were bound up inseparably. + +For hundreds of years, in an unbroken line, from father to son ... +from father to son.... Miss Craven sat bolt upright to the sound of an +unmistakable sob. She looked with amazement at two tears blistering the +page of the open book on her knee. She had not knowingly cried since +childhood. It was a good thing that she was alone she thought, with a +startled glance round the empty room. She would have to keep a firmer +hold over herself than that. She laughed a little shakily, choked, blew +her nose vigorously, and walked to the middle window. Outside was stark +November. The wind swept round the house in fierce gusts before which +the big bare-branched trees in the park swayed and bowed, and trains +of late fallen leaves caught in a whirlwind eddied skyward to scatter +widely down again. + +Rain lashed the window panes. Yet even when storm-tossed the scene had +its own peculiar charm. At all seasons it was lovely. + +Miss Craven looked at the massive trees, beautiful in their clean +nakedness, and wondered how often she would see them bud again. +Frowning, she smothered a rising sigh and pressing closer to the window +peered out more attentively. Eastward and westward stretched long +avenues that curved and receded soon from sight. The gravelled space +before the house was wide; from it two shorter avenues encircling a +large oval paddock led to the stables, built at some distance facing the +house, but hidden by a belt of firs. + +For some time Miss Craven watched, but only a game-keeper passed, a +drenched setter at his heels, and with a little shiver she turned back +to the room. She moved about restlessly, lifting books to lay them down +immediately, ransacking the cabinets for prints that at a second glance +failed to interest, and examining the bronzes that she had known from +childhood with lengthy intentness as if she saw them now for the first +time. + +A footman came and silently replenished the fire. Her thoughts, +interrupted, swung into a new channel. She sat down at the writing table +and drawing toward her a sheet of paper slowly wrote the date. Beyond +that she did not get. The ink dried on the pen as she stared at the +blank sheet, unable to express as she wished the letter she had intended +to write. + +She laid the silver holder down at last with a hopeless gesture and her +eyes turned to a bronze figure that served as a paper weight. It was a +piece of her own work and she handled it lovingly with a curiously sad +smile until a second hard sob broke from her and pushing it away she +covered her face with her hands. + +"Not for myself, God knows it's not for myself," she whispered, as if +in extenuation. And mastering herself with an effort she made a second +attempt to write but at the end of half a dozen words rose impatiently, +crumpled the paper in her hand and walking to the fireplace threw it +among the blazing logs. + +She watched it curl and discolour, the writing blackly distinct, +and crumble into ashes. Then from force of habit she searched for +a cigarette in a box on the mantelpiece, but as she lit it a sudden +thought arrested her and after a moment's hesitation the cigarette +followed the half--written letter into the fire. + +With an impatient shrug she went back to an arm chair and again tried to +read, but though her eyes mechanically followed the words on the printed +page she did not notice what she was reading and laying the book down +she gave up all further endeavour to distract her wandering thoughts. +They were not pleasant and when, a little later, the door opened she +turned her head expectantly with a sigh of relief. Peters came in +briskly. + +"I've come to inquire," he said laughing, "the family pew held me in +solitary state this morning. Time was when I never minded, but this +last year has spoiled me. I was booked for lunch but I came as soon as I +could. Nobody ill, I hope?" + +Miss Craven looked at him for a moment before answering as he stood with +his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him, his face ruddy with +the wind and rain, his keen blue eyes on hers, reliable, unchanging. +It was a curious chance that had brought him--just at that moment. The +temptation to make an unusual confidence rose strongly. She had known +him and trusted him for more years than she cared to remember. How much +to say? Indecision held her. + +"You are always thoughtful, Peter," she temporised. "I am afraid there +is no excuse," with a little smile; "Barry rode off somewhere quite +early this morning and Gillian went yesterday to the Horringfords. +I expect her back to-day in time for tea. For myself, I had gout or +rheumatism or the black dog on my back, I forget which! Anyhow, I +stayed at home." She laughed and pointed to the cigarettes. He took one, +tapping it on his thumbnail. + +"You were alone. Why didn't you 'phone? I should have been glad +to escape the Australians. They are enormously kind, but +somewhat--er--overwhelming," he added with a quick laugh. + +"My dear man, be thankful I never thought of it. I've been like a bear +with a sore head all day." She looked past him into the fire, and struck +by a new note in her voice he refrained from comment, smoking slowly and +luxuriating in the warmth after a cold wet drive in an open motor. He +never used a closed car. But some words she had used struck him. "Barry +is riding--?" with a glance at the storm raging outside. + +"Yes. He had breakfast at an unearthly hour and went off early. Weather +seems to make no difference to him, but he will be soaked to the skin." + +"He's tough," replied Peters shortly. "I thought he must be out. As I +came in just now Yoshio was hanging about the hall, watching the drive. +Waiting for him, I suppose," he added, flicking a curl of ash into the +fire. "He's a treasure of a valet," he supplemented conversationally. +But Miss Craven let the observation pass. She was still staring into the +leaping flames, drumming with her fingers on the arms of the chair. +Once she tried to speak but no words came. Peters waited. He felt +unaccountably but definitely that she wished him to wait, that what was +evidently on her mind would come with no prompting from him. He felt in +her attitude a tension that was unusual--to-day she was totally unlike +herself. Once or twice only in the course of a lifelong friendship she +had shown him her serious side. She had turned to him for help then--he +seemed presciently aware that she was turning to him for help now. +He prided himself that he knew her as well as she knew herself and he +understood the effort it would cost her to speak. That he guessed the +cause of her trouble was no short cut to getting that trouble uttered. +She would take her own time, he could not go half-way to meet her. He +must stand by and wait. When had he ever done anything else at Craven +Towers? His eyes glistened curiously in the firelight, and he rammed his +hands down into his jacket pockets with abrupt jerkiness. Suddenly Miss +Craven broke the silence. + +"Peter--I'm horribly worried about Barry," the words came with a rush. +He understood her too well to cavil. + +"Dear lady, so am I," he replied with a promptness that did not console. + +"Peter, what is it?" she went on breathlessly. "Barry is utterly +changed. You see it as well as I. I don't understand--I'm all at sea--I +want your help. I couldn't discuss him with anybody else, but you--you +are one of us, you've always been one of us. Fair weather or foul, +you've stood by us. What we should have done without you God only knows. +You care for Barry, he's as dear to you as he is to me, can't you do +something? The suffering in his face--the tragedy in his eyes--I wake +up in the night seeing them! Peter, can't you _do_ something?" She was +beside him, clutching at the mantel-shelf, shaking with emotion. The +sight of her unnerved, almost incoherent, shocked him. He realised the +depth of the impression that had been made upon her--deep indeed to +produce such a result. But what she asked was impossible. He made a +little negative gesture and shook his head. + +"Dear lady, I can't do anything. And I wonder whether you know how it +hurts to have to say so? No son could be dearer to me than Barry--for +the sake of his mother--" his voice faltered momentarily, "but the fact +remains--he is not my son. I am only his agent. There are certain things +I cannot do and say, no matter how great the wish," he added with a +twisted smile. + +Miss Craven seemed scarcely to be listening. "It happened in Japan," she +asserted in fierce low tones. "Japan! Japan!" she continued vehemently, +"how much more sorrow is that country to bring to our family! It +happened in Japan and whatever it was--Yoshio knows! You spoke of him +just now. You said he was hanging about--waiting--watching. Peter, he's +doing it all the time! He watches continually. Barry never has to send +for him--he's always there, waiting to be called. When Barry goes out +the man is restless until he comes in again--haunting the hall--it +gets on my nerves. Yet there is nothing I can actually complain of. He +doesn't intrude, he is as noiseless as a cat and vanishes if he +sees you, but you know that just out of sight he's still +there--waiting--listening. Peter, what is he waiting for? I don't think +that it is apparent to the rest of the household, I didn't notice it +myself at first. But a few months ago something happened and since then +I don't seem able to get away from it. It was in the night, about two +o'clock; I was wakeful and couldn't sleep. I thought if I read I might +read myself sleepy. I hadn't a book in my room that pleased me and I +remembered a half-finished novel I had left in the library. I didn't +take a light--I know every turn in the Towers blindfold. As you know, +to reach the staircase from my room I have to pass Barry's door, and at +Barry's door I fell over something in the darkness--something with hands +of steel that saved me from an awkward tumble and hurried me down the +passage and into the moonlit gallery before I could find a word of +expostulation. Yoshio of course. I was naturally startled and angry +in consequence. I demanded an explanation and after a great deal of +hesitation he muttered something about Barry wanting him--which is +ridiculous on the face of it. If Barry had really wanted him he would +have been inside the room, not crouched outside on the door mat. He +seemed very upset and kept begging me to say nothing about it. I don't +remember how he put it but he certainly conveyed the impression that it +would not be good for Barry to know. I don't understand it--Barry trusts +him implicitly--and yet this.... I'm afraid, and I've never been afraid +in my life before." The little break in her voice hurt him. He felt +curiously unable to cope with the situation. Her story disturbed him +more than he cared to let her see in her present condition of unwonted +agitation. Twice in the past they had stood shoulder to shoulder through +a crisis of sufficient magnitude and she had showed then a cautious +judgment, a reliability of purpose that had been purely masculine in +its strength and sanity. She had been wholly matter-of-fact and +unimaginative, unswayed by petty trivialities and broad in her decision. +She had displayed a levelness of mind which had almost excluded +feeling and which had enabled him to deal with her as with another man, +confident of her understanding and the unlikelihood of her succumbing +unexpectedly to ordinary womanly weaknesses. He had thought that he +knew her thoroughly, that no circumstance that might arise could alter +characteristics so set and inherent. But to-day her present emotion +which had come perilously near hysteria, showed her in a new light +that made her almost a stranger. He was a little bewildered with the +discovery. It was incredible after all these years, just as if an +edifice that he had thought strongly built of stone had tumbled about +his ears like a pack of cards. He could hardly grasp it. He felt that +there was something behind it all--something more than she admitted. +He was tempted to ask definitely but second reflection brought the +conviction that it would be a mistake, that it would be taking an unfair +advantage. Sufficient unto the day--his present concern was to help her +regain a normal mental poise. And to do that he must ignore half of what +her suggestions seemed to imply. He felt her breakdown acutely, he must +say nothing that would add to her distress of mind. It was better to +appear obtuse than to concur too heartily in fears, a recollection of +which in a saner moment he knew would be distasteful to her. She would +never forgive herself--the less she had to forget the better. She +trusted him or she would never have spoken at all. That he knew and he +was honoured by her confidence. They had always been friends, but in her +weakness he felt nearer to her than ever before. She was waiting for him +to speak. He chose the line that seemed the least open to argument. +He spoke at last, evenly, unwilling alike to seem incredulous or +overanxious, his big steady hand closing warmly over her twitching +fingers. + +"I don't think there is any cause--any reason to doubt Yoshio's +fidelity. The man is devoted to Barry. His behaviour certainly +sounds--curious, but can be attributed I am convinced to +over-zealousness. He is an alien in a strange land, cut off from his +own natural distractions and amusements, and with time on his hands his +devotion to his master takes a more noticeable form than is usual with +an ordinary English man-servant. That he designs any harm I cannot +believe. He has been with Barry a long time--on the several occasions +when he stayed with him at your house in London did you notice anything +in his behaviour then similar to the attitude you have observed +recently? No? Then I take it that it is due to the same anxiety that we +ourselves have felt since Barry's return. Only in Yoshio's case it is +probably based on definite knowledge, whereas ours is pure conjecture. +Barry has undoubtedly been up against something--momentous. Between +ourselves we can admit the fact frankly. It is a different man who has +come back to us--and we can only carry on and notice nothing. He is +trying to forget something. He has worked like a nigger since he came +home, slogging away down at the estate office as if he had his bread to +earn. He does the work of two men--and he hates it. I see him sometimes, +forgetful of his surroundings, staring out of the window, and the look +on his face brings a confounded lump into my throat. Thank God he's +young--perhaps in time--" he shrugged and broke off inconclusively, +conscious of the futility of platitudes. And they were all he had to +offer. There was no suggestion he could make, nothing he could do. It +was repetition of history, again he had to stand by and watch suffering +he was powerless to aid, powerless to relieve. The mother first and now +the son--it would seem almost as if he had failed both. The sense of +helplessness was bitter and his face was drawn with pain as he stared +dumbly at the window against which the storm was beating with renewed +violence. The sight of the angry elements brought almost a feeling of +relief; it would be something that he could contend with and overcome, +something that would go towards mitigating the galling sense of +impotence that chafed him. He felt the room suddenly stifling, he wanted +the cold sting of the rain against his face, the roar of the wind in the +trees above his head. Abruptly he buttoned his jacket in preparation +for departure. Miss Craven pulled herself together. She laid a detaining +hand on his arm. "Peter," she said slowly, "do you think that Barry's +trouble has any connection with--my brother? The change of pictures in +the dining-room--it was so strange. He said it was a reparation. Do you +think Barry--found out something in Japan?" + +Peter shook his head. "God knows," he said gruffly. For a moment there +was silence, then with a sigh Miss Craven moved towards a bell. + +"You'll stay for tea?" + +"Thanks, no. I've got a man coming over, I'll have to go. Give my love +to Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon for deserting me +this morning. Has she lost that nasty cough yet?" + +"Almost. I didn't want her to go to the Horringfords, but she promised +to be careful." Miss Craven paused, then: + +"What did we do without Gillian, Peter?" she said with an odd little +laugh. + +"'You've got me guessing,' as Atherton says. She's a witch, bless her!" +he replied, holding out his hands. Miss Craven took them and held them +for a moment. + +"You're the best pal I ever had, Peter," she said unsteadily, "and +you've given all your life to us Cravens." + +The sudden gripping of his hands was painful, then he bent his head and +unexpectedly put his lips to the fingers he held so closely. + +"I'm always here--when you want me," he said huskily, and was gone. + +Miss Craven stood still looking after him with a curious smile. + +"Thank God for Peter," she said fervently, and went back to her station +by the window. It was considerably darker than before, but for some +distance the double avenue leading to the stables was visible. As she +watched, playing absently with the blind-cord, her mind dwelt on the +long connection between Peter Peters and her family. Thirty years--the +best of his life. And in exchange sorrow and an undying memory. The +woman he loved had chosen not him but handsome inconsequent Barry Craven +and, for her choice, had reaped misery and loneliness. And because +he had known that inevitably a day would come when she would need +assistance and support he had sunk his own feelings and retained his +post. Her brief happiness had been hard to watch--the subsequent long +years of her desertion a protracted torture. He had raged at his own +helplessness. And ignorant of his love and the motive that kept him at +Craven Towers she had come to lean on him and refer all to him. But for +his care the Craven properties would have been ruined, and the Craven +interests neglected beyond repair. + +For some time before her sister-in-law's death Miss Craven had known, as +only a woman can know, but now for the first time she had heard from +his lips a half-confession of the love that he had guarded jealously for +thirty years. + +The unusual tears that to-day seemed so curiously near the surface rose +despite her and she blinked the moisture from her eyes with a feeling of +irritated shame. + +Then a figure, almost indistinguishable in the gloom, coming from the +stables, caught her eye and she gave a sharp sigh of relief. + +He was walking slowly, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders +hunched against the storm of wind and rain that beat on his broad back. +His movements suggested intense weariness, yet nearing the house his +step lagged even more as if, despite physical fatigue and the inclement +weather, he was rather forcing himself to return than showing a natural +desire for shelter. + +There was in his tread a heaviness that contrasted forcibly with the +elasticity that had formerly been characteristic. As he passed close by +the window where Miss Craven was standing she saw that he was splashed +from head to foot. She thought with sudden compassion of the horse that +he had ridden. She had been in the stables only a few weeks before when +he had handed over another jaded mud-caked brute trembling in every +limb and showing signs of merciless riding to the old head groom who +had maintained a stony silence as was his duty but whose grim face +was eloquent of all he might not say. It was so unlike Barry to +be inconsiderate, toward animals he had been always peculiarly +tender-hearted. + +She hurried out to the hall, almost cannoning with a little dark-clad +figure who gave way with a deep Oriental reverence. "Master very wet," +he murmured, and vanished. + +"There's some sense in him," she muttered grudgingly. And quite suddenly +a wholly unexpected sympathy dawned for the inscrutable Japanese +whom she had hitherto disliked. But she had no time to dwell on her +unaccountable change of feeling for through the glass of the inner door +she saw Craven in the vestibule struggling stiffly to rid himself of a +dripping mackintosh. It had been no protection for the driving rain +had penetrated freely, and as he fumbled at the buttons with slow cold +fingers the water ran off him in little trickling streams on to the mat. + +She had no wish to convey the impression that she had been waiting for +him. She met him as if by accident, hailing him with surprise that rang +genuine. + +"Hallo, Barry, just in time for tea! I know you don't usually indulge, +but you can do an act of grace on this one occasion by cheering my +solitude. Peter looked in for ten minutes but had to hurry away for an +engagement, and Gillian is not yet back." + +His face was haggard but he smiled in reply, "All right. In the library? +Then in five minutes--I'm a little wet." + +In an incredibly short time he joined her, changed and immaculate. She +looked up from the tea urn she was manipulating, her eyes resting on him +with the pleasure his physical appearance always gave her. "You've been +quick!" + +"Yoshio," he replied laconically, handing her buttered toast. + +He ate little himself but drank two cups of tea, smoking the while +innumerable cigarettes. Miss Craven chatted easily until the tea table +was taken away and Craven had withdrawn to his usual position on the +hearthrug, lounging against the mantelshelf. + +Then she fell silent, looking at him furtively from time to time, her +hands restless in her lap, nerving herself to speak. What she had to say +was even more difficult to formulate than her confidence to Peters. But +it had to be spoken and she might never find a more favourable moment. +She took her courage in both hands. + +"I want to speak to you of Gillian," she said hesitatingly. + +He looked up sharply. "What of Gillian?" The question was abrupt, an +accent almost of suspicion in his voice and she moved uneasily. + +"Bless the boy, don't jump down my throat," she parried, with a nervous +little laugh; "nothing of Gillian but what is sweet and good and dear +... and yet that's not all the truth--it's more than that. I find it +hard to say. It's something serious, Barry, about Gillian's future," she +paused, hoping that he would volunteer some remark that would make her +task easier. But he volunteered nothing and, stealing a glance at him +she saw on his face an expression of peculiar stoniness to which she had +lately become accustomed. The new taciturnity, which she still found so +strange, seemed to have fallen on him suddenly. She stifled a sigh and +hurried on: + +"I wonder if the matter of Gillian's future has ever occurred to you? It +has been in my mind often and lately I have had to give it more serious +attention. Time has run away so quickly. It is incredible that nearly +two years have passed since she became your ward. She will be twenty-one +in March--of age, and her own mistress. The question is--what is she to +do?" + +"Do? There is no question of her _doing_ anything," he replied shortly. +"You mean that her coming of age will make no difference--that things +will go on as they are?" Miss Craven eyed him curiously. + +"Yes. Why not?" + +"You know less of Gillian than I thought you did." The old caustic tone +was sharp in her voice. + +He looked surprised. "Isn't she happy here?" + +"Happy!" Miss Craven laughed oddly. "It's a little word to mean so much. +Yes, she is happy--happy as the day is long--but that won't keep her. +She loves the Towers, she is adored on the estate, she has a corner in +that great heart of hers for all who live here--but still that won't +keep her. In her way of thinking she has a debt to pay, and all these +months, studying, working, hoping, she has been striving to that end. +She is determined to make her own way in the world, to repay what has +been expended on her----" + +"That's dam' nonsense," he interrupted hotly. + +"It's not nonsense from Gillian's point of view," Miss Craven answered +quickly, "it's just common honesty. We have argued the matter, she and +I, scores of times. I have told her repeatedly that in view of your +guardianship you stand _in loco parentis_ and, therefore, as long as she +is your ward her maintenance and artistic education are merely her just +due, that there can be no question of repayment. She does not see it in +that light. Personally--though I would not for the world have her know +it--I understand and sympathize with her entirely. Her independence, her +pride, are out of all proportion to her strength. I cannot condemn, I +can only admire--though I take good care to hide my admiration ... +and if you could persuade her to let the past rest, there is still the +question of her future." + +"That I can provide for." + +Miss Craven shook her head. + +"That you can not provide for," she said gravely. + +The flat contradiction stirred him. He jerked upright from his former +lounging attitude and stood erect, scowling down at her from his great +height. "Why not?" he demanded haughtily. + +Miss Craven shrugged. "What would you propose to do?" He caught the +challenge in her tone and for a moment was disconcerted. "There would be +ways--" he said, rather vaguely. "Something could be arranged--" + +"You would offer her--charity?" suggested Miss Craven, wilfully dense. + +"Charity be damned." + +"Charity generally is damnable to those who have to suffer it. No, +Barry, that won't do." + +He jingled the keys in his pocket and the scowl on his face deepened. + +"I could settle something on her, something that would be adequate, and +it could be represented that some old investment of her father's had +turned up trumps unexpectedly." + +But Miss Craven shook her head again. "Clever, Barry, but not clever +enough. Gillian is no fool. She knows her father had no money, that he +existed on a pittance doled out to him by exasperated relatives which +ceased with his death. He told her plainly in his last letter that there +was nothing in the world for her--except your charity. Think of what +Gillian is, Barry, and think what she must have suffered--waiting for +your coming from Japan, and, to a less extent, in the dependence of +these last years." + +He moved uncomfortably, as if he resented the plainness of his aunt's +words, and having found a cigarette lit it slowly. Then he walked to the +window, which was still unshuttered, and looked out into the darkness, +his back turned uncompromisingly to the room. His inattentive attitude +seemed almost to suggest that the matter was not of vital interest to +him. + +Miss Craven's face grew graver and she waited long before she spoke +again. "There is also another reason why I have strenuously opposed +Gillian's desire to make her own way in the world, a reason of which she +is ignorant. She is not physically strong enough to attempt to earn her +own living, to endure the hard work, the privations it would entail. You +remember how bronchitis pulled her down last year; I am anxious about +her this winter. She is constitutionally delicate, she may grow out +of it--or she may not. Heaven knows what seeds of mischief she has +inherited from such parents as hers. She needs the greatest care, +everything in the way of comfort--she is not fitted for a rough and +tumble life. And, Barry, I can't tell her. It would break her heart." + +Her eyes were fixed on him intently and she waited with eager +breathlessness for him to speak. But when at length he answered his +words brought a look of swift disappointment and she relaxed in her +chair with an air of weary despondency. He replied without moving. + +"Can't you arrange something, Aunt Caro? You are very fond of Gillian, +you would miss her society terribly; cannot you persuade her that she +is necessary to you--that it would be possible for her to work and still +remain with you? I know that some day you will want to go back to your +own house in London, to take up your own interests again, and to travel. +I can't expect you to take pity much longer on a lonely bachelor. You +have given up much to help me--it cannot go on for ever. For what you +have done I can never thank you, it is beyond thanks, but I must not +trade on your generosity. If you put it to Gillian that you, personally, +do not want to part with her--that she is dear to you--it's true, isn't +it?" he added with sudden eagerness. And in surprise at her silence +he swung on his heel and faced her. She was leaning back in the big +armchair in a listless manner that was not usual to her. + +"I am afraid you cannot count on me, Barry," she said slowly. He stared +in sheer amazement. + +"What do you mean, Aunt Caro?--you do care for her, don't you?" + +"Care for her?" echoed Miss Craven, with a laugh that was curiously +like a sob, "yes, I do care for her. I care so much that I am going to +venture a great deal--for her sake. But I cannot propose that she should +live permanently with me because all future permanencies have been taken +out of my hands. I hate talking about myself, but you had to know some +day, this only accelerates it. I have not been feeling myself for some +time--a little while ago I went to London for definite information. +The man had the grace to be honest with me--he bade me put my house in +order." Her tone left no possibility of misunderstanding. He was across +the room in a couple of hasty strides, on his knees beside her, his +hands clasped over hers. + +"Aunt Caro!" The genuine and deep concern in his voice almost broke her +self-control. She turned her head, catching her lip between her teeth, +then with a little shrug she recovered herself and smiled at him. + +"Dear boy, it must come some day--it has come a little sooner than +I expected, that is all. I'm not grumbling, I've had a wonderful +life--I've been able to do something with it. I have not sat altogether +idle in the market-place." + +"But are you sure? Doctors are not infallible." + +"Quite sure," she answered steadily; "the man I went to was very kind, +very thorough. He insisted I should have other opinions. There was a +council of big-wigs and they all arrived at the same conclusion, which +was at least consoling. A diversity of opinion would have torn my nerves +to tatters. I couldn't tell you before, it would have worried me. I hate +a fuss. I don't want it mentioned again. You know--and there's an end of +it." She squeezed his hands tightly for a moment, then got up abruptly +and went to the fireplace. + +"I have only one regret--Gillian," she said as he followed her. "You see +now that it is impossible for me to make a definite home for her, even +supposing that she were to agree to such a proposal. They gave me two or +three years at the longest--it might be any time." + +Craven stood beside her miserable and tongue-tied. Her news affected +him deeply, he was stunned with the suddenness of it and amazed at the +courage she displayed. She might almost have been discoursing on the +probable death of a stranger. And yet, he reflected, it was only in +keeping with her general character. She had been fearless all through +life, and for her death held no terrors. + +He tried to speak but words failed him. And presently she spoke again, +hurriedly, disjointedly. + +"I am helpless. I can do nothing for Gillian. I could have left her +money in my will, despite her pride she would have had to accept it. I +can't even do that. At my death all I have, as you know, goes back into +the estate. I have never saved anything--there never seemed any reason. +And what I made with my work I gave away. There is only you--only one +way--Barry, won't you--Barry!" She was crying undisguisedly, unconscious +even of the unaccustomed tears. "You know what I mean--you must know," +she whispered entreatingly, struggling with emotion. + +He was standing rigid, to her strained fancy he seemed almost to +have stopped breathing and there was in his attitude something that +frightened her. It came to her suddenly that, after all, he was to all +intents and purposes a stranger to her. Even the intimacy of these +last months, living in close contiguity to him in his own house had +not broken down the barrier that his sojourn in Japan had raised. She +understood him no better than on the day of his arrival in Paris. He had +been uniformly thoughtful and affectionate but had never reverted to the +old Barry whom she had known so well. He had, as it were, retired within +himself. He lived his life apart, with them but not of them, daily +carrying through the arduous work he set himself with a dogged +determination in which there was no pleasure. Yet, beyond a certain +gravity, to the casual observer there was in him no great change. He +entertained frequently and was a popular host, interesting and appearing +interested. Only Miss Craven and Peters, more intimate, saw the +effort that he made. To Miss Craven it seemed sometimes as if he were +deliberately living through a self-appointed period--she had found +herself wondering what cataclysm would end it. She was conscious of the +impression, which she tried vainly to dismiss as absurd, of living over +an active volcano. What would be the result of the upheaval when it +came? She had prayed earnestly for some counter-distraction that might +become powerful enough to surmount the tragic memory with which he +lived--a memory she was convinced and the tragedy was present in his +face. She had cherished a hope, born in the early days of their return +to Craven Towers and maintained in the face of seeming improbability of +fulfilment, that had grown to be an ardent desire. In the realization of +that hope she thought she saw his salvation. With the knowledge of her +own precarious hold on life she clung even more closely to what had +become the strongest wish she had ever known. She had never deluded +herself into imagining the consummation of her wish imminent, she +had frankly acknowledged to herself that his inscrutability was +impenetrable, and now hope seemed almost extinguished. She realized it +with a feeling of helplessness. And yet she had a curious impulse, +an inner conviction that urged with a peremptoriness that over-rode +subterfuge. She would speak plainly, be the consequences what they were. +It was for the ultimate happiness of the two beings whom she loved best +on earth--for that surely she might venture something. She had never +been afraid of plain speaking, it would be strange if she let +convention deter her now. Convention! it had wrecked many a life--so +had interference, she thought with sudden racking indecision. What if +by interference she hindered now, rather than helped? What if speech +did more mischief than silence? Irresolutely she wavered, and to her +indecision there came suddenly the further disturbing thought--if Barry +acceded to her earnest wish what ground had she for pre-supposing that +it would result in his happiness? She had no definite knowledge, no +positive assurance wherewith to press her request. The inmost feelings +of both were hidden from her. Her meddling might only bring more sorrow +to him who seemed already weighed down under a crushing burden of +grief. Gratitude and an intense admiration she knew existed. But between +admiration and any deeper feeling there was a wide gulf. And yet what +might not be hidden behind the grave seriousness of those great dark +eyes that looked with apparently equal frankness at every member of the +household? Months spent in the proximity of an unusually handsome man, +the romance of the tie between them--it was an experience that any +woman, least of all an unsophisticated convent-bred girl, could hardly +pass through unscathed. It was surely enough to gamble on, she reflected +with grim humour that did not amuse. It was a great hazzard, the highest +stakes she had ever played for who had never been afraid of losing. The +thought spurred her. If it was to be the last throw then let there be +no hesitation. A reputation for courage and coolness had gone with her +through life. + +She turned to him abruptly, all indecision gone, complete mistress of +herself again. + +"Barry, don't you understand?" she said with slow distinctness. "I want +you to ask Gillian to marry you." + +He started as if she had stabbed him. + +"Good God," he cried violently, "you don't know what you are saying!" +And from his tortured face she averted her eyes hastily, sick at heart. +But she held her ground, aware that retreat was not now possible. + +She answered gently, steadying her voice with difficulty. + +"Is it so extraordinary that I should wish it, should hope for it? I +care for you both so deeply. To know that your mother's place would be +filled by one who is worthy to follow her--how worthy only I, who have +been admitted to her high ideals, appreciate; to know that there would +be the happiness of home ties here for you, to know that I leave Gillian +safe in your hands--it would make my going very easy, Barry." + +His head was down on his arms on the mantelshelf, his face hidden from +her. "Gillian--safe--in my hands--_my God_!" he groaned, and shuddered +like a man in mortal agony. + +All the deep love she had for him, all the fears she entertained for him +leaped up in her with sudden strength, forcing utterance and breaking +down the reticence she had imposed upon herself. She caught his arm. + +"Barry, what is it--for heaven's sake speak! Do you think I have +been blind all these months, that I have seen nothing? Can't you tell +me--anything?" her voice, quivering with emotion, was strange to him, +strange enough to recall him to himself. He straightened slowly and drew +away from her with a little shiver. "There is nothing I can tell you," +he replied dully, "nothing that I can explain, only this--I went through +hell in Japan. I don't want any sympathy--it was my own fault, my own +doing.... Just now I made a fool of myself, I was off my guard, your +words startled me. Forget it, you can do me no good by remembering." + +He made an abrupt movement as if to leave the room but Miss Craven stood +squarely in front of him, her chin raised stubbornly. She knew now that +she was face to face with something even more terrible than she had +imagined. He had avoided a definite answer. By all reasoning she should +have accepted his rebuff but intuition, stronger than reason, impelled +her. If he went now it would be the end. She knew that positively. +The question could never be opened up again. She could not let it pass +without a final effort. It was inconceivable that this shadow could +always lie across his life. Whatever tragical event had occurred +belonged to the past--surely the future might hold some alleviation, +some happiness that might compensate for the sorrow that had lined his +face and brought the silver threads that gleamed in his thick dark hair. +Surely in the care for another life memory might be dulled and +there might dawn for him a new hope, a new peace. Despite his broken +suggestive words her trust in him was still maintained; she had no fear +for Gillian--with him her future would be assured. And there seemed no +other alternative. Her confidence in herself furthermore was not shaken, +she had a deep unalterable conviction that the wish for the union she +so desired was based upon something deeper than mere fancy. It was not +anything that she could put into words or even into concrete thought, +but the belief was strong. It was a vivid assurance that went beyond +reasoning, that made it possible for her to speak again. + +"Are you going to let the past dominate the rest of your life," she +asked slowly, "is the future to count for nothing? There are, in all +probability, many years ahead of you--cannot you, in them, obliterate +what has gone before?" + +He turned from her with a hopeless gesture and a muttered word she could +not catch. But he did not go as she feared he would. He lingered in the +room, staring into the heart of the glowing fire and Miss Craven played +her last card. + +"And--Gillian?" she said firmly, all the Craven obstinacy in her voice, +and waited long for his answer. When it came it was flat, monotonous. + +"I cannot marry her. I cannot marry--anybody." + +"Are you married already?" The question escaped before she could bite it +back. With a quickening heartbeat she awaited an outburst, a retort +that would end everything. But he answered quietly, in the same toneless +voice: "No, I am not married." + +She caught at the loop-hole it seemed to offer. "If there is no bar----" +she began eagerly, but he cut her short. "I have done with all that sort +of thing," he said harshly. + +"Why?" she persisted, with a doggedness that matched his own. "If you +have known sorrow, does that necessarily mean that you can never again +know happiness? Must you for a--a memory, turn your back irrevocably on +any chance that may restore your peace of mind? I believe that such a +chance is waiting for you." + +He looked at her with strange intentness. "For me...." he smiled +bitterly. "If you only knew!" + +"I only know that you are hesitating at what most men would jump at," +she retorted, suddenly conscious of strained nerves and feeling as if +she were battering impotently against a granite rock-face. His hands +clenched but he did not reply and swift contrition fell on her. She +turned to him impulsively. "Forgive me, Barry. I shouldn't have said +that, but I want this thing so desperately. I am convinced that it +would mean happiness for you, for you both. And when I think of +Gillian--alone--fighting against the world----" She broke down +completely and he gripped her hands with a strength that made her wince. + +"She'll never do that if I can help it," he said swiftly. + +Miss Craven looked up with sudden hope. "You will ask her?" she +whispered expectantly. He put her from him gently. "I can promise +nothing. I must think," he said deliberately, and there was in his face +a look that held her silent. + +With uncertain feelings she watched him leave the room.... Inevitable +re-action set in, doubts overwhelmed her. Had she done what was best +or had she blundered irretrievably? She went unsteadily to a chair, +extraordinarily tired, exhausted in her new weakness by the emotional +strain through which she had passed. She was beginning to be a little +aghast at what she had done, at the force that she had set moving. +And yet she had been actuated by the highest motives. She believed +implicitly that the joining of the two lives whose future was all her +care would result in the ultimate happiness of both. They had grown +used to each other. A closer relationship than that of guardian and ward +seemed, in view of the comparatively slight difference in age, a natural +outcome of the intimacy into which they had been thrown. It was +not without precedent; similar events had happened before and would +doubtless happen again, she argued, striving to stifle the still +lingering doubt that whispered that she had gone beyond her prerogative. +And what she had done was in a way inexplicable even to herself. All +through she had felt that involuntary forceful impulse that had been +almost fatalistic, she had urged through the prompting of an inward +conviction. She had perhaps attached too much importance to it, her own +wish had been magnified until it assumed the appearance of fate. + +Her closed eyes quivered as she leaned back in the chair. + +She had done it for the best, she kept repeating mechanically to +herself, to try and bring happiness into his life; to insure the safety +of the girl who had become so dear to her. Had it been his thought too, +even before she spoke? His manner had been so strange. He had recoiled +from her suggestion but she had been left with the impression that it +was no new one to him. She had caught a fleeting look, before his face +had taken on that impenetrable mask, that had given the lie to his +emphatic words. He had seemed to be wrestling with himself, she had seen +the moisture thick on his forehead, his set face had looked as if it +could never soften again. When he had gone he had given her no definite +promise and she had no possibility of guessing what his decision would +be. But on reflection she found hope in his deferring reply. It was all +that was left to her. She had done her utmost, the rest lay with him. +She sighed deeply, she had never felt such weariness of mind and body. +As she gave way to a feeling of growing lassitude drowsiness came +over her which she was too tired to combat and for some time she slept +heavily. She awoke with a start to find Gillian, wide-eyed with concern, +kneeling beside her, the girl's slim warm fingers clasped closely round +her sleep-numbed hands. Dazed with sudden waking she looked up without +speaking at the fresh young face that bent over her. Gillian rubbed the +cold hands gently. "Aunt Caro, you were asleep! I've never caught you +napping before," she laughed, but a hint of anxiety mingled with the +wonder in her voice. Miss Craven slowly smiled reassurance. Her weakness +seemed to have vanished with sleep, she felt herself once more strong +enough to hide from the searching affectionate eyes anything that might +give pain or cause uneasiness. She sat up straighter. + +"Laziness, my dear, sheer laziness," she said sturdily. Gillian looked +at her gravely. "Sure?" she asked, "you are sure that you are quite +well? You looked so tired--your face was quite white." + +"Quite sure--unbeliever! And you--did you have a good time; did you +remember to take your tonic, and did you keep warm?" + +Gillian laughed softly and stood up, ticking off the items on her +fingers. "I did have a good time, I did remember to take my tonic, and +this heavenly coat has kept me as warm as pie--Nina Atherton taught me +that. That nice family considerably enlarged my vocabulary," she added +with enjoyment, slipping out of a heavy fur coat and coming back to +perch on the arm of Miss Craven's chair. + +"Not yours only," was the answer, "Peter was quoting the husband this +afternoon." + +They were both silent for a moment thinking of the three charming +Americans who had spent a couple of months at the Towers the previous +summer, bringing with them an adored scrap of humanity and a host of +nurses, valets and maids. + +Then Gillian drew her arm closer around Miss Craven. + +"Alex pressed me to stay until to-morrow, I had the greatest trouble to +get away. But I promised to come back this afternoon, and, do you +know, Aunt Caro, I had the queerest feeling this morning. I thought +you _wanted_ me, wanted me urgently. As if you could ever want anybody +urgently, you self-reliant wonder." She gave the shoulder she was +caressing an affectionate hug. "But it was odd, wasn't it? I nearly +telephoned, and then I concluded you would think I had taken leave of my +senses." + +Miss Craven sat very still. + +"I should have," she replied, and hoped that her voice appeared more +natural than it sounded to herself. Gillian laughed. + +"Anyhow, I'm glad you had Mr. Peters to cheer your solitary tea. I hated +to think of you being alone." + +"He didn't. He left early. But Barry condescended to take pity on me." + +"Mr. Craven!" There was the slightest pause before she added: "I thought +he scorned _le five o'clock_. He's not nearly so domesticated as David." + +"As who, my dear?" asked Miss Craven, staring. Gillian gave another +little laugh. + +"Oh, that's my private name for Mr. Peters--he doesn't mind--he spoils +me dreadfully--'the sweet singer in Israel'--you know. He has got the +most beautiful tenor voice I have ever listened to." + +"Peter--sing! I've never heard him sing," said Miss Craven in wonder, +and she looked up with a new curiosity. "I've known him for thirty +years, and in less than that number of months you discover an +accomplishment of which everybody else is ignorant. How did you manage +it, child?" + +"By accident, one evening in the summer. You were dining out, and +Mouston and I had gone for a ramble in the park--it's gorgeous there in +the _crepuscule_--and we were quite close to the Hermitage. I heard him +and I eaves-dropped--is there such a word? It was so lovely that I +had to clap and he came out and found an unexpected audience on the +windowsill. Wasn't it dreadful? He was so dear about it and explained +that it was a very private form of amusement, but since the cat was out +of the bag there was an end of the matter, only he positively declined +to perform in public. I bullied him into singing some more, and then he +walked home with me." + +"You twist Peter round your little finger and trade on his good nature +shamelessly," said Miss Craven severely, but her teasing held no +terrors. + +"He's such a dear," the girl repeated softly, and slipping off the arm +of the chair she went to the fire and knelt down to put back a log that +had fallen on to the hearth and was smouldering uselessly. Miss Craven +looked at her as, the log replaced, she still knelt on the rug and +held her hands mechanically to the blaze. She had an intense and wholly +futile longing to speak what was in her mind and, demanding confidence +for confidence, penetrate the secret of the heart that had confided to +her all but this one thing. Little by little through no pressure but +by mere telepathic sympathy, reserve had melted away and hopes and +aspirations had been submitted and discussed. But of this one thing +there could be no discussion. Miss Craven realised it and stifled a +regretful sigh. Even she, dear as she knew herself to be, might not +intrude so intimately. For by such an intrusion she might lose all that +she had gained. She could not forfeit the confidence that had grown +to mean so much to her, it was too high a price to pay even for the +knowledge she sought. She must have patience, she thought, as she ran +her fingers with the old gesture through her grey curls. But it was hard +to be patient when any moment might bring the summons that would put +her beyond the ken of earthly events. To go, leaving this problem still +unsolved! She set her teeth and sat rigid, gripping the oak rails of the +chair until her fingers ached, battling with herself. She looked again +at the slim kneeling figure, the pale oval face half turned to her, the +thick dark hair piled high on the small proud head glistening in the +firelight. A thing of grace and beauty--in mind and body desirable. How +could he hesitate.... + +"Barry was riding--all day--in this atrocious weather. He came in +soaked," she said abruptly, almost querulously, unlike her usual +tolerant intonation. There was no immediate answer and for a moment she +thought she had not been heard. The girl had moved slightly, turning +her face away, and with a steady hand was building the dying fire into a +pyramid. She completed the operation carefully and sat back on her heels +flourishing the tiny brass tongs. + +"He's tough," she said lightly, unconsciously echoing Peters' words and +apparently heedless of the interval between Miss Craven's remark and her +own reply. She seemed more interested in the fire than in her guardian. +Laying the tongs away leisurely she came back to Miss Craven's chair +and settled down on the floor beside her, her arms crossed on the +elder woman's knee. She looked up frankly, a faint smile lightening her +serious brown eyes. + +"I don't think Mr. Craven wants any sympathy, _cherie_," she said +slowly, "I reserve all mine for Yoshio, he fusses so dreadfully when +the 'honourable master' goes for those tremendous long rides or is out +hunting. Have you noticed that he always waits in the hall, to be ready +at the first moment to rush away and get dry clothes and a hot bath and +all the other Oriental paraphernalia for checking chills and driving +the ache out of sore bones? I don't suppose Mr. Craven has ever had sore +bones--he is so splendidly strong--and Yoshio certainly seems determined +he never shall. Mary thoroughly approves of him, she's a fusser by +nature too; she deplores his heathenism but says he has more sense than +many a Christian. Soon after we came here I found him in the hall one +day staring through the window, looking the picture of misery, his funny +little yellow face all puckered up. He saw me out of the back of his +head, truly he did, for he never turned, and tried to slip away. But I +made him stay and talk to me. I sat on the stairs and he folded himself +up on the mat--I can't describe it any other way--and told me all about +Japan, and California and Algeria and all the other queer places he has +been to with Mr. Craven. He has such a quaint dramatic way of speaking +and lapses into unintelligible Japanese just at the exciting moments--so +tantalising! They seem to have been in some very--what do you +say?--tight corners. We got quite sociable. I was so interested in +listening to his description of the wonderful gardens they make in Japan +that I never heard Mr. Craven come in and did not realise that he was +standing near us until Yoshio suddenly shot up and fled, literally +vanished, and left me _planteel_! I felt so idiotic sitting on the +stairs hugging my knees and Mr. Craven, all splashed and muddy, waiting +for me to let him pass--I was dreadfully frightened of him in those +days," the faintest colour tinged her cheeks. "I longed for an +earthquake to swallow me up," she laughed and scrambled to her feet, +gathering the heap of furs into her arms and holding them dark and +silky against her face. "You shouldn't have encouraged in me a love +of beautiful furs, Aunt Caro," she said inconsequently, with sudden +seriousness. "I've sense enough left to know that I shouldn't indulge +it--and I'm human enough to adore them." + +"Rubbish! furs suit you--please my sense of the artistic. I would not +encourage you if you had a face like a harvest moon and no carriage--I +can't bear sloppiness in anything," snapped Miss Craven in quite her old +style. "When do the Horringfords start for Egypt?" she added by way of +definitely changing the subject. + +Gillian rubbed her cheek against the soft sealskin with an understanding +smile. It was hopeless to try and curb Miss Craven's generosity, +hopeless to attempt to argue against it. "Next week," she answered the +inquiry. "Tuesday, probably. They stay in Paris for a month _en route;_ +Lord Horringford wants some data from the Louvre and also to arrange +some preliminaries with the French Egyptologist who is joining their +party." + +"Hum! And Alex--still interested in mummies?" + +"More than ever, she is full of enthusiasm. She talks of dynasties and +tribal deities, of kings and _Kas_ and symbols until my head spins. Lord +Horringford teases her but it is easy to see that her interest pleases +him. He says she is the mascot of the expedition, that she brought luck +to the digging last year." + +"Alex has had many hobbies but never one that ran for two seasons," said +Miss Craven thoughtfully; "I am glad she has found an interest at last +that promises to be permanent." + +Gillian gathered the furs closer in her arms and made a few steps toward +the door. "She has found more than that," she said softly, and the +colour flamed in her sensitive face. Miss Craven nodded. "You mean +that in unearthing the buried treasure of a dead past she has found the +living treasure of a man's love? Yes, and not any too soon, poor silly +child. Men like Horringford don't bear playing with. I wonder whether +she knows how near she has been to making shipwreck of her life." + +"I think she knows--now," said Gillian, with a little wise smile as she +left the room. + +The sound of her soft contralto singing an old French nursery rhyme +echoed faintly back to the library: + + "Mon pere m'a donne un petit mari, + Mon Dieu, quel homme!" + +And, listening, Miss Craven smiled half-sadly, for the quaint words +carried her back to the days of her own childhood. But the exigencies +of the present thrust aside past memories. She sat on, wrapped in her +thoughts until the dropping temperature of the room sent through her +a sudden chill, so she rose with a shiver and a startled glance at her +watch. + +"Dry bones and love," she said musingly, "it's a curious combination! +Peter, my man, you gave wise advice there.... But not all your wisdom +can help _my_ trouble." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +December had brought a complete change of weather. It was within a few +days of Christmas, a typical old-fashioned Yuletide with a firm white +mantle of snow lying thick over the country. + +Underneath the ground was iron and for two weeks all hunting had been +stopped. + +Craven was returning to the Towers after an absence of ten days. +The motor crawled through the park for in places the frozen road was +slippery as glass and the chauffeur was a cautious North-countryman +whose faith in the chains locked round the wheels was not unlimited; he +was driving carefully, with a wary eye for the worst patches noted on +the outward run, and, beside him, equally alert, sat Yoshio muffled to +the ears in an immense overcoat, a shapeless bundle. + +It was early afternoon, calm and clear, and in the air the intense +stillness that succeeds a heavy snowfall. The pale sun, that earlier +in the day had iridised the snow, was now too low to affect the dead +whiteness of the scene against which the trees showed magnified and +sharply black. Here and there across the smooth surface stretching on +either side of the road lay the curiously differing tracks of animals. +From the back seat of the car where he sat alone Craven marked them +mechanically. He knew every separate spoor and could have named the +owner of each; ordinarily they would have claimed from him a certain +interest but today he passed them without a second thought. He did not +resent the slow progress of the car, he was in no hurry to reach the +Towers. He had come to a momentous decision but shrank from the action +that must necessarily follow; once at the house he knew that he would +permit himself no further delay, he would put his purpose into effect +at the earliest opportunity--today if possible; here there was still +time--vaguely he wondered for what? Not for reflection, that was +done with. He had striven with all his strength to arrive at a right +determination; he had thought until reasoning became a mere repetition +of fixed ideas moving in a circle and arriving always at an unvaried +starting point. There seemed no consequence that he had not weighed in +his mind, no issue that he had not considered. To ponder afresh would be +to cover again uselessly ground that he had gone over a hundred times. +Three days ago he had made his choice, he had no intention of departing +from it. For good or ill the thing must go forward now. And, after all, +the ultimate decision did not lie with him. Admitting it his thoughts +became introspective. Throughout his deliberations he had put self on +one side, there had been no question of his own wishes; now for the +first time he allowed personal considerations to rise unchecked. For +what did he hope? He knew the reason of his reluctance to reach the +house--he desired success and yet he feared it, feared the consequences +that might result, feared the strength of his own will to persevere in +the course he had chosen. For him there was no other way but, merciful +God, it would be hard! He set his teeth and stared at the frozen +landscape with unseeing eyes. Since her outburst four weeks ago Miss +Craven had not spoken again of the wish that was nearest her heart, but +he knew that she was waiting for an answer, knew that that answer must +be given. One way or the other. Day had succeeded day in torturing +indecision. He had lived, slept with the problem, at no time was it +out of his mind. In the course of the long rides that had become more +frequent, obtruding during the monotonous hours spent in the estate +office, the problem persisted. In the sleepless hours of the night he +wrestled with it. If it had been a matter of personal inclination, if +the past had not risen between them there would have been no hesitation. +He would have gone to her months ago, would have begged the priceless +gift that she alone could give. He wanted her, almost above the hope +of salvation, and the inducement to ignore the past had been all +but overpowering. He loved and desired with all the strength of the +passionate nature he had inherited. He craved for her with an intensity +that was anguish, that set him wondering how far the power of endurance +reached, how much a man could bear. He was torn with the fierce +promptings of primeval forces. To take her, willing or unwilling, +despite honour, despite all that stood between them, to make her his and +hold her in the face of all the world--at times the temptation had been +maddening. There had been days when he had not dared to look on her, +when he had drawn himself more than ever apart from the common life, +fearful of himself, fearful of circumstances that seemed beyond his +ordering. And the thought that another could take what he might not +had engendered an insensate jealousy that was beyond reason. He did not +recognise himself, he had not known the depths of his own nature. If +there had been no bar, if she could have come to him willingly, if there +could indeed have been for him the full ties of home--the thought was +agony. Miss Craven's words had been a sword turning in an open wound. To +the burden he already carried had been added this. + +The future of his ward had been his problem as well as Miss Craven's. +Only a little while ago a way had seemed clear, not a way to his own +happiness--by his own act he had put himself beyond all possibility of +that--but a way that would mean security and happiness for her who had +come to mean more than life to him. For her safety he would have given +his soul. The term of his guardianship was drawing to an end, in a +few months his legal control over her terminated. Miss Craven who had +surrendered her independence for two years would be returning to her own +home, to her old life; it had seemed a foregone conclusion that Gillian +would accompany her. + +But the double shock in the revelation of Miss Craven's precarious state +and Gillian's delicacy had been staggering. He had not been prepared for +a contingency that seemed to cut the ground from under his feet. With +all the will in the world his aunt was powerless to further the plan he +proposed, any day might bring the Great Summons. And Gillian! The little +persistent cough rang in his ears always. Gillian and poverty--by day it +haunted him, he woke in the night sweating at the very thought. It was +intolerable. And yet there appeared no means of escaping it--save one. +For a moment, with a fierce joy, he saw fate aiding him, forcing into +his hands what he yearned to gather to himself, then he recoiled from +even the thought of her purity linked with the stain of his past. He +had racked his brain to discover an alternative. To force upon her an +adequate income that would put her beyond want and the necessity of work +would be easy. To induce her to use the money thus provided he divined +would be impossible, he seemed to know intuitively that her will would +not give way to his. During these last weeks he had looked at her +with new understanding, it seemed incredible that he had never before +recognised the determination that underlay her shy gentleness. +Character shone in the frank brown eyes, there was a firmness that was +unmistakable in the arched lips that were the only patch of colour in +her delicate face. From his wealth she would accept nothing. Would she +accept him--all that he dared offer? It was no new idea, the thought had +been in his mind often but always he resolutely put it from him with a +feeling of abhorrence. It was an insult to her womanhood, an expedient +that nothing could justify. And yet step by step he was forced back +upon it--there seemed no other way to save her from herself. Days of +harrassing indecision, his only thought she, brought him no nearer to +a conclusion. And time was passing. He had reached a point when further +deliberation was beyond his power; when all his strength seemed to turn +into hopeless longing that, to the exclusion of all else, craved even +the mockery of possession; when days were torment and nights a sleepless +horror. Then change of scene had aided final determination. The factor +of the Scotch estate had written of a sudden and unexpected difficulty +for which he asked personal advice. A telegram had stopped his proposed +visit to the Towers and Craven had himself gone instead to Scotland. And +in the solitude of his northern home he had decided on the only course +that seemed open to him. He would go to her with his poor offer, the +poorest surely that ever a man made to a woman, and the rest would lie +with her. But how would she receive it? He had a vision of the soft +brown eyes blazing with scorn, of the slender figure he ached to hold +in his arms turning from him in cold disgust, and he clenched his hands +until the nails bit deep into his wet palms. + +A bad skid that slewed the car half round broke his thoughts and in a +few minutes they were at the house. + +Forbes, the elderly butler who had been an under footman when Peters +first came to the Towers, was waiting for him in the hall, informative +with the garrulousness of an old and privileged servant. A late +luncheon was waiting--he sighed patiently on hearing that it was not +required--Miss Craven had gone to the Vicarage for tea; Mr. Peters was +expected to dinner that night and he had telephoned in the morning to +tell Mr. Craven--Craven cut him short. Peter's message could wait, only +one thing seemed to matter just now. + +"Where is Miss Locke?" he asked curtly. "In the studio, sir," replied +Forbes with resignation. If Mr. Barry didn't want to hear what Mr. +Peters had got to say he, for one, was not going to press the matter. +Mr. Barry had had his own way of doing things since the days when he sat +on the pantry table kicking his heels and flourishing stolen jam under +Forbes' very nose--a masterful one always, he was. And if it was a case +of Miss Gillian--Forbes retired with an armful of ulster and rugs into +the cloakroom to hide a sympathetic grin. + +Craven crossed the hall and went into the study. He looked without +interest through an accumulation of letters lying on the writing table, +then threw them down indifferently. Walking to the fireplace he lit a +cigarette and stood staring at the cheerful blaze. At last he raised +his head and gazed with deliberation at himself in the glass over the +mantle. He scowled at the stern worn face reflected in the mirror, +looking curiously at its deep cut lines, at the silver patches in the +thick brown hair. Then with a violent exclamation he swung abruptly on +his heel, flung the cigarette into the fire and left the room. He went +upstairs slowly, surprised at the feeling of apathy that had come over +him. In the face of direct action the high tension of the last few +weeks had snapped, leaving him dull, almost inert, and reluctance to +go forward grew with every step. But at the head of the stairs his mood +changed suddenly. All that the coming interview meant to him revealed +itself with startling clearness. With a deep breath he caught at the +rail, for he was shaking uncontrollably, and covered his face with his +hand. + +"God!" he whispered, and again: "God!" + +Then he gripped himself and went quickly across the gallery, turning +down the corridor that led to the west wing. He followed the oddly +twisting passage, contorted at the whim of succeeding generations where +rooms had been enlarged or abolished, passing rows of closed doors and +another staircase. The corridor terminated in the room he was seeking. +It had been the old playroom; at the extreme end of the wing it faced +northward and westward and was well suited for the studio into which it +had been converted. It was Gillian's own domain and he had never asked +to visit it. As he reached the door he heard from within the shrill +treble of a boy's mirth and then a low soft laugh that made his +heart beat quicker. He tapped and went in and for a moment stared in +amazement. He did not recognise the room, it was a totally unexpected +French _atelier_ tucked away in the corner of a typically English house. + +The polished rug-laid floor, the fluted folds of _toile-de-genes_ +clothing the walls, the litter of sketches and pictures, casts and +easels, the familiar lay-figure grotesquely attitudinising in a corner, +above all the atmosphere carried him straight to Paris. It was the +room of an artist, and a French artist. His eyes leaped to her. She was +standing before a big easel looking wonderingly over her shoulder at the +opening door, the brush she was using poised in her hand, her eyes wide +with astonishment, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. + +In the picturesque painter's blouse, her brown hair loosely framing her +face, she seemed altogether different. He could not define wherein lay +the change, he had no time to discriminate, he only knew that seen thus +she was a thousand times more desirable than she had ever been and that +his heart cried out for her more fiercely than before. He looked at her +with hungry longing, then quickly--lest his eyes should betray him--from +her to her model. A boy of ten with an intelligent small brown face, a +mop of black curls, and red lips parted in a mischievous smile, he stood +on the raised platform with the easy assurance of a professional. + +Craven shut the door behind him and came forward. She turned to meet +him and the colour rushed in a crimson wave to the roots of her hair. +"_Monsieur ... vous etes de retour ... mais, soyez le bienvenu_!" she +stammered, with surprise unconsciously lapsing into the language of +childhood. Then she caught herself up with a little laugh of confusion +and hurried on in English: "I am so sorry ... there is nobody in but me. +Will you have some tea? It is only three o'clock," with a glance at her +wrist, "but I expect you lunched early." + +"I don't want any tea," he said bluntly. "I came to see you." He spoke +in French, mindful of two sharp ears on the platform. The colour in her +face deepened painfully and her eyes fell under his steady gaze. She +moved slowly back to the easel. + +"If you could wait a few moments----" she murmured. + +"I don't want to interrupt," he said hastily. "Please finish your work. +You don't mind if I stay? I haven't been here since I was a boy; you +have changed the room incredibly. May I look round?" + +She nodded assent over a tube of colour, and returned to her study. + +Left to himself he wandered leisurely round the room, examining the +pictures and sketches that were heaped indiscriminately. He had never +before displayed any interest in her work, and was now amazed at what he +saw. There was power in it that surprised him, that made him wonder what +intuition had given the convent-bred girl the knowledge she exhibited. +The tardy recognition of her talent strengthened his stranger feeling +toward her. He went thoughtfully to the fireplace, and, from the +rug, surveyed the room and its occupants. The atmosphere recalled old +memories--he had studied in Paris after leaving Oxford--only one thing +seemed lacking. + +"May I smoke?" he asked abruptly. + +Gillian turned with a quick smile. + +"But, of course. What need to ask? After Aunt Caro has been here for an +hour the room is blue." + +For another ten minutes he watched her in silence, free to look as he +would, for her back was toward him and in his position before the fire +he was beyond the range of the little model's inquisitive black eyes. + +Then she laid palette and brushes on a near table and stepped back, +frowning at what she had done until a smile came slowly to chase the +creases from her forehead. She spoke without moving, still looking at +the canvas: "That is all for to-day, Danny. The light has gone." + +The small boy stretched himself luxuriously, and descending from the +platform, joined her and gazed with evident interest at his portrait. +He peered in unconscious but faithful imitation of her own critical +attitude, his head slanted at the same angle as hers. "It's coming on," +he announced solemnly, and Craven guessed from the girl's laugh that it +was a repetition of some remark heard and stored up for future use. The +boy grinned in response, and slipping behind her went to the table where +she had laid her tools. "Can I clean palut?" he asked hopefully, his +hand already half-way to the coveted mass of colour. + +"Not to-day, thanks, Danny." + +"Shall I fetch th' dog, Miss?" more hopefully. Gillian turned to him +quickly. + +"He bit you last time." + +Danny wriggled his feet and his small white teeth flashed in a wide +smile. "He won't bite I again," he said confidently. "Mammy said 'twas +'cos he loved you and hated to have folks near you. She said I was to +whisper in his ear I loved you too, 'cos then he wouldn't touch me. Dad +he says 'tis a damned black devil," he added with candid relish and a +sidelong glance of mischief at his employer. + +Gillian laughed and gave his shoulder a little pat. + +"I'm afraid he is," she admitted ruefully. The boy threw his head back. +"I ain't afeard o' he," he said stoutly. "_Shall_ I fetch 'im?" + +"I think we'll leave him where he is, Danny," she said gravely, as if +in confidence. "He's probably very happy. Now run away and come again on +Saturday." She waved a paint-stained rag at him and turned again to +the picture. Obediently he started towards the door, then hesitated, +glancing irresolutely at Craven, and tip-toed back to the easel. + +"Them things in the drawer," he muttered sepulchrally, in a voice not +intended to reach the ears of the rather awe-inspiring personage on the +hearthrug. Gillian whipped round contritely. "Danny, I forgot them!" she +apologised, and tweaking a black curl went to a bureau and produced a +square cardboard box. Danny tucked it under his arm with murmured thanks +and a duck of the head, and crossing the room noiselessly went out, +closing the door behind him softly. Craven came slowly to her. She moved +to give him place before the easel. Craven looked at the small alert +brown face, the odd black eyes dancing with almost unearthly merriment, +the red lips curving upward to an enigmatical smile, and his wonder and +admiration grew. + +"Who is he?" he asked curiously, puzzled by a likeness he seemed to +recognise dimly and yet was unable to place. + +"Danny Major--the son of one of your gamekeepers," said Gillian; "his +mother has gipsy blood in her." + +Craven whistled. "I remember," he said, interested. "Old Major was +head-keeper. Young Major lost his heart to a gipsy lass and his father +kicked him out of doors. Peters, as usual, smoothed things over and kept +the fellow on at his job, in spite of a great deal of opposition--he had +seen the girl and formed his own opinion. I asked once or twice and he +said that it had turned out satisfactorily. So this is the son--he's a +rum-looking little beggar." + +Gillian was cleaning brushes at the side table. "He's the terror of the +neighbourhood," she said smiling, "but for some reason he is a perfect +angel when he comes here. It isn't the chocolates," she added hastily +as she saw a fleeting smile on his face, "he just likes coming. And +he tells me the most wonderful things about the woods and the wood +beasties." + +"He would," said Craven significantly, "it's in the blood. What's this?" +he asked, pointing to a smaller board propped face inward against the +big canvas. For a moment she did not answer and the colour flamed into +her face again. She put the brushes away, and wiping her fingers on a +cloth, lifted the board and gave it into his hands. + +"It's Danny as I see him," she said in an odd voice. And, looking at +it, Craven realised that the cleverness of the painted head on the large +canvas paled to mediocrity beside the brilliance of the sepia sketch he +held. It was the same head--but marvellously different--set on the body +of a faun. The dancing limbs were pulsing with life, the tiny hoofs +stamping the flower-strewn earth in an ecstasy of movement; the head was +thrown forward, bent as though to catch a distant echo, and among the +tossing curls showed two small curving horns; to the enigmatical smile +of the original had been added a subtle touch of mockery, and the wide +eyes held a look of mystical knowledge that was uncanny. Craven held +it silently, it seemed an incredible piece of work for the girl to have +conceived. And, beside him, she waited nervously for his verdict, with +close-locked twitching fingers. He had never come before, had never +shown any interest in the work that meant so much to her. She was hungry +for his praise, fearful of his censure. If he saw nothing in it now +but the immature efforts of an amateur! Her heart tightened. She drew a +little nearer to him, her eyes fixed apprehensively on his intent face, +her breath coming quickly. At length he replaced the sketch carefully. +"You have a wonderful talent," he said slowly. A little gasp of relief +escaped her and her lips trembled in spite of all efforts to keep them +steady. "You like it?" she whispered eagerly, and was terrified at the +awful pallor that overspread his face. For a moment he could not speak. +The words, the intonation! He was back again in Japan, looking at +the painting of a lonely fir tree clinging to a jutting sea-washed +cliff--the faintest scent of oriental perfume seemed stealing through +the air. He drew his hand across his eyes. "Merciful God ... not here +... not now!" he prayed in silent agony. Then with a desperate effort he +mastered himself and turned to the frightened girl with a forced smile. +"Forgive me--I've a beastly headache--the room went spinning round for +a minute," he said jerkily, wiping the moisture from his forehead. She +looked at him gravely. "I think you are very tired, and I don't believe +you had any lunch," she said with quiet decision. "I'm going to make +some coffee. Aunt Caro says my coffee drinking is more vicious than her +smoking," she went on, purposely giving him time to recover himself, and +crossing the room she collected little cups and a small brass pot. +"Any how it's the real article, and in spite of what she says Aunt Caro +doesn't scorn it. She comes regularly to drink my _cafe noir_ with her +after-lunch cigarette." + +Craven dropped down heavily on the broad cushioned window seat, his +hands clasped over his throbbing temples, fighting to regain his shaken +nerve. And yet there was a great hope dawning. For the first time the +threatening vision had failed to materialise, and the fact gave him +courage. If a time should come when it would definitely cease to haunt +him! He could never forget, never cease to regret, but he would feel +that in the Land of Understanding the hapless victim of his crime had +forgiven the sin that had robbed her of her young life. + +And as he grew calmer he began to be conscious that in the room where +he sat there was a restfulness that he had not felt in any other part +of the house since his return to Craven Towers. It was acting on him +curiously and he wondered what it portended. And as he pondered it +Gillian came to him with a cup of coffee in either hand. + +_"Monsieur est servi,"_ she said with a little laugh. She seemed to have +suddenly overcome shyness as if, in her own domain, the first surprise +of his visit over, her surroundings gave her confidence. Or, perhaps, +the womanliness that had been called out to meet his passing weakness +had set her on another plane. All signs of giddiness had left him and, +with her usual intuition, she did not trouble him with questions. For +the first time she found it easy to speak to him, and talked as +she would have done to Peters. She spoke of his northern visit and, +following his lead, of her work, freely and without embarrassment. Every +moment the restraint that had been between them seemed growing less. +She marvelled that she had ever found him unapproachable and wondered, +contritely, if her shyness had been alone to blame. She had been always +constrained and silent with him--small wonder that he had avoided +her, she thought humbly. Yet how could it have been otherwise? The tie +between them, the wonderful generosity he had shown, the aloofness +he had maintained, had made it impossible for her to view him as an +ordinary human being. She owed him everything and passionate recognition +and a sense of her indebtedness had grown with equal fervour. She had +almost worshipped him. He had taken her from a life that had grown +unbearable, he had given her the opportunity to follow the career for +which she longed. She could never repay him, she found it difficult to +put into words even to herself just what she felt towards him. From the +first she had raised him to the empty pedestal vacated by that fallen +idol, her father. And out of hero-worship had grown love, at first the +exalted devotion of an immature girl, adoration that was purely sexless +and selfless--a mystical love without passion, spiritual. He had +appeared to her as a being of another sphere and, mentally, she had +knelt at his feet as to a patron saint. But with her own development +love had expanded. She realised that what she felt for him was no longer +childish adoration, but a greater, more wonderful emotion. She had grown +to a full understanding of her own heart, the divinity had become a +man for whose love she yearned. But she loved hopelessly as she +loved deeply, she had no thought that her love could be returned. His +proximity had always troubled her, and to-day as she sat on the window +seat beside him she was conscious of a greater unrest than she had ever +before felt, and her heart throbbed painfully with the vague formless +longings, inexplicable and frightening, that stirred within her until it +seemed impossible that her agitation could pass unnoticed. Shyness fell +on her again, the ready words faltered, and gradually she became silent. +Craven took the empty coffee cups and replaced them on the table by the +fire. Going back to the window he found her kneeling up on the cushioned +seat, her hands clasped before her, looking out at the white world. The +childish attitude that seemed in keeping with the artist's blouse and +tumbled hair made her look singularly young. He stood beside her, so +close that he almost touched her shoulder, and his eyes ranged hungrily +over the whole slim beauty of her, lingering on the little bent brown +head, the soft curve of her girlish bosom, until the yearning for her +grew intolerable and the restraint he put upon himself took all his +resolution. The temptation to gather her into his arms was almost more +than he could resist, he folded them tightly across his chest--he could +not trust them. He could barely trust himself. The unwonted intimacy, +the subtle torture of her nearness set his pulses leaping madly. The +blood beat in his head, his body quivered with the passionate longing, +the fierce desire that rushed over him. In the agony of the moment only +the elemental man existed, and he was sensible alone of the burning +physical need that rose above all higher purer sentiment. To hold her +crushed against his throbbing heart, to bury his face in the fragrance +of her soft hair, to kiss her lips till she should beg his mercy--there +seemed no greater joy on earth. He wanted her as he had wanted nothing +in his life before. And yet, if he gained what he had come to ask he +knew that what he suffered now would be as nothing to what he would have +to endure. To know her his wife, bound in every sense to him--and to +turn his face from the happiness that by all laws was his! Had he the +strength? Almost it seemed that he had not. He was only human--and there +was a limit to human endurance. If circumstances proved too hard.... +The sound of a little smothered cough checked his thoughts abruptly. He +realised that in self-commiseration he had lost sight of the purpose of +his visit. It was only she who mattered; her health, her happiness that +must be considered. He cursed himself and searched vainly for words +to express what he must say. And the more he thought the more utterly +speech evaded him. Then chance aided. She coughed again and with a +little impatient gesture rose to her feet. + +"Aunt Caro has decided to go to Cimiez for the rest of the +winter--because of my cough. She settled it while you were away. I don't +want to go, my cough is nothing. I wouldn't exchange this"--pointing to +the snow-clad park--"for all the warmth and sunshine of the Riviera. +I want to store up all the memories I can. You don't know how I have +learned to love the Towers." It was as if the last words had escaped +unintentionally for she flushed and turned again abruptly to the +darkening window. His heart gave a sudden leap but he did not move. + +"Then why leave it?" he asked brusquely. + +She leaned her forehead on the frosting glass and her eyes grew misty. + +"You _know_," she said softly, and her voice trembled. "In all the world +I have only my--my talent and my self-respect. If I were to do what you +and Aunt Caro, in your wonderful generosity, propose--oh, don't stop +me, you _must_ listen--I should only have my talent left. Can't you +see, can't you understand that I must work, that I must prove my +self-respect? For all that you have done, for all that you have given +me I have tried to thank you--often. Always you have stopped me. Do you +grudge me the only way in which I can show my gratitude, the only way +in which I can prove myself worthy of your esteem?" Her voice broke in a +little sob. Then she turned to him quickly, her hands out-stretched and +quivering. "If I could only do something to repay----" she cried, with +a passionate earnestness he had never heard in her before. He caught at +the opening that offered. "You can," he said quietly, "but it is so big +a thing--it would more than swamp the debt you think you owe me." + +"Tell me," she whispered urgently as he paused. + +He turned from her eager questioning face with acute embarrassment. He +hated himself, he hated his task, only the darkness of the room seemed +to make it possible. + +"Gillian," he said, with constrained gravity. "I came to you to-day +deliberately to ask you what I believe no man has any right to ask a +woman. I have tried all the afternoon to tell you. Something you said +just now makes it easier. You say you love the Towers--do you love it +well enough to stay here as its mistress, on the only terms that I can +offer?" + +The look of incredulous horror that leaped into her startled eyes made +him realise suddenly the interpretation that might be put upon his +words. He caught her hands almost roughly. "Good heavens, child, not +that!" he cried aghast. "What do you take me for? I am asking you to +marry me--but not the kind of marriage that every woman has the right to +expect. If I could offer you that, God knows how willingly I would. But +there has been that in my life which comes between me and the happiness +that other men can look forward to. For me that part of life is over. +I have only friendship to offer. I know I am asking more than it seems +possible for you to grant, more, a thousand times more than I ought to +ask you--but I do ask it, most earnestly. If you can bring yourself to +make so great a sacrifice, if you can accept a marriage that will be a +marriage only in name----" + +She shuddered from him with a bitter cry. "You are offering me +_charity_!" she wailed, struggling to free her hands. But he held them +firmer. "I am asking you to take pity on a very lonely man," he said +gently. "I am asking you to care for a very lonely house. You have +brought sunshine into the Towers, you have brought sunshine into the +lives of many people living on the estate. I am asking you to stay where +you are so much wanted--so much--loved." + +Then he let her go and she walked unsteadily to the fireplace. She +stood for a moment, her fingers working convulsively, staring into +the smouldering embers, and then sank into a chair, for her limbs were +shaking under her. He followed slowly and stooped to stir the fire to a +blaze. Covertly she looked at him as the red light illuminated his face +and scalding tears gathered in her eyes. And, curiously, it was not +wholly of herself that she was thinking. She was envying, with a feeling +of hopeless intolerable pain, that other woman whom he had loved. For +his words could only have meant one thing, and the great sorrow she had +imagined seemed all at once explained. She wondered what manner of woman +she had been, if she had died--or if she had proved unworthy. And the +last thought roused a sudden fierce resentment--how could a woman who +had won his love throw it back at his feet, unwanted! The envious tears +welled over and she brushed them furtively away. Then her thoughts +turned in compassion to him. Through death or faithlessness love had +brought no joy to him--he suffered as she was suffering now. She looked +at the silver threads gleaming in his hair, at the deep lines in his +face and the pain in her eyes gave place to a wonderful tenderness. She +had prayed for a chance to show her gratitude; if what he asked could +bring any alleviation to his life, if her presence could bring any sort +of comfort to his loneliness, was not even that more than she had ever +dared to hope? That he should turn to her was understandable. He had men +friends in plenty, but women he openly and undisguisedly avoided. He had +grown used to her presence at the Towers, a marriage such as he proposed +would call for no great alteration in the daily routine to which he had +become accustomed. If by doing this she could in any way repay.... + +The replenished fire was filling the room with soft flickering light, +it cast strange shadows on the curtained walls and revealed the girl's +strained white face pitilessly. Craven had risen and was standing +looking down on her. She grew aware of his scrutiny and flinched, the +hot blood rolling slowly, painfully over her face and neck. He spoke +abruptly, as if the words were forced from him: + +"But I want you to realise fully what this marriage with me would mean, +for it is a very big sacrifice I am asking of you. Whatever happened, +you would be bound to me. If"--his voice faltered momentarily--"if you +were sometime to meet a man--and love him--you would be my wife, you +would not be free to follow your heart." + +She stared straight before her, her hands clasped tight around her +knees, shivering slightly. "I shall never--want to marry--in that way," +she said in a strangled voice. He smiled sadly. "You think that now--you +are very young," he argued, "but we have the future to think of." + +She did not answer and in the silence that ensued he wondered what had +induced him to put forward an argument that might defeat his purpose. In +any other case it would have been only the honourable thing to do, but +in this it was a risk he should not have taken. He moved impatiently. +Then suddenly he leaned forward and laid his hands on her shoulders, +drawing her gently to her feet. + +"Gillian!" + +Slowly she raised her head. The touch of his hands was almost more than +she could bear, but she steadied her trembling lips and met his gaze +bravely as he spoke again. + +"If you will agree to this--this _mariage de convenance_, I will do +all that lies in my power to make your life happy. You will be free in +everything. I ask nothing but that you will look on me as a friend to +whom you can always come in any difficulty or any trouble. You will be +complete mistress of yourself, your time, your inclinations. I will not +interfere with you in any way." + +She searched his face, trying to read what lay behind his inscrutable +expression. His eyes were kind, but there was in them a curious +underlying gleam that she could not understand. And his voice puzzled +her. She was bewildered, torn with conflicting doubts. Sensitively she +shrank from his inexplicable suggestion, she could see no reason for his +amazing proposal save an extraordinary generosity that filled her with +gratitude and yet against which she revolted. + +"You are doing this in pity!" she cried miserably. + +"Before God I swear that I am not," he said, with unexpected fierceness +that startled her, and the sudden painful gripping of the strong hands +on her shoulders made her for the first time aware of his strength. She +thought of it wonderingly. If it had been otherwise, if he had loved +her, how gladly she would have surrendered to it. It would have stood +between her and the unknown world that loomed sometimes in spite of her +confidence with a sinister horror on which she dared not dwell. In the +safety of his arms she would never have known fear, his strength would +have shielded her through life. And, in a lesser degree, his strength +might still be hers to turn to, if she would. A new conception of the +future she had planned rushed over her, the confidence she had felt fell +suddenly away, leaving fear and dread and a terror of loneliness. His +touch had destroyed her faith in herself. It had done more. In some +subtle way it seemed to her he had by his touch claimed her. And with +his hands still pressing her shoulders she felt a strange inability to +oppose him. He had sworn that it was not pity that dictated his offer. +He had said that love did not exist for him. What then could be his +motive? She could find none. + +"You wouldn't lie to me?" she whispered, tormented with doubt, "you wish +this--this marriage--truly?" + +He looked at her steadily. + +"I wish it, truly," he said firmly. + +"You would let me go on with my work?" she faltered, fighting for time. + +"I have said that I would not interfere with you in any way, that you +would be free in everything," he answered, and as if in earnest of the +freedom promised his hands slipped from her. + +The fire had died down again, and the room was almost dark, he could +hardly see her where she stood. He waited, hoping she would speak, then +abruptly: "Can you give me an answer, Gillian?" + +He heard the quick intake of her breath, felt her trembling beside him. + +"Oh, if you would give me time," she murmured entreatingly. "I want to +think. It means so much." + +"Take all the time you wish," he said, and went quietly away. And his +going brought a sudden desolation. She longed to call him back, +to promise what he asked, to yield without further struggle. But +uncertainty held her. Motionless she stood staring through the darkness +at the dim outline of the door that had closed behind him, her breast +heaving tumultuously, until tears blinded her and with a gasping sob +she slipped to the floor. She had never dared to hope that he could +love her, but the truth from his own lips was bitter. And for a time the +realisation of that bitterness deadened all other feeling. Overwrought +with the emotion of the last few hours, her nerves strained to breaking +point, she was unable to check the tide of grief that shook her to the +very depths of her being. With her face hidden in the soft rug, her +outflung hands clenching convulsively, she wept in an abandonment of +sorrow. + +If he had never spoken, if he had never made this strange proposal but +had maintained until the end the detached reserve that had seemed to set +so wide a gulf between them, it would have been easier to bear. He would +have passed out of her life, inscrutable as he had always been. But with +his change of attitude, in the intimacy of the few hours they had spent +alone, she had seen him with new eyes. The mysterious unapproachable +guardian had gone for ever, and in his place was a very human man +revealing characteristics she had never imagined to exist, showing an +interest and a gentleness she had never suspected. He had exhibited a +similarity of tastes and ideas that agreed extraordinarily with her +own, he had talked as to a comrade. The companionship had been very +sweet--very sorrowful. She could never think of him again as he had +been, and the new conception of him gave a poignant stab to her grief. +In the brief happiness of the afternoon she had had a fleeting vision of +what might have been "if he had loved me," she moaned, and it seemed to +her that she had never known until now the real depth of her own love. +What she had felt before was not comparable with the overwhelming +passion that the touch of his hands had quickened. It swept her like +a raging torrent, carrying her beyond the limit of her understanding, +bringing with it strange yearnings that, half-understood, she shuddered +from, ashamed. + +Torn with emotion she wept until she had no tears left, until the hard +racking sobs died away and her tired sorrow-shaken body lay still. +For the moment, exhausted, her agony of mind was dulled and time was +non-existent. She did not move or lift her head from the tear-wet rug. +A great weariness seemed to deaden all faculty. The minutes passed +unnoticed. Then some latent consciousness stirred in her brain and she +looked up startled. + +It was quite dark and she realised, shivering, that the room had grown +very cold. The calm afternoon had given place to a stormy night +and heavy gusts of wind were sweeping round the angle of the house, +shrieking and whistling eerily; from the window came the soft _swish +swish_ of dry hard snow beating against the panes. She started to her +feet. She had no idea of the hour but she knew it must be late. Perhaps +the dinner gong had already sounded and, missed, somebody might come in +search of her. She shrank from being found thus. Feeling her way to a +lamp she turned the switch and the soft light flooding the room made her +wince. A glance at her watch showed that she had still a few moments in +which to gain her room unobserved. + +She felt oddly lightheaded and her feet dragged wearily. The tortuous +passage had never seemed so interminable, the succession of closed doors +appeared unending. Reaching her own room she collapsed on to a sofa +that was drawn up before the fire, her head aching, her limbs shivering +uncontrollably, worn out with emotion. Exhausted in mind and body she +seemed unable even to frame a thought logically or coherently--only an +interrupted medley of unconnected ideas chased through her tired brain +until her temples throbbed agonisingly. She knew that sometime she would +have to rouse herself, that sometime a decision would have to be made, +but not now. Now she could only lie still and make no effort. She was +angry with herself, contemptuous of her weakness. She had disdained +nerves, she was humiliated now by her present lack of control. But even +self-scorn was a passing thought from which she turned wearily. + +One fact only remained, clear and distinct from the confusion in her +mind--he did not love her. He did not love her. It hurt so. She hid her +face in the pillows, writhing with the shame the knowledge of her own +love brought her. The deep booming of the dinner gong awoke her to the +necessity of some kind of action. She rang the bell that hung within +reach of her hand and, by the maid who answered her summons, sent her +excuses to Miss Craven, pleading a headache for remaining upstairs. + +A few minutes later Mary, grim-visaged and big-hearted, appeared with a +tray, headache remedies and multifarious messages from the dining room. +She bathed the girl's aching head, brushing the tumbled brown hair and +piling it afresh into a soft loose knot. Grumbling gently at the long +hours of work to which she attributed the unusual indisposition, she +took full advantage of the rare opportunity of rendering personal +attention and fussed to her heart's content, stripping off the stained +overall and substituting a loose velvet wrapper; and then stood over +her, a kindly martinet, until the light dinner she had brought was +eaten. Afterwards she packed pillows, made up the fire, and administered +a particularly nauseous specific emanating from a homeopathic medicine +chest that was her greatest pride, and then took herself away, still +mildly admonishing. + +Gillian leaned back against the cushions with a feeling of greater +ease and restfulness. Food had given her strength and under Mary's +ministrations her mental poise had steadied. She would not let herself +dwell on the question that must before long be settled, Miss Craven +would be coming soon, and until she had been and gone no definite +settlement could be attempted. + +She lay looking at the fire, endeavouring to keep her mind a blank. It +was odd to be alone, she missed the familiar black form lying on the +hearth-rug, but tonight she could not bear even Mouston's presence, +and Mary had taken a request to Yoshio, to whose room the dog had been +banished from the studio, that he would keep him until the morning. + +A tap at the door and Miss Craven appeared, anxious and questioning. + +"Only a headache?--my dear, I don't believe it!" she protested, plumping +down on the side of the sofa and clutching at her hair, that sure sign +of perturbation. "You've never had a headache like this before. You've +been working too hard. You were painting all the morning and they tell +me you worked throughout the afternoon and had no tea. Gillian, dear, +when will you learn sense? I don't at all approve of you having tea sent +to the studio _only_ when you ring for it. Young people require regular +meals and as often as not neglect 'em; young artists are the worst +offenders--you needn't contradict me, I know all about it. I did it +myself." She patted the clasped hands lying near her and scrutinised +the girl more closely. "You're as pale as a ghost and your eyes are too +bright. Did Mary take your temperature? No?--the woman must have lost +her senses. I'll telephone to Doctor Harris to come and see you in +the morning. If you looked a fraction more feverish I'd send for you +to-night, storm or no storm. Peter braved it, open car as usual. He sent +his love. Barry turned up from Scotland this afternoon. He looks very +tired--says he had a bothering time and a wretched journey--Gillian!" +she cried sharply as the girl slid from the sofa on to her knees beside +her and raised a quivering piteous face. + +"Aunt Caro, I'm not ill," the words came in tumbling haste, "there's +nothing bodily the matter with me--I'm only dreadfully unhappy. I know +Mr. Craven is back--he came to me in the studio this afternoon. He asked +me to marry him," the troubled voice sank to a whisper, "and I--I don't +know what to do." + +"My dear." The tenderness of Miss Craven's tone sent a strangling wave +of emotion into Gillian's throat. "Aunt Caro, did you know? Do you wish +it too?" she murmured wistfully. + +Unwilling to admit a previous knowledge which would be difficult to +explain, Miss Craven temporised. "I very greatly hoped for it," she said +guardedly; "you and Barry are all I have to care for, and you are both +so--alone. I know you think of a very different life, I know you have +dreams of making a career for yourself. But a career is not all that a +woman wants in her life; it can perhaps mean independence and fame, +it can also mean great loneliness and the loss of the full and perfect +happiness that should be every woman's. You mustn't judge all cases +by me. I have been happy in my own way but I want a greater, richer +happiness for you, dear. I want for you the best that the world can +give, and that best I believe to be the shelter and the safety of a +man's love." + +The brown head dropped on her knee. "You are thinking of me--I am +thinking of him," came a stifled whisper. + +Miss Craven stroked the soft hair tenderly. "Then why not give him what +he asks, my dear," she said gently. "He has known sorrow and suffering. +If through you, he can forget the past in a new happiness, will you not +grant it him? Oh, Gillian, I have so hoped that you might care for each +other; that, together, you might make the Towers the perfect home it +should be, a home of mutual trust and love. You and Barry and, please +God, after you--your children." She choked with unexpected emotion and +brushed the mist from her eyes impatiently. + +And at her knee Gillian knelt motionless, her lip held fast between her +teeth to stop the bitter cry that nearly escaped her, her heart almost +bursting. The picture Miss Craven's words called up was an ideal of +happiness that might have been. The suffering that reality promised +seemed more than she could contemplate. What happiness could come +from such a travesty? The strange yearnings she had experienced seemed +suddenly crystallised into form, and the knowledge was a greater pain +than she had known. What she would have gone down to the gates of death +to give him he did not require--the unutterable joy that Miss +Craven suggested would never be hers. She searched for words, for an +explanation of her silence that must seem strange to the elder woman. +Miss Craven obviously knew nothing of the unusual conditions attached to +his proposal, her words proved it, and Gillian could not tell her. She +could not betray his confidence even if she had so wished. If she could +but speak frankly and show all her difficulty to the friend who +had never yet failed in love and sympathy----She sought refuge in +prevarication. "How can I marry him?" she cried miserably. "You +don't know anything about me. I'm not a fit person to be his wife--my +antecedents----" + +"Bother your antecedents!" interrupted Miss Craven, with a somewhat +shaky laugh. "My dearest girl, Barry isn't going to marry them, he's +going to marry you. They can have been anything you like or imagine but +it does not alter the fact that their daughter is the one woman on earth +I want for Barry's wife." She stooped and gathered the girl into her +arms. + +"Gillian, can you give us, Barry and me, this great happiness?" + +Gently Gillian disengaged herself and rose slowly to her feet. She made +a little helpless gesture, swaying as she stood. "What can I say?" she +said brokenly. "Do you think it means nothing to me! Don't you know that +what I already owe you and Mr. Craven is almost more than I can bear, +that I would give my life for either of you? But this--oh, you don't +understand--I can't tell you--I can't explain----" She dropped back +on the sofa and her voice came muffled and entreatingly from among the +silken cushions, "If you knew how I long to repay you for your wonderful +goodness, if you knew what your love has meant to me! Oh, dearest, I'd +give the world to please you! But I don't know what to do, I don't know +what is honest--and you can't help me, nobody can help me. I've got to +settle it myself. I've got to think----" + +Miss Craven guessed the crying need for solitude conveyed in the last +faltering words and rose in obedience to the unspoken request. She stood +for a moment, looking tenderly down on the slim prostrate figure, and a +fear that grew momentarily stronger came to her that in her endeavour +to bring happiness to these two lives she had blundered fatally. She +had been a fool, rushing in. And with almost a feeling of dismay she +realised it was beyond her ability now to stay what she had put in +motion. She was as one who, having wantonly released some complex +mechanism, stands aghast and powerless at the consequence of his +rashness. And yet, despite the seeming setback to her hopes, the +conviction that had urged her to this step was still strong in her; +she still had faith in its ultimate achievement. She touched the girl's +shoulder in a quick caress. "You are worn out, child. Go to bed and rest +now, and think to-morrow," she said soothingly. + +For long after she left the room Gillian lay without moving. Then with +a long shuddering sigh she sat up. She tried to concentrate on +the decision she must make but her thoughts, ungovernable, dwelt +persistently on the unknown woman whom she had convinced herself he must +have loved, and the passionate envy she had felt before swept her again +until the pain of it sent a whispered prayer to her lips for strength to +put it from her. Huddled on the side of the sofa, her head supported on +her hands, she stared fixedly into the fire as if seeking in the leaping +flames the answer to the problem that confronted her. Then in her agony +of mind inaction became impossible and she rose and paced the room with +hurried nervous tread. + +To do what was right--to do what was honourable; to conquer the +clamorous self that cried out for acceptance of this semblance of +happiness that was offered. To bear his name, to have the right to be +near him, to care for him and for his interests as far as she might. +To be his wife--even if only in name. Dear God, did he know how he had +tempted her? But she had no right. The crushing burden of debt she owed +rose like an unsurpassable mountain between her and what she longed +for. Only by repayment could she keep her self-respect. The dreams +of independence, the place she had thought to make for herself in the +world, the re-establishing of her father's name--could she forego what +she had planned? Was it not a nobler aim than the gratification of self +that urged the easier way? Yet would it be the easier way? Was she not +really in her heart shrinking from the difficulty and sadness that this +loveless marriage would bring? Was it not cowardice that prompted a +supposed nobility of thought that now appeared ignoble? She wrung her +hands in desperation. Had she no courage or steadfastness at all? Was +the weakness of purpose that had ruined her father's life to be her +curse as it had been his? + +She felt suddenly very young, very inexperienced. Her early training +that had denied the exercise of individual responsibility and had +inculcated a passivity of mind that precluded self-determination had +bitten deeper than she knew. Her life since leaving the convent had been +smooth and uneventful, there had been no occasion to practise the new +liberty of thought and action that was hers. And now before a decision +that would be so irrevocable, that would involve her whole life--and not +hers alone--she felt to the full the disability of her upbringing. +Alone she must make her choice and she shrank from the burden of +responsibility that fell upon her. She had nobody to turn to for counsel +or advice. In her loneliness she longed for the solace of a mother's +tenderness, the shelter of a mother's arms, and bitterness came to her +as she thought of the parents who had each in their turn abandoned her +so callously. She had been robbed of her birthright of love and care. +She was alone in the world, alone to fight her own battles, alone in the +moment of her direst need. + +Then all at once she seemed to see in the trend of her thoughts only +a supreme selfishness that had lost sight of all but personal +consideration. Was her love of so little worth that in thought +for herself she had forgotten him? He had asked her to pity his +loneliness--and she had had only pity for herself. Her lips quivered as +she whispered his name in an agony of self-condemnation. + +Coming back slowly to the fireside she slipped to the floor and +leaned her head against the sofa listening to the storm that beat with +increasing violence against the house, and the roar of the tempest +without seemed in strange agreement with the tumult that was raging in +her heart. The words he had used came back to her. Did it really lie +in her power to lessen the loneliness of his life? To give him what he +asked--was not that, after all, the true way to pay her debt? With a +little sob she bowed her head on her hands.... An hour later she rose +stiffly, cramped with long sitting, and moving nearer to the fire chafed +her cold hands mechanically. Her face was very sad and her wide eyes +heavy with unshed tears. She drew a long sobbing breath. "Because I love +him," she murmured. "If I didn't love him I couldn't do it." A thought +that brought new hope came to her. She loved him so deeply, might not +her love, she wondered wistfully, perhaps some day be strong enough to +heal the wound he had sustained--strong enough even to compel his love? +Then doubt seized hold on her again. Would she, in the limited scope +that she would have, find opportunity--would he ever allow her to get +near enough to him?... She flung her hands out in passionate appeal. + +"Oh, God! if this thing that I am doing is wrong, if it brings sorrow +and unhappiness, let me be the only one to pay!" + +A sudden longing to make retraction impossible came over her. She looked +anxiously at her watch. Was it too late to go to him to-night? Only when +she had told him would she be sure of herself. Her word once given there +could be no withdrawal. + +It was nearly midnight but she knew he rarely left his study until +later. Peters would be gone, he was methodical in his habits and retired +punctually at eleven o'clock with a regularity that was unvarying. She +was sure of finding him alone. She dared not wait until the morning, she +must go now while she had the courage. Delay might bring new doubts, new +uncertainty. Impulsively she started towards the door, then paused on a +sudden thought that sent the warm blood in a painful wave to her +face. Would he misunderstand, think her unwomanly, attribute her hasty +decision to a sordid desire for material gain, for the ease that would +be hers, for the position that his name would give? It was the natural +thought for him who offered so much to one who would give nothing in +return. And not for him alone--in the eyes of the world she would be +only a little adventuress who had skilfully seized the opportunity +that circumstance had given to advantage herself. But the world did not +matter, she thought with scornful curling lip, it was only in his eyes +that she desired to stand well. Then with quick shame she knew that the +sentiments she had ascribed to him were unworthy, the outcome only +of her own strained imagination, and she put them from her. She went +quickly to the gallery, dimly lit from a single lamp left alight in the +hall below--left for Craven as she knew. Silence brooded over the great +house. The storm that earlier had beat tempestuously against the dome +as if striving to shatter the massive glass plates that opposed its fury +had blown itself out and glancing upward Gillian saw the huge cupola +shrouded with snow that gleamed palely in the soft light. The stillness +oppressed her and odd thoughts chased through her mind. She looked to +right and left nervously and in a sudden inexplicable panic sped down +the wide staircase and across the shadowy hall until she reached the +study door. There she halted with wildly beating heart, panting and +breathless. It was a room which she had never before entered, and an +almost paralysing shyness made her shake from head to foot. Nerving +herself with a strong effort she tapped with trembling fingers and, at +the sound of an answering voice, went in. + +Strength seemed all at once to leave her. Physically and mentally +exhausted, a feeling of unreality supervened. The strange room swam +before her eyes. As in a dream she saw him start to his feet and +come swiftly to her across a seemingly unending length of carpet that +billowed and wavered curiously, his big frame oddly magnified until he +appeared a very giant towering above her; as in a dream she felt him +take her ice-cold hands in his. But the warm strong grasp, the grave +eyes bent compellingly on her, dragged her back from the shuddering +abyss into which she was sinking. Far away, as though coming from a +great distance, she heard him speaking. And his voice, gentler than she +had ever known it, gave her courage to whisper, so low that he had to +bend his tall head to catch the fluttering words, the promise she had +come to give. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +On an afternoon in early September eighteen months after her marriage +Gillian was driving across the park toward the little village of Craven +that, old world and quite unspoiled, clustered round a tiny Norman +church two miles distant from the Towers. She leaned back in the +victoria, her hands clasped in her lap, preoccupied and thoughtful. +A scented heap of deep crimson roses and carnations lay at her feet; +beside her, in contrast to her listless attitude, Mouston sat up tense +and watchful, his sharp muzzle thrust forward, his black nose twitching +eagerly at the distracting agitating smells borne on the warm air +tempting him from monotonous inactivity to a soul satisfying scamper +over the short cropped grass but, conscious of the dignity of his +position, ignoring them with a gravity of demeanour that was almost +comical. Once or twice when his wrinkling nostrils caught some +particularly attractive odour his pads kneaded the cushions vigorously +and a snarly gurgle rose in his throat. But no other sign of +restlessness escaped him--it was patience bred of experience. For miles +around he was a well-known figure, sitting grave and motionless on his +accustomed side of the victoria as it rolled through the country lanes. +To the villagers of Craven, all directly or indirectly dependent on +the estate, he was welcome in that he was inseparable from the gentle +tender-hearted girl whom they worshipped, but their welcome was +a qualified one that never descended to the familiar; his strange +appearance and disdainful aloofness made him an object of curiosity +to be viewed with most safety from a respectful distance; time had not +accustomed them to him and tales of his uncanny understanding filtering +through, richly embroidered, to the village from the house, did not tend +to lessen the awe with which he was regarded. They marvelled, without +comprehension, at the partiality of his mistress; he was the "black +French devil" to more households than that of Major, the gamekeeper, an +"unorranary brute" to those of less gifted imagination. + +To Mouston Gillian's periodical visits to the village were a tedium +endured for the sake of the coveted seat beside her. + +The passing of a herd of deer, feeding intently and--save for one or two +more timid hinds who started nervously--too used to the carriage to +heed its approach, roused the poodle, as always, to a high pitch of +excitement; they were old enemies and his annoyance gave vent to a +sharp yelp as he sidled close to Gillian and endeavoured to attract her +attention with an insistent paw. But for once she was heedless of the +hints of her dumb companion, and, whining, he slunk back into his own +corner, curling up on the seat with his forepaws brushing the mass +of scented blossom. And ignorant of the pleading brown eyes fixed +pathetically on her, Gillian followed the train of her own troubled +thoughts. For eighteen months she had been Barry Craven's wife, for +eighteen months she had endeavoured to fulfill her share of the contract +they had made--and to herself she admitted failure. + +The strain was becoming unendurable. + +In the eyes of the world an ideal couple, in reality--she wondered if in +the whole universe there were two more lonely souls than they. She knew +now that the task she had set herself that stormy December night was +beyond her power, that it had been the unattainable dream of an immature +love-sick girl. She had fought to retain her high ideals, to believe +that love--as great, as unselfish as hers--must beget love, but she had +come to realise the utter futility of her dream and to wonder at the +childish ignorance that had inspired it. The sustaining hope that she +might indeed be a comfort to his loneliness had died hard, but +surely. For he gave her no opportunity. Despite unfailing kindness and +overwhelming generosity he maintained always a baffling reserve she +found impossible to penetrate. Of his inner self she knew no more than +she had ever done, she could get no nearer to him. But in all matters +that dealt with their common life he was scrupulously frank and +out-spoken; he had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his +interests and a working idea of his affairs, from which she had shrunk +sensitively, but he had persisted, arguing that in the event of his +death--Peters not being immortal--it was necessary that she should be +able to administer possessions that would be hers--and the thought of +those possessions crushed her. It was only after a long struggle, in +distress that horrified him, that she persuaded him to forego the big +settlement he proposed making. If she had not loved him his liberality +would have hurt her less, but because of her love his money was a +scourge. She hated the wealth to which she felt she had no right, to +herself she seemed an impostor, a cheat. She felt degraded. She would +rather he had bought her, as women have from time immemorial been +bought, that she might have paid the price, as they pay, and so retained +the self-respect that now seemed for ever lost. It would have been a +means of re-establishing herself in her own eyes, of easing the burden +of his bounty that grew daily heavier and from which she could never +escape. It was evident in all about her; in the greater state and +ceremony observed at the Towers since their marriage, which, while +it pleased the household, who rejoiced in the restoration of the old +regime, oppressed her unspeakably; in the charities she dispensed--his +charities that brought her no sense of sacrifice, no joy of self-denial; +in the social duties that poured in upon her. + +His wealth served only to strengthen the barrier between them, but for +that she might have been to him what she longed to be. If the talent +that now seemed so useless could have been used for him she would have +found a measure of happiness even if love had never come to crown her +service. In poverty she would have worked for him, slaved for him, with +the strength and tirelessness that only love can give. But here the +gladness of giving, of serving, was denied, here there was nothing +she might do and the futility of her life choked her. She had +conscientiously endeavoured to assume the responsibilities and duties +of her new position, but there seemed little for her to do, for the big +household ran smoothly on oiled wheels under the capable administration +of Forbes and Mrs. Appleyard, with whom, both honest and devoted to the +interests of the family they had served so long and faithfully, she knew +it was unnecessary and unwise to interfere. In any unusual circumstance +they would refer to her with tactful deference but for the rest she knew +that, perforce, she must be content to remain a figure-head. Even her +work--interrupted constantly by the social duties incumbent on her and +performed from a sense of obligation--failed to comfort and distract. It +was all so utterly useless and purposeless. The gift with which she had +thought to do so much was wasted. She could do nothing with it. She was +no longer Gillian Locke who had dreamed of independence, who had hoped +by toil and endeavour to clear the stain from her father's name. She was +the rich Mrs. Craven--who must smile to hide a breaking heart, who must +play the part expected of her, who must appear always care-free and +happy. And the constant effort was almost more than she could +achieve. In the ceaseless watch she set upon herself, in the rigid +self-suppression she exercised, it seemed to her as if her true self had +died, and her entity faded into an automaton that moved in mechanical +obedience to the driving of her will. Only during the long night hours +or in the safe seclusion of the studio could she relax, could she be +natural for a little while. That Craven might never learn the misery of +her life, that she might not fail him as she had failed herself, was +her one prayer. She welcomed eagerly the advent of guests, of foreign +guests--more exigent in their demands upon her society--particularly; +with the house filled the time of host and hostess was fully occupied +and the difficult days passed more easily, more quickly. The weeks they +spent alone she dreaded; from the morning greeting in the breakfast room +to the moment when he gave her the quiet "Good-night" that might +have come from an undemonstrative brother, she was in terror lest an +unguarded word, a chance expression, might tell him what she sought to +keep from him. But so insensible did his own constant pre-occupation of +mind make him appear of much that passed, that she feared his intuition +less than that of Peters who she was convinced had a very shrewd idea of +the state of affairs existing between them. It was manifested in diverse +ways; not by any spoken word direct or indirect, but by additional +fatherly tenderness of manner, by unfailing tactfulness, by quick +intervention that had saved many awkward situations. It was practically +impossible in view of his almost daily association with the house and +its inmates that he could be unaware of certain facts. But the wise +kindly eyes that she had feared most were closed for ever. + +The Great Summons for which Miss Craven had been so calmly prepared had +come more suddenly, more tragically even than she had anticipated. She +had passed over as she would have wished, had she been given the choice, +not in the awful loneliness of death but one of a company of heroic +souls who had voluntarily and willingly stood aside that others might +have the chance to live. + +A few months after the marriage on which she had set her heart the +family curse had seized her as suddenly and as imperatively as it had +ever done her nephew. An exhibition of statuary in America had served +as an adequate excuse and she had started at comparatively short notice, +accompanied by the faithful Mary, after a stormy interview with her +doctor, whose gloomy warnings she refuted with the undeniable truism +that one land was as good as another to die in. Within a few hours of +the American coast the tragedy, short and overwhelming, had occurred. +From the parent ice a thousand miles away in the north the stupendous +white destruction had moved majestically down its appointed course to +loom out of the pitch-black night with appalling consequence. A sudden +crash, slight enough to be unnoticed by hundreds, a convulsive shudder +of the great ship like the death struggle of a Titan, had been followed +by unquellable panic, confusion of darkness, inadequate boats and +jamming bulkheads. Miss Craven and Mary were among the first on deck and +for the short space of time that remained they worked side by side +among the terror-stricken women and children, their own life-belts early +transferred to dazed mothers who clutched wild-eyed at wailing babes. +Together they had stood back from the overcrowded boats, smiling and +unafraid; together they had gone down into the mystery of the deep, two +gallant women, no longer mistress and maid but sisters in sacrifice and +in the knowledge of that greater love for which they cheerfully laid +down their lives. + +And while Gillian mourned her bitterly she was yet glad that Miss +Craven was spared the sadness of witnessing the complete failure of her +cherished dream. + +In the little Norman church toward which Gillian was driving there had +been added yet another memorial to a Craven who had died tragically +and far from home; a record of disastrous calamity that, beginning four +hundred years before with the Elizabethan gallant, had relentlessly +pursued an ill-starred family. The church lay on the outskirts of the +village and close to the south entrance of the park. + +Gillian stopped the carriage for a few moments to speak to the +anxious-looking woman who had hurried out from the creeper-covered lodge +to open the gates. Behind one of the casements of the cottage a child +was fighting for life, a cripple, with an exquisite face, whom Gillian +had painted. To the sorrowful mother the eager tender words, the soft +impulsive hand that clasped her own work-roughened palm, the wide dark +eyes, misty with sympathy were worth infinitely more than the material +aid, so carefully packed by Mrs. Appleyard, that the footman carried up +the narrow nagged path to the cottage door. + +And as the impatient horses drew the carriage swiftly on again Gillian +leaned back in her seat with a quivering sigh. The woman at the lodge, +despite her burden of sorrow, despite her humbleness, was yet richer +than she and, with intolerable pain, she envied her the crowning joy of +womanhood that would never be her own. The child she longed for would +never by the touch baby hands bring consolation to her starved and +lonely heart. Her thoughts turned to her husband in a sudden passion of +hopeless love and longing. To bear him a child--to hold in her arms a +tiny replica of the beloved figure that was so dear to her, to watch +and rejoice in the dawning resemblance that the ardour of her love would +make inevitable.... Hastily she brushed away the gathering tears as the +carriage stopped abruptly with a jingle of harness at the lichgate. + +Coaxing the reluctant Mouston from the seat where he still sulked she +tied him to the gate, took the armful of flowers from the grave-faced +footman, and dismissing the carriage walked slowly up the lime-bordered +avenue. The orderliness and beauty of the churchyard struck her as it +always did--a veritable garden of sleep, with level close-shorn turf +set thick with standard rose trees, that even the clustering headstones +could not make chill and sombre. + +From the radiant sunshine without she passed into the cool dimness of +the little building. With its tiny proportions, ornate and numerous +Craven memorials and--for its size--curiously large chancel, it seemed +less the parish church it had become than the private chapel for which +it had been built. Then the house had been close by, but during the +troublous years of Mary Tudor was pulled down and rebuilt on the present +site. + +Through the quiet silence Gillian made her way up the short central +aisle until she reached the chancel steps. For a few minutes she knelt, +her face crushed against the flowers she held, in silent passionate +prayer that knew neither form nor words--a soundless supplication that +was an inchoate appeal to a God of infinite understanding. Then rising +slowly she pushed back the iron gate and went into the chancel. Directly +to the left the new monument gleamed cleanly white against the old +dark wall. Simple and bold, as she would herself have designed it, the +sculptor's memorial was the work of the greatest genius of the day who +had willingly come from France at Craven's invitation to perpetuate the +memory of a sister artist who had also been a lifelong friend. + +A rugged pedestal of green bronze--with an inset panel representing the +tragedy--rose upward in the shape of billowing curling waves supporting +a marble Christ standing erect with outstretched pitying hand, majestic +and yet wholly human. + +Gillian gazed upward with quivering lips at the Saviour's inclined +tender face, and opening her arms let the scented mass of crimson +blossom fall slowly to the slab at her feet that bore Miss Craven's name +and Mary's cut side by side. + + _"Greater love hath no man than this, that + a man lay down his life for his friends."_ + +She read the words aloud, and with a stifled sob slipped down among the +roses and carnations that Caro Craven had loved, and leaned her aching +head against the cool hard bronze. "Dearest," she whispered, in an agony +of tears, "I wonder can you hear? I wonder are you allowed, where you +are, to know what happens here on earth? Oh, Aunt Caro, _cherie_, do you +know that I have failed--failed to bring him the peace and consolation +I thought my love was strong enough to give, I have tried so hard to +understand, to help ... I have prayed so earnestly that he might turn to +me, that I might be to him what you would have me be ... but I have not +been able ... I have failed him ... failed you ... myself. Oh, dearest, +do you know?" + +Prone among the roses, at the feet of the pitying Christ, she cried +aloud in her desperate loneliness to the dead woman who had given her +the tenderest love she had ever known. The shadows lengthened widely +before she rose and drew the scattered flowers into a fragrant heap. +She stood for a while studying intently the relief of the wreck; it +suggested a train of thought, and with a sudden impulse she traversed +the chancel and sought among the memorials of dead Cravens for the +tablets commemorating those who had disappeared or died tragically. By +chance at first and later by design these had all been placed within the +confines of the chancel that formed so large a part of the tiny church. +Before the florid Italian monument that recorded all that was known of +the short life of the Elizabethan adventurer she paused long, looking +with quickening heart-beat at the graceful kneeling figure whose face +and form were those of the man she loved. + +_Barry Craven ... he set his eyes unto the west_.... Amongst the +calamitous record there were four more of the name--their bodies +scattered widely in distant unknown graves, victims of the spirit of +adventure and unrest. She moved slowly from one to the other, reading +again the tragical inscriptions she knew by heart, cut as deeply in her +memory as on the marble slabs before her. + + _Barry Craven--Lost in the Amazon Forest_. + _Barry Craven--In the silence of the frozen seas_. + _Barry Craven--Perished in a sandstorm in the Sahara_. + _Barry Craven--In Japan_. + _Barry Craven--Barry Craven_. + +The name leaped at her from all sides until, with a shudder, she buried +her face in her hands to shut out the staring capitals that flamed +in black and gold before her eyes. The dread that was with her always +seemed suddenly closer than it had ever been, menacing, inevitable. +Would the fear that haunted her day and night become at some not far +distant time an actual fact? Would the curse that had already led to +ten years' perpetual wandering lay hold of him again--would he, too, in +quest of the peace he had never found, disappear as they had done? Was +it for this that he had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his +affairs? With the quick intuition of love she had come to understand +the deep unrest that beset him periodically, an unrest she recognised +as wholly apart and separate from the other shadow that lay across his +life. With unfailing patience she had learned to discriminate. Covertly +she had watched him, striving to fathom the varying moods that swayed +him, endeavouring to anticipate the alternating frames of mind that made +any definite comprehension of his character so difficult. The charm +of manner and apparent serenity that led others to think of him as one +endowed beyond further desire with all that life could give did not +deceive her. He played a part, as she did, a part that was contrary to +his nature, contrary to his whole inclination. She guessed at the strain +on him, a strain it seemed impossible for him to endure, which some +day she felt must inevitably break. His habitual self-control was +extraordinary--once only during their married life had he lost it when +some event, jarring on his overstrung nerves, had evoked a blaze of +anger that seemed totally out of proportion to the circumstance, that +would have given her proof, had she needed one, of his state of mind. + +His outburst had been a perfectly natural reaction, but while she +admitted the fact she felt a nervous dread of its recurrence. + +She feared anything that might precipitate the upheaval that loomed +always before her like a threatening cloud. For sooner or later the +unrest that filled him would have to be satisfied. The curse of Craven +would claim him again and he would leave her. And she would have to +watch him go and wait in agony for his return as other women of the race +had watched and agonised. And if he went would he ever return? or +would she too know the anguish of suspense, the long drawn horror of +uncertainty, the fading hope that year by year would become slighter +until at last it would vanish altogether and the bitter waters of +despair close over her head? A moan, like the cry of a wounded animal, +broke from her. In vivid self-torturing imagination she saw among the +sinister record around her another tablet--that would mean finality. He +was the last of the Cravens. Did it mean nothing to him--had the sorrow +of that past that was unknown to her but which had become woven into her +own life so inextricably, so terribly, killed in him even the pride +of race? Had he, deep down in the heart that was hidden from her, no +thought of parenthood, no desire to perpetuate the family name, the +family traditions? It would seem that he had not--and yet she wondered. +The woman he had loved--of whose existence she had convinced herself--if +she had lived, or proved faithful, would he still have desired no son? +She shrank from the stabbing thought with a very bitter sob. + +A sudden horror of her environment came over her. Around her were +suggestions from which she shuddered, evidences that raised the haunting +dread with which she lived to a culmination of fear. It had never seemed +so near, so strong. It was stronger than her will to put it from her +and in it, with inherent superstition, she saw a premonition. The little +peaceful church became all at once a place of terror, a grisly charnel +house of vanished hopes and lives. The spirits of countless Cravens +seemed all about her, hostile, malign, triumphing in her weakness, +rejoicing in her fear--spectral figures of the dead crowding, hurrying, +threatening. She seemed to see them, a dense and awful concourse, +closing round her, to hear them whispering, muttering, jibing--at her, +a thing apart, an alien soul whose presence they resented. The clamorous +voices rang in her ears; vague shapes, illusive and shadowy, appeared to +float before her eyes. She shrank from what seemed the contact of actual +bodily forms. Unnerved and overwrought she yielded to the horror of +her own imagination. With a stifled cry she turned and fled, her arms +outstretched to fend from her the invisible host that seemed so real, +not daring even to look again at the pitying Christ whose calm serenity +formed such a striking contrast to her storm-tossed heart. + +Blindly she sped down the chancel steps, along the short central aisle, +out into the timbered porch, where she blundered sharply into somebody +who was on the point of entering. Who, it did not at the moment seem to +matter--enough that it was a human creature, real and tangible, to whom +she clung trembling and incoherent. A strong arm held her, and against +its strength she leaned for a few moments in the weakness of reaction +from the nervous strain through which she had passed. Then as she +slowly regained control of herself she realised the awkwardness of +her position, and her cheeks burned hotly. She drew back, her fingers +uncurling from the tweed coat they clutched so tightly, and, trying +to slip clear of the arm that still lay about her shoulders, looked up +shyly with murmured thanks. + +Then: "David," she cried. "Oh, David----" and burst into tears. Guiding +her to the bench that rested against the side of the porch Peters drew +her down beside him. "Just David," he said, with rather a sad little +smile, "I was passing and Mouston told me you were here." He spoke +slowly, giving her time to recover herself, thanking fate that she +had collapsed into his arms rather than into those of some chattering +village busybody. He had caught a glimpse of her face as she came +through the church door and knew that her agitation was caused by +something more than sorrow for Miss Craven, great as that sorrow was. He +had seen fear in the hunted eyes that looked unrecognisingly into his--a +fear that he somehow resented with a feeling of helpless anger. + +The affection he had for her was such as he would have given the +daughter that might have been his had providence been kinder. And with +the insight that affection gave he had seen, with acute uneasiness, a +steadily increasing change in her during the last eighteen months. The +marriage from which he, as well as Miss Craven, had hoped so much seemed +after all to have brought no joy to either husband or wife. With his +intimate knowledge and close association he saw deeper than the casual +visitor to whom the family life at the Towers appeared an ideal of +domestic happiness and concord. There was nothing he could actually take +hold of, Craven was at all times considerate and thoughtful, Gillian +a model of wifely attention. But there was an atmosphere that, +super-sensitive, he discerned, a vague underlying feeling of tension +that he tried to persuade himself was mere imagination but which at the +bottom of his heart he knew existed. There had been times when he had +seen them both, as it were, off their guard, had read in the face +of each the same bitter pain, the same look of unsatisfied longing. +Possessing in so high a degree everything that life could give they +appeared to have yet missed the happiness that should by all reasoning +have been theirs. Whose was the fault? Caring for them both it was +a question that he turned from in aversion, he had no wish to judge +between them, no desire to probe their hidden affairs. Thrown constantly +into their society while guessing much he shut his eyes to more. But +anxiety remained, fostered by the memory of the tragedy of Barry's +father and mother. Was he fated to see just such another tragedy played +out before him with no power to avert the ruin of two more lives? The +pity of it! He could do nothing and his helplessness galled him. + +To-day as he sat in the little porch with Gillian's hand clasped in his +he felt more than ever the extreme delicacy of his position. Intuitively +he guessed that he was nearer than he had ever been to penetrating the +cloud that shadowed her life and Barry's but with equal intuition he +knew he must convey no hint of his understanding. He gauged her shy +sensitive mind too accurately and his own loyalty debarred him from +forcing such a confidence. Instead he spoke as though the visit to Miss +Craven's memorial must naturally be the cause of her agitation. + +"Why come, my dear, if it distresses you?" he said, in quiet +remonstrance; "she would not misunderstand. She had the sanest, the +healthiest conception of death. She died nobly--willingly. It would +sadden her immeasurably if she knew how you grieved." Her fingers worked +convulsively in his. "I know--I know," she whispered, "but, oh, David, +I miss her so--so inexpressibly." + +"We all do," he answered; "one cannot lose a friend like Caro Craven +lightly. But while we mourn the dead we have the living to consider--and +you have Barry," he added, with almost cruel deliberation. She faced him +with steady eyes from which she had brushed all trace of tears. + +"Barry understands," she said with quick loyalty; "he mourns her +too--but he doesn't _need_ her as I do." It was an undeniable truth that +reduced Peters to silence and for a while Gillian also was silent. +Then she turned to him again with a little tremulous smile, the colour +flooding her delicate face. + +"I'm glad it was only you, David, just now. Please forget it. I don't +know what's the matter with me to-day, I let my nerves get the upper +hand--I'm tired--the sun was hot----" + +"So of course you sent the carriage away and proposed walking two miles +home by way of a rest cure!" he interrupted, jumping up with alacrity, +and taking advantage of the turn in the conversation. "Luckily I've got +the car. Plenty of room for you and the pampered one." And waving aside +her protests he tucked her into the little two-seater, bundling Mouston +unceremoniously in after her. + +The village school was near the church, and while Peters steered the car +carefully through groups of children who were loitering in the road she +sat silent beside him, wondering, in miserable self-condemnation, how +much she had betrayed during those few moments of hysterical outburst. +Resolutely she determined that she would be strong, strong enough to put +away the dread that haunted her, strong enough to meet trouble only when +it came. + +Clear of the children and running smoothly through the park Peters +condescended to break the silence. + +"How went Scotland?" he asked, slowing down behind a frightened fawn +who was straying on the carriage road and cantering ahead of the car in +panicky haste. "Your letters were not satisfactory." + +"I wasn't taught to write letters. I never had any to write," she said +with a smile that made the sensitive man beside her wince. "I did +my best, David, dear. And there wasn't much to tell. There were only +men--Barry said he couldn't stand women with the guns again after the +bother they were last year. They were nice men, shy silent creatures, +big game hunters mostly, and two doctors who have been doing research +work in Central Africa. When any of them could be induced to talk of +their experiences it was a revelation to me of what men will endure and +yet consider enjoyment. You would have liked them, David. Why didn't you +come? It would have done you more good than that horrid little yacht. +And we were alone the last two weeks--we missed you," she added +reproachfully. + +Peters had had his own reasons for absenting himself from the Scotch +lodge, reasons that, connected as they were with Craven and his wife, he +could not enlarge upon. He turned the question with a laugh. + +"The yacht was better suited to a crusty old bachelor, my dear," he +smiled. Then he gave her a searching glance. "And what did you do all +day long by yourself while the men were on the hills?" + +She gave a little shrug. + +"I sketched--and--oh, lots of things," she answered, rather vaguely. +"There's always plenty to do wherever you are if you take the trouble to +look for it." + +"Which most people don't," he replied, bringing the car to a standstill +before the front door. + +"Is Barry back from London?" + +"Coming this afternoon. Thanks for the lift, David, you've been a +Good Samaritan this afternoon. I don't think I could have walked. +Goodbye--and please forget," she whispered. + +He smile reassuringly and waved his hand as he restarted the car. + +Calling to Mouston, who was rolling happily on the cool grass, she went +slowly into the house. With the poodle rushing round her she mounted +thoughtfully the wide stairs and turned down the corridor leading to +the studio. It seemed of all rooms the one best suited to her mood. She +wanted to be alone, beyond the reach of any chance caller, beyond the +possibility of interruption, and it was understood by all that in the +studio she must not be disturbed. + +In the passage she met her maid and, giving her her hat and gloves, +ordered tea to be sent to her. + +Mouston trotted on ahead into the room with the confident air of a +proprietor, fussily inspecting the contents with the usual canine +interest as if suspicious that some familiar article of furniture had +been removed during his absence and anxious to reassure himself that +all things were as he had left them. Then he curled up with a satisfied +grunt on the chesterfield beside which he knew tea would be placed. +Gillian looked about her with a sigh. The room, much as she loved it, +had never been the same to her since that December afternoon that seemed +so much longer than a bare eighteen months ago. The peace it had given +formerly was gone. Now there was associated with it always the memory +of bitter pain. She had never been able to recapture the old feeling of +freedom and happiness it had inspired. It was her refuge still, +where she came to wrestle with herself in solitude, where she sought +forgetfulness in long hours of work but it was no longer the antechamber +to a castle of dreams. There were no dreams left, only a crushing +numbling reality. She thought of her husband, and the question that was +always in her mind seemed to-day more than ever insistent. Why had +he married her? The reason he had given had been disproved by his +subsequent attitude. He had asked her to take pity on a lonely man--and +he had given her no opportunity. She had tried by every means in her +power to get nearer to him, to be to him what she thought he meant her +to be and all her endeavour had come to nothing. Had she tried enough, +done enough? Miserably she wondered would another have succeeded where +she had failed? And had she failed because, after all, the reason he had +given was no true reason? And suddenly, for the first time, in a vivid +flash of illuminating comprehension she seemed to realise the true +reason and the quixotic generosity that had prompted it. It was as if +a veil had been rudely torn from before her eyes. It explained much, +letting in an entirely new light upon many things that had puzzled her. +It placed her in a new position, changing her whole mental standpoint. +How could she have been so stupidly blind, so dense--how could she +have misunderstood? He had lied to her, a kindly noble lie, but a lie +notwithstanding--he had married her out of pity, to provide for her in +the lack of faith he had in her power to provide for herself. To him, +then, her dreams of independence had been only a childish ambition that +he judged unsubstantial, and in his dilemma he had conceived it his +duty to do what seemed to her now a thing intolerable. A burning wave +of shame went through her. She was humiliated to the very dust, crushed +with the sense of obligation. She was only another burden thrust upon +him by a man who had had no claim to his liberality. Her father--the +superman of her childish dreams! How had he dared? If love for him had +not died years before it would have died at that moment in the fierce +resentment that burned in her. But to the man who had so willingly +accepted such an imposition her heart went out in greater love and +deeper gratitude than she had yet known. + +Yet, how, with this new knowledge searing her soul, could she ever face +him again? She longed to creep away and hide like a stricken animal--and +he was coming home to-day. Within a few hours she would have to meet +him, conscious at last of the full extent of her indebtedness and +conscious also of the impossibility of communicating her discovery. For +she knew that she could never bring herself to refer to it, and she +knew him well enough to be aware that any such reference was out of the +question. The gulf between them was too wide. The two days she had spent +alone at the Towers had seemed interminable, but with a revulsion of +feeling she wished now that his coming could be delayed. She shrank from +even the thought of seeing him. Though she called herself coward she +determined to postpone the meeting she dreaded until dinner, when the +presence of Forbes and a couple of footmen would brace her to meet the +situation and give her time to prepare for the later more difficult +hours when she would be alone with him. For he made a practice, rigidly +adhered to, of sitting with her in the evenings during the short time +she remained downstairs. He was punctilious in that courtesy as in all +other acts of consideration. His own bed-hour was very much later and +she often wondered what he did, what were his thoughts, alone in the +solitary study that was his refuge as the studio was hers. + +But she had come almost to fear the evening hours they spent together, +the feeling of constraint was becoming more and more an embarrassment. +The last two weeks in Scotland had been more difficult than any +preceding them. Craven's restlessness had been more apparent, more +pronounced. And looking back on it now she wondered whether it was +association with the men with whom he had travelled and shot in distant +countries that was stirring in him more acutely the wander-hunger that +was in his blood. During the after dinner reminiscences in the Scotch +shooting lodge he had himself been curiously silent, but he had sat +listening with a kind of fierce intentness that to her anxious watching +eyes had been like the forced calm of a caged animal enduring captivity +with seeming resignation but cherishing always thoughts of escape. + +It was then that her vague dread leaped suddenly into concrete fear. +An incident that had occurred a few days after the big game hunters had +left them had further disquieted her. On going to him for advice on some +domestic difficulty she had found him poring over a large map. He had +rolled it up at her approach and his manner had made it impossible for +her to express an interest that would otherwise have seemed natural. +With the reticence to which she had schooled herself she had made +no comment, but the thought of that rolled up hidden canvas and its +possible significance remained with her. It might mean only a renewed +interest in the scenes of past exploits--fervently she hoped it did. But +it might also mean the projection of new activities.... + +The arrival of a footman bringing tea put a period to her thoughts. +While the man arranged the simple necessaries that were more suited to +the studio than the elaborate display Forbes considered indispensable +downstairs, she crossed the room to an easel where stood a half-finished +picture. She looked at it critically. Was he right--was there, after +all, nothing in her work but the mediocre endeavour of an amateur? She +had been so confident, so sure. And the master in Paris who had taught +her--he also had been confident and sure. Yet as she studied the +uncompleted sketch before her she felt her confidence waver. It had not +satisfied her while she was working on it, it seemed now hopelessly and +utterly bad. With a heavy sigh she stared at it despondently, seeing +in it the failure of all her hopes. Then in quick recoil courage came +again. One piece of bad work did not constitute failure--she would not +admit failure. She had worked on it at a time of extreme depression, +when all the world had seemed black and hopeless, and the deplorable +result was due to lack of concentration. She had allowed her own +disturbed thoughts to intrude too vividly, and her wandering attention, +her unhappiness, had reacted disastrously on her work. It must be +so. Her own judgment she might have doubted, but the word of her +teacher--no. She _had_ to succeed, she had to justify herself, +to justify de Myeres. "_Travaillez, travaillez, et puis encore +travaillez_," she murmured, as she had heard him say a hundred times, +and tore the sketch across and across, tossing the pieces into a large +wicker basket. With a little shrug she turned to the tea table beside +which Mouston was sitting up in eager expectation, watching the dancing +kettle lid with solemn brown eyes. She made tea and then drew the dog +close to her, hugging him with almost passionate fervour. It was not +a frequent event, but there were times when her starved affections, +craving outlet, were expended in default of other medium upon the poodle +who gave in return a devotion that was entirely single-minded. Yoshio +was still the only member of the household who could touch him with +impunity, and toward Craven his attitude was a curious mixture of hatred +and fear. To Mouston--her only confidant--she whispered now the new +projects she had formed during the last two solitary days for a better +understanding of the obscure mind that had hitherto baffled her, for a +further endeavour to break through the barrier existing between them. To +speak, if only to a dog, was relief and she was too engrossed to notice +the sound the poodle's quick ears caught directly. With a growl he +wrenched his head free of her arm and, startled, she looked up expecting +to see a servant. + +She saw instead her husband. His unexpected appearance in a room he +habitually avoided robbed her, all unprepared to meet him as she was, of +the power of speech. White-lipped she stared at him, unable to formulate +even a conventional greeting, her heart beating rapidly as she watched +him cross the room. He, too, seemed to have no words, and she saw with +increased nervousness that his face was dark with obvious displeasure. +The silence that was fast becoming marked was broken by Mouston who with +another angry snarl leaped suddenly at Craven with jealous hostility, +to be caught up swiftly by a pair of powerful hands and flung into a far +corner, where he landed heavily with a shrill yelp of surprise and +pain that died away in a broken whimper as, cowed by the unlooked-for +retribution, he crawled under a big bureau that seemed to offer a safe +retreat. + +"Barry!" Gillian's exclamation of incredulous amazement made Craven +sensible that the punishment he had inflicted must seem to her +unnecessarily severe. She could not be expected to see into his mind, +could not possibly know the feeling of loathing inspired by the sight of +the poodle in her arms. He was jealous--of a dog and in no mood to curb +the temper that his jealousy roused. + +"I am sorry," he said shortly. "I didn't mind him going for me, it's +perhaps natural that he should--but I hate to see you kiss the dam' +brute," he added with a sudden violence in his voice that braced her +as a more temperate explanation would not have done. To be deliberately +cruel to an animal, no matter how great the provocation, was unlike +Craven; she felt convinced that Mouston was not the primary cause of +his irritability. Something must have occurred previously to disturb +him--the business, perhaps, for which he had waited in London, and, +seeking her, the scene he had surprised had grated on fretted nerves. +He had never before commented on her affection for the dog who was her +shadow; he had never even remonstrated with her, as Peters had many +times, for spoiling him. His present attitude seemed therefore the more +inexplicable--but she realised the impossibility of remonstrance. The +dog had behaved badly and had suffered for his indiscretion; she could +not defend him--had she wanted to. And she did not want to. At the +moment Mouston hardly seemed to matter--nothing mattered but the +unbearable fact of Craven's displeasure. If she could have known the +real cause of that displeasure it would have made speech easier. She +feared to aggravate his mood but she knew some answer was expected of +her. Silence might be misconstrued. + +With calmness she did not feel she forced her voice to steadiness. + +"Most women make fools of themselves over some animal, _faute de +mieux,"_ she said lightly. "I only follow the crowd." + +"Is it _faute de mieux_ with you?" The sharp rejoinder struck her like a +physical blow. Unable to trust herself, unable to check the quivering +of her lips, she turned away to get another cup and saucer from a near +cabinet. + +"Answer me, Gillian," he said tensely. "Is it for want of something +better that you give so much affection to that cringing beast"--he +pointed to the poodle who was crawling abjectly on his stomach toward +her from the bureau where he had taken refuge--"is it a child that your +arms are wanting--not a dog?" His face was drawn, and he stared at +her with fierce hunger smouldering in his eyes. He was hurting himself +beyond belief--was he hurting her too? Could anything that he might +say touch her, stir her from the calm placidity that sometimes, in +contradiction to his own restlessness, was almost more than he could +tolerate? She had fulfilled the terms of their bargain faithfully, +apparently satisfied with its limitation. She appeared content with this +damnable life they were living. But a sudden impulse had come to him +to assure himself that his supposition was a true one, that the outward +content she manifested did not cover longings and desires that she +sought to hide. Yet how would it benefit either of them for him to +wring from her a secret to which he, by his own doing, had no right? +In winning her consent to this divided marriage he had already done +her injury enough--he need not make her life harder. And just now, in +a moment of ungovernable passion, he had said a brutal thing, a thing +beyond all forgiveness. His face grew more drawn as he moved nearer to +her. + +"Gillian, I asked you a question," he began unsteadily. She confronted +him swiftly. Her eyes were steady under his, though the pallor of her +face was ghastly. + +"You are the one person who has no right to ask me that question, +Barry." There was no anger in her voice, there was not even reproach, +but a gentle dignity that almost unmanned him. He turned away with a +gesture of infinite regret. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, in a strangled voice. "I was a cur--what I +said was damnable." He faced her again with sudden vehemence. "I wish to +God I had left you free. I had no right to marry you, to ruin your life +with my selfishness, to bar you from the love and children that should +have been yours. You might have met a man who would have given you both, +who would have given you the full happy life you ought to have. In my +cursed egoism I have done you almost the greatest injury a man can do a +woman. My God, I wonder you don't hate me!" + +She forced back the words that rushed to her lips. She knew the danger +of an unconsidered answer, the danger of the whole situation. The +durability of their future life seemed to depend on her reply, its +continuance to hang on a slender thread that, perilously strained, +threatened momentarily to snap. She was fearful of precipitating the +crisis she had long realised was pending and which now seemed drawing to +a head. An unconsidered word, an intonation even, might bring about the +catastrophe she feared. + +She sought for time, praying for inspiration to guide her. The waiting +tea table supplied her immediate want. + +Mechanically she filled the cups and cut cake with deliberate precision +while her mind worked feverishly. + +His distress weighed with her more than her own. + +Positive as she now was of the true reason that had prompted him to +marry her she saw in his outburst only another chivalrous attempt to +hide that reason from her. He had purposely endeavoured to misrepresent +himself, and, understanding, a wave of passionate gratitude filled her. + +Her love was clamouring for audible expression. If she could only speak! +If she could only break through the restrictions that hampered her, +tell him all that was in her heart, measure the force of her living love +against the phantom of that dead past that had killed in him all the +joy of life. But she could not speak. Pride kept her silent, and the +knowledge that she could not add to the burden he already bore the +embarrassment of an unsought love. + +But something she must say, and that before he noticed the hesitation +that might rob her words of any worth. Only by refusing to attach an +undue value to the significance of what he had said could she arrest the +dangerous trend of the conversation and bring it to a safer level. + +She sat down slowly, re-arranging the simple tray with ostentatious +care. + +"You didn't force me to marry you, Barry," she said quietly. "I knew +what I was doing, I realised the difficulties that might arise. But +you have nothing to reproach yourself with. You have been kind and +considerate in everything. I am enormously grateful to you--and I am +very content with my life. Please believe that. There is only one thing +that I could wish changed; you said that we were to be friends--and you +have let me be only a fair weather friend. Won't you let me sometimes +share and help in the difficulties, as well as in the pleasures? Your +interests, your obligations are so great--" she went on hurriedly, lest +he should think she was aiming at deeper, more personal concerns--"I +can't help knowing that there must be difficulties. If you would only +let me take my part--" She looked up, meeting his gloomy stare at last, +and a faint appeal crept into her eyes. "I'm not a child, Barry, to be +shown only the sunny side of life." + +An indescribable expression flitted across his face, changing it +marvellously. + +"I would never have you know the dark side," he said briefly, as he took +the cup she held out to him. + +She was conscious that the tension, though lessened had not altogether +disappeared. There was in his manner a constraint that set her heart +throbbing painfully. She glanced furtively from time to time at his +stern worn face, and the weariness in his eyes brought a lump into her +throat. + +He talked spasmodically, of friends whom he had seen in London, of a +hundred and one trivial matters, but of the business that had kept him +in town he said nothing and she wondered what had been in his mind when +he had departed from an established rule and deliberately sought her in +a room that he never entered. Had he come with any express intention, +any confidence that had been thwarted by Mouston's stupid behaviour? She +stifled a sigh of disappointment. He might never again be moved by the +same impulse. + +With growing anxiety she noticed that his restlessness was greater even +than usual. Refusing a second cup of tea he lit a cigarette, pacing up +and down as he talked, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. + +In one of the silences that punctuated his jerky periods he paused by a +little table on which lay a portfolio, and lifting it idly looked at +the sketches it contained. With a sudden look of apprehension Gillian +started and made a half movement as if to rise, then with a shrug she +sank back on the sofa, watching him intently. It was her private sketch +book, and there was in it one portrait in particular, his own, that she +had no wish for him to see. But remonstrance would only call attention +to what she hoped might pass unnoticed. Craven turned over the sketches +slowly. He had seen little of his wife's work since their marriage, she +was shy of submitting it to him, and with the policy of non-interference +he had adopted he had expressed no curiosity. He recognised many faces, +and, recognising, remembered wherein lay her special skill. He found +himself looking for characteristics that were known to him in the +portraits of the men and women he was studying. There was no attempt at +concealment--vices and virtues, liberality of mind, pettiness of soul +were set forth in naked truth. A sympathetic picture of Peters arrested +him, though the name written beneath it puzzled. He looked at the kindly +generous countenance with its friendly half-sad eyes and tender mouth +with a feeling of envy. He would have given years of his life to have +possessed the peace of mind that was manifested in the calm serenity of +his agent's face. + +His lips tightened as he laid the sketch down. With his thoughts +lingering on the last portrait for a second or two he looked at the next +one absently. Then a stifled exclamation broke from him and he peered +at it closer. And, watching, Gillian drew a deep breath, clenching her +hands convulsively. He stood quite still for what seemed an eternity, +then came slowly across the room and stood directly in front of her. And +for the first time she was afraid of meeting his eyes. + +"Do I look like--that?" + +Her head drooped lower, her fingers twining and intertwining nervously, +and her dry lips almost refused their office. + +"I have seen you like that," very slowly and almost inaudibly, but he +caught the reluctant admission. + +"So--_damnable_?" + +She flinched from the loathing in his voice. + +"I _am_ sorry--" she murmured faintly. + +"Good God!" the profanity was wrung from him, but had he thought of +it he would have considered it justified, for the face at which he was +staring was the beautiful tormented face of a fallen angel. He looked +with a kind of horror at the hungry passionate eyes fierce with +unsatisfied longing, shadowed with terrible memory, tortured, hopeless; +at the set mouth, a straight grim line under the trim golden brown +moustache; at the bitterness and revolt expressed in all the deep cut +lines of the tragic face. He laid it down with a feeling of repulsion. +She saw him like that! The pain of it was intolerable. + +He laughed with a harsh mirthlessness that made her quiver. + +"It is a truer estimation of my character than the one you gave me a +few minutes ago," he said bitterly, "and you may thank heaven I am your +husband only in name. God keep you from a nearer acquaintance with me." +And turning on his heel he left her. Long after he had gone she sat on +motionless, her fingers picking mechanically at the chintz cover of the +sofa, staring into space with wide eyes brimming with tears. She knew it +was a cruel sketch, but she had never meant him to see it. It had taken +shape unconsciously under her hand, and while she hated it she had +kept it because of the remarkable likeness and because it was the only +picture she had of him. + +The dreams of a better understanding seemed swept away by her own +thoughtlessness and folly. She had hurt him and she could never explain. +To refer to it, to try and make him understand, would do more harm +than good. With a pitiful sob she covered her face with her hands, and, +beside her, Mouston the pampered cringed and whimpered unheeded and +forgotten. + +She had looked forward to his return with such high hopes and now they +lay shattered at her feet. During a brief hour that might have drawn +them nearer together they had contrived to hurt each other as it must +seem to both by deliberate intent. For herself she knew that she was +innocent of any such intention--but was he? He had never hurt her +before, even in his most difficult moods he had been to her unfailingly +kind and considerate. But to-day--shudderingly she wondered did it mark +a new era in their relations? And in miserable futile longing she wished +that this afternoon had never been. + +After what had occurred the thought of facing him across a table during +an interminable dinner and sitting with him alone for the long hours of +a summer evening drove her to a state bordering on panic. She pushed the +thick hair off her forhead with a little gasp. It was cowardly--but +she could not, would not. Despising herself she crossed the room to the +telephone. + +At the Hermitage Peters was indulging in a well-earned rest after a long +hot day that had been both irksome and tiring. Wearing an old tweed coat +he lounged comfortably in a big chair, a couple of sleepy setters at his +feet, a foul and ancient pipe in full blast. The room, flooded with the +evening sun, was filled with a heterogeneous collection of books and +music manuscript, guns, fishing rods and whips. The homely room had +stamped on it the characteristics of its owner. It was a room to work +in, and equally a room in which to relax. The owner was now relaxing, +but the bodily rest he enjoyed did not extend to his mind, which was +very actively disturbed. His usually genial face was furrowed and he +sucked at the old pipe with an energy that enveloped him in a haze of +blue smoke. The ringing of the telephone in the opposite corner of the +room came as an unwelcome interruption. He glared at it resentfully, +disinclined to move, but at the second ring rose reluctantly with a +grunt of annoyance, pushing the drowsy setters to one side. He took down +the receiver with no undue haste and answered the call gruffly, but his +bored expression changed rapidly as he listened. The soft voice came +clearly but hesitatingly: + +"Is that you, David? Could you come up to dinner--if--if you're not +going anywhere else--I've got a tiresome headache and it will be so +stupid for Barry. I don't want him to be dull the first evening at home. +So if you could--please, David--" + +His face grew grim as he detected the quiver in the faltering indecisive +words, but he answered briskly. + +"Of course I'll come. I'd love to," he said, with a cheeriness he was +far from feeling. He hung up the receiver with a heavy sigh. But he had +hardly moved when the telephone rang again sharply. + +"Damn the thing!" he muttered irritably. + +This time a very different voice, curt and uncompromising: + +"--that you, Peter?--Yes!--Doing anything tonight?--Not?--Then for God's +sake come up to dinner." And then the receiver jammed down savagely. + +With grimmer face Peters moved thoughtfully across the room and touched +a bell in the wall by the fireplace. His call was answered with the +usual promptness, and when he had given the necessary orders and the man +had gone he laid aside his pipe, tidied a few papers, and went slowly to +an adjoining room. + +The Hermitage was properly the dower house of the Towers, but for the +last two generations had not been required as such. The room Peters now +entered had originally been the drawing room, but for the thirty years +he had lived in the house he had kept it as a music room. Panelled in +oak, with polished floor and innocent of hangings, the only furniture a +grand piano and a portrait, it was at once a sanctuary and a shrine. And +during those thirty years to only two people had he given the right of +entrance. To the woman whose portrait hung on the wall and, latterly, +to the girl who had succeeded her as mistress of Craven Towers. To this +room, to the portrait and the piano, he brought all his difficulties; it +was here he wrestled with the loneliness and sadness that the world +had never suspected. To-night he felt that only the peace that room +invariably brought would enable him to fulfil the task he had in hand. + + * * * * + +Craven was alone in the hall when he arrived, and it was not until the +gong sounded that Gillian made a tardy appearance, very pale but with a +feverish spot on either cheek. Peters' quick eye noticed the absence of +the black shadow that was always at her heels. "Where is the faithful +Mouston? Not in disgrace, surely--the paragon?" he teased, and was +disconcerted at the painful flush that overspread her face. But she +thrust her arm through his and forced a little laugh. "Mouston is +becoming rather incorrigible, I'm afraid I've spoiled him hopelessly. +I'll tell him you inquired, it will cheer him up, poor darling. He's +doing penance with a bone upstairs. Shall we go in--I'm famished." + +But as dinner progressed she did not appear to be famished, for she ate +scarcely anything, but talked fitfully with jerky nervousness. Craven, +too, was at first almost entirely silent, and on Peters fell the main +burden of conversation, until by a direct question he managed to start +his host on a topic that was of interest to both and lasted until +Gillian left them. + +In the drawing room, after she had finished her coffee, she opened the +piano and then subsided wearily on to the big sofa. The emotions of the +day and the effort of appearing at dinner had exhausted her, and in +her despondency the future had never seemed so black, so beset with +difficulties. While she was immeasurably thankful for Peters' presence +to-night she knew it was impossible for him to act continually as a +buffer between them. But from the problem of to-morrow, and innumerable +to-morrows, she turned with a fixed determination to live for the +moment. _A chaque jour suffit sa peine_. + +She lay with relaxed muscles and closed eyes. It seemed a long +while before the men joined her. She wondered what they were talking +about--whether to Peters would be imparted the information that had been +withheld from her. For the feeling of a nearly impending calamity was +strong within her. When at last they came she looked with covert anxiety +from one to the other, but their faces told her nothing. For a few +minutes Peters lingered beside her chatting and then gravitated toward +the piano, as she had hoped he would. Arranging the heaped up cushions +more comfortably around her she gave herself up to the delight of his +music and it seemed to her that she had never heard him play so well. + +Near her Craven was standing before the fern-filled fireplace, leaning +against the mantel, a cigarette drooping between his lips. From where +she lay she could watch him unperceived, for his own gaze was directed +through the open French window out on to the terrace, and she studied +his set handsome face with sorrowful attention. He appeared to be +thinking deeply, and, from his detached manner, heedless of the harmony +of sound that filled the room. But her supposition was soon rudely +shaken. Peters had paused in his playing. When a few moments later the +plaintive melody of an operatic air stole through the room she saw her +husband start violently, and the terrible pallor she had witnessed once +before sweep across his face. She clenched her teeth on her lip to keep +back the cry that rose, and breathlessly watched him stride across the +room and drop an arresting hand on Peters' shoulder. "For God's sake +don't play that damned thing!" she heard him say in a voice that was +almost unrecognisable. And then he passed out swiftly, into the garden. + +A spasm of jealous agony shook her from head to foot. With quick +intuition she guessed that the air that was unknown to her must be +connected in some way with the sorrow that darkened his life, and the +spectre of the past she tried to forget seemed to rise and grin at her +triumphantly. She shivered. Would its power last until life ended? Would +it stand between them always, rivalling her, thwarting her every effort? + +For a long time she dared not look at Peters, who had responded without +hesitation to Craven's unceremonious request, but when at length +she summoned courage to glance at him it seemed as if he had already +forgotten the interruption. His face wore the absent, almost spiritual +look that was usual when he was at the piano and his playing gave no +indication of either annoyance or surprise. She breathed a quick sigh of +relief and, slightly altering her position, lay where she could see the +solitary figure on the terrace. Erect by the stone ballustrade, his arms +folded across his chest, staring intently into the night as if his +gaze went far beyond the confines of the great park, he seemed to her a +symbol of incarnate loneliness, and her heart contracted at the thought +of the suffering and solitude she might not share. If he would only turn +to her! If she had only the right to go to him and plead her love, beg +the confidence she craved, and stand beside him in his sorrow! But he +stood alone, beyond her reach, even unaware of her longing. + +The slow tears gathered thick in her eyes. + +For long after the keyboard became an indistinguishable blur Peters +played on untiringly. But at last he rose, closed the piano and turned +on an electric lamp that stood near. + +"Eleven o'clock," he exclaimed contritely. "Bless my soul, why didn't +you stop me! I forget the time when I'm playing. I've tired you out. Go +to bed, you pale child. I'm walking home, I'll see Barry on the terrace +as I pass." + +She slid from the sofa and took his outstretched hands. + +"Your playing never tires me!" she answered, with a little upward +glance. "You've magic at the ends of your fingers, David dear." + +She went to the open window to watch him go, and presently saw him +reappear round the angle of the house and join Craven on the terrace. +They stood talking for a few minutes and then together descended the +long flight of stone steps to the rose garden, from which, by a short +cut through a little copse, could be reached the path that crossing the +park led to the Hermitage. It was the habit of Peters when he had been +dining at the big house to walk home thus and, as to-night, Craven +almost always accompanied him. + +Gillian had long known her husband's propensity for night rambling and +she knew it might be hours before he returned. Was he angry with her +still that he had omitted the punctilious good-night he had never before +forgotten? Her lips quivered like a disappointed child's as she turned +back slowly into the room. But as she passed through the hall and +climbed the long stairs she knew in her heart that she had misjudged +him. He was not capable of petty retaliation. He had only forgotten--why +indeed should he remember? It was a small matter to him, he could not +know what it meant to her. In her bedroom she dismissed her maid +and went to an open window. She was very tired, but restless, and +disinclined for bed. Dropping down on the low seat she stared out over +the moonlit landscape. The repentant Mouston, abject at her continued +neglect, crawled from his basket and crept tentatively to her, and as +absently her hand went out to him gained courage and climbed up beside +her. Inch by inch he sidled nearer, and unrepulsed grew bolder until +he finally subsided with his head across her knees, whining his +satisfaction. Mechanically she caressed him until his shivering starting +body lay quiet under her soothing touch. The night was close and very +silent. No breath of wind came to stir the heavily leafed trees, no +sound broke the stillness. She listened vainly for the cry of an owl, +for the sharp alarm note of a pheasant to pierce the brooding hush that +seemed to have fallen even over nature. A coppery moon hung like a ball +of fire in the sky. At the far end of the terrace a group of tall trees +cast inky black shadows across the short smooth lawn and the white +tracery of the stone balustrade. The faint scent of jasmine drifted +in through the open window and she leaned forward eagerly to catch the +sweet intermittent perfume that brought back memories of the peaceful +courtyard of the convent school. A night of intense beauty, mysterious, +disturbing, called her compellingly. The restlessness that had assailed +her grew suddenly intolerable, and she glanced back into the spacious +room with a feeling of suffocation. + +The four walls seemed closing in about her. She knew that the big white +bed would bring no rest, that she would toss in feverish misery until +the morning, and she turned with dread from the thought of the long +weary hours. Night after night she lay awake in loneliness and longing +until exhaustion brought fitful sleep that, dream-haunted, gave no +refreshment. + +Sleep was impossible--the room that witnessed her nightly vigil a prison +house of dark sad thoughts. Her head throbbed with the heat; she craved +the space, the freshness of the moonlit garden. + +Rousing the slumbering dog she went out on to the gallery and down the +staircase she had climbed so wearily an hour before. By the solitary +light still burning in the hall she knew that Craven had not yet +returned. Through the darkness of the drawing room she groped her way +until her outstretched hands touched shutters. Slipping the bar softly +and unlatching the window she passed out. For a moment she stood still, +breathing deeply, drinking in the beauty of the scene, exhilarated +with the sudden feeling of freedom that came to her. The silent garden, +beautiful always but more beautiful still in the mystery of the night, +appealed to her as never before. It was the same, yet wonderfully, +curiously unlike. A glamour hung over it, a certain settled peace that +soothed the tumult of her mind and calmed her nerves. Surrendering to +the charm of its almost unearthly loveliness she slowly paced the long +length of the terrace, the wondering Mouston pressing close beside her. + +Then when her tired limbs could go no further she halted by the steps +and leant her arms on the coping of the balustrade. Cupping her chin in +her hands she looked down at the rose garden beneath her and smiled at +its quaint formality. Running parallel with the terrace on the one side +the three remaining sides were enclosed by a high yew hedge through +which a door, facing the terrace steps, led to a path that gave access +to the copse that was Peters' short cut. The shadow of the high dense +yew stretched far across the garden and she gazed dreamily into its +dusky depths, conjuring up the past, peopling the solitude about her +with forgotten ghosts who in the silks and satins of a bygone age had +walked those same flagged paths and talked and laughed and wept among +the roses. Poor lonely ghosts--were they lonelier than she? + +The silence broke at last. Far off from the trees in the park an owl +called softly to its mate and the swift answering note seemed to mock +her desolation. Her whole being shuddered into one great soundless cry +of utter longing: "Barry! Oh, Barry, Barry!" + +And as if in answer to her prayer she heard a sound that sent the quick +blood leaping to her heart. + +In the deep shadow of the yew hedge the door that had opened shut with +a sudden clang. Her hands crept to her breast as she strained her eyes +into the darkness. Then the echo of a firm tread, and Craven's tall +figure emerged from the surrounding gloom. With fluttering breath she +watched him slowly cross the bright strip of moonlight lying athwart the +rose garden and mount the steps. Only when he reached the terrace did +he seem aware of her presence, and joined her with an exclamation of +surprise, "You--Gillian?" + +"I couldn't sleep--it was so hot--the garden tempted me," she faltered, +in sudden fear lest he might think she spied on him. But the fascination +of the night was to Craven too natural to evoke comment. He lit a +cigarette and smoked in a silence she did not know how to break, and a +cold wave of chill foreboding passed over her as she waited with nervous +constraint for him to speak. He turned to her at last with a certain +deliberation and spoke with blunt directness. + +"I have been asked to lead an expedition in Central Africa. It is partly +a hunting trip, partly a scientific mission. They have approached me +because I know the country, and because I am interested in tropical +diseases and am willing to defray a proportion of the expense which will +be necessarily heavy--I should gladly have done so in any case whether +I went with the party or not. The question of leading the expedition I +deferred as long as I could for obvious reasons.--I had not only myself +to consider. But I have been pressed to give a definite answer and have +agreed to go. There are plenty of other men who would do the job better +than myself but, as I said, I happen to know the locality and speak +several of the dialects, so my going may make things easier for them. +But that is not what has weighed with me most, it is you. Do you think I +don't know how completely I have failed you--how difficult your life +is? I do know. And because I know I am going. For I see no other way of +making your life even bearable for you. It has become impossible for us +to go on as we are--and the fault is mine, only mine. You have been +an angel of goodness and patience, you have done all that was humanly +possible for any woman to do, but circumstances were against us. I had +no right to ask you to make such a marriage. I cannot undo it. I cannot +give you your freedom, but I can by my absence make your life easier +than it has been. I have arranged everything with the lawyers in London +and with Peters, here to-night. If I do not return, for there are +of course risks, everything is left in your control--it is the only +satisfaction in my power. If I do return--God give me grace to be kinder +to you than I have been in the past." + +The blow she had been waiting for had fallen at last, in fulfilment of +her premonition. In her heart she had always known it would come, but +its suddenness paralysed. She had nothing to say. Silently she stood +beside him, her hands tight-locked, numbed with a desperate fear. He +would go--and he would never return. It hammered in her brain, making +her want to shriek. She felt to the full her own powerlessness, nothing +she could say would turn him from his purpose. It was the end she had +always foreseen, the end of all her dreams, the end of everything but +sorrow and pain and loneliness unspeakable. And for him--danger and +possibly death. He had admitted risk, he had set his house in order. +From Craven it meant much. She had learned his complete disregard +for danger from the men who had stayed with them in Scotland; his +recklessness in the hunting field, which was a by-word in the county, +was already known to her. He set no value on his own life--what reason +was there to suppose that, in the mysterious land of sudden and terrible +death, he would take even ordinary precautions? Was he going with a +pre-conceived determination to end a life that had become unbearable? +In agony that seemed to rive her heart she closed her eyes lest he might +see in them the anguish she knew was there. How long a time was left to +her before the parting that would leave her desolate? "When do you go?" +The question burst from her, and Craven glanced at her keenly, trying to +read the colourless face that was like a still white mask. He fancied +he had caught a tremor in her voice, then he called himself a fool as +he noted the composure that seemed to argue indifference. Her calmness +stung while it strengthened him. Why should she care, he asked himself +bitterly. His going could mean to her only relief. And disappointment +made his own voice ring cold and distant. "Within the next few weeks. +The exact date is not yet fixed," he said evasively. Again she was +silent while he wondered what were her thoughts. Suddenly she turned to +him, words pouring out in stammering haste, "While you are away--may I +go to France--to Paris--to work? This life of idleness is killing me!" + +He looked at her in amazement, startled at her passionate utterance, +dismayed at a suggestion he had never contemplated. To think of her +at the Towers, in the position he would have her fill, watched over by +Peters, was the only comfort he could take away with him. For a second +he meditated a refusal that seemed within his right, arbitrary though it +might be. But the promise he had made to leave her free stayed him. He +could not break that promise now. "As you please," he said, with forced +unconcern, "you are your own mistress. You can do whatever you wish." +And with a slight shrug he turned toward the house. She walked beside +him in a tumult of emotion. He would now never know the love she bore +him, the aching passion that throbbed like a living thing within her. +She could not speak, the gulf between them was too wide to bridge, and +he would leave her, thinking her indifferent, callous! Tears blinded her +as she stumbled through the dark drawing room. In the dimly lit hall, +standing at the foot of the staircase with his hand clenched on the +oaken rail, Craven watched with tortured eyes the slender drooping +figure move slowly upward, battling with himself, praying for strength +to let her go--for he knew that if she even turned her head his +self-control would shatter. It was weakening now and the sweat broke out +in heavy drops on his forehead as he strove to crush an insidious inward +voice that bade him forget the past and take what was his. "Only one +life," it seemed to shout in mocking derision, "live while you can, take +what you can! What is done, is done; only the present matters. Of +what use is regret, of what use an abstinence that mortifies yet feeds +desire? Fool, fool to set aside the chance of happiness!" + +With a deep breath that was almost a groan he sprang forward. Then, in +deadly fear, he checked himself, and wrenching his eyes away from the +woman he craved fled out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +In a little tent pitched in the midst of an Arab camp in the extreme +south of Southern Algeria Craven sat writing. A day of intense heat had +been succeeded by a night airless and suffocating, and he was wet with +perspiration that dripped from his forehead and formed in sticky pools +under his hand, making writing laborious and difficult, impossible +indeed except for the sheet of blotting paper on which his fingers +rested. His thin silk shirt, widely open at the throat, the sleeves +rolled up above his elbows, clung limply to his broad shoulders. A +multitude of tiny flies attracted by the light circled round the lamp +eddying in the heat of the flame, immolating themselves, and falling +thickly on the closely written sheets of paper that strewed the camp +table, smeared the still wet ink and clogged his pen. He swept them away +impatiently from time to time. Squatting on his heels in a corner, +his inscrutable yellow face damp and glistening, Yoshio was cleaning a +revolver with his usual thoroughness and precision. A ragged square of +canvas beside him held the implements necessary to his work, set out in +methodical order, and as he cleaned, and oiled and polished assiduously +without raising his eyes his deft fingers selected unerringly the tool +he required. The weapon appeared already speckless, but for some time he +continued to rub vigorously, handling it with almost affectionate care +as if loth to put it down; at last with a grunt of demur he reluctantly +laid aside the cloth he was using and wrapping the revolver in a silk +handkerchief slid it slowly into a leathern holster which his care had +kept soft and pliable. Placing it noiselessly on the ground before him +he turned his oblique gaze on Craven and watched him for a moment or two +intently. Assured at length that his master was too absorbed in his own +task to notice the doings of his servant he reached his hand behind him +and produced a second revolver, which he began to clean more hurriedly, +more superficially than the first, keeping the while a wary eye on +the stooping figure at the table. When that too was finished to his +satisfaction and restored to his hip pocket, a flicker of almost +childlike amusement crossed his usually immobile features and he started +operations with an air of fine unconsciousness upon one of a couple of +rifles that stood propped against the tent wall near him. Two years of +hardships and danger had left no mark upon him, the deadly climate of +the region through which he had passed had not impaired his powerful +physique, and disease that had ravaged the scientific mission had left +him, like Craven, unscathed. With no care beyond his master's comfort, +indifferent to fatigue and perils, the months spent in Central Africa +had been far more to his taste than the dull monotony of the life at +Craven Towers. But with his face turned, though indirectly, toward +home--the home of his adoption--Yoshio was still cheerful. For him life +held only one incentive--the man who had years before saved his life in +California. Where Craven was Yoshio was content. + +Outside, the Arab camp was in an uproar. Groups of tribesmen passed +the tent continually, conversing eagerly, their raucous voices rising +shrill, shouting, arguing, in noisy excitement. The neighing of horses +came from near by and once a screaming stallion backed heavily against +the canvas wall where Yoshio was sitting, rousing the phlegmatic +Japanese to an unwonted ejaculation of wrath as he ducked and grabbed +into safety the remaining rifle before the animal was hauled clear with +a wealth of detailed Arabic expletives, and he grinned broadly when +an authoritative voice broke into the Arabs' clamour and a subsequent +sudden silence fell in the vicinity of the stranger's tent. + +Regardless of the disturbance resounding from all quarters of the camp +Craven wrote on steadily for some time longer. Then with a short sigh +he shuffled the scattered sheets together, brushed clear the clinging +accumulation of scorched wings and tiny shrivelled bodies, and without +re-reading the closely written pages stuffed them into an envelope, +and having closed and directed it, leaned back with an exclamation of +relief. + +The letter to Peters was finished but there remained still the more +difficult letter he had yet to address to his wife--a letter he dreaded +and yet longed to write. A letter which, reaching her after the death he +confidently expected and earnestly prayed for, would reveal to her fully +the secret of his past and the passion that had driven him, unworthy, +from her. For never during the two years of adventure and peril had +death seemed more imminent than now, and before he died he would give +himself this one satisfaction--he would break the silence of years that +had eaten like a canker into his soul. At last she would know all he +had never dared to tell her, all his hopeless love, all his remorse and +shame, all his passionate desire for her happiness. + +Scores of times during the last two years he had attempted to write +such a letter and had as often refrained, but to-night his need was +imperative. It was his last chance. In the early hours of the dawn he +would ride with his Arab hosts on a punitive expedition from which he +had no intention of returning alive. Death that he had courted openly +since leaving England would surely be easy to find amid the warring +tribes with whom he had thrown in his lot. A curious smile lit his +face for an instant, then passed abruptly at the doubt that shook his +confidence. Would fate again refuse him release from a life that had +become more than ever intolerable? + +Haunted as he was with the memory of O Hara San, tortured with longing +for the woman he had made his wife, the double burden had become +too heavy to bear. He had grasped at the opportunity offered by the +scientific mission. The dangerous nature of the country, the fever that +saturated its swamps and forests, was known to him and he had gone to +Africa courting a death that would free him and yet leave no stain on +the name borne by his wife. And the death that would free him would free +her too! The bitter justice of it made him set his teeth. For he had +left her his fortune and his great possessions unrestrictedly to deal +with as she would. Young, rich and free! Who would claim what he had +surrendered? Even now, after months of mental struggle, the thought was +torment. + +But death that had laid a heavy toll on his companions had turned away +from him. Disease and disaster had dogged the mission from the outset. +The medical and scientific researches had proved satisfactory beyond +expectation, but the attendant loss of life had been terrible, and +himself utterly reckless and heedless of all precautions Craven had +watched tragedy after tragedy with envy he had been hardly able to +hide. Immune from the sudden and deadly fevers that had swept the camps +periodically with fatal results he had worked fearlessly and untiringly +among the stricken members of the mission and the fast dwindling army of +demoralised porters who had succumbed with alarming rapidity. With the +stolid Japanese always beside him he had wrestled entire nights and +days to save the expedition from extermination. And in the intervals of +nursing, and shepherding the unwilling carriers, he had ranged far and +wide in search of fresh food to supply the wants of the camp. The danger +he deliberately sought, with a rashness that had provoked open comment, +had miraculously evaded him. He had borne a charmed life. He had +snatched at every hazardous enterprise, he had exposed himself +consistently to risk until one evening shortly before the expedition +was due to start on the return march to civilization, when a chance word +spoken by the camp fire had brought home to him abruptly the dependence +of the remnant of the mission on him to bring them to the coast +in safety. By some strange dealing of fate it had been among the +non-scientific members of the expedition that mortality had ranged +highest; the big game hunters, though hardier and physically better +equipped than the students of the party for hardship and endurance had, +with the exception of Craven himself, been wiped out to a man. It had +been an unpremeditated remark uttered in all good faith with no ulterior +motive by a shuddering fever-stricken scientist writing up his notes +and diary by the light of the fire with trembling fingers that could +scarcely hold the fountain pen that moved laboriously driven by an +indomitable will. A grim jest, horrible in its significance, had +followed the startling utterance and Craven had looked with perplexity +at the shivering figure with its drawn yellow face from which a pair +of glittering eyes burned with an almost uncanny brilliance until the +meaning of the man's words slowly penetrated. But the true importance of +the suggestion once realised had aroused in him a full understanding +of the duty he owed to the men he had undertaken to lead. Of those +who could have convoyed the expedition on its homeward march only +he remained. Without him the survivors of the once large party might +eventually reach safety but it was made clear to him that night how +completely his companions relied on him for a quick return and for the +management of the train of porters whose frequent mutinies only Craven +seemed able to quell. He had sat far into the night, staring gloomily +into the blazing fire, smoking pipe after pipe, listening to the +multifarious noises of the forest--the sudden distant crash of falling +trees, the incessant hum of insect life, the long-drawn howl of beasts +of prey hovering on the outskirts of the camp, the soft whoo-whoo of +an owl whose cry brought vividly to his mind the cool fragrance of the +garden at Craven Towers and the nearer more ominous sounds of muffled +agony that came from a tent close beside him where yet another victim of +science was gasping his life away. + +Hour after hour he sat thinking. There was no getting away from it--it +was only despicable that he had not himself recognised it earlier. The +narrow path of duty lay before him from which he might not turn aside to +ease the burden of a private grief. He was bound to the men who +trusted him. Honour demanded that he should forego the project he +had formed--until his obligation had been discharged. Loyalty to his +companions must come before every selfish consideration. After all it +was only a postponement, he reflected with a kind of grim satisfaction. +The residue of the mission once safely conducted to the coast his +responsibility would end and he would be free to pursue the course that +would liberate the woman he loved. + +In the chill silence of the hour that precedes the dawn he had risen +cramped and shivering from his seat by the dying fire and too late then +to take the rest he had neglected, had roused Yoshio and started on the +usual foraging expedition that was his daily occupation. And from that +time he had been careful of a life which, though valueless to him, was +invaluable to his companions. From that time, too, the ill-luck that had +pursued them ceased. There had been no more deaths, no more desertions +from the already depleted train of carriers. The work had gone forward +with continuing success and, six months ago, after a hazardous march +through a hostile country, Craven had led the remnant of the expedition +safely to the coast. He had waited for some weeks at the African port +after the mission had returned to England, and then embarking on a small +trading steamer, had made his way northward to an obscure station on the +Moroccan seaboard, when by a leisurely and indirect route he had slowly +crossed the desert to the district where he now was and which he had +reached only a week ago. Twice before he had visited the tribe as the +guest of the Sheik Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's younger son, an officer of +Spahis whom he had met in Paris, and the warm hospitality shown him had +left a deep impression. A sudden unaccountable impulse had led him to +revisit a locality where he had spent some of the happiest months of his +life. He had conceived an intense admiration and liking for the stern +old Arab Chief and his two utterly dissimilar sons; the elder a grave +habitually silent man, who clung to the old traditions with the +rigid tenacity of the orthodox Mohammedan, disdainful of the French +jurisdiction under which he was compelled to live, and occupied solely +with the affairs of the tribe and his beautiful and adored wife who +reigned alone in his harem, despite the fact that she had given him +no child; the younger in total contrast to his brother, a dashing +ultra-modern young Arab as deeply imbued with French tendencies as the +conservative Omar was opposed to them. The wealthy and powerful old +Sheik, whose friendship had been assiduously sought by the French +Administration to ensure the co-operation of a tribe that with its far +reaching influence might have proved a dangerous element in an unsettled +district, shared in his inmost heart the sentiments of his heir, but +with a larger and more discriminating wisdom saw the desirability +of associating at least one of his family with the Government he was +obliged, though grudgingly and half contemptuously, to acknowledge. He +had hovered long between prejudice and policy before he reluctantly gave +his consent for Said to be placed on the roll of the regiment of Spahis. +And the unusual love existing between the two brothers had survived a +test that might have proved too strong for its continuance; Omar, bowing +to the decision of the autocratic old Chief, had refrained even from +comment, and Said, despite his enthusiasm, had carefully avoided +inflaming his brother's deeply rooted hatred of the nation the younger +man was proud to serve. His easy-going nature adapted itself readily to +the two wholly separate lives he lived, and though secretly preferring +the months spent with his regiment he contrived to extract every +possible enjoyment from the periods of leave for which he returned to +the tribe where, laying aside the picturesque uniform his ardent +soul rejoiced in and scrupulously suppressing every indication of his +Francophile inclinations he resumed with consummate tact the somewhat +invidious position of younger son of the house. + +The meeting of the young Spahi with Craven in Paris had led to the +discovery of similar tastes and ultimately to an intimate friendship. +Together in Algeria they had shot panther and Barbary sheep and +eventually Craven had been induced to visit the tribe, where he had seen +the true life of the desert that appealed strongly to his unconventional +wandering disposition. The heartiness of his reception had been +unqualified, even the taciturn Omar had unbent to the representative of +a nation he felt he could respect with no loss of prestige. To Craven +the weeks passed in the Arab camp had been a time of uninterrupted +enjoyment and a second visit had strengthened mutual esteem. Situated +on the extreme fringe of the Algerian frontier, in the heart of a +perpetually disturbed country, the element of danger prevailing in the +district was to Craven not the least of its attractions. It had been a +source of keen disappointment that during both his visits there had been +a cessation of the intertribal warfare that was carried on in spite of +the Government's endeavours to preserve peace among the great desert +families. For generations the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah had been at +feud with another powerful tribe which, living further to the south and +virtually beyond the suzerainty of the nominal rulers of the country, +harried the border continually. But, aware of the growing power and +resources of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, for many years the marauders had +avoided collision with him and confined their attention to less +dangerous adversaries. The apparent neglect of his hereditary +enemies had not, however, lessened the old Sheik's precautions. With +characteristic oriental distrust he maintained a continual watch upon +them and a well organized system of espionage kept him conversant with +all their movements. Often during his visits Craven had listened to the +stories of past encounters and in the fierce eager faces around him +he had read the deep longing for renewed hostilities that animated the +younger members of the tribe in particular and had wondered what spark +would eventually set ablaze the smouldering fires of hatred and rivalry +that had so long lain dormant. And it had been really a subconscious +presage of such an outbreak that had brought him back to the camp of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah. His presentiment, the outcome of earnest desire, +had been fulfilled, and in its fulfilment attended with horrible details +which, had it not been already his intention, would have driven him to +beg a place in the ranks of the punitive force that was preparing to +avenge an outrage that involved the honour of the tribe. A week ago +he had arrived to find the camp seething with an infuriated and +passion-swayed people who bore no kind of resemblance to the orderly +well-disciplined tribesmen he had seen on his former visits, and the +daily arrival of reinforcements from outlying districts had kept the +tension strained and swelled the excitement that rioted day and night. + +In the barbaric sumptuousness of his big tent and with a calm dignity +that even tragedy could not shake the old Sheik had received him alone, +for the unhappy Omar was hidden in the desolate solitude of his ravished +harem. To the Englishman, before whom he could speak openly the old man +had revealed the whole terrible story with vivid dramatic force and all +the flowery eloquence of which he was master. It was a tale of misplaced +confidence and faithlessness that, detected and punished with oriental +severity, had led to swift and dastardly revenge. A headman of the tribe +whom both the Sheik and his elder son trusted implicitly had proved +guilty of grave indiscretion that undetected might have seriously +impaired the prestige of the ruling house. Deposed from his headmanship, +and deserted with characteristic vacillation by the adherents on whom +he counted, the delinquent had fled to the camp of the rival tribe, with +whom he had already been in secret negotiation. This much Mukair +Ibn Zarrarah's spies had ascertained, but not in time to prevent the +catastrophe that followed. Plans thought to be known only to the Sheik +and his son had been disclosed to the marauding Chief, who had long +sought an opportunity of aiming an effectual blow at his hated rival, +and on one of Omar's periodical tours of inspection to the more remote +encampments of the large and scattered tribe, the little caravan +had been surrounded by an overwhelmingly superior force led by the +hereditary enemy and the renegade tribesman. Hemmed in around the litter +of the dearly loved young wife, from whom he rarely parted, Omar and +his small bodyguard had fought desperately, but the outcome had been +inevitable from the first. Outnumbered they had fallen one by one under +the vigorous onslaughts of the attacking party who, victorious, had +retired southward as quickly as they had come, carrying with them the +beautiful Safiya--the price of the traitor's treachery. Covered with +wounds and left for dead under a heap of dying followers Omar and two +others had alone survived, and with death in his heart the young man had +lived only for the hour when he might avenge his honour. Animated by the +one fierce desire that sustained him he had struggled back to life +to superintend the preparations for retaliation that should be both +decisive and final. To old injuries had been added this crowning insult, +and the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, roused to the highest pitch of +fury, were resolved to a man to exterminate or be exterminated. The +preparations had been almost completed when Craven arrived at the camp, +and tonight, for the first time, at a final war council of all the +principal headmen held in the Sheik's tent, he had seen the stricken man +and had hardly recognized in the gaunt attenuated figure that only an +inflexible will seemed to keep upright, the handsome stalwart Arab who +of all the tribe had most nearly approached his own powerful physique. +The frenzied despair in the dark flashing eyes that met his struck an +answering chord in his own heart and the silent handclasp that passed +between them seemed to ratify a common desire. Here, too, was a man who +for love of a woman sought death that he might escape a life of terrible +memory. A sudden sympathy born of tacit understanding seemed to leap +from one to the other, an affinity of purpose that drew them strangely +close together and brought to Craven an odd sense of kinship that +dispelled the difference he had felt and enabled him to enter reservedly +into the discussions that followed. After this meeting he had gone back +to his tent to make his own final preparations with a feeling almost +of exhilaration. To Yoshio, more than usually stolid, he had given all +necessary instructions for the conveyance of his belongings to England. + +Remained only the letter to his wife--a letter that seemed curiously +hard to begin. Pushing the writing materials from him he leant back +further in his chair, and searching in his pockets found and filled a +pipe with slow almost meticulous deliberation. Another search failed to +produce the match he required, and rising with a prolonged stretch he +bent over the table and lit his pipe at the lamp. Crossing the tent he +stood for a few moments in the doorway, but movements did not seem to +produce inspiration, and with an impatient shrug he returned to his seat +and sat staring gloomily at the blank sheet of paper before him. The +flaring light of the lamp illuminated his deeply tanned face and lean +muscular figure. In perfect physical condition and bronzed with the +African sun, he looked younger than when he had left England. At that +moment death and Barry Craven seemed very widely separated--and yet in a +few hours, he reflected with a curiosity that was oddly impersonal, the +vultures might be congregating round the body that was now so strong and +virile. "Handsome Barry Craven." He had heard a woman say it in Lagos +with a feeling of contemptuous amusement--a cynical smile crossed his +face as the remark recurred to him and he pictured the loathing that +would succeed admiration in the same woman's eyes if she could see what +would remain of him after the scavengers of the desert had done their +work. The thought gave him personally no feeling of disgust. He had +lived always too near to Nature to shrink from contemplation of her +merciless laws. + +He filled another pipe and strove to collect his wandering thoughts, but +the power of definite expression seemed beyond him as there rose in +him with almost overwhelming force the terrible longing that never left +him--the craving to see her, to hear her voice. Of his own free will he +was putting away all that life could mean or hold for him, and in the +flood of natural reaction that set in he called himself a fool and +revolted at his self-imposed sentence. The old struggle recommenced, the +old temptation gripped him in all its bitterness, and never so bitterly +as to-night. In the revulsion of feeling that beset him it was not death +he shrank from but the thought of eternity--alone. Neither in this world +nor in the life everlasting would she be his, and in an agony of longing +his soul cried out in anguished loneliness. The yearning for her grew +intolerable, a burning physical ache that was torture; but stronger far +rose the finer nobler desire for the perfect spiritual companionship +that he would never know. By his own act it would be denied him. By his +own act he had made this hell in which he lived, of his own making would +be the hell of the hereafter. Always he had recognised the justice of +it, he did not attempt to deny the justice of it now. But if it had been +otherwise--if he had been free to woo her, free to win her to his arms! +It was not the least of his punishment that, deep down in his heart, +he had the firm conviction that despite her assertions to the contrary, +love was lying dormant in her. And that love might have been his, would +have been his, for the strength and tenderness of his own passion would +have compelled it. She must have turned to him at last and in his +love found happiness. And to him her love would have been the crown +of life--a life of exquisite joy and beauty, a union of perfect and +undivided sympathy. Together they might have made the Towers a paradise +on earth; together they might have broken the curse of Craven; together +they might have brought happiness into the lives of many. And in the +dream of what might have been there came to him for the first time the +longing for parenthood, the desire for a child born of the woman he +adored, a child who joining in his tiny personality the essentials of +each would be a tangible proof of their mutual love, a child who would +perpetuate the race he sprang from. Craven's breath came fast with a new +and tremendous emotion. Then with terrible suddenness came a lightning +flash of recollection, a stabbing remembrance that laid his dream in +pieces at his feet. He heard again the low soft sobbing voice, "Are you +not glad?" He saw again O Hara San's pleading tear-filled eyes, felt +again her slender sorrow-shaken body trembling in his arms, and he bowed +his head on his hands in shuddering horror.... + +Numbed with the pain of memory and self-loathing he was unaware of the +renewal of noisy demonstration in the camp that to Yoshio's attentive +and interested ears pointed to the arrival of yet another adherent of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, an adherent of some special standing, judging from +the warmth of his reception. Moved by curiosity the Jap rose noiselessly +and passing unnoticed by his master vanished silently into the night. + +Some little while later the sound of a clear tenor voice calling to him +loudly by name sent Craven stumbling to his feet. He turned quickly +with outstretched hands to meet the tall young Arab, who burst +unceremoniously into the tent and flung himself upon him in boisterous +greeting. Gripped by a pair of muscular arms Craven submitted with +an Englishman's diffidence to the fervid oriental embrace that was +succeeded to his greater liking by a hearty and prolonged English +handshake and a storm of welcoming excited and almost incoherent speech. +"_C'est bien toi, mon vieux_! You are more welcome than you have ever +been--though I could wish you a thousand miles away, _mon ami_, but of +that, more, later. _Dame_, but I have ridden! As though the hosts of +Eblis were behind me. I was on leave when the messenger came for me--he +seems to have been peremptory in his demands, that same Selim. +Telegrams despatched to every likely place--one caught me fortunately +at Marseilles. Yes, I had been in Paris. I hastened to headquarters and +asked for long and indefinite leave on urgent private affairs, all the +lies I thought _mon colonel_ would swallow, but no word of war, _bien +entendu_! Praise be to _Allah_ they put no obstacle in my way and I left +at once. Since then I have ridden almost without stopping, night and +day. Two horses I have killed, the last lies dead of a broken heart +before my father's tent--you remember her?--my little Mimi, a chestnut +with a white star on her forehead, dear to me as the core of my heart. +For none but Omar would I have driven so, for I loved her, look you, +_mon ami_, as I could never love a woman. A woman! Bah! No woman in +the world was worth a toss of my Mimi's head. And I killed her, Craven. +Killed her who loved and trusted me, who never failed me. My little +Mimi! For the love of _Allah_ give me a whisky." And laughing and crying +together he collapsed with a groan on to Craven's bed but sat up again +immediately to gulp down the prohibited drink that was almost the last +in a nearly depleted flask. + +"The Prophet never tasted whisky or he would not have forbidden it to +the true believer," he said with a boyish grin, as he handed back the +empty cup. + +"Which you are not," commented Craven with a faint smile. "In the +sense you mean, no," replied Said, swinging his heels to the ground and +searching in the folds of his burnous for a cigarette, which he lit and +smoked for a few minutes thoughtfully. Then with all trace of his former +excitement gone he began to discuss soberly the exigency of the +moment, revealing a sound judgment and levelness of mind that appeared +incompatible with his seemingly careless and easy-going disposition. +It was a deeper studiously hidden side of his character that Craven had +guessed very early in their acquaintance. + +He talked now with unconcealed seriousness of the gravity of the +situation. In the short time he had been with his father before seeking +his friend he had mastered the particulars of the projected expedition +and, with his European knowledge, had suggested and even--with a +force of personality he had never before displayed in the old Sheik's +presence--insisted on certain alterations which he detailed now for +Craven's benefit, who concurred heartily, for they were identical with +suggestions put forward by himself which had been rejected as impossible +innovations by the conservative headmen, and conscious of his position +as guest he had not pressed them. Then with a sudden change of tone the +young Arab turned to Craven in frowning inquiry. + +"But you, mon cher, what are you doing in this affair? It was that I +meant when I said I wished you a thousand miles away. You are my friend, +the friend of all of us, but friendship does not demand that you ride +with us to-night. That you would offer--yes--it was only to be expected. +But that we should accept your offer--no! a hundred times no! you are an +Englishman, a big man in your own country, what have you to do with the +tribal warfare of minor Arab Chiefs--voyez vous, I have my moments of +modesty! If anything should happen--as happen it very likely will--what +will your paternal British Government say? It will only add to my +father's difficulties with our own over-lords." There was a laugh in his +eyes though his voice was serious. Craven brushed his objection aside +with an indifferent hand. + +"The British Government will not distress itself about me," he said +dryly. "I am not of sufficient importance." + +For a few moments the Arab sat silent, smoking rapidly, then he raised +his dark eyes tentatively to Craven's face. + +"In Paris they told me you were married," he said slowly, and the remark +was in itself ample indication of his European tendencies. + +Craven turned away with an abrupt movement and bent over the lamp to +light his pipe. "They told you the truth," he said, with a certain +reluctance, his face hidden by a cloud of smoke. "_Pourtant_, I ride +with you to-night." There was a note of brusque finality in his voice +that Said recognised, and he shrugged acquiescence as he lit another +cigarette. "It is almost certain death," he said, with nonchalant +oriental calm. But Craven did not answer and Said relapsed into a +silence that was protracted. From the midst of the blue haze surrounding +him, his earnest scrutiny hidden by the thick lashes that curved +downwards to his swarthy cheek, he gazed intently through half-closed +eyes at the friend whose presence he found for the first time +embarrassing. Fatalist though he was in all things that concerned +himself, western influence had bitten deep enough to make him realise +that the same doctrine did not extend to Craven. He recognised that +self-determination came more largely into the Englishman's creed than +into his own. Whether he himself lived or died was a matter of no great +moment. But with Craven it was otherwise and he had no liking for the +thought that should the morrow's venture go against them his friend's +blood would, virtually, be upon his hands! So far had his Francophile +tendencies taken him. And the more he dwelt upon the uncomfortable fact +the less he liked it. He turned his attention more directly upon the man +himself and he noted changes that surprised and disturbed him. The stern +weary looking face was not the careless smiling one he remembered. The +man he had known had been vividly alive, care-free and animated; one who +had jested alike at life and death with an indifferent laugh, but one +who though careless of danger even to the extent of foolhardiness had +never given any indication of a desire to quit a life that was obviously +easy and attractive. But this man was different, grave and abrupt of +speech, with an air of tired suffering, and a grim purposefulness in his +determination to ignore his friend's warning that conveyed an impression +of underlying sinister intent that set the Arab wondering what sting had +poisoned his life even to the desire to sacrifice it. For the look on +Craven's face was not new to him, he had seen it before--on the face of +a French officer in Algiers who had subsequently taken his own life, +and again this very evening on the face of his brother Omar. The +personalities of the three men were widely different, but the expression +of each was identical. The deduction was simple and yet to him wholly +inexplicable. A woman--without doubt a woman! In the first two cases it +was certainly so, he seemed to know instinctively that here, too, he was +not mistaken in his supposition. A puzzled look crept into his fine +dark eyes and a cynical smile hovered round his mouth as he viewed +these three dissimilar men from the height of his own contemptuous +indifference towards any and every woman. It was a weakness he did not +understand, a phase of life that held no meaning for him at all. He +had never bestowed a second glance on any woman of his own race, the +attentions of European women in Paris and Algiers had been met with cold +scorn that he masked with racial gravity of demeanour or frank insolence +according to circumstances. For him women did not exist; he lived for +his horses, for his regiment and for sport. To his strangely cold +nature the influence that women exercised over other men was a thing +inconceivable--the houris of the paradise of his fathers' creed were to +him no incentive to enter the realms of the blessed. A character apart, +incomprehensible alike to the warm-blooded Frenchmen with whom he +associated and to his own passionate countrymen, he maintained his +peculiarity tranquilly, undisturbed by the banter of his friends and +the admonitions of his father, who in view of his heir's childlessness +regarded his younger son's temperament with growing uneasiness as the +years advanced. + +The action of the French officer in Algiers had provoked in Said only +intolerant contempt but, as he realised tonight, contempt was not +possible in the cases of Craven and his brother. He pondered it with a +curious feeling of irritation. What was it after all, this emotion of +which he was ignorant--this compelling impulse that entered into a +man driving him beyond the power of endurance? It was past his +comprehension. And he wondered suddenly for the first time why he had +been made so different to the generality of men. But introspection +was foreign to him, he had not been in the habit of dissecting his own +personality and his thoughts turned quickly with greater interest to the +man who sat near him plunged like himself into silent reverie. And as +he looked he scowled with angry irritation. The Frenchman in Algiers had +not mattered, but Omar and Craven mattered very much. He resented the +suffering he did not understand--the termination of a friendship he +valued, for it was almost inevitable should Craven persist in his +decision and the loss of a brother who was dearer to him than he would +admit and whose death would mean a greater change in his own life than +he cared to contemplate. That through a woman this should be possible! +With hearty thoroughness and picturesque attention to detail he silently +cursed all women in general and two women in particular. For the +seriousness of the venture lay, at the moment, heavily upon him. He +was tired and his enthusiasm temporarily damped by the unexpected and +incomprehensible attitude of the two men by whom alone he permitted +himself to be influenced. But gradually his natural buoyancy reasserted +itself, and abandoning as insoluble the perplexing problem, he spoke +again eagerly of the impending meeting with his hereditary foes. For +half an hour they talked earnestly and then Said rose, announcing his +intention of getting a few hours sleep before the early start. But he +deferred his going, making one pretext after another for remaining, +walking about the little tent in undecided hesitation, plainly +embarrassed. Finally he swung toward Craven with a characteristic +gesture of his long arms. + +"Can I say nothing to deter you from this expedition?" + +"Nothing," replied Craven; "you always promised me a fight some day--do +you want to do me out of it now, you selfish devil?" he added with a +laugh, to which Said did not respond. With an inarticulate grunt +he moved toward the door, pausing as he went out to fling over his +shoulder: "I'll send you a burnous and the rest of the kit." + +"A burnous--what for?" + +"What for?" echoed Said, coming back into the tent, his eyes wide with +astonishment. "_Allah_! to wear, of course, _mon cher_. You can't go as +you are." + +"Why not?" + +The Arab rolled his eyes heavenward and waved his hands in protest as +he burst out vehemently: "Because they will take you for a Frenchman, +a spy, an agent of the Government, and they will finish you off even +before they turn their attention to us. They hate us, by the Koran! but +they hate a Frenchman worse. You wouldn't have the shadow of a chance." + +Craven looked at him curiously for a few moments, and then he smiled. +"You're a good fellow, Said," he said quietly, taking the cigarette the +other offered, "but I'll go as I am, all the same. I'm not used to your +picturesque togs, they would only hamper me." + +For a little while longer Said remained arguing and entreating by turns +and then went away suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and for a few +minutes Craven stood in the door of the tent watching his retreating +figure by the light of the newly risen moon with a smile that softened +his face incredibly. + +Then he turned back into the tent and once more drew toward him the +writing materials. + +The difficulty he had before felt had passed away. It seemed suddenly +quite easy to write and he wondered why it had appeared so impossible +earlier in the evening. Words, phrases, leaped to his mind, sentences +seemed to form themselves, and, with rapidly moving pen, he wrote +without faltering for the best part of an hour--all he had never dared +to say, more almost than he had ever dared to think. He did not spare +himself. The tragic history of O Hara San he gave in all its pitifulness +without attempting to extenuate or shield himself in any way; he +sketched frankly the girl's loneliness and childish ignorance, his own +casual and selfish acceptance of the sacrifice she made and the terrible +catastrophe that had brought him to abrupt and horrible conviction of +himself, and his subsequent determination to end the life he had marred +and wasted. He wrote of the coming of John Locke's letter at the moment +of his deepest abasement, and of the chance it had seemed to offer; of +her own entry into his life and the love for her that almost from the +first moment had sprung up within him. + +In its entirety he laid bare the burning hopeless passion that consumed +him, the torturing longing that possessed him, and the knowledge of his +own unworthiness that had driven him from her that she might be free +with a freedom that would be at last absolute. But even in this letter +which tore down so completely the barrier between them he did not admit +to her the true reason of his marriage, he preferred to leave it obscure +as it had always been, even should the motive she might attribute to him +be the wrong one. He must chance that and the impression it might leave +with her. Her future life he alluded to very briefly not caring to dwell +on business that was already cut and dried, but referring her to Peters +who was fully instructed and on whose advice and help she could +count. He expressed no wish with regard to Craven Towers and his +other properties, leaving her free to dispose of or retain them as she +pleased. He shrank from suggesting in any way that she benefited by his +death. + +He saw her before him as he wrote. It seemed almost as if the ardent +passionate wards were spoken to present listening ears, and as with +Peters' letter he did not reread the many closely written sheets. What +use? He did not wish to alter or amend anything he had said. He had +done, and a deeper peace came to him than he had known since those far +away days in Japan. + +He called to Yoshio. Almost before the words had left his lips the man +was beside him. And as the Jap listened to the minute instructions given +him the light that had sprung to his eyes died out of them and his face +became if possible more than usually stolid and inscrutable. + +"You quite understand?" said Craven in conclusion. "You will wait here +until it becomes evident that further waiting is useless. Then you are +to go straight back to England and give those letters into Mrs. Craven's +own hand." + +With marked reluctance Yoshio slowly took up the two heavy packets and +fingered them for a time silently. Then with a sudden exclamation in his +own language he shook his head and pushed them back across the table. +"Going with master," he announced phlegmatically, and raised his eyes +with a glance that was at once provocative and stubborn. Craven met his +direct stare with a feeling of surprise. Only once before had the docile +Japanese asserted himself definitely and the memory of it made anger now +impossible. He pointed to the letters lying on the table between them. +"You have your orders," he said quietly, and cut short further protests +with a quick gesture of authority. "Do as you're told, you obstinate +little devil," he added, with a short laugh. And like a chidden child +Yoshio pocketed the letters sullenly. Stifling a yawn Craven kicked off +his boots and moved over to the bed with a glance at his watch. He flung +himself down, dressed as he was. + +"Two hours, Yoshio--not a minute longer," he murmured drowsily, and +slept almost before his head touched the pillow. + +For an hour or more, squatting motionless on his heels in the middle +of the tent, Yoshio watched him, his mask-like face expressionless, his +eyes fixed in an unwavering stare. Then he rose cautiously and glided +from the tent. + +During the last two years Craven had become accustomed to snatching +a few hours of sleep when and how he could. He slept now deeply and +dreamlessly. And when the two hours were passed and Yoshio woke him he +sprang up, wide awake on the instant, refreshed by the short rest. In +silence that was no longer sullen the valet indicated a complete Arab +outfit he had brought back with him to the tent, but Craven waved it +aside with a smile at the thought of Said's pertinacity and finished his +dressing quickly. As he concluded his hasty preparations he found time +to wonder at his own frame of mind. He had an odd feeling of aloofness +that precluded even excitement. It was as if his spirit, already freed, +looked down from some immeasurable height with scant interest upon the +doings of a being who wore the earthly semblance of himself but who +mattered not at all. He seemed to be above and beyond actualities. He +heard himself repeating the instructions he had given earlier to Yoshio, +he found himself taking leave of the faithful little Jap and wondering +slightly at the man's apparent unconcern. But outside the little tent +the strange feeling left him suddenly as it had come. The cool wind that +an hour later would usher in the dawn blew about his face dispelling the +visionary sensation that had taken hold of him. He drew a deep breath +looking eagerly at the beauty of the moon-lit night, feeling himself +once more keenly alive, keenly excited at the prospect of the coming +venture. + +Excitement was rife also in the camp and he made his way with difficulty +through the jostling throng of men and horses towards the rallying point +before the old Sheik's tent. The noise was deafening, and trampling +screaming horses wheeled and backed among the crowd pressing around +them. With shouts of acclamation a way was made for the Englishman and +he passed through the dense ranks to the open space where Mukair Ibn +Zarrarah with his two sons and a little group of headmen were standing. +They welcomed him with characteristic gravity and Said proffered the +inevitable cigarette with a reproachful glance at his khaki clothing. +For a few moments they conversed and then the Sheik stepped forward with +uplifted hand. The clamour of the people gave way to a deep silence. In +a short impassioned speech the old man bade his tribe go forward in the +name of the one God, Merciful and Beneficent. And as his arm dropped +to his side again a mighty shout broke from the assembled multitude. +_Allah! Allah!_ the fierce exultant cry rose in a swelling volume of +sound as the fighting men leaped to their maddened horses dragging them +back into orderly ranks from among the press of onlookers and tossing +their long guns in the air in frenzied excitement. A magnificent black +stallion was led up to Craven, and the Sheik soothed the beautiful +quivering creature, caressing his shapely head with trembling nervy +fingers. "He is my favourite, he will carry you well," he murmured with +a proud smile as he watched Craven handling the spirited animal. Mounted +Craven bent down and wrung Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's hand and in another +moment he found himself riding between Omar and Said at the head of the +troop as it moved off followed by the ringing shouts of those who +were left behind. He had a last momentary glimpse of the old Sheik, a +solitary upright figure of pathetic dignity, standing before his tent, +and then the camp seemed to slide away behind them as the pace increased +and they reached the edge of the oasis and emerged on to the open +desert. A few minutes more and the fretting horses settled down into +a steady gallop. The dense ranks of tribesmen were silent at last, and +only the rythmical thud of hoofs sounded with a muffled beat against the +soft shifting sand. + +Craven felt himself in strange accordance with the men with whom he +rode. The love of hazardous adventure that was in his blood leaped into +activity and a keen fierce pleasure swept him at the thought of the +coming conflict. The death he sought was the death he had always hoped +for--the crashing clamour of the battlefield, the wild tumultuous impact +of contending forces, with the whining scream of flying bullets in his +ears. To die--and, dying, to atone! + + "_Come to Me all ye who ... are heavy laden + and I will give you rest_." + +Might that ineffable rest that was promised be even for him? Would his +deep repentance, the agony of spirit he had endured, be payment enough? +Eternal death--the everlasting hell of the Jehovah of the ancients! Not +that, merciful God, but the compassion of Christ: + + "_He that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out_." + +On that terrible day in Yokohama that seemed so many weary years ago +Craven had laid his sin-stained soul in all sincerity and humbleness +at the feet of the Divine Redeemer, but with no thought or hope of +forgiveness. Always the necessity of personal atonement had remained +with him, without which by his reasoning there could be no salvation. +That offered, but not until then, he would trust in the compassion that +passed man's understanding. And to-night--to-day--he seemed nearer than +he had ever been to the fulfilment of his desire. The mental burden that +had lain like an actual crushing weight upon him seemed to slip away +into nothingness. A long deep sigh of wonderful relief escaped him and +he drew himself straighter in the saddle, a new peace dawning in his +eyes as he raised them to the starlit sky. Out of the past there flashed +into his mind the picture--forgotten since the days of childhood--of +Christian freed of his burden at the foot of the Cross, as represented +in the old copy of the "Pilgrim's Progress" over which he had pored as +a boy, enthralled by the quaint text which he had known nearly by heart +and fascinated by the curious illustrations that had appealed to his +young imagination. + +The years rolled back, he saw himself again a little lad stretched on +the rug before the fire in the library at Craven Towers, the big book +propped open before him, studying with a child's love of the grotesque +the grisly picture of Apollyon whose hideous black-winged form had to +his boyish mind been the actual image of the devil, a tangible demon +whom he had longed to conquer like Christian armed with sword and +shield. The childish idea, a bodily adversary to contend with--it would +have been simpler. But the devil in a man's own heart, the insidious +inward prompting to sin that unrepelled grows imperceptibly stronger +and greater until the realisation of sin committed comes with horrible +suddenness! To Craven, as to many others, came the futile longing to +have his life to live again, to start afresh from the days of innocency +when he had hung, enraptured, over the woodcuts of the "Pilgrim's +Progress." He forced his thoughts back to the present. Death, not life, +lay before him. Instinctively he glanced at the man who rode at his +right hand. In the cold white moonlight the Arab's face was like a piece +of beautiful carved bronze, still and terrible in its fixed intentness. +Sitting his horse with evident difficulty, animated by mere strength of +will, his wasted frame rigidly upright, his sombre tragic eyes peering +steadfastly ahead, he seemed in his grim purposefulness the very +incarnation of avenging justice. And as Craven looked at him covertly he +wondered what lay hidden behind those set features, what of hope, what +of fear, what of despair was seething in the fierce heart of the desert +man. Of the dearly loved wife who had been ravished from him there had +come no further word, her fate was unknown. Had she died, or did she +still live--in shameful captivity, the slave of the renegade who had +made her the price of his treachery? What additional horror still +awaited the unhappy husband who rode to avenge her? With a slight +shudder Craven turned from the contemplation of a sorrow that seemed to +him even greater than his own and sought his left hand neighbour. With a +quick smile Said's eyes met his. With an easy swing of his graceful body +he drew his horse nearer to the spirited stallion Craven was riding +but did not speak. The ready flow of conversation that was habitual had +apparently forsaken him. + +The young Arab's silence was welcome, Craven had himself no desire to +speak. The dawn wind was blowing cool against his forehead, soothing +him. The easy gallop of the horse between his knees, tractable and +steady now he was allowed free rein, was to him the height of physical +enjoyment. He would get from it what he could, he thought with a swift +smile of self mockery--the flesh still urged in contradiction to his +firm resolve. It was a blind country through which they were riding, +though seemingly level the ground rose and fell in a succession of long +undulating sweeps that made a wide outlook impossible. A regiment could +lie hidden in the hollows among the twisting deviating sandy hillocks +and be passed unnoticed. And as he topped each rise at the head of the +Arab troop Craven looked forward eagerly with unfailing interest. He +hardly knew for what he looked for their destination lay many miles +further southward and the possibility of unexpected attack had been +foreseen by Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, whose scouts had ranged the district +for weeks past, but the impression once aroused of an impending +something lingered persistently and fixed his attention. + +From time to time the waiting scouts joined them, solitary horsemen +riding with reckless speed over the broken ground or slipping silently +from the shadow of a side track to make a brief report and then take +their place among the ranks of tribesmen. So far they told no more than +was already known. The wind blew keener as the dawn approached. Far in +the east the first faint pinky streaks were spreading across the +sky, overhead the twinkling stars paled one by one and vanished. The +atmosphere grew suddenly chill. The surrounding desert had before been +strangely silent, not so much as the wailing cry of a jackal had broken +the intense stillness, but now an even deeper hush, mysterious and +pregnant, closed down over the land. For the time all nature seemed to +hang in suspense, waiting, watching. To Craven the wonder of the dawn +was not new, he had seen if often in many countries, but it was a marvel +of which he never tired. And there was about this sunrise a significance +that had been attached to no other he had ever witnessed. Eagerly he +watched the faint flush brighten and intensify, the pale streaks spread +and widen into far flung bars of flaming gold and crimson. Daylight came +with startling suddenness and as the glowing disc of the sun rose +red above the horizon a horseman broke from the galloping ranks, and +spurring in advance of the troop, wheeled his horse and dragged him to +an abrupt standstill. Rising in his stirrups he flung his arms in fervid +ecstasy toward the heavens. Craven recognised in him a young Mullah of +fanatical tendencies who had been particularly active in the camp during +the preceding week. That the opposing tribe was of a different sect, +abhorred by the followers of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had been an original +cause of dissent between them, and the priests had made good use of the +opportunity of fanning religious zeal. + +The cavalcade came to a sudden halt, and as Craven with difficulty +reined in his own horse the sustained and penetrating cry of the muezzin +rose weirdly high and clear on the morning air, "_al-ilah-ilah_." The +arresting and solemn invocation had always had for Craven a peculiar +fascination, and as the last lingering notes died away it was not purely +from a motive of expediency that he followed the common impulse and +knelt among the prostrate Arabs. His creed differed from theirs but he +worshipped the same God as they, and in his heart he respected their +overt profession of faith. + +As he rose from his knees he caught Said's eyes bent on him with a +curious look in them of interrogation that was at once faintly mocking +and yet sad. But the expression passed quickly into a boyish grin as he +waved an unlit cigarette toward the fiery young priest who had seized +the chance to embark on a passionate harangue. + +"When prayer is ended disperse yourselves through the land as ye list," +he murmured, with a flippant laugh at the perverted quotation. "The holy +man will preach till our tongues blacken with thirst." And he turned to +his brother to urge him to give the order to remount. Omar was leaning +against his horse, his tall figure sagging with fatigue. He started +violently as Said spoke to him, and, staggering, would have fallen but +for the strong arm slipped round him. And, watching Craven saw with +dismay a dark stain mar the whiteness of his robes where a wound had +broken out afresh, and he wondered whether the weakened body would +be able to respond to the urging of the resolute will that drove it +mercilessly, or, when almost within view, the fiercely longed for +revenge would yet be snatched from him. + +But with an effort the Arab pulled himself together and, mounting, +painfully cut short the Mullah's eloquence and gave in a firm tone the +desired order. + +The swift gallop southward was resumed. + +The breeze dropped gradually and finally died away, but for an hour or +more the refreshing coolness lingered. Then as the sun rose higher and +gained in strength the air grew steadily warmer until the heat became +intense and Craven began to look eagerly for the oasis that was to be +their first halting place. In full daylight the landscape that by night +had seemed to possess an eerie charm developed a dull monotony. The +successive rise and fall of the land, always with its limited outlook, +became tedious, and the labyrinthine hillocks with their intricate +windings seemed to enclose them inextricably. But on reaching the summit +of a longer steeper incline that had perceptibly slowed the galloping +horses, he saw spread out before him a level tract of country stretching +far into the distance, with a faint blue smudge beyond of the chain +of hills that Said told him marked the boundary of the territory that +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah regarded as his own, the boundary, too, of French +jurisdiction. Through a defile in the hills lay the enemy country. + +The change was welcome to men and horses alike, the latter--aware +with unerring instinct of the nearness of water--of their own accord +increased their pace and thundering down the last long shifting slope +pressed forward eagerly toward the oasis that Craven judged to be +between two and three miles away. In the clear deceptive atmosphere it +appeared much nearer, and yet as they raced onward it seemed to come +no closer but rather to recede as though some malevolent demon of +the desert in wanton sport was conjuring it tantalizingly further and +further from them. The tall feathery palms, seen through the shimmering +heat haze, took an exaggerated height towering fantastically above the +scrub of bushy thorn trees. + +Craven had even a moment's doubt whether the mirage-like oasis actually +existed or was merely a delusion bred of fancy and desire. But the +absurdity of the doubt came home to him as he looked again at the +outline of the distant hills--too conspicuous a landmark to allow of any +error on the part of his companions to whom the country was familiar. + +The prospect of the welcome shade made him more sensitive to the +scorching strength of the sun that up till now he had endured without +more than a passing sensation of discomfort. He was inured to heat, but +to-day's heat was extraordinary, and even the Arabs were beginning to +show signs of distress. It was many hours since they started and the +pace had been killing. His mouth was parched and his eyeballs smarted +with the blinding glare. With the thirst that increased each moment the +last half mile seemed longer than all the preceding ride, and when the +oasis was at length reached he slipped from his sweating horse with an +exclamation of relief. + +The Arabs crowded round the well and in a moment the little peaceful +spot was the scene of noisy confusion; men shouting, scrambling and +gesticulating, horses squealing, and above all the creaking whine of the +tackling over the well droning mournfully as the bucket rose and fell. +Said swung himself easily to the ground and held his brother's plunging +horse while he dismounted. For a few moments they conversed together in +a rapid undertone, and then the younger man turned to Craven, a cloud on +his handsome face. "Our communication has broken down. Two scouts should +have met us here," he said, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. "It +disconcerts our scheme for we counted on their report. They may be +late--it is hardly likely. They had ample time. More probably they have +been ambushed--the country is filled with spies--in which event the +advantage lies with the other side. They will know that we have started, +while we shall have no further information. The two men who are missing +were the only ones operating beyond the border. The last scout who +reported himself was in touch with them last night. From them he learned +that two days ago the enemy were forty miles south of the hills yonder. +We had hoped to catch them unawares, but they may have got wind of our +intentions and be nearer than we expect. The curse of _Allah_ on them!" +he added impatiently. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Craven with a backward glance at the +dismounted tribesmen clustering round the well and busily employed in +making preparations for rest and food. Said beckoned to a passing Arab +and dispatched him with a hurried order. Then he turned again to Craven. +"The horses must rest though the men would go forward at a word. I +am sending two scouts to reconnoitre the defile and bring back what +information they can," he said. And as he spoke the two men he had +sent for appeared with disciplined promptness and reined in beside him. +Having received their brief instructions they started off in a cloud of +dust and sand at the usual headlong gallop. Said turned away immediately +and disappeared among the jostling crowd, but Craven lingered at the +edge of the oasis looking after the fast receding horsemen who, crouched +low in their saddles, their long white cloaks swelling round them, +were very literally carrying out their orders to ride "swift as the +messengers of Azrael." He had known them both on his previous visits, +though he had not recognised them in the dark hours of the dawn when +they joined the troop, and remembered them as two of the most dare-devil +and intrepid of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's followers. A moment since they had +grinned at him in cheery greeting, exhibiting almost childlike pleasure +when he had called them by name, and had set off with an obeisance as +deep to him as to their leader. + +Incidents of those earlier visits flashed through his mind as he watched +them speeding across the glaring plain and a feeling almost of regret +came to him that it should be these two particular men who had been +selected for the hazardous mission. For he guessed that their chance of +return was slight. And yet hardly slighter than for the rest of them! +With a shrug he moved away slowly and sought the shadow of a camel +thorn. He lay on his back in the welcome patch of shade, his helmet +tilted over his eyes, drawing vigorously at a cigarette in the vain +hope of lessening the attentions of the swarms of tormenting flies that +buzzed about him, and waiting patiently for the desired water before +he swallowed the dark brown unsavoury mass of crushed dates which, warm +from his pocket and gritty with the sand that penetrated everything, was +the only food available. Said was still busy among the throng of men and +horses, but near him Omar sat plunged in gloomy silence, his melancholy +eyes fixed on the distant hills. He had re-adjusted his robes, screening +the ominous stain that revealed what he wished to hide. His hands, +which alone might have betrayed the emotion surging under his outward +passivity, were concealed in the folds of his enveloping burnous. When +the immediate wants of men and horses were assuaged the prevailing +clamour gave place to sudden quiet as the Arabs lay down and, muffling +their heads in their cloaks, seemed to fall instantly asleep. His +supervision ended, Said reappeared, and following the example of his +men was soon snoring peacefully. Craven rolled over on his side, and +lighting another cigarette settled himself more comfortably on the warm +ground. For a time he watched the solitary sentinel sitting motionless +on his horse at no great distance from the oasis. Then a vulture winging +its slow heavy way across the heavens claimed his attention and he +followed it with his eyes until it passed beyond his vision. He was +too lazy and too comfortable to turn his head. He lay listening to the +shrill hum of countless insect life, smoking cigarette after cigarette +till the ground around him was littered with stubs and match ends. The +hours passed slowly. When he looked at the guard again the Arab was +varying the monotony by walking his horse to and fro, but he had not +moved further into the desert. And suddenly as Craven watched him he +wheeled and galloped back toward the camp. Craven started up on his arm, +screening his eyes from the sun and staring intently in the direction of +the hills. But there was nothing to be seen in the wide empty plain, and +he sank down again with a smile at his own impatience as the reason of +the man's return occurred to him. Reaching the oasis the Arab led his +horse among the prostrate sleepers and kicked a comrade into wakefulness +to take his place. From time to time the intense stillness was broken +by a movement among the horses, and once or twice a vicious scream came +from a stallion resenting the attentions of a restless neighbour. The +slumbering Arabs lay like sheeted figures of the dead save when some +uneasy dreamer rolled over with a smothered grunt into a different +position. Craven had begun to wonder how much longer the siesta would be +protracted when Omar rose stiffly, and going to his brother's side awoke +him with a hand on his shoulder. Said sat up blinking sleepily and then +leaped alertly to his feet. In a few minutes the oasis was once more +filled with noisy activity. But this time there was no confusion. The +men mounted quickly and the troop was reformed with the utmost dispatch. +The horses broke almost immediately into the long swinging gallop that +seemed to eat up the miles under their feet. + +The fiercest heat of the day was passed. The haze that had hung +shimmering over the plain had cleared away and the hills they were +steadily nearing grew more clearly defined. Soon the conformation of +the range was easily discernible, the rocky surface breaking up into +innumerable gullies and ravines, the jagged ridges standing out clean +against the deep blue of the sky. Another mile and Said turned to him +with outstretched hand, pointing eagerly. "See, to the right, there, +by that shaft of rock that looks like a minaret, is the entrance to the +defile. It is well masked. It comes upon one suddenly. A stranger would +hardly find the opening until he was close upon it. In the dawn when +the shadows are black I have ridden past it myself once or twice and had +to--_Allah_! Selim--and alone!" he cried suddenly, and shot ahead of +his companions. The troop halted at Omar's shouted command, but Craven +galloped after his friend. He had caught sight of the horseman emerging +from the pass a moment after Said had seen him and the same thought had +leaped to the mind of each--the news on which so much depended might +still never reach them. The spy came on toward them slowly, his horse +reeling under him, and man and beast alike were nearly shot to pieces. +As Said drew alongside of them the wounded horse collapsed and the dying +man fell with him, unable to extricate himself. In a flash the Arab +Chief was on his feet, and with a tremendous effort pulled the dead +animal clear of his follower's crushed and quivering limbs. Slipping an +arm about him he raised him gently, and bending low to catch the faint +words he could scarcely hear, held him until the fluttering whisper +trailed into silence, and with a convulsive shudder the man died in his +arms. + +Laying the corpse back on the sand he wiped his blood-stained hands on +the folds of his cloak, then swung into the saddle again and turned to +Craven, his eyes blazing with anger and excitement. "They were trapped +in the defile--ten against two--but Selim got through somehow to make +his reconnaissance, and they finished him off on the way back--though +I don't think he left many behind him! Either our plans have been +betrayed--or it may be merely a coincidence. Whichever it is they are +waiting for us yonder, on the other side of the hills. They have saved +us a day's journey--at the very least," he added with a short laugh that +was full of eager anticipation. + +They waited until Omar and the troop joined them, and after a short +consultation with the headmen it was decided to press forward without +delay. Aware that but few hours of daylight remained, Craven deemed it +a foolhardy decision, but Omar was deeply stirred at the nearness of +the man who had wronged him--for Selim had managed to extract that +information from one of his opponents before killing him--and the +tribesmen were eager for immediate action. The horses, too, were fresh +enough, thanks to the mid-day rest. The troop moved on again, a guard of +fifty picked men slightly in advance of the main body. + +At the foot of the hills they drew rein to reform for the defile only +admitted of three horses walking abreast, and as Craven waited for his +own turn to come to enter the narrow pass he looked curiously at the +bare rock face that rose almost perpendicularly out of the sand and +towered starkly above him. But he had no time for a lengthy inspection, +and in a few minutes, with Omar and Said on either hand, he guided his +horse round the jutting spur of rock that masked the opening and rode +into the sombre shade of the defile. The change was startling, and he +shivered with the sudden chill that seemed so much cooler by contrast +with the heat of the plain. Hemmed in by sheer sinister looking cliffs, +which were broken at intervals by lateral ravines, the tortuous track +led over rough slippery ground sprinkled with huge boulders that made +any pace beyond a walk impossible. The horses stumbled continually and +the necessity of keeping a sharp look-out for each succeeding obstacle +drove from Craven's mind everything but the matter in hand. He forgot +to wonder how near or how far from the other side of the hills lay the +opposing force, or whether they would have time to reform before being +attacked or be picked off by waiting marksmen as they emerged from +the pass without any possibility of putting up a fight. For himself it +didn't after all very much matter one way or the other, but it would be +hard luck, he reflected, if Omar did not get a chance at the renegade +and Said was shot before the encounter he was aching for--and broke off +to swear at his horse, which had stumbled badly for the sixth time. + +Omar was riding a pace or two in advance, bending forward in the saddle +and occasionally swaying as if from weakness, his burning eyes filled +with an almost mystical light as if he saw some vision that, hidden from +the others, was revealed to him alone. The dark stain on his robe had +spread beyond concealment and he had not spoken since they entered +the defile. To Craven, who had never before traversed it, the pass was +baffling. He did not know its extent and he had no idea of the depth of +the hills. But soon a growing excitement on the part of Said made him +aware that the exit must be near and the continued silence argued that +the vanguard had got through unmolested. He slipped the button of his +holster and freed his revolver from the silk handkerchief in which +Yoshio had wrapped it. + +A sharp turn to the right revealed the scene of the ambuscade, where in +one of the lateral openings Selim and his companion had been trapped. +The bodies of men and horses had been pulled clear of the track by the +advance guard as they went by a few minutes earlier. The old sheik's +horse showed the utmost repugnance to the grim pile of corpses, snorting +and rearing dangerously, and Craven wrestled with him for some moments +before he bounded suddenly past them with a clatter of hoofs that sent +the loose stones flying in all directions. + +Another turn to the right, an equally sharp bend to the left, where +the track widened considerably, and they debouched abruptly into open +desert. + +The vanguard was drawn up in order and their leader spurred to Omar's +side in eager haste to communicate what was patent to the eyes of all. A +little ripple of excitement went through Craven as he saw the dense body +of horsemen, still about two miles away, who were galloping steadily +towards them. It had come then. With a curious smile he bent forward and +patted the neck of his fretting horse, which was fidgeting badly. The +opposing force appeared to outnumber them considerably, but he knew +from Said that Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's men were better equipped and better +trained. It would be skill against brute force, though it yet remained +to be seen how far Omar's men would respond to their training when +put to the test. Would they be able to control their own headstrong +inclinations or would their zeal carry them away in defiance of +carefully rehearsed orders? + +Word of the near presence of the enemy had been sent back to those who +were still moving up the pass, and so far discipline was holding good. +The men were pouring out from the yawning mouth of the file in a steady +stream, the horses crowded together as closely as possible, and as each +detachment arrived it reformed smartly under its own headman. + +Watching the rapid approach of the hostile tribe, Craven wondered +whether there would be time for their own force to reassemble to enable +them to carry out the agreed tactics. + +Already they were within half a mile. He had reined back to speak to +Omar, when a shout of exultation from Said, taken up by his followers +till the rocks above them echoed with the ringing cry, heralded the +arrival of the last party. There was no time to recapitulate orders or +to urge steadiness among the men. With almost no sign from Omar, or +so it seemed to Craven, with another deafening shout that drowned the +yelling of the enemy the whole force leaped forward simultaneously. +Craven's teeth clenched on his lip in sudden fear for Omar's plan of +attack, but a quick glance assured him that the madly galloping horses +were being kept in good formation, and that fast as was the pace the +right and left wing were, according to instructions, steadily opening +out and drawing forward in an extended line. The feeling of excitement +had left him, and, revolver in hand, he sat down firmer in the saddle +with no more emotion than if he were in the hunting field at home. + +They were now close enough to distinguish faces--it would be an almighty +crash when it did come! It was surprising that up till now there had +been no shooting. Accustomed to the Arabs' usually reckless expenditure +of ammunition he had been prepared minutes ago for a hail of bullets. +And with the thought came a solitary whining scream past his ear, +and Said, close on his left, flung him a look of reproach and shouted +something of which he only caught the words, "Frenchman ... burnous." + +But there was no time left to reply. Following rapidly on the single +shot a volley was poured in among them, but the shooting was inaccurate +and did very little damage. That it had been intended to break the +charge and cause confusion in the orderly ranks was apparent from the +further repeated volleys that, nearer, did more deadly execution than +the first one. But, bending low in their saddles, Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's +men swept on in obedience to Omar's command. His purpose was, by the +sheer strength of his onset, to cut through the opposing force with his +centre while the wings closed in on either side. To effect this he had +bidden his men ride as they had never ridden before and reserve their +fire till the last moment, when it would be most effectual. And the +swift silent onslaught seemed to be other than the enemy had expected, +for there were among them signs of hesitation, their advance was +checked, and the firing became wilder and more erratic. Omar and his +immediate companions appeared to bear charmed lives, bullets sang past +them, over and around them, and though here and there a man fell +from the saddle or a horse dropped suddenly, the main body raced on +unscathed, or with wounds they did not heed in the frenzy of the moment. + +The pace was terrific, and when at last Omar gave the signal for which +his men were waiting, the crackling reverberation of their rifles had +not died away when the impact came. But the shattering crash that Craven +had expected did not occur. Giving way before them and scattering to +right and left a break came in the ranks of the opposing force, +through which they drove like a living wedge. Then with fierce yells of +execration the enemy rallied and the next moment Craven found himself +in the midst of a confused melee where friends and foes were almost +indistinguishable. The thundering of horses' hoofs, the raucous shouting +of the Arabs, the rattle of musketry, combined in deafening uproar. +The air was dense with clouds of sand and smoke, heavy with the reek of +powder. He had lost sight of Omar, he tried to keep near to Said, but in +the throng of struggling men he was carried away, cut off from his own +party, hemmed in on every side, fighting alone. He had forgotten +his desire for death, his heart was leaping with a kind of delirious +happiness that found nothing but fierce enjoyment in the scene around +him. The stench in his nostrils of blood and sulphur seemed to awaken +memories of another existence when he had fought for his life as he was +doing now, unafraid, and caring little for the outcome. He was shooting +steadily, exulting in his markmanship with no thought in his mind +but the passionate wish to kill and kill, and he laughed with almost +horrible pleasure as he emptied his revolver at the raving Arabs who +surrounded him. Drunk with the blood lust of an unremembered past for +the moment he was only a savage like them. And to the superstitious +desert men he seemed possessed, and with sudden awe they had begun to +draw away from him when a further party galloped up to reinforce them. +Craven swung his horse to meet the new-comers and at the same moment +realised that he had no cartridges left. With another reckless laugh he +dashed his empty revolver in the face of the nearest Arab and, wheeling, +spurred forward in an attempt to break through the circle round him. But +he found retreat cut off. Three men bore down upon him simultaneously +with levelled rifles. He saw them fire, felt a sharp searing as of a red +hot wire through his side, and, reeling in the saddle, heard dimly their +howl of triumph as they raced toward him--heard also another yell that +rose above the Arabs' clamour, a piercing yell that sounded strangely +different to the Arabic intonation ringing in his ears. And as he +gripped himself and raised his head he had a vision of another horseman +mounted on a frenzied trampling roan that, apparently out of control +and mad with excitement, was charging down upon them, a horseman whose +fluttering close-drawn headgear shaded features that were curiously +Mongolian--and then he went down in a welter of men and horses. A flying +hoof touched the back of his head and consciousness ceased. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Craven woke to a burning pain in his side, a racking headache and an +intolerable thirst. It was not a sudden waking but a gradual dawning +consciousness in which time and place as yet meant nothing, and only +bodily suffering obtruded on a still partially clouded mind. Fragmentary +waves of thought, disconnected and transitory, passed through his brain, +leaving no permanent impression, and he made no effort to unravel them. +Effort of any kind, mental or physical, seemed for the moment beyond +him. He was too tired even to open his eyes, and lay with them closed, +wondering feebly at the pain and discomfort of his whole body. He had +the sensation of having been battered, he felt bruised from head to +foot. Suffering was new to him. He had never been ill in his life, and +in all his years of travel and hazardous adventure he had sustained only +trivial injuries which had healed readily and been regarded as merely +part of the day's work. + +But now, as his mind grew clearer, he realised that some accident must +have occurred to induce this pain and lassitude that made him lie like +a log with throbbing head and powerless limbs. He pondered it, trying +to pierce the fog that dulled his intellect. He had a subconscious +impression of some strenuous adventure through which he had passed, but +knowledge still hovered on the borderland of fancy and actuality. He +had no recollection of the fight or of events preceding it. That he was +Barry Craven he knew; but of where he had no idea--nor what his life had +been. Of his personality there remained only his name, he was quite sure +about that. And out of the past emerged only one clear memory--a woman's +face. And yet as he dwelt on it the image of another woman's face rose +beside it, mingling with and absorbing it until the two faces seemed +strangely merged the one into the other, alike and yet wholly different. +And the effort to disentangle them and keep them separate was greater +than his tired brain could achieve, and made his head ache more +violently. Confused, and with a sudden feeling of aversion, he stirred +impatiently, and the sharp pain that shot through him brought him +abruptly to a sense of his physical state and forced utterance of his +greatest need. It had not hitherto occurred to him to wonder whether +he were alone, or even where he was. But as he spoke an arm was slipped +under him raising him slightly and a cup held to his lips. He drank +eagerly and, as he was again lowered gently to the pillow, raised his +eyes to the face of the man who bent over him, a puckered yellow face +whose imperturbability for once had given place to patent anxiety. +Craven stared at it for a few moments in perplexity. Where had he +seen it before? Struggling to recall what had happened prior to +this curiously obscured awakening there dawned a dim recollection of +shattering noise and tumult, of blood and death and fierce unbridled +human passion, of a horde of wild-eyed dark-skinned men who surged and +struggled round him--and of a yelling Arab on a fiery roan. Memory +came in a flash. He gave a weak little croaking laugh. "You damned +insubordinate little devil," he murmured, and drifted once more into +unconsciousness. When he woke again it was with complete remembrance of +everything that had passed. He felt ridiculously weak, but his head did +not ache so badly and his mind was perfectly clear. Only of the time +that had elapsed between the moment when he had gone down under +the Arabs' charge and his awakening a little while ago he had no +recollection. How long had he been unconscious? He found himself mildly +puzzled, but without any great interest as yet. Plenty of time to find +out about that and what had befallen Omar and Said. It was not that he +did not care, but that, for the moment, he was too tired and listless to +do more than lie still and endure his own discomfort. His side throbbed +painfully and there was something curious about his left arm, a dead +feeling of numbness that made him wonder whether it was there at all. +He glanced down at it with sudden apprehension--he had no fancy for a +maimed existence--and was relieved to find it still in place but bent +stiffly across his chest wrapped in a multitude of bandages--broken, +presumably. His eyes wandered with growing interest round the little +tent where he lay. It was his own, from which he inferred that the fight +must have gone in favour of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's forces or he would +never have been brought back here to it. He glanced from one familiar +object to another with a drowsy feeling of contentment. + +Presently he became aware that somebody had entered and turning his head +he found Yoshio beside him eyeing him with a look in which solicitude, +satisfaction, and a faint diffidence struggled for supremacy. Craven +guessed the reason of his embarrassment, but he had no mind to refer to +an order given, and disobeyed through overzealousness. That, too, could +wait--or be forgotten. He contented himself with a single question. "How +long?" he asked laconically. With equal brevity the Jap replied: +"Two days," and postponed further inquiries by slipping a clinical +thermometer into his master's mouth. He had always been useful in +attending on minor camp accidents, and during the last two years in +Central Africa he had picked up a certain amount of rough surgical +knowledge which now stood him in good stead, and which he proceeded to +put into practice with a gravity of demeanour that made Craven, in +his weakened state, want to giggle hysterically. But he suppressed the +inclination and held on to the thermometer until Yoshio solemnly removed +it, studied it intently, and nodded approval. With the exact attention +to detail that was his ruling passion he carefully rinsed the tiny glass +instrument and returned it to its case before leaving the tent. He was +back again in a few minutes with a bowl of steaming soup, and handling +Craven as if he were a child, fed him with the gentleness of a woman. +Then he busied himself about the room, tidying it and reducing its +confusion to order. + +Craven watched him at first idly and then with a more definite desire +to know what had occurred. But to the questions he put Yoshio returned +evasive answers, and, resuming his professional manner, spoke gravely +of the loss of blood Craven had sustained, of the kick on the head from +which he had lain two days insensible, and his consequent need of rest +and sleep, finally departing as if to remove temptation from him. Craven +chafed at the little Jap's caution and swore at his obstinacy, but +a pleasant drowsiness was stealing over him and he surrendered to it +without further struggle. + +It was more than twelve hours before he opened his eyes again, to find +the morning sunlight streaming into the tent. + +Yoshio hovered about him, deft-handed and noiseless of tread, feeding +him and redressing the wounds in his side where the bullet had entered +and passed out. After which he relaxed the faintly superior tone he had +adopted and condescended to consult with his patient as to which of the +scanty drugs in the tiny medicine chest would be the best to administer. +He was disappointed but acquiescent in Craven's decision to trust to his +own hardy constitution as long as the wounds appeared healthy and leave +nature to do her own work. And again recommending sleep he glided away. + +But Craven had no desire or even inclination to sleep. He was +tremendously wide awake, his whole being in revolt, facing once more the +problem he had thought done with for ever. Again fate had intervened to +thwart his determination. For the third time death, for which he longed, +had been withheld, and life that was so bitter, so valueless, restored. +To what end? Why had the peace he craved for been torn from him--why had +he been forced to begin again an existence of hideous struggle? Had he +not repented, suffered as few men suffer, and striven to atone? What +more was required of him, he wondered bitterly. A galling sense +of impotence swept him and he raged at his own nothingness. +Self-determination seemed to have been taken from him and with fierce +resentment he saw himself as merely a pawn in the game of life; a puppet +to fulfil, not his own will, but the will of a greater power than his. +In the black despair that came over him he cursed that greater power +until, shuddering, he realised his own blasphemy, and a broken prayer +burst from his lips. He had come to the end of all things, he was +fighting through abysmal darkness. His need was overwhelming--alone he +could not go forward, and desperately, he turned to the Divine Mercy and +prayed for strength and guidance. + +Too weary in spirit to mark the slow passing of the hours he fought his +last fight. And gradually he grew calmer, calm enough to accept--if not +to understand--the inscrutable rulings of Providence. He had arrogated +to himself the disposal of his life, but it was made clear to him that +a higher wisdom had decreed otherwise. He did not attempt to seek the +purpose of his preservation, enough that for some unfathomable reason it +was once more plainly indicated that there was to be no shirking. He had +to live, and to do what was possible with the life left him. Gillian! +the thought of her was torment. He had tried to free her, and she was +still bound. It would be part of his punishment that, suffering, he +would have to watch her suffer too. With a groan he flung his uninjured +arm across his eyes and lay very still. The day wore on. He roused +himself to take the food that Yoshio brought at regular intervals but +feigned a drowsiness he did not feel to secure the solitude his mood +demanded. And Yoshio, enjoying to the full his state of temporary +authority, sat outside the door of the tent and kept away inquirers. +Listlessly Craven watched the evening shadows deepen and darken. For +hours he had thought, not of himself but of the woman he loved, until +his bruised head ached intolerably. And all his deliberation had taken +him no further than where he had begun. He was to take up anew the +difficult life he had fled from--for that was what it amounted to. He +had deserted her who had in all the world no one but him. It had an ugly +sound and he flinched from the naked truth of it, but he had done with +subterfuges and evasions. He had made her his wife and he had left +her--nothing could alter the fact or mitigate the shame. Past experience +had taught him nothing; once again he had left a woman in her need to +fend for herself. She was his wife, his to shield and to protect, doubly +so in her equivocal position that subjected her to much that would not +affect one happily married. During the few months they had lived at +Craven Towers after their marriage she had shown by every means in her +power her desire to be to him the comrade he had asked her to be. And +he had repelled her. He had feared himself and the strength of his +resolution. Now, as he thought of it with bitter self-reproach, he +realised how much more he could have done to make her life easier, to +smooth the difficulties of their relationship. Instead he had added to +them, and under the strain he had broken down, not she. The egoism +he had thought conquered had triumphed over him again to his undoing. +Crushing shame filled him, but regrets were useless. The past was +past--what of the future? He was going back to her. He was to have the +torturing happiness of seeing her again--but what would his re-entry +into her life mean to her? What had these two years of which he knew +nothing done for her? There had been an accumulated mail waiting for him +at Lagos. She had written regularly--but she had told him nothing. Her +short letters had been filled with inquiries for the mission, +references to Peters' occasional visits to Paris, trivialities of the +weather--stilted laborious communications in which he read effort and +constraint. How would she receive him--would she even receive him +at all? It seemed incredible that she should. He knew her innate +gentleness, the selflessness of her disposition, but he knew also that +there was a limit to all things. Would she not see in his return the +reappearance of a master, a jailer who would curb even that small +measure of freedom that had been hers? For bound to him the freedom he +had promised her was a mockery. And how was he to explain his prolonged +absence? She could not have failed to see some mention of the return of +the medical mission, to have wondered why he still lingered in Africa. +The letter he had written and entrusted to Yoshio could never now be +delivered. She must not learn what he had meant her to know only after +his death. He could not explain, he must leave her to put whatever +interpretation she would upon it. And what but the most obvious could +she put? He writhed in sudden agony of mind, and the physical pain the +abrupt movement caused was easier to bear than the thought of her scorn. +It was all so hopeless, so complicated. He turned from it with a weary +sigh and fell to dreaming of the woman herself. + +The tent had grown quite dark. Outside the camp noises were dying away. +The sound of subdued voices reached him occasionally, and once or twice +he heard Yoshio speak to some passer by. + +Then, not far away, the mournful chant of a singer rose clearly out of +the evening stillness, penetrating and yet curiously soft--a plaintive +little desert air of haunting melancholy, vibrant with passion. It +stopped abruptly as it had begun and Craven was glad when it ended. It +chimed too intimately with his own sad thoughts and longings. He was +relieved when Yoshio came presently to light the lamp and attend to +his wants. The Jap chatted with unusual animation as he went about his +duties and Craven let him talk uninterrupted. The functions of nurse and +valet were quickly carried through and in a short time preparations for +the night were finished and Yoshio, wrapped in a blanket, asleep at +the foot of Craven's bed. He had scarcely closed his eyes since the +day before the punitive force set out, but tonight, conscious that his +vigilance might be relaxed, he slept heavily. + +Craven himself could not sleep. He lay listening to his servant's even +breathing, looking at the tiny flame of the little lamp, which was small +enough not to add to the heat of the tent and too weak to illuminate it +more than partially, thinking deeply. He strove to stem the current +of his thoughts, to keep his mind a blank, or to concentrate on +trivialities--he followed with exaggerated interest the swift erratic +course of a bat that had flown in through the open door flap, counted +the familiar objects around him showing dimly in the flickering light, +counted innumerable sheep passing through the traditional gate, counted +the seconds represented in the periodical silences that punctuated a +cicada's monotonous shrilling. But always he found himself harking back +to the problem of the future that he could not banish from his mind. +His mental distress reacted on his body. He grew restless, but every +movement was still attended by pain and he compelled himself to +lie still, though his limbs twitched almost uncontrollably. He was +infinitely weary of the forced posture that was not habitual with him, +infinitely weary of himself. + +The moon rose late, but when it came its clear white light filled the +tent with a cold brilliance that killed the feeble efforts of the little +lamp and intensified the shadows where its rays did not penetrate. +Craven looked at the silvery beam streaming across the room, and quite +suddenly he thought of the moonlight in Japan--the moonlight filtering +through the tall dark fir trees in the garden of enchantment; he heard +the night wind sighing softly round the tiny screen-built house; the +air became heavy with the cloying smell of pines and languorous scented +flowers, redolent with the well-remembered dreaded fragrance of the +perfume she had used. Bathed in perspiration, shuddering with terrible +prescience, he stared wild-eyed at the moonlit strip where a nebulous +form was rising and gathering into definite shape. An icy chill ran +through him. Suffocated with the rapid pounding of his heart, sick with +horror at the impending vision he knew to be inevitable, he watched +the shadowy figure slowly substantiate into the semblance of a living, +breathing body. Not intangible as she had always appeared before, but +material as she had been in life, she stood erect in the brilliant +pathway of light, facing him. He could see the outline of her slender +limbs, solid against the shimmering background; he could mark the +rise and fall of the bosom on which her delicate hands lay clasped; he +recognised the very obi that she wore--his last gift, sent from Tokio +during his three weeks' absence. The little oval face was placid and +serene, but he waited, with fearful apprehension, for the fast closed +eyes to open and reveal the agony he knew that he would see in them. He +prayed that they might open soon, that his torture might be brief, but +the terrible reality of her presence seemed to paralyse him. He could +not turn his eyes away, could not move a muscle of his throbbing, +shivering body. She seemed to sway, gently, almost imperceptibly, from +side to side--as though she waited for some sign or impellent force to +guide her. Then with horrible dread he became aware that she was coming +slowly, glidingly, toward him and the spell that had kept him motionless +broke and he shrank back among the pillows, his sound hand clenched upon +the covering over him, his parched lips moving in dumb supplication. +Nearer she came and nearer till at last she stood beside him and he +wondered, in the freezing coldness that settled round his heart, did +her coming presage death--had her soul been sent to claim his that +had brought upon her such fearful destruction? A muffled cry that was +scarcely human broke from him, his eyes dilated and the clammy sweat +poured down his face as she bent toward him and he saw the dusky lashes +tremble on her dead white cheek and knew that in a second the anguished +eyes would open to him in all their accusing awfulness. The bed shook +with the spasm that passed through him. Slowly the heavy lids were +raised and Craven looked once more into the misty depths of the great +grey eyes that were the facsimile of his own. Then a tearing sob of +wonderful and almost unbelievable relief escaped him, for the agony he +dreaded was not visible--the face so close to his was the face of the +happy girl who had loved him before the knowledge of despair had touched +her, the tender luminous eyes fixed on him were alight with trust and +adoration. Lower and lower she bent and he saw the parted lips curve +in a smile of exquisite welcome--or was it fare-well? For as he waited, +scarcely breathing and tense with a new wild hope, the definite outline +of her figure seemed to fade and tremble; a cold breath like the impress +of a ghostly kiss lay for an instant on his forehead, he seemed to hear +the faint thin echo of a whispered word--and she was gone. Had she ever +been at all? Exhausted, he had no strength to probe what had passed, he +was only conscious of a firm conviction that he would never see again +the dreaded vision that had haunted him. His rigid limbs relaxed, and +with a gasping prayer of unutterable thankfulness he turned his face to +the darkness and broke down completely, crying like a child, burying his +head in the pillow lest Yoshio should be awakened by the sound of his +terrible sobs. And, presently, worn out, he fell asleep. + +It was nearly mid-day when he woke again, in less pain and feeling +stronger than the day before. + +The vision of the previous night was vivid in his recollection, but he +would not let himself ponder it. It was to him a message from the dead, +an almost sacred sign that the spirit of the woman he had wronged was at +rest and had vouchsafed the forgiveness for which he had never hoped. He +would rather have it so. He shrank from brutally dissecting impressions +that might after all be only the result of remorse working on a fevered +imagination. The peace that had come to him was too precious to be +lightly let go. She had forgiven him though he could never forgive +himself. + +But despite the tranquillizing sense of pardon he felt he knew that the +penalty of his fault was not yet paid, that it would never be paid. The +tragic memory of little O Kara San still rose between him and happiness. +He was still bound, still trapped in the pit he had himself dug. He was +unclean, unfit, debarred by his sin from following the dictates of his +heart. A deep sadness and an overwhelming sense of loss filled him as +he thought of the woman he had married. She was his wife, he loved her +passionately, longed for her with all the strength of his ardent nature, +but, sin-stained, he dared not claim her. In her spotless purity she was +beyond his desire. And because of him she must go through life robbed of +her woman's heritage. In marrying her he had wronged her irreparably. +He had always known it, but at the time there had seemed no other course +open to him. Yet surely there must have been some alternative if he had +set himself seriously to find it. But had he? Doggedly he argued that he +had--that personal consideration had not swayed him in his decision. But +even as he persisted in his assertion accusing conscience rose up and +stripped from him the last shred of personal deception that had blinded +him, and he acknowledged to himself that he had married her that she +might not become the wife of any other man. He had been the meanest kind +of dog in the manger. At the time he had not realised it--he had thought +himself influenced solely by her need, not his. But his selfishness +seemed very patent to him now. And what was to be the end of it? How was +he ever to compensate for the wrong done her? + +Yoshio's entry put a stop to introspection that was both bitter and +painful. And when he left him an hour later Craven was in no mood to +resume speculation that was futile and led nowhere. He had touched +bedrock--he could not think worse of himself than he did. The less he +thought of himself the better. His immediate business seemed to be to +get well as quickly as possible and return to England--beyond that he +could not see. The sound of Said's voice outside was a welcome relief. +He appeared to be arguing with Yoshio, who was obstinately refusing him +entrance. Craven cut short the discussion. + +"Let the Sheik come in, Yoshio!" he called, and laughed at the weakness +of his own voice. But it was strong enough to carry as far as the tent +door, and, with a flutter of draperies, the Arab Chief strode in. He +grasped Craven's outstretched hand and stood looking down on him for a +moment with a broad smile on his handsome face. "_Enfin, mon brave_, +I thought I should never see you! Always you were asleep, or so it was +reported to me," he said with a laugh, dropping to his heels on the mat +and lighting a cigarette. Then he gave a quick searching glance at the +bandaged figure on the bed and laughed again. + +"You ought to be dead, you know, would have been dead if it hadn't been +for that man of yours," with a backward jerk of his head toward the +door. "You owe him your life, my friend. You know he came with us that +night, borrowed a horse and the burnous you wouldn't wear, and kept out +of sight till the last minute. He was close behind you when we charged, +lost you in the melee, and found you again just in the nick of time. I +was cut off from you myself for the moment, but I saw you wounded, saw +him break a way through to you and then saw you both go down. I thought +you were done for. It was just then the tide turned in our favour and +I managed to reach you, with no hope of finding you alive. I was never +more astonished in my life than when I saw that little devil of a +Japanese crawl out from under a heap of men and horses dragging you +after him. He was bruised and dazed, he didn't know friend from foe, +bu he had enough sense left to know that you were alive and he meant +to keep you so. He laid you out on the sand and he sat on you--you can +laugh, but it's true--and blazed away with his revolver at everybody who +came near, howling his national war cry till I wept with laughter. And +after it was all over he snarled like a panther when I tried to touch +you, and, refusing any assistance, carried you back here on the saddle +in front of him--and you were no light weight. A man, by _Allah_!" +he concluded enthusiastically. Craven smiled at the Arab's graphic +description, but he found it in his heart to wish that Yoshio's zeal had +not been so forward and so successful. But there were other lives than +his that had been involved. + +"Omar?" he asked anxiously. The laughter died abruptly from Said's eyes +and his face grew grave. + +"Dead," he said briefly; "he did not try to live. Life held nothing +for him without Safiya," he added, with an expressive shrug that was +eloquent of his inability to understand such an attitude. + +"And she--?" + +"Killed herself the night she was taken. Her abductor got no pleasure +of her and Omar's honour was unsmirched--though he never knew it, +poor devil. He killed his man," added Said, with a smile of grim +satisfaction. "It made no difference, he was renegade, a traitor, ripe +for death. The Chief fell to my lot. It was from him I learned about +Safiya--he talked before he died." The short hard laugh that followed +the meaning words was pure Arab. He lit another cigarette and for some +time sat smoking silently, while Craven lay looking into space trying +not to envy the dead man who had found the rest that he himself had been +denied. + +To curb the trend of his thoughts he turned again to Said. Animation had +vanished from the Arab's face, and he was staring gloomily at the strip +of carpet on which he squatted. His dejected bearing did not betoken the +conqueror he undoubtedly was. That his brother's death was a deep grief +to him Craven knew without telling, but he guessed that something more +than regret for Omar was at the bottom of his depression. + +"It was decisive, I suppose," he said, rather vaguely, thinking of the +action of four days ago. Said nodded. "It was a rout," he said with a +hint of contempt in his voice. "Dogs who could plunder and kill when no +resistance was offered, but when it came to a fight they had no stomach +for it. Yet they were men once, and, like fools, we thought they were +men still. They had talked enough, bragged enough, by _Allah_! and it +is true there were a few who rallied round their Chief. But the rank and +file--bah!" He spat his cigarette on to the floor with an air of scorn. +"It promised well enough at first," he grumbled. "I thought we were +going to have an opportunity of seeing what stuff my men were made of. +But they had no organisation. After the first half hour we did what we +liked with them. It was a walk over," he added in English, about the +only words he knew. + +Craven laughed at his disgusted tone. + +"And you, who were spoiling for a fight! No luck, Sheik." + +Said looked up with a grin, but it passed quickly, leaving his face +melancholy as before. Craven made a guess at the trouble. + +"It will make a difference to you--Omar's death, I mean," he suggested. + +Said gave a little harsh laugh. + +"Difference!" he echoed bitterly. "It is the end of everything," and he +made a violent gesture with his hands. "I must give up my regiment," he +went on drearily, "my comrades, my racing stable in France--all I care +for and that makes life pleasant to me. For what? To rule a tribe who +have become too powerful to have enemies; to listen to interminable +tales of theft and disputed inheritances and administer justice to +people who swear by the Koran and then lie in your face; to marry a wife +and beget sons that the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah may not die out. +_Grand Dieu_, what a life!" The tragic misery of his voice left no +doubt as to his sincerity. And Craven, who knew him, was not inclined +to doubt. The expedient that had been adopted in Said's case was +justifiable while he remained a younger son with no immediate prospect +of succeeding to the leadership of the tribe--there had always been the +hope that Omar's wife would eventually provide an heir--but as events +had turned out it had been a mistake, totally unfitting him for the +part he was now called upon to play. His innate European tendencies, +inexplicable both to himself and to his family, had been developed and +strengthened by association with the French officers among whom he had +been thrown, and who had welcomed him primarily as the representative of +a powerful desert tribe and then, very shortly afterwards, for himself. +His personal charm had won their affections and he had very easily +become the most popular native officer in the regiment. Courted and +feted, shown off, and extolled for his liberality of mind and purse, his +own good sense had alone prevented him from becoming completely spoiled. +To the impecunious Frenchmen his wealth was a distinct asset in his +favour, for racing was the ruling passion in the regiment, and the fine +horses he was able to provide insured to them the preservation of the +inter-regimental trophy that had for some years past graced their mess +table. He had thrown himself into the life whole-heartedly, becoming +more and more influenced by western thought and culture, but +without losing his own individuality. He had assimilated the best of +civilization without acquiring its vices. But the experience was not +likely to conduce to his future happiness. Craven thought of the life +led by the Spahi in Algiers, and during periods of leave in Paris, and +contrasted it with the life that was lying before him, a changed and +very different existence. He foresaw the difficulties that would have +to be met, the problems that would arise, and above all he understood +Said's chief objection--the marriage from which his misogynous soul +recoiled. Like himself the Arab was facing a crisis that was momentous. +Two widely different cases but analogous nevertheless. While he was +working out his salvation in England Said would be doing the same in +his desert fastness. The thought strengthened his friendship for the +despondent young Arab. He would have given much to be able to help +him but his natural reserve kept him silent. He had made a sufficient +failure of his own life. He did not feel himself competent to offer +advice to another. + +"It's a funny world," he said with a half sigh, "though I suppose it +isn't the world that's at fault but the people who live in it," and in +his abstraction he spoke in his own language. + +"_Plait-il?_" Said's puzzled face recalled him to himself and he +translated, adding: "It's rotten luck for you, Sheik, but it's kismet. +All things are ordained," he concluded almost shyly, feeling himself +the worst kind of Job's comforter. The Arab shrugged. "To those who +believe," he repeated gloomily, "and I, my friend, have no beliefs. What +would you? All my life I have doubted, I have never been an orthodox +Mohammedan--though I have had to keep my ideas to myself _bien entendu_! +And the last few years I have lived among men who have no faith, no god, +no thought beyond the world and its pleasures. Islam is nothing to me. +'The will of _Allah_--the peace of _Allah_,' what are they but words, +empty meaningless words! What peace did _Allah_ give to Omar, who was a +strict believer? What peace has _Allah_ given to my father, who sits all +day in his tent mourning for his first-born? I swear myself by _Allah_ +and by the Prophet, but it is from custom, not from any feeling I attach +to the terms. I have read a French translation of a life of Mohammed +written by an American. I was not impressed. It did not tend to make me +look with any more favour on his doctrine. I have my own religion--I +do not lie, I do not steal, I do not break my word. Does the devout +follower of the Prophet invariably do as much? You know, and I know, +that he does not. Wherein then is he a better man than I? And if there +be a future life, which I am quite open to admit, I am inclined to think +that my qualifications will be as good as any true son of the faith," he +laughed unmirthfully, and swung to his feet. + +"There are--other religions," said Craven awkwardly. He had no desire to +proselytise and avoided religious discussions as much as possible, but +Said's confidence had touched him. He was aware that to no one else +would the Arab have spoken so frankly. But Said shook his head. + +"I will keep my own religion. It will serve," he said shortly. Then he +shrugged again as if throwing aside the troubles that perplexed him and +looked down on Craven with a quick laugh. "And you, my poor friend, who +had so much better have taken the burnous I offered you, you will stay +and watch the metamorphosis of the Spahi, _hein_?" + +"I wish I could," said Craven with an answering smile, "but I have +my own work waiting for me in England. I'll have to go as soon as I'm +sufficiently patched up." + +Said nodded gravely. He was perfectly well aware of the fact that Craven +had deliberately sought death when he had ridden with the tribe against +their enemies. That a change had come over him since the night of the +raid was plainly visible even to one less astute than the sharp-eyed +Arab, and his expressed intention of returning to England confirmed the +fact. What had caused the change did not seem to matter, enough that, to +Said, it marked a return to sanity. For it had been a fit of madness, +of course--in no other light could he regard it. But since it had passed +and his English friend was once more in full possession of his senses +he could only acquiesce in a decision that personally he regretted. He +would like to have kept him with him indefinitely. Craven stood for the +past, he was a link with the life the Francophile Arab was reluctantly +surrendering. But it was not the moment to argue. Craven looked suddenly +exhausted, and Yoshio who had stolen in noiselessly, was standing at +the head of the bed beyond the range of his master's eyes making urgent +signals to the visitor to go. + +With a jest and a cheery word Said obediently removed his picturesque +person. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +It was nearly four months before Craven left the camp of Mukair Ibn +Zarrarah. His injuries had healed quickly and he had rapidly regained +his former strength. He was anxious to return to England without delay, +but he had yielded to Said's pressing entreaties to wait until they +could ride to Algiers together. There had been much for the young Sheik +to do. He was already virtual leader of the tribe. Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, +elderly when his sons had been born, had aged with startling suddenness +since the death of Omar. He had all at once become an old man, unable to +rally from the shock of his bereavement, bewailing the fate of his elder +and favourite son, and trembling for the future of his beloved tribe +left to the tender mercies of a man he now recognised to be more +Frenchman than Arab. He exaggerated every Francophile tendency he saw in +Said and cursed the French as heartily as ever Omar had done, forgetting +that he himself was largely responsible for the inclinations he objected +to. And his terrors were mainly imaginary. A few innovations Said +certainly instituted but he was too astute to make any material changes +in the management of his people. They were loyal and attached to the +ruling house and he was clever enough to leave well alone; broad-minded +enough to know that he could not run a large and scattered tribe on the +same plan as a regiment of Spahis; philosophical enough to realise that +he had turned down a page in his life's history and must be content to +follow, more or less, in the footsteps of his forebears. The fighting +men were with him solidly, even those who had been inclined to object +to his European tactics had, in view of his brilliant generalship, been +obliged to concede him the honour that was his due. For his victory had +not been altogether the walkover he had airily described to Craven. The +older men--the headmen in particular--more prejudiced still, who, like +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had centred all their hopes on Omar, were beginning +to comprehend that their fears of Said's rule were unfounded and that +his long sojourn among the hated dominant race had neither impaired his +courage nor fostered practices abhorrent to them. Craven watched with +interest the gradual establishment of mutual goodwill between the young +Sheik and his petty Chiefs. Since his recovery he had attended several +of the councils called in consequence of the old Sheik's retirement +from active leadership of the tribe, and he had been struck by Said's +restrained and conciliatory attitude toward his headmen. He had met them +half-way, sinking his own inclinations and disarming their suspicions of +him. At the same time he had let it be clearly understood that he meant +to be absolute as his father had been. In spite of the civilisation that +had bitten so deeply he was still too much an Arab, too much the son of +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, to be anything but an autocrat at heart. And his +assumption of power had been favourably looked upon by the minor Chiefs. +They were used to being ruled by an iron hand and would have despised a +weak leader. They had feared the effects of foreign influence, dreaded a +regime that might have lessened the prestige of the tribe. Their doubts +set at rest they had rallied with enthusiasm round their new Chief. + +As soon as he had been able to get about again Craven had visited +Mukair Ibn Zarrarah in his darkened tent and been shocked at his changed +appearance. He could hardly believe that the bowed stricken figure who +barely heeded his entrance, but, absorbed in grief, continued to sway +monotonously to and fro murmuring passages from the Koran alternately +with the name of his dead son, was the vigorous alert old man he had +seen only a few weeks before dominating a frenzied crowd with the +strength of his personality and addressing them in tones that had +carried to the furthest extent of the listening multitude. Crushing +sorrow and the weight of years suddenly felt had changed him into a +wreck that was fast falling to pieces. + +Said had followed him out into the sunshine. + +"You see how it is with him," he said. "I cannot leave him now. As soon +as possible I will go to Algiers to give in my resignation and smooth +matters with the Government. We shall not be in very good odour over +this affair. We have kept the peace so long in this quarter of +the country that deliberate action on our part will take a lot of +explaining. They will admit provocation but will blame our mode of +retaliation. They may blame!" he laughed and shrugged. "I shall be +called hasty, ill-advised. The Governor will haul me over the coals +unmercifully--you know him, that fat old Faidherbe? He is always +trembling for his position, seeing an organized revolt in the petty +squabbles of every little tribe, and fearful of an outbreak that might +lead to his recall. A mountain of flesh with the heart of a chicken! He +will rave and shout and talk a great deal about the beneficent French +administration and the ingratitude of Chiefs like myself who add to the +Government's difficulties. But my Colonel will back me up, unofficially +of course, and his word goes with the Governor. A very different man, +by _Allah_! It would be a good thing for this country if he were where +Faidherbe is. But he is only a soldier and no politician, so he is +likely to end his days a simple Colonel of Spahis." + +As they moved away from the tent they discussed the French methods of +administration as carried out in Algeria, and Craven learned a great +deal that astonished him and would also have considerably astonished +the Minister of the Interior sitting quietly in his office in the Place +Beauveau. Said had seen and heard much. His known sympathies had +made him the recipient of many confidences and even his Francophile +tendencies had not blinded him to evils that were rampant, corruption +and double dealing, bribes freely offered and accepted by highly placed +officials, fortunes amassed in crooked speculations with Government +money--the faults of individuals who had abused their official positions +and exploited the country they had been sent to administer. + +As Craven listened to these frank revelations from the only honest Arab +he had ever met he wondered what effect Said's intimate knowledge would +have upon his life, how far it would influence him, and what were likely +to be his future relations with the masters of the country. With a Chief +less broadminded and of less innate integrity the result might easily be +disastrous. But Said had had larger experience than most Arab Chiefs and +his adherence to the French was due to what he had seen in France rather +than to what had been brought to his notice in Algeria. + +It was early in January when they started on the long ride across the +desert. For some weeks Craven had been impatient to get away, only his +promise to Said kept him. + +It was a large cavalcade that left the oasis, for the new Chief required +a bigger escort to support his dignity than the Captain of Spahis had +done. The days passed without incident. Despite Craven's desire to reach +England the journey was in every way enjoyable. When he had actually +started his restlessness decreased, for each successive sunrise meant +a day nearer home. And Said, too, had thrown off the depression and new +gravity that had come to him and talked more hopefully of the future. +As they travelled northward they reached a region of greater cultivation +and in their route passed some of the big fruit farms that were +becoming more and more a feature of the country. Spots of beauty in the +wilderness, carved out of arid desert by patience and perseverance and +threatened always by the devastating locust, though no longer subjected +to the Arab raids that had been a daily menace twenty or thirty years +before. The motley gangs of European and native workers toiling more +or less diligently in the vineyards and among the groves of fruit +trees invariably collected to watch the passing of the Sheik's troop, a +welcome break in the monotony of their existence, and once or twice Said +accepted the hospitality of farmers he knew. + +Craven stayed only one night in Algiers. When writing home from Lagos he +had given, without expecting to make use of it, an address in Algiers +to which letters might be sent, but when he called at the office the +morning after his arrival he found that owing to the mistake of a clerk +his mail had been returned to England. The lack of news made him uneasy. +He was gripped by a sudden fear that something might have happened to +Gillian, and he wondered whether he should go first to Paris, to the +flat he had taken for her. But second thoughts decided him to adhere to +his original intention of proceeding straight to Craven--surely she must +by this time have returned to the Towers. + +There was nothing to do but telegraph to Peters that he was on his +way home and make arrangements for leaving Africa at the earliest +opportunity. He found there was no steamer leaving for Marseilles for +nearly a week but he was able to secure berths for himself and Yoshio on +a coasting boat crossing that night to Gibraltar, and at sunset he was +on board waving fare-well to Said, who had come down to the quay to see +the last of him, and was standing a distinctive figure among the rabble +of loafers and water-side loungers of all nationalities who congregated +night and morning to watch the arrival and departure of steamers. The +tide was out and the littered fore-shore was lined with fishing-boats +drawn up in picturesque confusion, and in the shallow water out among +the rocks bare-legged native women were collecting shell fish and +seaweed into great baskets fastened to their backs, while naked children +splashed about them or stood with their knuckles to their teeth to watch +the thrashing paddle wheels of the little steamer as she churned slowly +away from the quay. Craven leant on the rail of the ship, a pipe +between his teeth--he had existed for the last four months on Said's +cigarettes--and waved a response to the young Sheik's final salute, then +watched him stalk through the heterogeneous crowd to where two of his +mounted followers were waiting for him holding his own impatient horse. +He saw him mount and the passers-by scatter as the three riders set off +with the usual Arab impetuosity, and then a group of buildings hid him +from sight. + +The idlers by the waterside held no interest for Craven, he was too used +to them, too familiar with the riff-raff of foreign ports even to glance +at them. But he lingered for a moment to look up at the church of Notre +Dame d'Afrique that, set high above the harbour and standing out sharply +against the skyline, was glowing warmly in the golden rays of the +setting sun. + +Then he went below to the stuffy little cabin where dinner was waiting. + +The next four days he kicked his heels impatiently in Gibraltar waiting +to pick up a passage on a home bound Indian boat. When it came it was +half empty, as was to be expected at that time of year, and the gale +they ran into immediately drove the majority of the passengers into the +saloons, and Craven was able to tramp the deck in comparative solitude +without having to listen to the grumbles of shivering Anglo-Indians +returning home at an unpropitious season. In a borrowed oilskin he spent +hours watching the storm, looking at the white topped waves that piled +up against the ship and threatened to engulf her, then slid astern in +a welter of spray. The savage beauty of the sea fascinated him, and the +heavy lowering clouds that drove rapidly across a leaden sky, and the +stinging whip of the wind formed a welcome change after more than two +years of pitiless African sun and intense heat. + +They passed up the Thames dead slow in a dense fog that grew thicker +and murkier as they neared the docks, but they berthed early enough to +enable Craven to catch a train that would bring him home in time for +dinner. It was better than wasting a night in London. + +He had a compartment to himself and spent the time staring out of the +misty rain-spattered windows, a prey to violent anxiety and impatience. +The five-hour journey had never seemed so long. He had bought a number +of papers and periodicals but they lay unheeded on the seat beside +him. He was out of touch with current events, and had stopped at the +bookstall more from force of habit than from any real interest. He had +wired to Peters again from the docks. Would she be waiting for him at +the station? It was scarcely probable. Their meeting could not be other +than constrained, the platform of a wayside railway station was hardly +a suitable place. And why in heaven's name should she do him so much +honour? He had no right to expect it, no right to expect anything. That +she should be even civil to him was more than he deserved. Would she +be changed in any way? God, how he longed to see her! His heart beat +furiously even at the thought. With his coat collar turned up about his +ears and his cap pulled down over his eyes he shivered in a corner of +the cold carriage and dreamed of her as the hours drew out in maddening +slowness. Outside it was growing dusk and the window panes had become +too steamy for him to recognise familiar landmarks. The train seemed to +crawl. There had been an unaccountable wait at the last stopping place, +and they did not appear to be making up the lost time. + +It was a strange homecoming, he thought suddenly. Stranger even than +when, rather more than six years ago, he had travelled down to Craven +with his aunt and the shy silent girl whom fate and John Locke had made +his ward. Was she also thinking of that time and wishing that a kinder +future had been reserved for her? Was she shrinking from his coming, +deploring the day he had ever crossed her path? It was unlikely that she +could feel otherwise toward him. He had done nothing to make her happy, +everything to make her unhappy. With a stifled groan he leant forward +and buried his face in his hands, loathing himself. How would she meet +him? Suppose she refused to resume the equivocal relationship that +had been fraught with so much misery, refused to surrender the greater +freedom she had enjoyed during his absence, claimed the right to live +her own life apart from him. It would be only natural for her to do so. +And morally he would have no right to refuse her. He had forfeited +that. And in any case it was not a question of his allowing or refusing +anything, it was a question solely of her happiness and her wishes. + +Darkness had fallen when the train drew up with a jerk and he stepped +out on to the little platform. It was a cheerless night and the wind +tore at him as he peered through the gloom and the driving rain, +wondering whether anybody had come to meet him. Then he made out Peters' +sturdy familiar figure standing under the feeble light of a flickering +lamp. Craven hurried toward him with a smile softening his face. His +life had been made up of journeys, it seemed to him suddenly, and always +at the end of them was Peters waiting for him, Peters who stuck to the +job he himself shirked, Peters who stood loyally by an employer he must +in his heart despise, Peters whose boots he was not fit to clean. + +The two men met quietly, as if weeks not years had elapsed since they +had parted on the same little platform. + +"Beastly night," grumbled the agent, though his indifference to bad +weather was notorious, "must feel it cold after the tropics. I brought +a man to help Yoshio with your kit. Wait a minute while I see that +it's all right." He started off briskly, and with the uncomfortable +embarrassment he always felt when Peters chose to emphasise their +relative positions, Craven strode after him and grabbed him back with an +iron hand. + +"There isn't any need," he said gruffly. "I wish you wouldn't always +behave as if you were a kind of upper servant, Peter. It's dam' +nonsense. Yoshio is quite capable of looking after the kit, there's very +little in any case. I left the bulk of it in Algiers, it wasn't worth +bringing along. There are only the gun cases and a couple of bags. We +haven't much more than what we stand up in." + +Peters acquiesced good-temperedly and led the way to the closed car that +was waiting at the station entrance. As the motor started Craven turned +to him eagerly, with the question that had been on his lips for the last +ten minutes. + +"How is Gillian?" + +Peters shot a sidelong glance at him. + +"Couldn't say," he said shortly; "she didn't mention her health when she +wrote last--but then she never does." + +"When she wrote--" echoed Craven, and his voice was dull with +disappointment; "isn't she at the Towers? I missed my mail at +Algiers--some mistake of a fool of a clerk. I haven't had any home news +for nearly a year." + +"She is still in Paris," replied Peters dryly, and to Craven his tone +sounded faintly accusing. He frowned and stared out into the darkness +for a few minutes without speaking, wondering how much Peters knew. He +had disapproved of the African expedition, stating his opinion frankly +when Craven had discussed it with him, and it was obvious that since +then his views had undergone no change. Craven understood perfectly what +those views were and in what light he must appear to him. He could not +excuse himself, could give no explanation. He doubted very much whether +Peters would understand if he did explain--his moral code was too +simple, his sense of right and wrong too fine to comprehend or to +countenance suicide. Craven also felt sure that had he been aware of the +circumstances Peters would not have hesitated to oppose his marriage. +Why hadn't he told Peters the whole beastly story when he returned from +Japan? Peters had never failed a Craven, he would not have failed him +then. He stifled a bitter sigh of useless regret and turned again to his +companion. + +"Then I take it the Towers is shut up. Are you giving me a bed at the +Hermitage?" he asked quietly. + +"No. I have kept the house open so that it might be ready if at any time +your wife suddenly decided to come home. I imagined that would be your +wish." + +"Yes, yes, of course," said Craven hurriedly, "you did quite right." +Then he glanced about him and frowned again thoughtfully. "Isn't this +the Daimler Gillian took to France with her--surely that is Phillipe +driving?" he asked abruptly, peering through the window at the +chauffeur's back illuminated by the electric lamp in the roof of the +car. + +"She sent it back a few months afterwards--said she had no need for it," +replied Peters. "I kept Phillipe on because he was a better mechanic +than the other man. There was no need for two." + +Craven refrained from comment and relapsed into silence, which was +unbroken until they reached the house. + +During dinner the conversation was mainly of Africa and the scientific +success of the mission, and of local events, topics that could safely +be discussed in the hearing of Forbes and the footmen. From time to time +Craven glanced about the big room with tightened lips. It seemed chill +and empty for lack of the slight girlish figure whose presence had +brought sunshine into the great house. If she chose never to return! It +was unthinkable that he could live in it alone, it would be haunted by +memories, he would see her in every room. And yet the thought of leaving +it again hurt him. He had never known until he had gone to Africa with +no intention of returning how dear the place was to him. He had suddenly +realised that he was a Craven of Craven, and all that it meant. But +without Gillian it was valueless. A shrine without a treasure. An empty +symbol that would stand for nothing. Her personality had stamped itself +on the house, even yet her influence lingered in the huge formal dining +room where he sat. It had been her whim when they were alone to banish +the large table that seemed so preposterously big for two people and +substitute a small round one which was more intimate, and across which +it was possible to talk with greater ease. Forbes was a man of fixed +ideas and devoted to his mistress. Though absent her wishes were +faithfully carried out. Mrs. Craven had decreed that for less than +four people the family board was an archaic and cumbersome piece of +furniture, consequently tonight the little round table was there, and +brought home to Craven even more vividly the sense of her absence. It +seemed almost a desecration to see Peters sitting opposite in her place. +He grew impatient of the lengthy and ceremonious meal the old butler was +superintending with such evident enjoyment, and gradually he became +more silent and heedless, responding mechanically and often inaptly to +Peters' flow of conversation. He wished now he had obeyed the impulse +that had come to him in Algiers to go straight to Paris. By now he would +have seen her, have learned his fate, and the whole miserable business +would have been settled one way or the other. He could not wonder that +she had elected to remain abroad. He had put her in a horrible position. +By lingering in Africa after the return of the rest of the mission he +had made her an object of idle curiosity and speculation. He had left +her as the elder Barry Craven had left his mother, to the mercy of +gossip-mongers and to the pity and compassion of her friends which, +though even unexpressed, she must have felt and resented. He glanced +at the portrait of the beautiful sad woman in the panel over the +mantelpiece and a dull red crept over his face. It was well that his +mother had died before she realised how completely the idolised son was +to follow in the footsteps of the husband who had broken her heart. It +was a tradition in the family. From one motive or another the Cravens +had consistently been pitiless to their womenkind. And he, the last of +them, had gone the way of all the others. A greater shame and bitterness +than he had yet felt came to him, and a passionate longing to undo what +he had done. And what was left for him to do was so pitifully little. +But he would do it without further delay, he would start for Paris the +next day. Even the few hours of waiting seemed almost unbearable. The +thought occurred to him to motor to London that night to catch the +morning boat train from Victoria, but a glance at his watch convinced +him of the impossibility of the idea. Owing to the delay of the train +it had been nine o'clock before he reached the Towers. It was ten now. +Another hour would be wasted before Phillipe and the car would be ready +for the long run. And it was a wicked night to take a man out, the +strain of driving under such conditions at top speed through the +darkness would be tremendous. Reluctantly he abandoned the project. +There was nothing for it but to wait until the morning. + +Forbes at his elbow recalled him to his duties as host. With a murmured +apology to Peters he rose to his feet. + +"Coffee in the study, please," he said, and left the room. + +In the study, in chairs drawn up to the blazing fire, the two men smoked +for some time in silence. Though consumed with anxiety to hear more of +his wife Craven felt a certain diffident in mentioning her name, and +Peters volunteered nothing. After a time the agent began to speak of the +estate. "I want to give an account of my stewardship," he said, with an +odd ring in his voice that Craven did not understand. And for the best +part of an hour he talked of farms and leases, of cottage property and +timber, of improvements and alterations carried out during Craven's +absence or in progress, of the conditions under which certain of the +bigger houses scattered about the property were let--a complete history +of the working and management of the estate extending back many years +until Craven grew more and more bewildered as to the reason of this +detailed revelation that seemed to him somewhat unnecessary and +certainly ill-timed. He did not want to be bothered with business the +very moment of his arrival. Peters was punctilious of course, always had +been, but his stewardship had never been called in question and there +was surely no need for this complicated and lengthy narrative of affairs +tonight. + +"And then there are the accounts," concluded the agent, in the dry +curiously formal voice he had adopted all the evening. Craven made a +gesture of protest. "The accounts can wait," he said shortly. "I don't +know why on earth you want to bother about all this tonight, Peter. +There will be plenty of time later. Have I ever criticised anything you +did? I'm not such a fool. You've forgotten more than I ever knew about +the estate." + +"I should like you to see them," persisted Peters, drawing a big bundle +of papers from his pocket and proceeding to remove and roll up with his +usual precise neatness the tape that confined them. He pushed the typed +sheets across the little table. "I don't think you will find any error. +The estate accounts are all straightforward. But there is an item in the +personal accounts that I must ask you to consider. It is a sum of eight +thousand pounds standing to your credit that I do not know what to do +with. You will remember that when you went to Africa you instructed me +to pay your wife four thousand a year during your absence. I have sent +her the money every quarter, which she has acknowledged. Three months +ago the London bank advised me that eight thousand pounds had been paid +into you account by Mrs. Craven, the total amount of her allowance, in +fact, during the time you have been away." + +There was a lengthy pause after Peters stopped speaking, and then Craven +looked up slowly. + +"I don't understand," he said thickly; "all her allowance! What has she +been living on--what the devil does it mean?" + +Peters shrugged. "I don't know any more about it than you do. I am +simply telling you what is the case. It was not for me to question her +on such a matter," he said coldly. + +"But, Good Heavens, man," began Craven hotly, and then checked himself. +He felt stunned by Peters' bald statement of fact, unable, quite, +for the moment, to grasp it. Heavens above, how she must hate him! To +decline to touch the money he had assured her was hers, not his! On what +or on whom had she been living? His face became suddenly congested. Then +he put the hateful thought from him. It was not possible to connect such +a thing with Gillian. Only his own foul mind could have imagined it. And +yet, if she had been other than she was, if it had been so, if in her +loneliness and misery she had found love and protection she had been +unable to withstand--the fault would be his, not hers. He would have +driven her to it. He would be responsible. For a moment the room went +black. Then, he pulled himself together. Putting the bundle of accounts +back on to the table he met steadily Peters' intent gaze. "My wife is +quite at liberty to do what she chooses with her own money," he said +slowly, "though I admit I don't understand her action. Doubtless she +will explain it in due course. Until then the money can continue to lie +idle. It is not such a large sum that you need be in such a fierce hurry +about it. In any case I am going to Paris tomorrow. I can let you know +further when I have seen her." His voice was harsh with the effort it +cost him to steady it. "And having seen her--what are you going to do +to her?" The question, and the manner of asking it, made Craven look +at Peters in sudden amazement. The agent's face was stern and curiously +pale, high up on his cheek a little pulse was beating visibly and his +eyes were blazing direct challenge. Craven's brows drew together slowly. + +"What do you mean?" + +Peters leant forward, resting one arm on his knee, and the knuckles of +his clenched hand shone white. + +"I asked you in so many words what you were going to do to her," he +said, in a voice vibrant with emotion. "You will say it is no business +of mine. But I am going to make it my business. Good God, Barry, do you +think I've seen nothing all these years? Do you think I can sit down and +watch history repeat itself and make no effort to avert it for lack of +moral courage? I can't. When you were a boy I had to stand aside and see +your mother's heart broken, and I'm damned if I'm going to keep silent +while you break Gillian's heart. I loved your mother, the light went out +for me when she died. For her sake I carried on here, hoping I might +be of use to you--because you were her son. And then Gillian came +and helped to fill the blank she had left. She honoured me with her +friendship, she brought brightness into my life until gradually she has +become as dear to me as if she were my own daughter. All I care about +is her happiness--and yours. But she comes first, poor lonely child. Why +did you marry her if it was only to leave her desolate again? Wasn't +her past history sad enough? She was happy here at first, before your +marriage. But afterwards--were you blind to the change that came over +her? Couldn't you see that she was unhappy? I could. And I tell you I +was hard put to it sometimes to hold my tongue. It wasn't my place +to interfere, it wasn't my place to see anything, but I couldn't help +seeing what was patent to the eye of anybody who was interested. You +left her, and you have come back. For what? You are her husband, in name +at any rate--oh, yes, I know all about that, I know a great deal more +than I am supposed to know, and do you think I am the only one?--legally +she is bound to you, though I do not doubt she could easily procure her +freedom if she so wished, so I ask you again--what are you going to do? +She is wholly in your power, utterly at your mercy. What more is she to +endure at your hands? I am speaking plainly because it seems to me to +be a time for plain speaking. I can't help what you think, I am afraid I +don't care. You've been like a son to me. I promised your mother on her +death-bed that I would never fail you, I could have forgiven you any +mortal thing on earth--but Gillian. It's Gillian and me, Barry. And if +it's a case of fighting for her happiness--by God, I'll fight! And +now you know why I have told you all that I have tonight, why I have +rendered an account of my stewardship. If you want me to go I shall +quite understand. I know I have exceeded my prerogative but I can't +help it. I've left everything in order, easy for anybody to take over--" +Craven's head had sunk into his hands, now he sprang to his feet unable +to control himself any longer. "Peter--for God's sake--" he cried +chokingly, and stumbling to the window he wrenched back the curtain and +flung up the sash, lifting his face to the storm of wind and rain that +beat in about him, his chest heaving, his arms held rigid to his sides. + +"Do you think I don't care?" he said at last, brokenly. "Do you think +it hasn't nearly killed me to see her unhappiness--to be able to do +nothing. You don't know--I wasn't fit to be near her, to touch her. I +hoped by going to Africa to set her free. But I couldn't die. I tried, +God knows I tried, by every means in my power short of deliberately +blowing my brains out--a suicide's widow--I couldn't brand her like +that. When men were dying around me like flies death passed me by--I +wasn't fit even for that, I suppose." He gave a ghastly little mirthless +laugh that made Peters wince and came back slowly into the room, +heedless of the window he had left open, and walked to the fireplace +dropping his head on his arm on the mantel. "You asked me just now what +I meant to do to her--it is not a question of me at all but what Gillian +elects to do. I am going to her tomorrow. The future rests with her. +If she turns me down--and you turn me down--I shall go to the devil +the quickest way possible. It's not a threat, I'm not trying to make +bargains, it's just that I'm at the end of my tether. I've made a +damnable mess of my life, I've brought misery to the woman I love. For +I do love her, God help me. I married her because I loved her, because +I couldn't bear to lose her. I was mad with jealousy. And heaven knows +I've been punished for it. My life's been hell. But it doesn't matter +about me--it's only Gillian who matters, only Gillian who counts for +anything." His voice sank into a whisper and a long shudder passed over +him. + +The anger had died out of Peters' face and the old tenderness crept back +into his eyes as they rested on the tall bowed figure by the fireplace. +He rose and went to the window, shutting it and drawing the curtain back +neatly into position. Then he crossed the room slowly and laid his hand +for an instant on Craven's shoulder with a quick firm pressure that +conveyed more than words. "Sit down," he said gruffly, and going back to +the little table splashed some whisky into a glass and held it under +the syphon. Craven took the drink from him mechanically but set it +down barely tasted as he dropped again into the chair he had left a few +minutes before. He lit a cigarette, and Peters, as he filled his own +pipe, noticed that his hands were shaking. He was silent for a long +time, the cigarette, neglected, smouldering between his fingers, his +face hidden by his other hand. At last he looked up, his grey eyes +filled with an almost desperate appeal. + +"You'll stay, Peter--for the sake of the place?" he said unsteadily. +"You made it what it is, it would go to pieces if you went. And I can't +go without you--if you chuck me it will about finish me." + +Peters drew vigorously at his pipe and a momentary moisture dimmed his +vision. He was remembering another appeal made to him in this very room +thirty years before when, after a stormy interview with his employer, +the woman he had loved had begged him to remain and save the property +for the little son who was her only hold on life. It was the mother's +face not the son's he saw before him, the mother's voice that was +ringing in his ears. + +"I'll stay, Barry--as long as you want me," he said at length huskily +from behind a dense cloud of smoke. A look of intense relief passed over +Craven's worn face. He tried to speak and, failing, gripped Peters' hand +with a force that left the agent's fingers numb. + +There was another long pause. The blaze of the cheerful fire within and +the fury of the storm beating against the house without were the only +sounds that broke the silence. Peters was the first to speak. + +"You say you are going to her tomorrow--do you know where to find her?" + +Craven looked up with a start. + +"Has she moved?" he asked uneasily. Peters stirred uncomfortably and +made a little deprecating gesture with his hand. + +"It was a tallish rent, you know. The flat you took was in the most +expensive quarter of Paris," he said with reluctance. Craven winced and +his hands gripped the arms of his chair. + +"But you--you write to her, you have been over several times to see +her," he said, with a new trouble coming into his eyes, and Peters +turned from his steady stare. + +"Her letters, by her own request, are sent to the bank. I was only once +in the flat, shortly after you left. I think she must have given it up +almost immediately. Since then when I have run over for a day--she never +seemed to want me to stay longer--we have met in the Louvre or in the +gardens of the Tuileries, according to weather," he said hesitatingly. + +Craven stiffened in his chair. + +"The Louvre--the gardens of the Tuileries," he gasped, "but what on +earth--" he broke off with a smothered word Peters did not catch, and +springing up began to pace the room with his hands plunged deep in +his pockets. His face was set and his lips compressed under the neat +moustache. His mind was in a ferment, he could hardly trust himself to +speak. He halted at last in front of Peters, his eyes narrowing as he +gazed down at him. "Do you mean to tell me that you yourself do not know +where she is?" he said fiercely. Peters shook his head. "I do not. I +wish to heaven I did. But what could I do? I couldn't question her. She +made it plain she had no wish to discuss the subject. The little I did +say she put aside. It was not for me to spy on your wife, or employ a +detective to shadow her movements, no matter how anxious I felt." + +"No, you couldn't have done that," said Craven drearily, and turned +away. To pursue the matter further, even with Peters, seemed suddenly +to him impossible. He wanted to be alone to think out this new problem, +though at the same time he knew that no amount of thought would solve +it. He would have to wait with what patience he could until the morning +when he would be able to act instead of think. + +His face was expressionless when he turned to Peters again and sat down +quietly to discuss business. Half an hour later the agent rose to go. +"I'll bring up a checque book and some money in the morning before you +start. You won't have time to go to the bank in London. Wire me your +address in Paris--and bring her back with you, Barry. The whole place +misses her," he said with a catch in his voice, stuffing the bundle of +papers into his pocket. Craven's reply was inaudible but Peters' heart +was lighter than it had been for years as he went out into the hall to +get his coat. "Yes, I'm walking," he replied in response to an inquiry, +"bit of rain won't hurt me, I'm too seasoned," and he laughed for the +first time that evening. + +Going back to the study Craven threw a fresh log on the fire, filled a +pipe, and drew a chair close to the hearth. It was past one but he was +disinclined for bed. Peters' revelations had staggered him. His brain +was on fire. He felt that not until he had found her and got to the +bottom of all this mystery would he be able to sleep again. And perhaps +not even then, he thought with a quickening heart-beat and a sick fear +of what his investigations in Paris might lead to. + +Before leaving England he had snatched time from his African +preparations to superintend personally the arrangements for her stay +in Paris. He had himself selected the flat and installed her with every +comfort and luxury that was befitting his wife. She had demurred once or +twice on the score of extravagance, particularly in the case of the car +he had insisted on sending over for her use, but he had laughed at her +protests and she had ceased to make any further objection, accepting +his wishes with the shy gentleness that marked her usual attitude toward +him. And she must have hated it all! Why? She was his wife, what was his +was hers. He had consistently impressed that on her from the first. But +it was obvious that she had never seen it in that light. He remembered +her passionate refusal--ending in tears that had horrified him--of the +big settlement he had wished to make at the time of their marriage, her +distress in taking the allowance he had had to force upon her. Was it +only his money she hated, or was it himself as well? And to what had +her hatred driven her? A fiercer gust of wind shrieked round the house, +driving the rain in torrents against the window, and as he listened +to it splashing sharply on the glass Craven shivered. Where was she +tonight? What shelter had she found in the pitiless city of contrasts? +Fragile and alone--and penniless? His hand clenched until the stem of +the pipe he was holding snapped between his fingers and he flung the +fragments into the fire, leaning forward and staring into the dying +embers with haggard eyes--picturing, remembering. He was intimately +acquainted with Paris, with two at least of its multifarious +aspects--the brilliant Paris of the rich, and the cruel Paris of the +struggling student. And yet, after all, what did his knowledge of the +latter amount to? It had amused him for a time to live in the Latin +quarter--it was in a disreputable cabaret on the south side of the river +that he had first come across John Locke--he had mixed there with all +and sundry, rubbing shoulders with the riff-raff of nations; he had seen +its vice and destitution, had mingled with its feverish surface +gaiety and known its underlying squalor and ugliness, but always as a +disinterested spectator, a transient passer by. Always he had had money +in his pocket. He had never known the deadly ever present fear that lies +coldly at the heart of even the wildest of the greater number of its +inhabitants. He had seen but never felt starvation. He had never sold +his soul for bread. But he had witnessed such a sale, not once or twice +but many times. In his carelessness he had accepted it as inevitable. +But the recollection stabbed him now with sudden poignancy. Merciful +God, toward what were his thoughts tending! He brushed his hand across +his eyes as though to clear away some hideous vision and rose slowly to +his feet. The expiring fire fell together with a little crash, flared +for an instant and then died down in a smouldering red mass that grew +quickly grey and cold. With a deep sigh Craven turned and went heavily +from the room. He lingered for a moment in the hall, dimly lit by the +single lamp left burning above, listening to the solemn ticking of the +clock, that at that moment chimed with unnatural loudness. + +Mechanically he took out his watch and wound it, and then went slowly up +the wide staircase. At the head of the stairs he paused again. The great +house had never seemed so silent, so empty, so purposeless. The rows of +closed doors opening from the gallery seemed like the portals of some +huge mausoleum, vacant and chill. A house of desolation that cried to +him to fill its emptiness with life and love. With lagging steps he +walked half way along the gallery, passing two of the closed doors +with averted head, but at the third he stopped abruptly, yielding to +an impulse that had come to him. For a moment he hesitated, as though +before some holy place he feared to desecrate, then with a quick drawn +breath he turned the handle and went in. + +In the darkness his hand sought and found the electric switch by the +door, and pressing it the room was flooded with soft shaded light. +Peters had spoken only the truth when he said that the house was kept in +immediate readiness for its mistress's return. Craven had never crossed +the threshold of this room before, and seeing it thus for the first time +he could hardly believe that for two years it had been tenantless. +She might have gone from it ten minutes before. It was redolent of her +presence. The little intimate details were as she had left them. A +bowl of bronze chrysanthemums stood on the dressing table where lay the +tortoise-shell toilet articles given her by Miss Craven. A tiny clock +ticked companionably on the mantelpiece. The pain in his eyes +deepened as they swept the room with hungry eagerness to take in every +particular. Her room! The room from which his unworthiness had barred +him. All that he had forfeited rose up before him, and in overwhelming +shame and misery a wave of burning colour rolled slowly over his face. +Never had the distance between them seemed so wide. Never had her purity +and innocence been brought home to him so forcibly as in this spotless +white chamber. Its simplicity and fresh almost austere beauty seemed +the reflection of her own stainless soul and the fierce passion that was +consuming him seemed by contrast hideous and brutal. It was as if he +had violated the sanctuary of a cloistered Nun. And yet might not even +passion be beautiful if love hallowed it? His arms stretched out in +hopeless longing, her name burst from his lips in a cry of desperate +loneliness, and he fell on his knees beside the bed, burying his face +in the thick soft quilt, his strong brown hands outflung, gripping and +twisting its silken cover in his agony. + +Hours later he raised his tired eyes to the pale light of the wintry +dawn filtering feebly through the close drawn curtains. + + * * * * + +He left that morning for Paris, alone. + +It was still raining steadily and the chill depressing outlook from the +train did not tend to lighten his gloomy thoughts. + +In London the rain poured down incessantly. The roads were greasy and +slippery with mud, the pavements filled with hurrying jostling crowds, +whose dripping umbrellas glistened under the flaring shop lights. Craven +peered at the cheerless prospect as he drove from one station to the +other and shivered at the gloom and wretchedness through which he was +passing. The mean streets and dreary squalid houses took on a greater +significance for him than they had ever done. The sight of a passing +woman, ill-clad and rain-drenched, sent through him a stab of horrible +pain. Paris could be as cruel, as pitiless, as this vaster, wealthier +city. + +He left his bag in the cloakroom at Charing Cross and spent the hours of +waiting for the boat train tramping the streets in the vicinity of the +station. He was in no mood to go to his Club, where he would find a +host of acquaintances eager for an account of his wanderings and curious +concerning his tardy return. + +The time dragged heavily. He turned into a quiet restaurant to get a +meal and ate without noticing what was put before him. At the earliest +opportunity he sought the train and buried himself in the corner of a +compartment praying that the wretched night might lessen the number of +travellers. Behind an evening paper which he did not attempt to read +he smoked in silence, which the two other men in the carriage did not +break. Foreigners both, they huddled in great coats in opposite corners +and were asleep almost before the train pulled out of the station. +Laying down the paper that had no interest for him Craven surveyed them +for a moment with a feeling of envy, and tilting his hat over his eyes, +endeavoured to emulate their good example. But, despite his weariness, +sleep would not come to him. He sat listening to the rattle of the train +and to the peaceful snoring of his companions until his mind ceased to +be diverted by immediate distractions and centred wholly on the task +before him. + +At Dover the weather had not improved and the sea was breaking high over +the landing stage, drenching the few passengers as they hurried on to +the boat and dived below for shelter from the storm. Indifferent to the +weather Craven chose to stay on deck and stood throughout the crossing +under lea of the deckhouse where it was possible to keep a pipe alight. + +Contrary to his expectation he managed to sleep in the train and slept +until they reached Paris. Avoiding a hotel where he was known he drove +to one of the smaller establishments, and engaging a room ordered +breakfast and sat down to think out his next move. + +There were two possible sources of information, the flat, where she +might have left an address when she vacated it, and the bank where +Peters had told him she called for letters. He would try them before +resorting to the expedient of employing a detective, which he was loth +to do until all other means failed. He hated the idea, but there was no +alternative except the police, whose aid he had determined not to invoke +unless it became absolutely necessary. It was imperative that his search +should be conducted as quietly and as secretly as possible. He decided +to visit the flat first, and, having wired to Peters in accordance with +his promise, set out on foot. + +It was not actually raining but the clouds hung low and threatening and +the air was raw. He walked fast, swinging along the crowded streets with +his eyes fixed straight in front of him. And his great height and deeply +tanned face made him a conspicuous figure that excited attention of +which he was ignorant. + +Leaving the narrow street where was his hotel he emerged into the Place +de la Madeleine, and threading his way through the stream of traffic +turned into the Boulevard de Malesherbes, which he followed, cutting +across the Boulevard Haussmann and passing the Church of Saint Augustin, +until the trees in the Parc Monceau rose before him. How often in the +heat of Africa had he pictured her sitting in the shade of those great +spreading planes, reading or sketching the children who played about +her? He had thought of her every hour of the day and night, seeing her +in his mind moving about the flat he had taken and furnished with such +care. How utterly futile had been all his dreams about her. His lips +tightened as he passed up the steps of the house he remembered so well. + +But to his inquiries the concierge, who was a new-comer, could give no +reply. He had no knowledge of any Madame Craven who had lived there, and +was plainly uninterested in a tenant who had left before his time. It +was past history with which he had nothing to do, and with which he made +it clear he did not care to be involved. He was curt and decisive +but, with an eye to Craven's powerful proportions, refrained from the +insolence that is customary among his kind. It was the first check, but +as he walked away Craven admitted to himself that he had not counted +overmuch on obtaining any information from that quarter, taking into +account the short time she had lived there. Remained the bank. He +retraced his steps, walking directly to the Place de l'Opera. But the +bank, which was also a tourists' agency, could give him no assistance. +The lady called for her letters at infrequent intervals, they had no +idea where she might be found. Would the gentleman care to leave a card, +which would be given to her at the first opportunity? But Craven shook +his head--the chance of her calling was too vague--and passed out again +into the busy streets. There was nothing for it now but a detective +agency, and with his face grown grimmer he went without further delay to +the bureau of a firm he knew by repute. In the private room of the +_Chef de Bureau_ he detailed his requirements with national brevity and +conciseness. His knowledge of the language stood him in good stead and +the painfulness of the interview was mitigated by the businesslike and +tactful manner in which his commission was received. The keen-eyed man +who sat tapping a gold pencil case on his thumbnail in the intervals of +taking notes had a reputation to maintain which he was not unwilling to +increase; foreign clients were by no means rare, but they did not come +every day, nor were they always so apparently full of wealth as this +stern-faced Englishman, who spoke authoritatively as one accustomed to +being obeyed and yet with a turn of phrase and _politesse_ unusual in +his countrymen. + +Followed two days of interminable waiting and suspense, two days that to +Craven seemed like two lifetimes. He hung about the hotel, not daring to +go far afield lest he should lose some message or report. He had no +wish either to advertise his presence in Paris, he had too many friends +there, too many acquaintances whose questions would be difficult to +parry. + +But on the morning of the third day, about eleven o'clock, he was +called to the telephone. A feeling of dread ran through him and he was +conscious of a curious sensation of weakness as he lifted the receiver. +But the voice that hailed him was reassuring and complacently expressive +of a neat piece of work well done. The wife of _Monsieur_ had been +traced, they had taken time--oh, yes, but they had followed _Monsieur's_ +instructions _au pied de la lettre_ and had acted with a discretion +that was above criticism. Then followed an address given minutely. For +a moment he leaned against the side of the telephone box shaking +uncontrollably. Only at this moment did he realise completely how great +his fear had been. There had been times when the recurring thought of +the Morgue and its pitiful occupants had been a foretaste of hell. The +feeling of weakness passed quickly and he went out to the entrance of +the hotel and leaped into a taxi which had just set down a fare. + +He knew well the locality toward which he was driving. Years ago he +could almost have walked to it blindfold, but today time was precious. +And as he sat forward in the jolting cab, his hands locked tightly +together, it seemed to him as if every possible hindrance had combined +to bar his progress. The traffic had never appeared so congested, the +efforts of the agents on point duty so hopelessly futile. Omnibuses and +motors, unwieldy meat carts and fiacres, inextricably jammed, met them +at every turn, until at last swinging round by the corner of the Louvre +the streets became clearer and the car turned sharply to cross the +river. As they approached the address the detective had given him Craven +was conscious of no sensation of any kind. A deadly calm seemed to have +taken possession of him. He had ceased even to speculate on what lay +before him. The house at which they stopped at last was typical of its +kind; in his student days he had rented a studio in a precisely similar +building, and the concierge to whom he applied might have been the twin +sister of the voluble amply proportioned citoyenne of long ago who had +kept a maternal eye on his socks and shirts and a soft spot in her heart +for the _bel Anglais_ who chaffed her unmercifully, but paid his rent +with commendable promptitude. A huge woman, with a shrewd not unkindly +face, she sat in a rocking chair with a diminutive kitten on her +shoulder and a mass of knitting in her lap. As she listened to Craven's +inquiry she tossed the kitten into a basket and bundled the shawl she +was making under her arm, while she rose ponderously to her feet and +favoured the stranger with a stare that was frankly and undisguisedly +inquisitive. A pair of twinkling eyes encased in rolls of fat swept him +from head to foot in leisurely survey, and he felt that there was no +detail about him that escaped attention, that even the texture of his +clothing and the very price of the boots he was wearing were gauged with +accuracy and ease. She condescended to speak at last in a voice that was +curiously soft, and warmed into something almost approaching enthusiasm. +Madame Craven? but certainly, _au quatrieme_. Monsieur was perhaps a +patron of the arts, he desired to buy a picture? It was well, painters +were many but buyers were few. Madame was assuredly at home, she was +in fact engaged at that moment with a model. A model--_Sapristi_!--he +called himself such, but for herself she would have called him _un vrai +apache_! Of a countenance, _mon Dieu_! She paused to wave her hands +in horror and jerk her head toward the staircase, continuing her +confidences in a lowered tone. The door of the studio was open, it +was wiser when such gentry presented themselves, and also did she not +herself always sit in the hall that she might be within call, one never +knew--and Madame was an angel with the heart of a child. A face to +study--and she thought of nothing else. But there were those who +thought for her, the blessed innocent. It was doubtless because she was +English--Monsieur was also English, she observed with another shrewd +glance and a wide smile. Madame would be glad to see a compatriot. If +Monsieur would do himself the trouble of ascending the stairs he could +not mistake the door, it was at the top, and, as she had said, it was +open. + +She beamed on him graciously as with a murmur of thanks Craven turned +to mount the stone staircase. A feeling of relief came to him at the +thought of the warm hearted self-appointed guardian sitting in kindly +vigilance in the big armchair below. Here, too, it would appear, Gillian +had made herself beloved. As he passed quickly upward the unnatural calm +that had come over him gave place to a very different feeling. It was +brought home to him all at once that what he had longed and prayed for +was on the point of taking effect. He realised that the ghastly waiting +time was over, that in a few moments he would see her, and his heart +began to throb violently. Every second that still separated them seemed +an age and he took the last remaining flight two steps at a time. But he +stopped abruptly as he reached the level of the landing. The open door +was within a few feet of him but screened from where he stood. + +It was her voice that had arrested him, speaking with an accent of +weariness he had never heard before that sent a sudden quiver to his +lips. His fingers clenched on the soft hat he held. + +"But it does not do at all," she was saying, and the racking cough that +accompanied her words struck through Craven's heart like a knife, "it is +the expression that is wrong. If you look like that I can never believe +that you are what you say you are. Think of some of the horrible things +you have told me--try and imagine that you are still tracking down that +brute who took your little Colette from you--" A husky voice interrupted +her. "No use, Madame, when I remember that I can only think of you and +the American doctor who gave her back to me, and our happiness." + +"You don't deserve her, and she hates the things you do," came the quick +retort, and the man who had been speaking laughed. + +"But not me," he answered promptly, "and the things I do keep a roof +over our heads," he added grimly. "But, see, I will try again--does that +satisfy Madame?" + +Craven moved forward as he heard her eager assent and her injunction to +"hold that for a few minutes," and in the silence that ensued he reached +the door. For a moment his entrance passed unobserved. + +The stark bareness of the room was revealed to him in a single +comprehensive glance and the chill of it sent a sudden feeling of anger +surging through him. His face was drawn and his eyes almost menacing +with pain as they rested on the slight figure bending forward in +unconscious absorption over the easel propped in the middle of the +rugless floor. Then his gaze travelled slowly beyond her to the model +who stood on the little dais, and he understood in a flash the reason +of the old concierge's vigilance as he saw the manner of man she was +painting. The slender darkly clad youth with head thrust forward and +sunk deep on his shoulders, with close fitting peaked cap pulled +low over his eyes shading his pale sinister face was a typical +representative of the class of criminal who had come to be known in +Paris as _les apaches_; no artist's model masquerading as one of +the dreaded assassins, but the genuine article. Of that Craven was +convinced. The risk she had taken, the quick resentment he felt at the +thought of such a presence near her forced from him an exclamation. + +Artist and model turned simultaneously. There was a moment of tense +silence as husband and wife stared into each other's eyes. Then the +palette and brushes she was holding dropped with a little chatter to the +floor. + +"Barry," she whispered fearfully, "Barry--" + +Both men sprang forward, but it was Craven who caught her as she fell. +She lay like a featherweight in his strong clasp, and as he gazed at the +delicate face crushed against his breast a deadly fear was knocking at +his heart that he had come too late. Convulsively his arms tightened +round the pitifully light little body and he spoke abruptly to the man +who was scowling beside him. "A doctor--as quick as you can--and tell +the concierge to come up." Anxiety roughened his voice and he turned +away without waiting to see his orders carried out. For a second the +apache glowered at him under narrowing lids, his sullen face working +strangely, then he jerked the black cap further over his eyes and +slipped away with noiseless tread. + +With a broken whisper Craven caught his frail burden closer, as though +seeking by the strength and warmth of his own body to animate the +fragile limbs lying so cold and lifeless in his arms, and he bent low +over the pallid lips he craved and yet did not dare to kiss. They were +not for him to take, he reflected bitterly, and in her unconsciousness +they were sacred. + +His eyes were dark with misery as he raised his head and looked about +quickly for some couch on which to lay her. But the bare studio was +devoid of any such luxury, and with his face set rigidly he carried +her across the room and pushed open a door leading to an inner sleeping +apartment. Barer it was and colder even than the studio, and its bleak +poverty formed a horrible contrast to the big white bedroom at Craven +Towers. He laid her on the narrow comfortless bed with a smothered groan +that seemed to tear his heart to pieces. And as he knelt beside +her chafing her icy hands in helpless agony there burst in on him a +tempestuous fury who raved and stormed and called on heaven to witness +the iniquity of men. "_Bete! animal!_" she raged, "what have you done +to her--you and that rat-faced devil!" and she thrust her bulky figure +between him and the bed. Then with a sudden change of manner, her voice +grown soft and caressing, she bent over the fainting girl and slipped a +plump arm under her, crooning, over her and endeavouring to restore her +to consciousness. She snapped an enquiry at Craven and he explained +as best he could, and his explanation brought down on him a wealth of +biting sarcasm. The husband of _cet ange la_! In the name of heaven! was +there no limit to the blundering stupidity of men--had he no more sense +than to present himself with such unexpectedness, after so long an +absence? Small wonder _la pauvre petite_ had fainted. What folly! And +lashing him with her tongue she renewed her fruitless efforts. But +Craven scarcely heeded her. His eyes were fixed on the little white face +on the pillow, and he was praying desperately that she might be spared +to him, that his punishment might not take so terrible a form. For the +change in her appalled him. Slight and delicate always, she was now a +mere shadow of what she had been. If she died!--he clenched his teeth to +keep silent--must he be twice a murderer? O Hara San's blood was on his +hands, would hers also-- + +He turned quickly as a tall, loosely made man swung into the room. The +new-comer shot a swift glance at him and moved past to the bedside, +addressing the concierge in fluent French that was marked by a +pronounced American accent. He cut short her eager communication as he +bent over the bed and made a rapid examination. + +"Light a fire in the stove, bring all the blankets you can find, and +make some strong coffee. I have been waiting for this, the marvel is +it hasn't happened before," he said brusquely. And as the woman hurried +away with surprising meekness to do his bidding he turned again to +Craven. "Friend of Mrs. Craven's?" he asked with blunt directness. "Pity +her friends haven't looked her up sooner. Guess you can wait in the +other room until I'm through here--that is if you are sufficiently +interested. It will probably be a long job and the fewer people she sees +about her when she comes to, the better." + +The blood flamed into Craven's face and an angry protest rose to his +lips, but his better judgment checked it. It was not the time for +explanations or to press the claim he had to remain in the room. And had +he a claim at all, he wondered with a dull feeling of pain. "I'll wait," +he said quietly, fighting an intolerable jealousy as he watched the +doctor's skilful hands busy about her. Strangers might tend her, but the +husband she had evidently never spoken of, was banished to an outer room +to wait "if sufficiently interested." He winced and passed slowly into +the studio. And yet he had brought it on himself. She could have had +little wish to mention him situated as she was, the bare garret he was +pacing monotonously was evidence in itself that she had determined to +cut adrift from everything that was connected with the life and the man +she had obviously loathed. His surroundings left no doubt on that score. +She had plainly preferred to struggle independently for existence rather +than be beholden to him who was her natural protector. He recalled with +an aching heart the swift look of fear that had leapt into her eyes +during that long moment before she had lost consciousness, and the +memory of it went with him, searing cruelly, as he tramped up and down +in restless anxiety that would not allow him to keep still. To see that +look in her eyes again would be more than he could endure. + +From time to time the concierge passed through the room bearing the +various necessaries the doctor had demanded, but her mouth was grimly +shut and he did not ask for information that she did not seem inclined +to vouchsafe. She did unbend so far at last as to light a fire in the +stove, but she let it be clearly understood that it was not for his +benefit. "It will help to warm the other room, and it has been empty +long enough," she said, with a glance and a shrug that were full of +meaning. But as she saw the misery of his face her manner softened and +she spoke confidently of the skill of the American doctor, who from +motives of pure philanthropy had practised for some years in a quarter +that offered much experience but little pecuniary profit. + +Then she left him to wait again alone. + +He could not bring himself to look at the canvases propped against the +bare walls, they were witnesses of her toil, witnesses perhaps of a +failure that hurt him even more than it must have hurt her. And to +him who knew the spirit-crushing efforts of the unknown artist to win +recognition, her failure was both natural and intelligible. He guessed +at a pride that scorning patronage had not sought assistance but had +striven to succeed by merit alone, only to learn the bitter lesson that +falls to the lot of those who fight against established convention. She +had pitted her strength against a system and the system had broken her. +Her studies might be--they were--marked with genius, but genius without +advertisement had gone unrecognised and unrewarded. + +But before the portrait of the strange model he had found with her he +paused for a long time. Still unfinished it was brilliantly clever. The +lower part of the face had evidently not satisfied her, for it was wiped +out, but the upper part was completed, and Craven looked at the +deep-set eyes of the apache staring back at him with almost the fire +of life--melancholy sinister eyes that haunted--and wondered again what +circumstance had brought such a man across her path. He remembered the +fragmentary conversation he had heard, remembered too that mention had +been made of the man who was even now with her in the adjoining room, +and he sighed as he realised how utterly ignorant he was of the life she +had led during his absence. + +Had she meditated a complete severance from him, formed ties that would +bind her irrevocably to the life she had chosen? He turned from the +picture wearily. It was all a tangle. He could only wait, and waiting, +suffer. + +He went to the window and leant his arms unseeingly on the high narrow +sill that looked out over the neighbouring housetops, straining to hear +the faintest sound from the inner room. It seemed to him that he must +have waited hours when at last the door opened and shut quietly and the +American came leisurely toward him. He faced him with swift unspoken +inquiry. The doctor nodded, moving toward the stove. "She's all right +now," he said dryly, "but I don't mind telling you she gave me the +fright of my life. I have been wondering when this was going to happen, +I've seen it coming for a long time." He paused, and looked at Craven +frowningly while he warmed his hands. + +"May I ask if you are an intimate friend of Mrs. Craven's--if you know +her people? Can you put me in communication with them? She is not in +a fit state to be alone. She should have somebody with her--somebody +belonging to her, I mean. I gather there is a husband somewhere +abroad--though frankly I have always doubted his existence--but that is +no good. I want somebody here, on the spot, now. Mrs. Craven doesn't +see the necessity. I do. I'm not trying to shunt responsibility. I've +shouldered a good deal in my time and I'm not shirking now--but this +is a case that calls for more than a doctor. I should appreciate any +assistance you could give me." + +The fear he had felt when he held her in his arms was clutching anew at +Craven and his face grew grey under the deep tan. "What is the matter +with her?" Something in his voice made the doctor look at him more +closely. + +"That, my dear sir," he parried, "is rather a leading question." + +"I have a right to know," interrupted Craven quickly. + +"You will pardon me if I ask--what right?" was the equally quick +rejoinder. + +The blood surged back hotly into Craven's face. + +"The right of the man whose existence you very justly doubted," he said +heavily. The doctor straightened himself with a jerk. "You are Mrs. +Craven's husband! Then you will forgive me if I say that you have not +come back any too soon. I am glad for your wife's sake that the myth is +a reality," he said gravely. Craven stood rigidly still, and it seemed +to him that his heart stopped beating. "I know my wife is delicate, +that her lungs are not strong, but what is the cause of this +sudden--collapse?" he said slowly, his voice shaking painfully. For a +moment the other hesitated and shrugged in evident embarrassment. +"There are a variety of causes--I find it somewhat difficult to say--you +couldn't know, of course--" + +Craven cut him short. "You needn't spare my feelings," he said hoarsely. +"For God's sake speak plainly. + +"In a word then--though I hate to have to say it--starvation." The keen +eyes fixed on him softened into sudden compassion but Craven did not see +them. He saw nothing, for the room was spinning madly round him and he +staggered back against the window catching at the woodwork behind him. + +"Oh, my God!" he whispered, and wiped the blinding moisture from his +eyes. If it had been possible for her gentle nature to contemplate +revenge she could have planned no more terrible one than this. But in +his heart he knew that it was not revenge. For a moment he could +not speak, then with an effort he mastered himself. He could give no +explanation to this stranger, that lay between him and her alone. + +"There was no need," he said at last dully, forcing the words with +difficulty; "she misunderstood--I can't explain. Only tell me what I can +do--anything that will cure her. There isn't any permanent injury, is +there--I haven't really come too late?" he gasped, with an agony of +appeal in his voice. The American shook his head. "You ran it very +fine," he said, with a quick smile, "but I guess you've come in time, +right enough. There isn't anything here that money can't cure. Her lungs +are not over strong, her heart is temporarily strained, and her nerves +are in tatters. But if you can take her to the south--or better still, +Egypt--?" he hesitated with a look of enquiry, and as Craven nodded, +continued with more assurance, "Good! then there's no reason why she +shouldn't be a well woman in time. She's constitutionally delicate but +there's nothing organically wrong. Take her away as soon as possible, +feed her up--and keep her happy. That's all she wants. I'll look in +again this evening." And with another reassuring smile and a firm +handclasp he was gone. + +As his footsteps died away Craven turned slowly toward the adjoining +room with strangely contending emotions. "... keep her happy." The +bitter irony of the words bit into him as he crossed to the door and, +tapping softly, went in. + +She was waiting for him, lying high on the pillows that were no whiter +than her face, toying nervously with the curling ends of the thick plait +of soft brown hair that reached almost to her waist. Her eyes were fixed +on him appealingly, and as he came toward her her face quivered suddenly +and again he saw the look of fear that had tortured him before. "Oh, +Barry," she moaned, "don't be angry with me." + +It was all that he could do to keep his hungry arms from closing round +her, to keep back the passionate torrent of love that rushed to his +lips. But he dared not give way to the weakness that was tempting him. +Controlling himself with an effort of will he sat down on the edge of +the bed and covered her twitching fingers with his lean muscular hands. + +"I'm not angry, dear. God knows I've no right to be," he said gently. "I +just don't understand. I never dreamt of anything like this. Can't you +tell me--explain--help me to understand?" + +She dragged her hands from his, and covering her face gave way to bitter +weeping. Her tears crucified him and his heart was breaking as he looked +at her. "Gillian, have a little pity on me," he pleaded. "Do you think +I'm a stone that I can bear to see you cry?" + +"What can I say?" she whispered sobbingly. "You wouldn't understand. You +have never understood. How should you? You were too generous. You gave +me your name, your wealth, you sacrificed your freedom to save me from +a knowledge of the callousness and cruelty of the world. You saw further +than I did. You knew that I would fail--as I have failed. And because of +that you married me in pity. Did you think I would never guess? I +didn't at first. I was a stupid ignorant child, I didn't realise what a +marriage like ours would mean. But when I did--oh, so soon--and when +I knew that I could never repay you--I think I nearly died with shame. +When I asked you to let me come to Paris it was not to lead the life you +purposed for me but because my burden of debt had grown intolerable. +I thought that if I worked here, paid my own way, got back my lost +self-respect, that it would be easier to bear. When you took the flat +I tried to make you understand but you wouldn't listen and I couldn't +trouble you when you were going away. And then later when they told me +at the convent what you had done, when I learned how much greater was +my debt than I had ever dreamt, and when I heard of the money you gave +them--the money you still give them every year--the money they call the +Gillian Craven Fund--" + +"They had no right, I made it a stipulation--" + +"They didn't realise, they thought because we were married that I must +surely know. I couldn't go on living in the flat, taking the allowance +you heaped on me. All you gave,--all you did--your generosity--I +couldn't bear it! Oh, can't you see--your money _choked_ me!" she +wailed, with a paroxysm of tears that frightened him. He caught her +hands again, holding them firmly. "Your money as much as mine, Gillian. +I have always tried to make you realise it. What is mine is yours. +You're my wife--" + +"I'm not, I'm not," she sobbed wildly. "I'm only a burden thrust on +you." + +A cry burst from his lips. "A burden, my God, a burden!" he groaned. And +suddenly he reached the end of his endurance. With the agony of death in +his eyes he swept her into his arms, holding her to him with passionate +strength, his lips buried in the fragrance of her hair. "Oh, my dear, my +dear," he murmured brokenly, "I'm not fit to touch you, but I've loved +you always, worshipped you, longed for you until the longing grew too +great to bear, and I left you because I knew that if I stayed I should +not have the strength to leave you free. I married you because I loved +you, because even this damnable mockery of a marriage was better than +losing you out of my life--I was cur enough to keep you when I knew I +might not take you. And I've wanted you, God knows how I've wanted you, +all these ghastly years. I want you now, I'd give my hope of heaven to +have your love, to hold you in my arms as my wife, to be a husband +to you not only in name--but I'm not fit. You don't know what I've +done--what I've been. I had no right to marry you, to stain your purity +with my sin, to link you with one who is fouled as I am. If you knew +you'd never look at me again." With a terrible sob he laid her back on +the pillows and dropped on his knees beside her. Into her tear-wet eyes +there came suddenly a light that was almost divine, her quivering face +became glorious in its pitiful love. Trembling, she leant towards him, +and her slender hands went out in swift compassion, drawing the bowed +shamed head close to her tender breast. + +"Tell me," she whispered. And with her soft arms round him he told her, +waiting in despair for the moment when she would shrink from him, repel +him with the horror and disgust he dreaded. But she lay quite still +until he finished, though once or twice she shuddered and he felt the +quickened beating of her heart. And for long after his muffled voice had +died away she remained silent. Then her thin hand crept quiveringly +up to his hair, touching it shyly, and two great tears rolled down +her face. "Barry, I've been so lonely"--it was the cry of a frightened +desolate child--"if you have no pity on yourself, will you have no pity +on me?" + +"Gillian!" he raised his head sharply, staring at her with desperate +unbelieving eyes, "You care?" + +"Care?" she gave a tremulous little sobbing laugh. "How could I help +but care! I've loved you since the day you came to me in the convent +parlour. You're all I have, and if you leave me now"--she clung to him +suddenly--"Barry, Barry, I can't bear any more. I haven't any strength +or courage left. I'm afraid! I can't face the world alone--it's +cruel--pitiless. I love you, I want you, I can't live without you," and +with a piteous sob she strained him to her, hiding her face against +his breast, beseeching and distraught. His lips were trembling as he +gathered the shuddering little body closely in his arms, but still he +hesitated. + +"Think, dear, think," he muttered hoarsely, "I'm not fit to stay with +you. I've done that which is unforgivable." + +"I'm your wife, I've the right to share your burden," she cried +passionately. "You didn't know, you couldn't know when you did that +dreadful thing. And if God punishes you let Him punish me too. But God +is love, He knows how you have suffered, and for those who repent His +punishment is forgiveness." + +"But can you forgive--can you bear to come to me?" he faltered, still +only half believing. + +"I love you," she said simply, "and life without you is death," and +lifting her face to his she gave him the lips he had not dared to take. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. 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Hull + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. Hull + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Shadow of the East + +Author: E. M. Hull + + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8143] +This file was first posted on June 19, 2003 +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + + + + +Text file produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE SHADOW OF THE EAST + </h1> + <h2> + By E. M. Hull + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1921 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + “<i>The fathers have eaten sour grapes and<br /> the children's teeth are + set on edge</i>."<br /> <br /> <i>Ezekiel xviii 2</i>. + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + The American yacht lying off the harbour at Yokohama was brilliantly lit + from stem to stern. Between it and the shore the reflection of the full + moon glittered on the water up to the steps of the big black + landing-stage. The glamour of the eastern night and the moonlight combined + to lend enchantment to a scene that by day is blatant and tawdry, and the + countless coloured lamps twinkling along the sea wall and dotted over the + Bluff transformed the Japanese town into fairyland. + </p> + <p> + The night was warm and still, and there was barely a ripple on the water. + The Bay was full of craft—liners, tramps, and yachts swinging slowly + with the tide, and hurrying to and fro sampans and electric launches + jostled indiscriminately. + </p> + <p> + On board the yacht three men were lying in long chairs on the deck. Jermyn + Atherton, the millionaire owner, a tall thin American whose keen, clever + face looked singularly youthful under a thick crop of iron-grey hair, sat + forward in his chair to light a fresh cigar, and then turned to the man on + his right. “I guess I've had every official in Japan hunting for you these + last two days, Barry. If I hadn't had your wire from Tokio this morning I + should have gone to our Consul and churned up the whole Japanese Secret + Service and made an international affair of it,” he laughed. “Where in all + creation were you? I should hardly have thought it possible to get out of + touch in this little old island. The authorities, too, knew all about you, + and reckoned they could lay their hands on you in twelve hours. I rattled + them up some,” he added, with evident satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have done,” he said dryly. “When I got into Tokio this + morning I was fallen on by a hysterical inspector of police who implored + me with tears to communicate immediately with an infuriated American who + was raising Cain in Yokohama over my disappearance. As a matter of fact I + was in a little village twenty miles inland from Tokio—quite off the + beaten track. There's an old Shinto temple there that I have been wanting + to sketch for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Atherton's luck!” commented the American complacently. “It generally + holds good. I couldn't leave Japan without seeing you, and I must sail + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your hurry—Wall Street going to the dogs without you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I've cut out from Wall Street. I've made all the money I want, and + I'm only concerned with spending it now. No, the fact is I—er—I + left home rather suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + A soft chuckle came from the recumbent occupant of the third chair, but + Atherton ignored it and hurried on, twirling rapidly, as he spoke, a + single eyeglass attached to a thin black cord. + </p> + <p> + “Ever since Nina and I were married last year we've been going the devil + of a pace. We had to entertain every one who had entertained us—and + a few more folk besides. There was something doing all day and every day + until at last it seemed to me that I never saw my wife except at the other + end of a dining table with a crowd of silly fools in between us. I + reckoned I'd just about had enough of it. Came on me just like a flash + sitting in my office down town one morning, so I buzzed home right away in + the auto and told her I was sick of the whole thing and that I wanted her + to come away with me and see what real life was like—out West or + anywhere else on earth away from that durned society crowd. I'll admit I + lost my temper and did some shouting. Nina couldn't see it from my point + of view. + </p> + <p> + “My God, Jermyn! I should think not,” drawled a sleepy voice from the + third chair, and a short, immensely stout man struggled up into a sitting + position, mopping his forehead vigorously. “You've the instincts of a Turk + rather than of an enlightened American citizen. You've not seen my + sister-in-law yet, Mr. Craven,” he turned to the Englishman. “She's a + peach! Smartest little girl in N'York. Leader of society—dollars no + object—small wonder she didn't fall in with Jermyn's prehistoric + notions. You're a cave man, elder brother—I put my money on Nina + every time. Hell! isn't it hot?” He sank down again full length, flapping + his handkerchief feebly at a persistent mosquito. + </p> + <p> + “We argued for a week,” resumed Jermyn Atherton when his brother's sleepy + drawl subsided, “and didn't seem to get any further on. At last I lost my + temper completely and decided to clear out alone if Nina wouldn't come + with me. Leslie was not doing anything at the time, so I persuaded him to + come along too.” + </p> + <p> + Leslie Atherton sat up again with a jerk. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Persuaded</i>!” he exploded, “A dam' queer notion of persuasion. + Shanghaied, I call it. Ran me to earth at the club at five o'clock, and we + sailed at eight. If my man hadn't been fond of the sea and keen on the + trip himself, I should have left America for a cruise round the world in + the clothes I stood up in—and Jermyn's duds would be about as useful + to me as a suit of reach-me-downs off the line. Persuasion? Shucks! Jermyn + thought it was kind of funny to start right off on an ocean trip at a + moment's notice and show Nina he didn't care a durn. Crazy notion of + humour.” He lay back languidly and covered his face with a large silk + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Barry Craven turned toward his host with amused curiosity in his grey + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” He asked at length. + </p> + <p> + Atherton returned his look with a slightly embarrassed smile. + </p> + <p> + “It hasn't been so blamed funny after all,” he said quietly. “A Chinese + coffin-ship from 'Frisco would be hilarious compared with this trip,” + rapped a sarcastic voice from behind the silk handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “I've felt a brute ever since we lost sight of Sandy Hook,” continued + Atherton, looking away toward the twinkling lights on shore, “and as soon + as we put in here I couldn't stand it any longer, so I cabled to Nina that + I was returning at once. I'm quite prepared to eat humble pie and all the + rest of it—in fact I shall relish it,” with a sudden shy laugh. + </p> + <p> + His brother heaved his vast bulk clear of the deck chair with a mighty + effort. + </p> + <p> + “Humble pie! Huh!” he snorted contemptuously. “She'll kill the fatted calf + and put a halo of glory round your head and invite in all the neighbours + 'for this my prodigal husband has returned to me!'” He ducked with + surprising swiftness to avoid a book that Atherton hurled at his head and + shook a chubby forefinger at him reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't assault the only guide, philosopher and friend you've got who has + the courage to tell you a few home truths. Say, Jermyn, d'y'know why I + finally consented to come on this crazy cruise, anyway? Because Nina got + me on the phone while you were hammering away at me at the club and + ordered me to go right along with you and see you didn't do any dam + foolishness. Oh, she's got me to heel right enough. Well! I guess I'll + turn in and get to sleep before those fool engines start chump-chumping + under my pillow. You boys will want a pow-wow to your two selves; there + are times when three is a crowd. Good-bye, Mr. Craven, pleased to have met + you. Hope to see you in the Adirondacks next summer—a bit more + crowded than the Rockies, which are Jermyn's Mecca, but more home comforts—appeal + to a man of my build.” He slipped away with the noiseless tread that is + habitual to heavy men. + </p> + <p> + Jermyn Atherton looked after his retreating figure and laughed + uproariously. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't he the darndest? A clam is communicative compared with Leslie. + Fancy him having that card up his sleeve all the while. Nina's had the + bulge on me right straight along.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed a cigar-box across the wicker table between them. + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks,” said Craven, taking a case from his pocket. “I'll have a + cigarette, if you don't mind.” + </p> + <p> + The American settled himself in his chair, his hands clasped behind his + head, staring at the harbour lights, his thoughts very obviously some + thousands of miles away. Craven watched him speculatively. Atherton the + big game-hunter, Atherton the mine-owner, he knew perfectly—but + Atherton the New York broker, Atherton married, he was unacquainted with + and he was trying to adjust and consolidate the two personalities. + </p> + <p> + It was the same Atherton—but more human, more humble, if such a word + could be applied to an American millionaire. He felt a sudden curiosity to + see the woman who had brought that new look into his old friend's keen + blue eyes. He was conscious of an odd feeling of envy. Atherton became + aware at last of his attentive gaze and grinned sheepishly. + </p> + <p> + “Must seem a bit of a fool to you, old man, but I feel like a boy going + home for the holidays and that's the truth. But I've been yapping about my + own affair all evening. What about you—staying on in Japan? Been + here quite a while now, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Just over a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Like it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Japan has got into my bones.” + </p> + <p> + “Lazy kind of life, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + There was no apparent change in Atherton's drawl, but Craven turned his + head quickly and looked at him before answering. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a lazy kind of fellow,” he replied quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You weren't lazy in the Rockies,” said Atherton sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes I was. There are grades of laziness.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton flung the stub of his cigar overboard and selecting a fresh one, + cut the end off carefully. + </p> + <p> + “Still got that Jap boy who was with you in America?” + </p> + <p> + “Yoshio? Yes. I picked him up in San Francisco ten years ago. He'll never + leave me now.” + </p> + <p> + “Saved his life, didn't you? He spun me a great yarn one day in camp.” + </p> + <p> + Craven laughed and shrugged. “Yoshio has an Oriental imagination and quite + a flair for romance. I did pull him out of a hole in 'Frisco but he was + putting up a very tidy little show on his own account. He's the toughest + little beggar I've ever come across and doesn't know the meaning of fear. + If I'm ever in a big scrap I hope I shall have Yoshio behind me.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be pretty well known over yonder,” said Atherton with a vague + movement of his head toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a big town and the foreign population is not vast. Besides, + there are traditions. I am the second Barry Craven to live in Yokohama—my + father lived several years and finally died here. He was obsessed with + Japan.” + </p> + <p> + “And with the Japanese?” + </p> + <p> + “And with the Japanese.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton frowned at the glowing end of his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Nina and I ran down to see Craven Towers when we were on our wedding trip + in England last year,” he said at length with seeming irrelevance. “Your + agent, Mr. Peters, ran us round.” + </p> + <p> + “Good old Peters,” murmured Craven lazily. “The place would have gone to + the bow-wows long ago if it hadn't been for him. He adored my mother and + has the worst possible opinion of me. But he's a loyal old bird, he + probably endowed me with all the virtues for your benefit.” + </p> + <p> + But Atherton ignored the comment. He polished his eyeglass vigorously and + screwed it firmly into position. + </p> + <p> + “If I was an Englishman with a place like Craven Towers that had been in + my family for generations,” he said soberly, “I should go home and marry a + nice girl and settle down on my estate.” + </p> + <p> + “That's precisely Peters' opinion,” replied Craven promptly with a + good-tempered laugh. “I get reams from him to that effect nearly every + mail—with detailed descriptions of all the eligible debutantes whom + he thinks suitable. I often wonder whether he runs the estate on the same + lines and keeps a matrimonial agency for the tenants.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton laughed with him but persisted. + </p> + <p> + “If your own countrywomen don't appeal to you, take a run out to the + States and see what we can do for you.” + </p> + <p> + The laugh died out of Craven's eyes and he moved restlessly in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “It's no good, Jermyn. I'm not a marrying man,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + Atherton smiled grimly at the recollection of a similar remark + emphatically uttered by himself at their last meeting. + </p> + <p> + For a time neither spoke. Each was conscious of a vague difference in the + other, developed during the years that had elapsed since their last + meeting—an intangible barrier checking the open confidence of + earlier days. + </p> + <p> + It was growing late. The sampans had nearly all disappeared and only an + occasional launch skimmed across the harbour. + </p> + <p> + A neighbouring yacht's band that had been silent for the last hour began + to play again—appropriately to the vicinity—Puccini's + well-known opera. The strains came subdued but clear across the water on + the scent-laden air. Craven sat forward in his chair, his heels on the + ground, his hands loosely clasped between his knees, whistling softly the + Consul's solo in the first act. From behind a cloud of cigar smoke + Atherton watched him keenly, and as he watched he was thinking rapidly. He + was used to making decisions quickly—he was accustomed to accepting + risks at which others shied, but the risk he was now contemplating meant + the taking of an unwarranted liberty that might be resented and might + result in the loss of a friendship that he valued. But he was going to + take the risk—as he had taken many another—he had known that + from the first. He screwed his eyeglass firmer into his eye, a + characteristic gesture well-known on the New York stock market. + </p> + <p> + “Ever see <i>Madame Butterfly</i>? he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton blew another big cloud of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Damn fool, Pinkerton,” he said gruffly, “Never could see the attraction + myself—dancing girls—almond eyes—and all that sort of + thing.” + </p> + <p> + Craven made no answer but his whistling stopped suddenly and the knuckles + of his clasped hands whitened. Atherton looked away quickly and his + eyeglass fell with a little tinkle against a waistcoat button. There was + another long pause. Finally the music died away and the stillness was + broken only by the soft slap-slap of the water against the ship's side. + </p> + <p> + Atherton scowled at his immaculate deck shoes and then seized his eyeglass + again decisively. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Barry, you saved my life in the Rockies that trip and I guess a + fellow whose life you've saved has a pull on you no one else has. Anyhow + I'll chance it, and if I'm a damned interfering meddler it's up to you to + say so and I'll apologise—handsomely. Are you in a hole?” + </p> + <p> + Craven got up, walked away to the side of the yacht and leaning on the + rail stared down into the water. A solitary sampan was passing the broad + streak of moonlight and he watched it intently until it passed and merged + into the shadows beyond. + </p> + <p> + “I've been the usual fool,” he said at last quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hell!” came softly from behind him. “Chuck it, Barry. Clear out right + now—with us. I'll put off sailing until tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I—can't.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton rose and joined him, and for a moment his hand rested on the + younger man's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry—dashed sorry,” he murmured. “Gee!” he added with a half + shy, half humorous glance, wiping his forehead frankly, “I'd rather face a + grizzly than do that again. Leslie keeps telling me that my habit of + butting in will land me in the family vault before my time.” + </p> + <p> + Craven smiled wryly. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right. I'm grateful—really. But I must hoe my own row.” + </p> + <p> + The American swung irresolutely on his heels. + </p> + <p> + “That's so, that's so,” he agreed reluctantly. “Oh damn it all,” he burst + out, “have a drink!” and going back to the table he pounded in the stopper + of a soda-water-bottle savagely. + </p> + <p> + Craven laughed constrainedly as he tilted the whisky into a glass. + </p> + <p> + “Universal panacea,” he said a little bitterly, “but it's not my method of + oblivion.” + </p> + <p> + He put the peg tumbler down with a smothered sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I must be off, Jermyn. It's time you were getting under way. It's been + like the old days to have had a yarn with you again. Good luck and a quick + run home—you lucky devil.” + </p> + <p> + Atherton walked with him to the head of the gangway and watched him into + the launch. + </p> + <p> + “We shall count on you for the Adirondacks in the summer,” he called out + cheerily, leaning far over the rail. + </p> + <p> + Craven looked up with a smile and waved his hand, but did not answer and + the motor boat shot away toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + He landed on the big pier and lingered for a moment to watch the launch + speeding back to the yacht. Then he walked slowly down the length of the + stage and at the entrance found his rickshaw waiting. The two men who were + squatting on the ground leaped up at his approach and one hurriedly lit a + great dragon-painted paper lantern while the other held out a light + dustcoat. Craven tossed it into the rickshaw and silently pointing toward + the north, climbed in. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. The men sprang + away in a quick dog-trot along the Bund, and then started to climb the + hillside at the back of the town. They wound slowly up the narrow tortuous + roads, past numberless villas, hung with lights, from which voices floated + out into the quiet air. + </p> + <p> + The moon was brilliant and the night wonderfully light, but Craven paid no + attention to the beauty of the scene or to the gaily lit villas. + Atherton's invitation had been curiously hard to decline and even now an + almost overpowering desire came over him to bid his men retrace their + steps to the harbour. Then hard on the heels of that desire came thoughts + that softened the hard lines that had gathered about his mouth. He pitched + his cigarette away as if with it he threw from him an actual temptation, + and resolutely put out of his mind Atherton and the suggestion of flight. + </p> + <p> + Still climbing upward the rickshaw passed the last of the outlying + European villas and turned down a side road where there were no houses. + For a couple of miles the men raced along a level track cut on the side of + a hill that rose steeply on the one hand and on the other fell away + precipitously down to the sea until they halted with a sudden jerk beside + a wooden gateway with a creeper-covered roof on either side of which two + matsu trees stood like tall sentinels. + </p> + <p> + Waiting by the open gate was a short, powerful looking Japanese dressed in + European clothes. He came forward as Craven alighted and gathering up the + coat and hat from the floor of the rickshaw, dismissed the Japanese who + vanished further along the road into the shadows. Then he turned and + waited for his master to precede him through the gateway, but Craven + signed to him to go on, and as the man disappeared up the garden path he + crossed the road and standing on the edge of the cliff looked down across + the harbour. The American yacht was the biggest craft of her kind in the + roads and easily discernible in the moonlight. The brilliant deck + illumination had been shut off and only a few lights showed. He gave a + quick sigh. Atherton's coming had been like a bar drawn suddenly across + the stream down which he was drifting. If Jermyn had only come last year! + The envy he had felt earlier in the evening increased. He thought of the + look he had seen in Atherton's eyes and the intonation of his voice when + the American spoke of the wife to whom he was returning. What did love + like that mean to a man? What factor in Atherton's strenuous and + adventurous life had affected him as this had done? What were the ethics + of a love that rose purely above physical attraction—environment—temperament; + a love that grew and strengthened and absorbed until it ceased to be a + part of life and became life itself—the main issue, the fundamental + essence? + </p> + <p> + And as Craven watched he saw the yacht steam slowly down the bay. He drew + a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “You lucky, lucky devil,” he whispered again and swung on his heel. He + paused for a moment just within the gateway where on the only level part + of the garden lay a miniature lake, hedged round with bamboo, clumps of + oleander, fed by a little twisting stream that came tumbling and splashing + down the hillside in a series of tiny waterfalls, its banks fringed with + azalea bushes and slender cherry trees. Then he walked slowly along the + path that led upward, winding to and fro through clusters of pines and + cedars and over mossy slopes to the little house which stood in a clearing + at the top of the garden surrounded by fir trees and backed by a high + creeper-clad palisade. + </p> + <p> + From the wide verandah, built out on piles over the terrace, there was an + uninterrupted view of the harbour. He climbed the four wooden stairs and + on the top step turned and looked again down on to the bay. The yacht was + now invisible, but in his mind he followed her slipping down toward the + open sea. And Atherton—what were his thoughts while pacing the broad + deck or lying in his cabin listening to the screw whose every revolution + was taking him nearer the centre of his earthly happiness? Were they + anything like his own, he wondered, as he stood there bareheaded in the + moonlight, looking strangely big and incongruous on the balcony of the + little fairylike doll's house? + </p> + <p> + He shrugged impatiently. The comparison was an insult, he thought + bitterly. Again he stared out to sea, straining his eyes; trying vainly to + pick up the yacht's lights far down the bay. It was very still, a tiny + breeze whispered in the pines and drifted across his face the sweet + perfume of a flowering shrub. A cicada chirped in the grass at his feet. + </p> + <p> + Then behind him came a faint rustle of silk. He heard the soft sibilant + sound of a breath drawn quickly in. + </p> + <p> + “Will my lord honourably be pleased to enter?” the voice was very low and + sweet and the English very slow and careful. + </p> + <p> + Craven did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Try again, O Hara San.” + </p> + <p> + A low bubble of girlish laughter rippled out. + </p> + <p> + “Please to come in, Bar-ree.” + </p> + <p> + He turned slowly, looking bigger than ever by contrast with the slender + little Japanese girl who faced him. She was barely seventeen, dainty and + fragile as a porcelain figure, wholly in keeping with her exquisite + setting and yet the flush on her cheeks—free from the thick + disfiguring white paste used by the women of her country—and the + vivid animation of her face were oddly occidental, and the eyes raised so + eagerly to Craven's were as grey as his own. + </p> + <p> + He held out his arms and she fluttered into them with a little breathless + murmur, clinging to him passionately. + </p> + <p> + “Little O Hara San,” he said gently as she pressed closer to him. He + tilted her head, stooping to kiss the tiny mouth that trembled at the + touch of his lips. She closed her eyes and he felt an almost convulsive + shudder shake her. + </p> + <p> + “Have you missed me, O Hara San?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a thousand moons since you are gone,” she whispered unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “Are you glad to see me?” + </p> + <p> + Her grey eyes opened suddenly with a look of utter content and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Bar-ree. Oh, Bar-ree!” + </p> + <p> + His face clouded, the teasing word that rose to his lips died away + unspoken and he pressed her head against him almost roughly to hide the + look of trusting devotion that suddenly hurt him. For a few moments she + lay still, then slipped free of his arms and stood before him, swaying + slightly from side to side, her hands busily patting her hair into order + and smiling up at him happily. + </p> + <p> + “Being very rude. Forgetting honourable hospitality. You please forgive?” + </p> + <p> + She backed a few steps toward the doorway and her pliant figure bent for + an instant in the prescribed form of Japanese courtesy and salutation. + Then she clasped both hands together with a little cry of dismay. “Oh, so + sorree,” she murmured in contrition, “forgot honourable lord forbidding + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Your honourable lord will beat you with a very big stick if you forget + again,” said Craven laughing as he followed her into the little room. O + Hara San pouted her scarlet lips at him and laughed softly as she subsided + on to a mat on the floor and clapped her hands. Craven sat down opposite + her more slowly. In spite of the months he had spent in Japan he still + found it difficult to adapt his long legs to the national attitude. + </p> + <p> + In answer to the summons an old armah brought tea and little rice cakes + which O Hara San dispensed with great dignity and seriousness. She drank + innumerable cupfuls while Craven took three or four to please her and then + lit a cigarette. He smoked in silence watching the dainty little kneeling + figure, following the quick movements of her hands as she manipulated the + fragile china on the low stool before her, the restraint she imposed upon + herself as she struggled with the excited happiness that manifested itself + in the rapid heaving of her bosom, and the transient smile on her lips, + and a heavy frown gathered on his face. She looked up suddenly, the tiny + cup poised in her hand midway to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “You happy in Tokio?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + It was not the answer for which she had hoped and her eyes dropped at the + curt monosyllable. She put the cup back on the tray and folded her hands + in her lap with a faint little sigh of disappointment, her head drooping + pensively. Craven knew instinctively that he had hurt her and hated + himself. It was like striking a child. But presently she looked up again + and gazed at him soberly, wrinkling her forehead in unconscious imitation + of his. + </p> + <p> + “O Hara San very bad selfish girl. Hoping you very <i>un</i>happy in + Tokio,” she said contritely. + </p> + <p> + He laughed at the naive confession and the gloom vanished from his face as + he stood up, his long limbs cramped with the uncongenial attitude. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing while I was away?” he asked, crossing the room + to look at a new kakemono on the wall. + </p> + <p> + She flitted away silently and returned in a few moments carrying a small + panel. She put it into his hands, drawing near to him within the arm he + slipped round her and slanted her head against him, waiting for his + criticism with the innate patience of her race. + </p> + <p> + Craven looked long at the painting. It was a study of a solitary fir tree, + growing at the edge of a cliff—wind-swept, rugged. The high + precipice on which it stood was only suggested and far below there was a + hint of boundless ocean—foam-crested. + </p> + <p> + It was the tree that gripped attention—a lonely outpost, clinging + doggedly to its jutting headland, rearing its head proudly in its + isolation; the wind seemed to rustle through its branches, its gnarled + trunk showed rough and weather-beaten. It was a poem of loneliness and + strength. + </p> + <p> + At last Craven laid it down carefully, and gathering up the slender + clasped hands, kissed them silently. The mute homage was more to her than + words. The colour rushed to her cheeks and her eyes devoured his face + almost hungrily. + </p> + <p> + “You like it?” she whispered wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Like it?” he echoed, “Gad! little girl, it's wonderful. It's more than a + fir tree—it's power, tenacity, independence. I know that all your + work is symbolical to you. What does the tree mean—Japan?” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head away, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her fingers + gripping his. + </p> + <p> + “It means—more to me than Japan,” she murmured. “More to me than + life—it means—you,” she added almost inaudibly. + </p> + <p> + He swept her up into his arms and carrying her out on to the verandah, + dropped into a big cane chair that was a concession to his western limbs. + </p> + <p> + “You make a god of me, O Hara San,” he said huskily. + </p> + <p> + “You are my god,” she answered simply, and as he expostulated she laid her + soft palm over his mouth and nestled closer into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “I talk now,” she said quaintly. “I have much to tell.” + </p> + <p> + But the promised news did not seem forthcoming for she grew silent again, + lying quietly content, rubbing her head caressingly from time to time + against his arm and twisting his watch-chain round her tiny fingers. + </p> + <p> + The night was very quiet. No sound came from within the house, and without + only the soft wind murmuring in the trees, cicadas chirping unceasingly + and the little river dashing down the hillside, splashing noisily, broke + the stillness. Nature, the sleepless, was awake making her influence felt + with the kindly natural sounds that mitigate the awe of absolute silence—sounds + that harmonized with the peacefulness of the little garden. Tonight the + contrast between Yokohama, with its pitiful western vulgarity obtruding at + every turn, and the quiet beauty of his surroundings struck Craven even + more sharply than usual. It seemed impossible that only two miles away was + Theatre Street blazing and rioting with all its tinsel tawdriness, flaring + lights and whining gramophones. Here was another world—and here he + had found more continuous contentment than he had known in the last ten + years. The garden was an old one, planned by a master hand. By day it was + lovely, but by night it took on a weird beauty that was almost unreal. The + light of the moon cast strong black shadows, deep and impenetrable, that + hovered among the trees like sinister spirits lurking in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + The trees themselves, contorted in the moonlight, assumed strange forms—vague + shapes played in and out among them—the sombre bushes seemed alive + with peeping faces. It was the Garden of Enchantment, peopled with a + thousand djinns and demons of Old Japan. The atmosphere was mysterious, + the air was saturated with sweet heavy scents. + </p> + <p> + Craven was a passionate lover of the night. The darkness, the silence, the + mystery of it appealed to him. He was familiar with its every phase in + many climates. It enticed him for long solitary rambles in all the + countries he had visited during the ten years of his wanderings. Nature, + always fascinating, was then to him doubly attractive, doubly alluring. To + the night he went for sympathy. To the night he went for inspiration. It + was during his midnight wanderings that he seemed to get nearer the + fundamental root of things. It was to the night he turned for consolation + in times of need. It was then that he exorcised the demon of unrest that + entered into him periodically. All his life the charm of the night had + called to him and all his life he had responded obediently. As a tiny boy + one of his earliest recollections was of slipping out of bed and, evading + nurses and servants, stealing out into the park at Craven Towers to seek + the healing of the night for some childish heartache. He had crept down + the long avenue and climbing the iron fence had perched on the rail and + watched the deer feeding by the light of the moon until all the sorrow had + been chased away and his baby heart was singing with a kind of delirious + happiness that he did not understand and that gave way in its turn to a + natural childish enjoyment of an adventure that was palpably forbidden. He + had slid down from the fence and retraced his steps up the avenue until he + came to the path that led to the rose garden and eventually to the terrace + near the house. He had trotted along on his little bare feet, shivering + now and then, but more from excitement than from cold, until he had come + to the long flight of stone steps that led to the terrace. He had + laboriously climbed them one foot at a time, his toes curling at the + contact with the chill stone, and at the top he had halted suddenly, + holding his breath. Close to him was a tall indistinct figure wrapped in + dark draperies. For a moment fear gripped him and then an immense + curiosity swamped every other feeling and he moved forward cautiously. The + tall figure had turned suddenly and it was his mother's sad girlish face + that looked down at him. She had lifted him up into her arms, wrapping her + warm cloak round his slightly clad little body—she had asked no + questions and she had not scolded. She had seemed to understand, even + though he gave no explanation, and it was the beginning of a sympathy + between them that had developed to an unusual degree and lasted until her + death, ten years ago. She had hugged him tightly and he had always + remembered, without fully understanding in his childhood, the half + incredulous, half regretful whisper in his ear, “Has it come to you so + soon, little son?” + </p> + <p> + The hereditary instinct, born thus, had grown with his own growth from + boyhood to manhood until it was an integral part of himself. + </p> + <p> + And the lure of the eastern nights—more marvellous and compelling + even than in colder climates—had become almost an obsession. + </p> + <p> + Little O Hara San, firm believer in all devils, djinns and midnight + workers of mischief, had grown accustomed to the eccentricities of the man + who was her whole world. If it pleased him to spend long hours of the + night sitting on the verandah when ordinary folk were sensibly shut up in + their houses she did not care so long as she might be with him. No demon + in Japan could harm her while she lay securely in his strong arms. And if + unpleasant shadows crept uncomfortably near the little house she + resolutely turned her head and hiding her face against him shut out all + disagreeable sights and slept peacefully, confident in his ability to keep + far from her all danger. Her love was boundless and her trust absolute. + But tonight there was no thought of sleep. For three long weeks she had + not seen him and during that time for her the sun had ceased to shine. She + had counted each hour until his return and she could not waste the + precious moments now that he had really come. The djinns and devils in the + garden might present themselves in all their hideousness if it so pleased + them but tonight she was heedless of them. She had eyes for nothing but + the man she worshipped. Even in his silent moods she was content. It was + enough to feel his arms about her, to hear his heart beating rhythmically + beneath her head and, lying so, to look up and see the firm curve of his + chin and the slight moustache golden brown against his tanned cheek. + </p> + <p> + She stirred slightly in his arms with a little sigh of happiness, and the + faint movement woke him from his abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “Sleepy?” he asked gently. + </p> + <p> + She laughed gaily at the suggestion and sat up to show how wide awake she + was. The light from a lantern fell full on her face and Craven studied it + with an intensity of which he was hardly aware. She bore his scrutiny in + silence for a few moments and then looked away with a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Thinking me very ugly?” she hazarded tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “No. Very pretty,” he replied truthfully. She leaned forward and laid her + cheek for a second against his, then cuddled down into his arms again with + a happy laugh. He lit a cigarette and tossed the match over the verandah + rail. + </p> + <p> + “What is your news, O Hara San?” + </p> + <p> + She did not speak for a moment, and when she did it was no answer to his + question. She reached up her hands and drawing his head down toward her, + looked earnestly into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You loving me?” she asked a little tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “You know I love you,” he answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Very much?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flickered and her hands released their hold. + </p> + <p> + “Men not loving like women,” she murmured at length wistfully. And then + suddenly, with her face hidden against him, she told him—of the + fulfilling of all her hope, the supreme desire of eastern women, pouring + out her happiness in quick passionate sentences, her body shaking with + emotion, her fingers gripping his convulsively. + </p> + <p> + Craven sat aghast. It was a possibility of which he had always been aware + but which with other unpleasant contingencies he had relegated to the + background of his mind. He had put it from him and had drifted, careless + and indifferent. And now the shadowy possibility had become a definite + reality and he was faced with a problem that horrified him. His cigarette, + neglected, burnt down until it reached his fingers and he flung it away + with a sharp exclamation. He did not speak and the girl lay motionless, + chilled with his silence, her happiness slowly dying within her, vaguely + conscious of a dim fear that terrified her. Was the link that she had + craved to bind them closer together to be useless after all? Was this + happiness that he had given her, the culminating joy of all the goodness + and kindness that he had lavished on her, no happiness to him? The thought + stabbed poignantly. She choked back a sob and raised her head, but at the + sight of his face the question she would have asked froze on her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Bar-ree! you are not angry with me?” she whispered desperately. + </p> + <p> + “How could I be angry with you?” he replied evasively. She shivered and + clenched her teeth, but the question she feared must be asked. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not glad?” it was a cry of entreaty. He did not speak and with a + low moan she tried to free herself from him but she was powerless in his + hold, and soon she ceased to struggle and lay still, sobbing bitterly. He + drew her closer into his arms and laid his cheek on her dark hair, seeking + for words of comfort, and finding none. She had read the dismay in his + face, had in vain waited for him to speak and no tardy lie would convince + her now. He had wounded her cruelly and he could make no amends. He had + failed her at the one moment when she had most need of him. He cursed + himself bitterly. Gradually her sobs subsided and her hand slipped into + his clutching it tightly. She sat up at last with a little sigh, pushing + the heavy hair off her forehead wearily, and forcing herself to meet his + eyes—looked at him sorrowfully, with quivering lips. + </p> + <p> + “Please forgive, Bar-ree,” she whispered humbly and her humility hurt him + more even than her distress. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to forgive, O Hara San,” he said awkwardly, and as she + sought to go this time he did not keep her. She walked to the edge of the + verandah and stared down into the garden. Problematical ghosts and demons + paled to insignificance before this real trouble. She fought with herself + gallantly, crushing down her sorrow and disappointment and striving to + regain the control she had let slip. Her feminine code Was simple—complete + abnegation and self-restraint. And she had broken down under the first + trial! He would despise her, the daughter of a race trained from childhood + to conceal suffering and to suppress all signs of emotion. He would never + understand that it was the alien blood that ran in her veins and the + contact with himself that had caused her to abandon the stoicism of her + people, that had made her reveal her sorrow. He had laughed at her + undemonstrativeness, demanding expressions and proofs of her affection + that were wholly foreign to her upbringing until her Oriental reserve had + slipped from her whose only wish was to please him. She had adopted his + manners, she had made his ways her ways, forgetting the bar that separated + them. But tonight the racial difference of temperament had risen up + vividly between them. Her joy was not his joy. If he had been a Japanese + he would have understood. But he did not understand and she must hide both + joy and sorrow. It was his contentment not hers that mattered. All through + these last months of wonderful happiness there had lurked deep down in her + heart a fear that it would not last, and she had dreaded lest any + unwitting act of hers might hasten the catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + She glanced back furtively over her shoulder. Craven was leaning forward + in the cane chair with his head in his hands and she looked away hastily, + blinded with tears. She had troubled him—distressed him. She had + “made a scene”—the phrase, read in some English book, flashed + through her mind. Englishmen hated scenes. She gripped herself resolutely + and when he left his chair and joined her she smiled at him bravely. + </p> + <p> + “See, all the djinns are gone, Bar-ree,” she said with a little nervous + laugh. + </p> + <p> + He guessed the struggle she was making and chimed in with her mood. + </p> + <p> + “Sensible fellows,” he said lightly, tapping a cigarette on the verandah + rail. “Gone home to bed I expect. Time you went to bed too. I'll just + smoke this cigarette.” But as she turned away obediently, he caught her + back, with a sudden exclamation: + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! I nearly forgot.” + </p> + <p> + He took a tiny package from his pocket and gave it to her. Girlishly eager + her fingers shook with excitement as she ripped the covering from a small + gold case attached to a slender chain. She pressed the spring and uttered + a little cry of delight. The miniature of Craven had been painted by a + French artist visiting Yokohama and was a faithful portrait. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bar-ree,” she gasped with shining eyes, lifting her face like a child + for his kiss. She leaned against him studying the painting earnestly, + appreciating the mastery of a fellow craftsman, ecstatically happy—then + she slipped the chain over her head and closing the case tucked it away + inside her kimono. + </p> + <p> + “Now I have two,” she murmured softly. + </p> + <p> + “Two?” said Craven pausing as he lighted his cigarette. “What do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, I show,” she replied and vanished into the house. She was back in a + moment holding in her hand another locket. He took it from her and moved + closer under the lantern to look at it. It hung from a thick twisted cable + of gold, and set round with pearls it was bigger and heavier than the + dainty case O Hara San had hidden against her heart. For a moment he + hesitated, overcoming an inexplicable reluctance to open it—then he + snapped the spring sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” he whispered slowly through dry lips. And yet he had known, + known intuitively before the lid flew back, for it was the second time + that he had handled such a locket—the first he had seen and left + lying on his dead mother's breast. + </p> + <p> + He stood as if turned to stone, staring with horror at the replica of his + own face lying in the hollow of his hand. The thick dark hair, the golden + brown moustache, the deep grey eyes—all were the same. Only the chin + in the picture was different for it was hidden by a short pointed beard; + so was it in the miniature that was buried with his mother, so was it in + the big portrait that hung in the dining-room at Craven Towers. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave you this?” he asked thickly, and O Hara San stared at him in + bewilderment, frightened at the strangeness of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” she said wonderingly. “He was Bar-ree, too. See,” she added + pointing with a slender forefinger to the name engraved inside the case. + </p> + <p> + A nightbird shrieked weirdly close to the house and a sudden gust of wind + moaned through the pine trees. The sweat stood out on Craven's forehead in + great drops and the cigarette, fallen from his hand, lay smouldering on + the matting at his feet. + </p> + <p> + He pulled the girl to him and turning her face up stared down into the + great grey eyes, piteous now with unknown fear, and cursed his blindness. + Often the unrecognised likeness had puzzled him. He dropped the miniature + and ground it savagely to powder with his heel, heedless of O Hara San's + sharp cry of distress, and turned to the railing gripping it with shaking + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Damn him, damn him!” + </p> + <p> + Why had instinct never warned him? Why had he, knowing the girl's mixed + parentage and knowing his own family history, made no inquiries? A wave of + sick loathing swept over him. His head reeled. He turned to O Hara San + crouched sobbing on the matting over the little heap of crushed gold and + pearls. Was there still a loop-hole? + </p> + <p> + “What was he to you?” he said hoarsely, and he did not recognise his own + voice. + </p> + <p> + She looked up fearfully, then shrank back with a cry—hiding her eyes + to shut out the distorted face that bent over her. + </p> + <p> + “He was my father,” she whispered almost inaudibly. But it sounded to + Craven as if she had shouted it from the housetop. Without a word he + turned from her and stumbled toward the verandah steps. He must get away, + he must be alone—alone with the night to wrestle with this ghastly + tangle. + </p> + <p> + O Hara San sprang to her feet in terror. She did not understand what had + happened. Her mother had rarely spoken of the man who had first betrayed + and then deserted her—she had loved him too faithfully; with the + girl's limited experience all western faces seemed curiously alike and the + similarity of an uncommon name conveyed nothing to her for she did not + realize that it was uncommon. She could not comprehend this terrible + change in the man who had never been anything but gentle with her. She + only knew that he was going, that something inexplicable was taking him + from her. A wild scream burst from her lips and she sprang across the + verandah, clinging to him frantically, her upturned face beseeching, + striving to hold him. + </p> + <p> + “Bar-ree, Bar-ree! you must not go. I die without you. Bar-ree! my love—” + Her voice broke in a frightened whisper as he caught her head in his hands + and stared down at her with eyes that terrified her. + </p> + <p> + “Your—love?” he repeated with a strange ring in his voice, and then + he laughed—a terrible laugh that echoed horribly in the silent night + and seemed to snap some tension in his brain. He tore away her hands and + fled down the steps into the garden. He ran blindly, instinctively turning + to the hillside track that led further into the country, climbing steadily + upward, seeking the solitary woods. He did not hear the girl's shriek of + despair, did not see her fall unconscious on the matting, he did not see a + lithe figure that bounded from the back of the house nor hear the feet + that tracked him. He heard and saw nothing. His brain was dulled. His only + impulse was that of the wounded animal—to hide himself alone with + nature and the night. He plunged on up the hillside climbing fiercely, + tirelessly, wading mountain streams and forcing his way through thick + brushwood. He had taken, off his coat earlier in the evening and his silk + shirt was ripped to ribbons. His hair lay wet against his forehead and his + cheek dripped blood where a splintered bamboo had torn it, but he did not + feel it. He came at last to a tiny clearing in the forest where the moon + shone through a break in the trees. There he halted, rocking unsteadily on + his feet, passing his hand across his face to clear the blood and + perspiration from his eyes, and then dropped like a log. The next moment + the bushes parted and his Japanese servant crept noiselessly to his side. + He bent down over him for an instant. Craven lay motionless with his face + hidden in his arms, but as the Jap watched a shudder shook him from head + to foot and the man backed cautiously, disappearing among the bushes as + silently as he had come. + </p> + <p> + The breeze died away and it was quite still within the moonlit clearing. A + broad shaft of cold white light fell directly on the prone figure. He was + morally stunned and for a long time the agony of his mind was blunted. But + gradually the first shock passed and full realization rushed over him. His + hands dug convulsively into the soft earth and he writhed at his + helplessness. What he had done was irremediable. It was a sudden + thunderbolt that had flashed across his clear sky. This morning the sun + had shone as usual and everything had seemed serene to him whose life had + always been easy—tonight he was wrestling in a hell of his own + making. Why had it come to him? He knew that his life had been + comparatively blameless. Why should this one sin, so common throughout the + world, recoil on him so terribly? Why should he, among all the thousands + of men who had sinned similarly, be reserved for such a nemesis? Why of + him alone should such a reckoning be demanded? Surely the fault was not + his. Surely it lay with the man who had wrecked his mother's life and + broken her heart, the man who had neglected his duties and repudiated his + responsibilities and who had been faithful to neither wife nor mistress. + He was to blame. At the thought of his father an access of rage passed + over Craven and he cursed him in a kind of dull fury. His fingers gripped + the ground as if they were about the throat of the man whom he hated with + all the strength of his being. The mystery of his father had always lain + like a shadow across his life. It was a subject that his mother had + refused to discuss. He shivered now when he realized the agony his + perpetual boyish questions must have caused her. His petulance because + “other fellows' fathers” could be produced when necessary and were not + shrouded away in unexplained obscurity. He remembered her unfailing + patience with him, the consistent loyalty she had shown toward the husband + who had failed her so utterly, the courage with which she had taken the + absent father's place with the son whom she idolized. He understood now + her intolerant hatred of Japan and the Japanese, an intolerance for which—in + his ignorance—he had often teased her. One memory came to him with + striking vividness—a winter evening, in the dawn of his early + manhood, when they had been sitting after dinner in the library at Craven + Towers—his mother lying on the sofa that had been rolled up before + the fire, and himself sprawled on the hearthrug at her feet. Already tall + and strong beyond his years and confident in the full flush of his + adolescence he had launched into a glowing anticipation of the life that + lay before him. He had noticed that his mother's answers were monosyllabic + and vague, and then when he had broken off, hurt at her seeming lack of + interest, she had suddenly spoken—telling him what she had all the + evening nerved herself to say. Her voice had faltered once or twice but + she had steadied it bravely and gone on to the end, shirking nothing, + evading nothing, dealing faithfully with the whole sex problem as far as + she was able—outraging her own reserve that her son might learn the + pitfalls and temptations that would assuredly lie in wait for him, + sacrificing her own modesty that he might remain chaste. He remembered the + vivid flush that had risen to his face and the growing sense of hot + discomfort with which he had listened to her low voice; his half grateful, + half shocked feeling. But it was not until he had glanced furtively at her + through his thick lashes and seen her shamed scarlet cheeks and quivering + downcast eyes that he had realized what it cost her and the courage that + had made it possible for her to speak. He had mumbled incoherently, his + face hidden against her knee, and with innate chivalry had kissed the + little white hand he held between his own great brown ones—“Keep + clean, Barry,” she had whispered tremulously, her hand on his ruffled hair—“only + keep clean.” + </p> + <p> + And later on in the same evening she had spoken to him of the woman who + would one day inevitably enter his life. “Be gentle to her, Barry-boy, you + are such a great strong fellow, and women, even the strongest women, are + weak compared with men. We are poor creatures, the best of us, we <i>bruise</i> + so easily,” she had said with a laugh that was more than half a sob. And + for his mother's sake he had vowed to be gentle to all women who might + cross his path. And how had he kept his vow? Tonight his egoism had + swallowed his oath and he had fled like a coward to be alone with his + misery. A great sob rose in his throat. Craven by name and craven by + nature he thought bitterly and he cursed again the father who had + bequeathed him such an inheritance, but as he did so he stopped suddenly + for a soft clear voice sounded close to his ear. “No man need be fettered + for life by an inherited weakness. Every man who is worthy of the name can + rise above hereditary deficiencies.” He lay tense and his heart gave a + great throb and then he remembered. The voice was inward—it was only + another memory, an echo of the young mother who had died, ten years + before. Overwhelming shame filled him. “Mother, Mother!” he whispered + chokingly, and deep tearing sobs shook his broad shoulders. The moon had + passed beyond the break in the trees and it was dark now in the little + clearing and to the man who lay stripped of all his illusions the + blackness was merciful. He saw himself as he was clearly—his + selfishness, his arrogance, his pride, and a nausea of self-hatred filled + him. The eagerness with which he had sought to lay on his father the blame + of his own sin now seemed to him despicable. He would always hate the + memory of the man whose neglect had killed his mother, but the + responsibility for this horror rested on himself. He had made his own hell + and the burden of it lay with him only. That he had never known the manner + of his father's life in Japan and that during the time he had himself been + living in Yokohama he had cared to make no inquiries was no excuse. He + alone was to blame. + </p> + <p> + The air seemed suddenly stifling, his head throbbed and he panted + breathlessly. Then as suddenly the sensation passed and he rolled over on + his back with a deep sigh, his limbs relaxed, too weary to move. For a + long time he lay until the first pale streaks of early dawn showed above + the tree tops, then he sat up with a shiver and looked around curiously at + the silent trees and bamboo clumps that had witnessed his agony. His head + ached intolerably, his mouth was parched and the cut in his cheek was + stiff and sore. He staggered to his feet and stood a moment holding his + head in his hands and the thought of O Hara San persisted urgently. He + shivered again as the image of the girl's distraught face and pleading + eyes rose before him—in a few hours he would have to go to her and + the thought of the interview sickened him. But he could not go now, his + appearance would terrify her, she might be asleep and he could not wake + her if nature had mercifully obliterated her sorrow for a few hours. In + his mad flight he had lost all sense of distance and locality, but as the + dawn grew stronger he recognised his surroundings and started to tramp to + his own bungalow at the top of the Bluff. He stumbled through the woods, + hurrying wearily to reach home before the full light. It was still dusk + when he arrived and crossing the verandah went into his bedroom and flung + himself, dressed as he was, on to the bed. And the stealthy footsteps that + had tracked him through the night followed softly and stopped outside the + open doorway. The Jap stood for a few moments listening intently. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Craven woke abruptly a few hours later with a spasmodic muscular + contraction that jerked him into a sitting position. Half dazed as yet + with sleep he swung his heels to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed + looking stupidly at his dusty boots and earth-stained fingers. Then + remembrance came and he clenched his hands with a stifled groan. He drank + thirstily the tea that was on a table beside him and went to the open + window. As he crossed the room the reflection of his blood-stained haggard + face, seen in a mirror, startled him. A bath and clean clothes were + indispensable before he went back to the lonely little house on the + hillside. He lingered for a few minutes by the window, glad of the cool + morning breeze blowing against his face, trying to pull himself together, + trying to brace himself to meet the consequences of his folly, trying to + drag his disordered thoughts into something approaching coherence. He + stared down over the bay and the sunlit waters mocked him with their + dancing ripples sliding lightheartedly one after the other toward the + shore. The view that he looked upon had been until this morning a + never-failing source of pleasure, now it moved him to nothing but the + recollection of the hackneyed line in the old hymn—“where only man + is vile,” and he was vile—with all power of compensation taken from + him. To some was given the chance of making reparation. For him there was + no chance. He could do nothing to mitigate the injury he had done. She + whom he had wronged must suffer for him and he was powerless to avert that + suffering. His helplessness overwhelmed him. O Hara San, little O Hara + San, who had given unstintingly, with eager generous hands. His face was + set as he turned from the window and, starting to pull off his torn shirt, + called for Yoshio. But no Yoshio was forthcoming and at his second + impatient shout another Japanese servant bowed himself in, and, kowtowing, + intimated that Yoshio had already gone on the honourable lord's errand and + would there await him, and that in the meantime his honourable bath was + prepared and his honourable breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + Craven paused with his shirt half off. + </p> + <p> + “What errand?” he said, perplexed, unaware that he was asking the question + audibly. + </p> + <p> + The man bowed again, with hands outspread, and gravely shook his head + conveying his total ignorance of a matter that was beyond his province, + but the pantomime was lost on Craven who was wrestling with his shirt and + not even aware that he had spoken aloud. It was the first time in ten + years' service that Yoshio had failed to answer a call and Craven wondered + irritably what could have taken him away at that time in the morning, and + concluded that it was some order given by himself the day before, now + forgotten, so dismissing Yoshio and his affairs from his mind he signed to + the still gently explaining servant to go. + </p> + <p> + His brain felt dull and tired, his thoughts were chaotic. He saw before + him no clear course. Whichever way he looked at it the horrible tangle + grew more horrible. There was a recurring sense of unreality, a visionary + feeling of detachment which enabled him to view the situation from an + impersonal standpoint, as one criticises a nightmare, confident in the + knowledge that it is only a dream. But in this case the confidence was + based on nothing tangible and the illusion faded as quickly as it rose and + left him confronted with the brutal truth from which there was no escape. + </p> + <p> + In the dressing room everything that he needed had been laid out in + readiness for him, and he dressed mechanically with a feverish haste that + struggled ineffectually with a refractory collar stud, and caused him to + execrate heartily the absent valet and his enigmatical errand. Another ten + minutes was lost while he hunted for his watch and cigarette case which he + suddenly remembered were in the coat that he had left at the little house. + Or had he searched genuinely? Had he not rather been—perhaps + unconsciously—procrastinating, shrinking from the task he had in + hand, putting off the evil moment? He swung on his heel violently and + passed out on to the verandah. But at the head of the steps a vigilant + figure rose up, bowing obsequiously, announcing blandly that breakfast was + waiting. + </p> + <p> + Craven frowned at him a moment until the meaning of the words filtered + through to his tired brain, then he pushed him aside roughly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damn breakfast!” he cried savagely, and cramming his sun helmet on + his head ran down the garden path to the waiting rickshaw. It never + occurred to him to wonder how it came to be there at an unusual hour. He + huddled in the back of the rickshaw, his helmet over his eyes. His nerves + were raw, his mind running in uncontrollable riot. The way had never + seemed so long. He looked up impatiently. The rickshaw was crawling. The + slow progress and the forced inaction galled him and a dozen times he was + on the point of calling to the men to stop and jumping out, but he forced + himself to sit quietly, watching the play of their abnormally developed + muscles showing plainly through the thin cotton garments that clung to + their sweat-drenched bodies, while they toiled up the steep roads. And + today the sight of the men's straining limbs and heaving chests moved him + more than usual. He used a rickshaw of necessity, and had never overcome + his distaste for them. + </p> + <p> + Emerging from a grove of pines they neared the little gateway and as the + men flung themselves backward with a deep grunt at the physical exertion + of stopping, Craven leaped out and dashed up the path, panic-driven. He + took the verandah steps in two strides and then stopped abruptly, his face + whitening under the deep tan. + </p> + <p> + Yoshio stood in the doorway of the outer room, his arms outstretched, + barring the entrance. His face had gone the grey leaden hue of the + frightened Oriental and his eyes held a curious look of pity. His attitude + put the crowning touch to Craven's anxiety. He went a step forward. + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside,” he said hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + But Yoshio did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Master not going in,” he said softly. + </p> + <p> + Craven jerked his head. + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside,” he repeated monotonously. + </p> + <p> + For a moment longer the Jap stood obstinately, then his eyes fell under + Craven's stare and he moved reluctantly, with a gesture of mingled + acquiescence and regret. Craven passed through into the room. It was + empty. He stood a moment hesitating—indefinite anxiety giving place + to definite fear. + </p> + <p> + “O Hara San,” he whispered, and the whisper seemed to echo mockingly from + the empty room. He listened with straining ears for her answer, for her + footstep—and he heard nothing but the heavy beating of his own + heart. Then a moan came from the inner room and he followed the sound + swiftly. The room was darkened and for a moment he halted in the doorway, + seeing nothing in the half light. The moaning grew louder and as he became + accustomed to the darkness he saw the old armah crouching beside a pile of + cushions. + </p> + <p> + In a second he was beside her and at his coming she scrambled to her feet + with a sharp cry, staring at him wildly, then fled from the room. + </p> + <p> + He stood alone looking down on the cushions. His heart seemed to stop + beating and for a moment he reeled, then he gripped himself and knelt down + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “O Hara San—” he whispered again, with shaking lips, “little O Hara + San—little—” the whisper died away in a terrible gasping sob. + </p> + <p> + She lay as if asleep—one arm stretched out along her side, the other + lying across her breast with her small hand clenched and tucked under her + chin, her head bent slightly and nestled naturally into the cushion. The + attitude was habitual. A hundred times Craven had seen her so—asleep. + It was impossible that she could be dead. + </p> + <p> + He spoke to her again—crying aloud in agony—but the heavily + fringed eyelids did not open, no glad cry of welcome broke from the parted + lips, the little rounded bosom that had always heaved tumultuously at his + coming was still under the silken kimono. He bent over her with ashen face + and laid his hand gently on her breast, but the icy coldness struck into + his own heart and his touch seemed a profanation. He drew back with a + terrible shudder. + </p> + <p> + How dared he touch her? Murderer! For it was murder. His work as surely as + if he had himself driven a knife into that girlish breast or squeezed the + breath from that slender throat. He was under no delusion. He understood + the Japanese character too well and he knew O Hara San too thoroughly to + deceive himself. He knew the passionate love that she had given him, a + love that had often troubled him with its intensity. He had been her god, + her everything. She had worshipped him blindly. And he had left her—left + her alone with the memory of his strangeness and his harshness, alone with + her heart breaking, alone with her fear. And she had been so curiously + alone. She had had nobody but him. She had trusted him—and he had + left her. She had trusted him. Oh, God, she had trusted him! + </p> + <p> + His quick imagination visualised what must have happened. Frantic with + despair and desperate at the seeming fulfilment of her fears she had not + stopped to reason nor waited for calmer reflection but with the curious + Oriental blending of impetuosity and stolid deliberation she had killed + herself, seeking release from her misery with the aid of the subtle poison + known to every Japanese woman. He flung his arm across the little still + body and his head fell on the cushion beside hers as his soul went down + into the depths. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + An hour of unspeakable bitterness passed before he regained his lost + control. + </p> + <p> + Then he forced himself to look at her again. The poison had been swift and + merciful. There was no distortion of the little oval face, no + discoloration on the fair skin. She was as beautiful as she had always + been. And with death the likeness had become intensified until it seemed + to him that he must have been blind beyond belief to have failed to detect + it earlier. + </p> + <p> + He looked for the last time through a blur of tears. It seemed horrible to + leave her to the ministrations of others, he longed to gather up the + slender body in his arms and with his own hands lay her in the loveliest + corner of the garden she had loved so much. He tried to stammer a prayer + but the words stuck in his throat. No intercession from him was possible, + nor did she need it. She had passed into the realm of Infinite + Understanding. + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet slowly and lingered for a moment looking his last + round the little room that was so familiar. Here were a few of her most + treasured possessions, some that had come to her from her mother, some + that he had given her. He knew them all so well, had handled them so + often. A spasm crossed his face. It had been the home of the enchanted + princess, shut off from all the world—until he had come. And his + coming had brought desolation. Near him a valuable vase, that she had + prized, lay smashed on the floor, overturned by the old armah in the first + frenzy of her grief. It was symbolical and Craven turned from it with + quivering lips and went out heavily. + </p> + <p> + He winced at the strong light and shaded his eyes for a moment with his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Yoshio was waiting where he had left him. Craven walked to the edge of the + verandah and stood for a few moments in silence, steadying himself. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you last night, Yoshio?” he asked at length, in a flat and + tired voice. + </p> + <p> + The Jap shrugged. + </p> + <p> + “In town,” he said, with American brevity learned in California. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you come here this morning?” + </p> + <p> + Yoshio raised eyes of childlike surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Master's watch. Came here to find it,” he said nonchalantly, with an air + that expressed pride at his own astuteness. But it did not impress Craven. + He looked at him keenly, knowing that he was lying but not understanding + the motive and too tired to try and understand. He felt giddy and his head + was aching violently—for a moment everything seemed to swim before + his eyes and he caught blindly at the verandah rail. But the sensation + passed quickly and he pulled himself together, to find Yoshio beside him + thrusting his helmet into his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Better Master going back to bungalow. I make all arrangements, + understanding Japanese ways,” he said calmly. + </p> + <p> + His words, matter-of-fact, almost brutal, brought Craven abruptly to + actualities. There was necessity for immediate action. This was the East, + where the grim finalities must unavoidably be hastened. But he resented + the man's suggestion. To go back to the bungalow seemed a shirking of the + responsibility that was his, the last insult he could offer her. But + Yoshio argued vehemently, blunt to a degree, and Craven winced once or + twice at the irrefutable reasons he put forward. It was true that he could + do no real good by staying. It was true that he was of no use in the + present emergency, that his absence would make things easier. But that it + was the truth made it no less hard to hear. He gave in at last and agreed + to all Yoshio's proposals—a curious compound of devotion to his + master, shrewd commonsense and knowledge of the laws of the country. He + went quickly down the winding path to the gate. The garden hurt him. The + careless splashing of the tiny waterfall jarred poignantly—laughing + water caring nothing that the hand that had planted much of the beauty of + its banks was stilled for ever. It had always seemed a living being + tumbling joyously down the hillside, it seemed alive now—callous, + self-absorbed. + </p> + <p> + Craven had no clear impression of the run back into Yokohama and he looked + up with surprise when the men stopped. He stood outside the gate for a + moment looking over the harbour. He stared at the place in the roadstead + where the American yacht had been anchored. Only last night had he laughed + and chatted with the Athertons? It was a lifetime ago! In one night his + youth had gone from him. In one night he had piled up a debt that was + beyond payment. He gave a quick glance up at the brilliant sky and then + went into the house. In the sitting-room he started slowly to pace the + floor, his hands clasped behind him, an unlit cigarette clenched between + his teeth. The mechanical action steadied him and enabled him to + concentrate his thoughts. Monotonously he tramped up and down the long + narrow room, unconscious of time, until at last he dropped on to a chair + beside the writing table and laid his head down on his arms with a weary + sigh. The little still body seemed present with him. O Hara San's face + continually before him—piteous as he had seen it last, joyous as she + had greeted him and thoughtful as when he had first seen it. + </p> + <p> + That first time—the memory of it rose vividly before him. He had + been in Yokohama about a month and was settled in his bungalow. He had + gone to the woods to sketch and had found her huddled at the foot of a + steep rock from which she had slipped. Her ankle was twisted and she could + not move. He had offered his assistance and she had gazed at him, without + speaking, for a few moments, with serious grey eyes that looked oddly out + of place in her little oval face. Then she had answered him in slow + carefully pronounced English. He had laughingly insisted on carrying her + home and had just gathered her up into his arms when the old armah + arrived, voluble with excitement and alarm for her charge. But the girl + had explained to her in rapid Japanese and the woman had hurried on to the + house to prepare for them, leaving Craven to follow more slowly with his + light burden. He had stayed only a few minutes, drinking the ceremonial + tea that was offered so shyly. + </p> + <p> + The next day he had convinced himself that it was only polite for him to + enquire about the injured foot. Then he had gone again, hoping to relieve + the tedium of her forced inactivity, until the going had become a habit. + The acquaintance had ripened quickly. From the first she had trusted him, + quickly losing her awe of him and accepting his coming with the simplicity + of a child. She had early confided to him the story of her short life—of + her solitude and friendlessness; of the mother who had died five years + before, bequeathing to her the little house which had been the last gift + of the Englishman who had been O Hara San's father and who had tired of + her mother and left her two years after her own birth; of the poverty + against which they had struggled—for the Englishman had left no + provision for them; of the faithful old servant, who had been her mother's + nurse; of O Hara San's discovery of her own artistic talent which had + enabled her to provide for the simple wants of the little household. She + had grown up alone—apart from the world, watched over by the old + woman, her mind a tangle of fairy-tales and romance—living for her + art, content with her solitude. And into her secluded life had come Barry + Craven and swept her off her feet. Child of nature that she was she had + been unable to hide from him the love that quickly overwhelmed her. And to + Craven the incident of O Hara San had come merely as a relief to the + monotony of lotus-eating, he had drifted into the connection from sheer + ennui. And then had come interest. No woman had ever before interested + him. He had never been able to define the attraction she had had for him, + the odd tenderness he had felt for her. He had treated her as a plaything, + a fragile toy to be teased and petted. And in his hands she had developed + from an innocent child into a woman—with a woman's capacity for + devotion and self-sacrifice. She had given everything, with trust and + gladness. And he had taken all she gave, with colossal egoism, as his + right—accepting lightly all she surrendered with no thought for the + innocence he contaminated, the purity he soiled. He had stained her soul + before he had killed her body. His hands clenched and unclenched + convulsively with the agony of remorse. Recollection was torture. + Repentance came too late. <i>Too late! Too late!</i> he words kept singing + in his head as if a demon from hell was howling them in his ear. Nothing + on earth could undo what he had done. No power could animate that little + dead body. And if she had lived! He shuddered. But she had not lived, she + had died—because of him. Because of him, Merciful God, because of + him! And he could make no restitution. What was there left for him to do? + A life of expiation was not atonement enough. There seemed only one + solution—a life for a life. And that was no reparation, only + justice. He put no value on his own life—he wished vaguely that the + worth of it were greater—he had merely wasted it and now he had + forfeited it. Remained only to end it—now. There was no reason for + delay. He had no preparations to make. His affairs were all in order. His + heir was his aunt, his father's only sister, who would be a better + guardian of the Craven estates and interests than he had ever been. Peters + was independent and Yoshio provided for. There was nothing to be done. He + rose and opening a drawer in the table took out a revolver and held it a + moment in his hand, looking at it dispassionately. It was not the ultimate + purpose for which it had been intended. He had never imagined a time when + he might end his own life. He had always vaguely connected suicide with + cowardice. Was it the coward's way? Perhaps! Who can say what cowardice or + courage is required to take the blind leap into the Great Unknown? That + did not trouble him. It was no question of courage or cowardice but he + felt convinced that his death was the only payment possible. + </p> + <p> + But as his finger pressed the trigger there was a slight sound beside him, + his wrist and arm were caught in a vice-like grip and the weapon exploded + harmlessly in the air as he staggered back, his arm almost broken with the + jiu-jitsu hold against which even his great strength could do nothing. He + struggled fruitlessly until he was released, then reeled against the + table, with teeth set, clasping his wrenched wrist—the sudden + frustration of his purpose leaving him, shaking. He turned stiffly. Yoshio + was standing by him, phlegmatic as usual, showing no signs of exertion or + emotion as he proffered a lacquer tray, with the usual formula: “Master's + mail.” + </p> + <p> + Craven's eyes changed slowly from dull suffering to blazing wrath. + Uncontrolled rage filled him. How dared Yoshio interfere? How dared he + drag him back into the hell from which he had so nearly escaped? He caught + the man's shoulder savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you!” he cried chokingly. “What the devil do you mean—” But + the Jap's very impassiveness checked him and with an immense effort he + regained command of himself. And imperturbably Yoshio advanced the tray + again. + </p> + <p> + “Master's mail,” he repeated, in precisely the same voice as before, but + this time he raised his veiled glance to Craven's face. For a moment the + two men stared at each other, the grey eyes tortured and drawn, the brown + ones lit for an instant with deep devotion. Then Craven took the letters + mechanically and dropped heavily into a chair. The Jap picked up the + revolver and, quietly replacing it in the drawer from which it had been + taken, left the room, noiseless as he had entered it. He seemed to know + intuitively that it would be left where he put it. + </p> + <p> + Alone, Craven leaned forward with a groan, burying his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + At last he sat up wearily and his eyes fell on the letters lying unopened + on the table beside him. He fingered them listlessly and then threw them + down again while he searched his pockets absently for the missing + cigarette case. Remembering, he jerked himself to his feet with an + exclamation of pain. Was all life henceforward to be a series of torturing + recollections? He swore, and flung his head up angrily. Coward! whining + already like a kicked cur! + </p> + <p> + He got a cigarette from a near table and picking up the letters carried + them out on to the verandah to read. There were two, both registered. The + handwriting on one envelope was familiar and his eyes widened as he looked + at it. He opened it first. It was written from Florence and dated three + months earlier. With no formal beginning it straggled up and down the + sides of various sheets of cheap foreign paper, the inferior violet ink + almost indecipherable in places. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder in what part of the globe this letter will find you? I have been + trying to write to you for a long time—and always putting it off—but + they tell me now that if I am to write at all there must be no more <i>mañana</i>. + They have cried 'wolf' so often in the last few months that I had grown + sceptical, but even I realise now that there must be no delay. I have + delayed because I have procrastinated all my life and because I am ashamed—ashamed + for the first time in all my shameless career. But there is no need to + tell you what I am—you told me candidly enough yourself in the old + days—it is sufficient to say that it is the same John Locke as then—drunkard + and gambler, spendthrift and waster! And I don't think that my worst enemy + would have much to add to this record, but then my worst enemy has always + been myself. Looking back now over my life—queer what a stimulating + effect the certainty of death has to the desire to find even one good + action wherewith to appease one's conscience—it is a marvel to me + that Providence has allowed me to cumber the earth so long. However, it's + all over now—they give me a few days at the outside—so I must + write at once or never. Barry, I'm in trouble, the bitterest trouble I + have ever experienced—not for myself, God knows I wouldn't ask even + your help, but for another who is dearer to me than all the world and for + whose future I can do nothing. You never knew that I married. I committed + that indiscretion in Rome with a little Spanish dancer who ought to have + known better than to be attracted by my <i>beaux yeux</i>—for I had + nothing else to offer her. We existed in misery for a couple of years and + then she left me, for a more gilded position. But I had the child, which + was all I cared about. Thank God, for her sake, that I was legally married + to poor little Lola, she has at least no stain on her birth with which to + reproach me. The officious individual who is personally conducting me to + the Valley of the Shadow warns me that I must be brief—I kept the + child with me as long as I could, people were wonderfully kind, but it was + no life for her. I've come down in the social scale even since you knew + me, Barry, and at last I sent her away, though it broke my heart. Still + even that was better than seeing her day by day lose all respect for me. + My miserable pittance dies with me and she is absolutely unprovided for. + My family cast off me and all my works many years ago, but I put my pride + in my pocket and appealed for help for Gillian and they suggested—a + damned charitable institution! I was pretty nearly desperate until I + thought of you. I know no one else. For God's sake, Barry, don't fail me. + I can and I do trust Gillian to you. I have made you her guardian, it is + all legally arranged and my lawyer in London has the papers. He is a + well-known man and emanates respectability—my last claim to decency! + Gillian is at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Paris. My only + consolation is that you are so rich that financially she will be no + embarrassment to you. I realize what I am asking and the enormity of it, + but I am a dying man and my excuse is—Gillian. Oh, man, be good to + my little girl. I always hoped that something would turn up, but it + didn't! Perhaps I never went to look for it, <i>quien sabe?</i> I shall + never have the chance again....” + </p> + <p> + The signature was barely recognisable, the final letter terminating in a + wandering line as if the pen had dropped from nerveless fingers. + </p> + <p> + Craven stared at the loose sheets in his hands for some time in horrified + dismay, at first hardly comprehending, then as the full significance of + John Locke's dying bequest dawned on him he flung them down and, walking + to the edge of the verandah, looked over the harbour, tugging his + moustache and scowling in utter perplexity. A child—a girl child! + How could he with his soiled hands assume the guardianship of a child? He + smiled bitterly at the irony of it. Providence was dealing hard with the + child in the Paris convent, from dissolute father to criminal guardian. + And yet Providence had already that morning intervened on her behalf—two + minutes later and there would have been no guardian to take the trust. + Providence clearly held the same views as John Locke on charitable + institutions. + </p> + <p> + He thought of Locke as he had known him years ago, in Paris, a man twenty + years his senior—penniless and intemperate but with an irresistible + charm, rolling stone and waster but proud as a Spaniard; a man of the + world with the heart of a boy, the enemy of nobody but himself, weak but + lovable; a ragged coat and the manners of a prince; idealist and failure. + </p> + <p> + Craven read the letter through again. Locke had forced his hand—he + had no option but to take up the charge entrusted to him. What a legacy! + Surely if John Locke had known he would have rather committed his daughter + to the tender mercies even of the “institution.” But he had not known and + he had trusted him. The thought was a sudden spur, urging him as nothing + else could have done, bringing out all that was best and strongest in his + nature. In a few hours he had crashed from the pinnacle on which he had + soared in the blindness of egoism down into depths of self-realisation + that seemed bottomless, and at the darkest moment when his world was lying + in pieces under his feet—this had come. Another chance had been + given to him. Craven's jaw set squarely as he thrust Locke's dying appeal + into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + He ripped open the second letter. It was, as he guessed, from the lawyer + and merely confirmed Locke's letter, with the additional information that + his client had died a few hours after writing the said letter and that he + had forwarded the news to the Mother Superior of the Convent School in + Paris. + </p> + <p> + Craven went back into the sitting-room to write cables. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Owing to a breakdown on the line the boat-train from Marseilles crawled + into the Gare du Lyon a couple of hours late. Craven had not slept. He had + given his berth in the waggon-lit to an invalid fellow passenger and had + sat up all night in an overcrowded, overheated carriage, choked with the + stifling atmosphere, his long legs cramped for lack of space. + </p> + <p> + It was early March, and the difference between the temperature of the + train and the raw air of the station struck him unpleasantly as he climbed + down on to the platform. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Yoshio, equally at home in Paris as in Yokohama, to collect + luggage, he signalled to a waiting taxi. He had the hood opened and, + pushing back his hat, let the keen wind blow about his face. The cab + jerked over the rough streets, at this early hour crowded with people—working + Paris going to its daily toil—and he watched them hurrying by with + the indifference of familiarity. Gradually he ceased even to look at the + varied types, the jostling traffic, the bizarre posters and the busy + newspaper kiosks. His thoughts were back in Yokohama. It had been six + weeks before he could get away, six interminable weeks of misery and + self-loathing. He had shirked nothing and evaded nothing. Much had been + saved him by the discreet courtesy of the Japanese officials, but the + ordeal had left him with jangling nerves. Fortunately the ship was nearly + empty and the solitude he sought obtainable. He felt an outcast. To have + joined as he had always previously done in the light-hearted routine of a + crowded ship bent on amusements and gaiety would have been impossible. + </p> + <p> + He sought mental relief in action and hours spent tramping the lonely + decks brought, if not relief, endurance. + </p> + <p> + And, always in the background, Yoshio, capable and devoted, stood between + him and the petty annoyances that inevitably occur in travelling—annoyances + that in his overwrought state would have been doubly annoying—with a + thoughtfulness that was silently expressed in a dozen different devices + for his comfort. That the Jap knew a great deal more than he himself did + of the tragedy that had happened in the little house on the hill Craven + felt sure, but no information had been volunteered and he had asked for + none. He could not speak of it. And Yoshio, the inscrutable, would + continue to be silent. The perpetual reminder of all that he could wish to + forget Yoshio became, illogically, more than ever indispensable to him. At + first, in his stunned condition, he had scarcely been sensible of the + man's tact and care, but gradually he had come to realize how much he owed + to his Japanese servant. And yet that was the least of his obligation. + There was a greater—the matter of a life; whatever it might mean to + Craven, to Yoshio the simple payment of a debt contracted years ago in + California. That more than this had underlain the Japanese mind when it + made its quick decision Craven could not determine; the code of the + Oriental is not that of the Occidental, the demands of honour are + interpreted and satisfied differently. Life in itself is nothing to the + Japanese, the disposal of it merely the exigency of a moment and withal a + personal prerogative. By all the accepted canons of his own national + ideals Yoshio should have stood on one side—but he had chosen to + interfere. Whatever the motive, Yoshio had paid his debt in full. + </p> + <p> + The weeks at sea braced Craven as nothing else could have done. As the + ship neared France the perplexities of the charge he was preparing to + undertake increased. His utter unfitness filled him with dismay. On + receipt of John Locke's amazing letter he had both cabled and written to + his aunt in London explaining his dilemma, giving suitable extracts from + Locke's appeal, and imploring her help. And yet the thought of his aunt in + connection with the upbringing of a child brought a smile to his lips. She + was about as unsuited, in her own way, as he. Caro Craven was a bachelor + lady of fifty—spinster was a term wholly inapplicable to the + strong-minded little woman who had been an art student in Paris in the + days when insular hands were lifted in horror at the mere idea, and was a + designation, moreover, deprecated strongly by herself as an insult to one + who stood—at least in her own sphere—on an equality with the + lords of creation. She was a sculptor, whose work was known on both sides + of the channel. When at home she lived in a big house in London, but she + travelled much, accompanied by an elderly maid who had been with her for + thirty years. And it was of the maid as much as of the mistress that + Craven thought as the taxi bumped over the cobbled streets. + </p> + <p> + “If we can only interest Mary.” There was a gleam of hope in the thought. + “She will be the saving of the situation. She spoiled me thoroughly when I + was a nipper.” And buoyed with the recollection of grim-visaged angular + Mary, who hid a very tender heart beneath a somewhat forbidding exterior, + he overpaid the chauffeur cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + There was an accumulation of letters waiting for him at the hotel, but he + shuffled them all into his overcoat pocket, with the exception of one from + Peters which he tore open and read immediately, still standing in the + lounge. + </p> + <p> + An hour later he set out on foot for the quiet hotel which had been his + aunt's resort since her student days, and where she was waiting for him + now, according to a telegram that he had received on his arrival at + Marseilles. The hall door of her private suite was opened by the elderly + maid, whose face lit up as she greeted him. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Craven is waiting in the salon, sir. She has been tramping the floor + this hour or more, expecting you,” she confided as she preceded him down + the corridor. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven was standing in a characteristic attitude before an open + fireplace, her feet planted firmly on the hearthrug, her short plump + figure clothed in a grey coat and skirt of severe masculine cut, her hands + plunged deep into her jacket pockets, her short curly grey hair + considerably ruffled. She bore down on her nephew with out-stretched + hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, there you are at last! I have been waiting <i>hours</i> for + you. Your train must have been very late—abominable railway service! + Have you had any breakfast? Yes? Good. Then take a cigarette—they + are in that box at your elbow—and tell me about this amazing + thunderbolt that you have hurled at me. What a preposterous proposition + for two bachelors like you and me! To be sure your extraordinary friend + did not include me in his wild scheme—though no doubt he would have, + had he known of my existence. Was the man mad? Who was he, anyhow? John + Locke of where? There are dozens of Lockes. And why did he select you of + all people? What fools men are!” She subsided suddenly into an easy chair + and crossed one neat pump over the other. “All of 'em!” she added + emphatically, flicking cigarette ash into the fire with a vigorous + sidelong jerk. Her eyes were studying his face attentively, seeking for + themselves the answer to the more personal inquiries that would have + seemed necessary to a less original woman meeting a much-loved nephew + after a lapse of years. Craven smiled at the characteristically peculiar + greeting and the well remembered formula. He settled his long limbs + comfortably into an opposite chair. + </p> + <p> + “Even Peter?” he asked, lighting a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven laughed good temperedly. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she rejoined succinctly, “is the one brilliant exception that + proves the rule. I have an immense respect for Peter.” He looked at her + curiously. “And—me, Aunt Caro?” he asked with an odd note in his + voice. Miss Craven glanced for a moment at the big figure sprawled in the + chair near her, then looked back at the fire with pursed lips and wrinkled + forehead, and rumpled her hair more thoroughly than before. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” she said at last soberly, “you resemble my unhappy brother + altogether too much for my peace of mind.” + </p> + <p> + He winced. Her words probed the still raw wound. But unaware of the + appositeness of her remark Miss Craven continued thoughtfully, still + staring into the fire: + </p> + <p> + “The Supreme Sculptor, when He made me, denied me the good looks that are + proverbial in our family—but in compensation he endowed me with a + solid mind to match my solid body. The Family means a great deal to me, + Barry—more than anybody has ever realised—and there are times + when I wonder why the solidity of mind was given to the one member of the + race who could not perpetuate it in the direct line.” She sighed, and then + as if ashamed of unwonted emotion, jerked her dishevelled grey head with a + movement that was singularly reminiscent of her nephew. Craven flushed. + </p> + <p> + “You're the best man of the family, Aunt Caro.” + </p> + <p> + “So your mother used to say—poor child.” Her voice softened + suddenly. She got up restlessly and resumed her former position before the + fire, her hands back in the pockets of her mannish coat. + </p> + <p> + “What about your plans, Barry? What are you going to do?” she said + briskly, with an evident desire to avoid further moralising. He joined her + on the hearthrug, leaning against the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “I propose to settle down—at any rate for a time, at the Towers,” he + replied. “I intend to interest myself in the estates. Peter insists that I + am wanted, and though that is nonsense and he is infinitely more necessary + than I am, still I am willing to make the trial. I owe him more than I can + even repay—we all do—and if my presence is really any help to + him—he's welcome to it. I shall be about as much real use as the + fifth wheel of a coach—a damned rotten wheel at that,” he added + bitterly. And for some minutes he seemed to forget that there was more to + say, staring silently into the fire and from time to time putting together + the blazing logs with his foot. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven was possessed of the unfeminine attribute of holding her + tongue and reserving her comments. She refrained from comment now, rocking + gently backward and forward on her heels—a habit associated with + mental concentration. + </p> + <p> + “I shall take the child to the Towers,” he continued at length, “and there + I shall want your help, Aunt Caro.” He paused stammering awkwardly—“It's + an infernal impertinence asking you to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “To turn nursemaid at my time of life,” she interrupted. “It is certainly + a career I never anticipated. And, candidly, I have doubts about its + success,” she laughed and shrugged, with a comical grimace. Then she + patted his arm affectionately—“You had much better take Peter's + advice and marry a nice girl who would mother the child and give her some + brothers and sisters to play with.” + </p> + <p> + He stiffened perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never marry,” he said shortly. Her eyebrows rose the fraction of + an inch but she bit back the answer that rose to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Never—is a long day,” she said lightly. “The Cravens are an old + family, Barry. One has one's obligations.” + </p> + <p> + He did not reply and she changed the conversation hastily. She had a + horror of forcing a confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Remains—Mary,” she said, with the air of proposing a final + expedient. Craven's tense face relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “Mary had also occurred to me,” he admitted with an eagerness that was + almost pathetic. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven grunted and clutched at her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” she repeated with a chuckle, “Mary, who has gone through life with + Wesley's sermons under her arm—and a child out of a Paris convent! + There are certainly elements of humour in the idea. But I must have some + details. Who was this Locke person?” + </p> + <p> + When Craven had told her all he knew she stood quite still for a long + while, rolling a cigarette tube between her firm hands. + </p> + <p> + “Dissolute English father—and Spanish mother of doubtful morals. My + poor Barry, your hands will be full.” + </p> + <p> + “Our hands,” he corrected. + </p> + <p> + “Our hands! Good heavens, the bare idea terrifies me!” She shrugged + tragically and was dumb until Mary came to announce lunch. + </p> + <p> + Across the table she studied her nephew with an attention that she was + careful to conceal. She was used to his frequent coming and going. Since + the death of his mother he had travelled continually and she was + accustomed to his appearing more or less unexpectedly, at longer or + shorter intervals. They had always been great friends, and it was to her + house in London that he invariably went first on returning to England—sure + of his welcome, sure of himself, gay, easy-going and debonair. She was + deeply attached to him. But, with something akin to terror, she had + watched the likeness to the older Barry Craven growing from year to year, + fearful lest the moral downfall of the father might repeat itself in the + son. The temptation to speak frankly, to warn, had been great. Natural + dislike of interference, and a promise given reluctantly to her dying + sister-in-law, had kept her silent. She had loved the tall beautiful woman + who had been her brother's wife and a promise made to her was sacred—though + she had often doubted the wisdom of a silence that might prove an + incalculable danger. She respected the fine loyalty that demanded such a + promise, but her own views were more comprehensive. She was strong enough + to hold opinions that were contrary to accepted traditions. She admitted a + loyalty due to the dead, she was also acutely conscious of a loyalty due + to the living. A few minutes before when Miss Craven had, somewhat + shamefacedly, owned to a love of the family to which they belonged she had + but faintly expressed her passionate attachment thereto. Pride of race was + hers to an unusual degree. All that was best and noblest she craved for + the clan. And Barry was the last of the Cravens. Her brother had failed + her and dragged her high ideals in the dust. Her courage had restored them + to endeavour a second time. If Barry failed her too! Hitherto her fears + had had no definite basis. There had been no real ground for anxiety, only + a developing similarity of characteristics that was vaguely disquieting. + But now, as she looked at him, she realised that the man from whom she had + parted nearly two years before was not the man who now faced her across + the table. Something had happened—something that had changed him + utterly. This man was older by far more than the actual two years. This + was a man whom she hardly recognised; hard, stern, with a curiously bitter + ring at times in his voice, and the shadow of a tragedy lying in the dark + grey eyes that had changed so incredibly for lack of their habitual ready + smile. There were lines about his mouth and a glint of grey in his hair + that she was quick to observe. Whatever had happened—he had + suffered. That was written plainly on his face. And unless he chose to + speak she was powerless to help him. She refused to intrude, unbidden, + into another's private concerns. That he was an adored nephew, that the + intimacy between them was great made no difference, the restriction + remained the same. But she was woman enough to be fiercely jealous for + him. She resented the change she saw—it was not the change she had + desired but something far beyond her understanding that left her with the + feeling that she was confronting a total stranger. But she was careful to + hide her scrutiny, and though her mind speculated widely she continued to + chatter, supplementing the home news her scanty letters had afforded and + retailing art gossip of the moment. One question only she allowed herself. + There had come a silence. She broke it abruptly, leaning forward in her + chair, watching him keen-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been ill—out there?”—her hand fluttered vaguely in + an easterly direction. Craven looked up in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said shortly, “I never am ill.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven's nod as she rose from the table might have been taken for + assent. It was in reality satisfaction at her own perspicacity. She had + not supposed for one moment that he had been ill but in no other way could + she express what she wanted to know. It was in itself an innocuous and + natural remark, but the sudden gloom that fell on him warned her that her + ingenuity was, perhaps, not so great as she imagined. + </p> + <p> + “Triple idiot!” she reflected wrathfully, as she poured out coffee, “you + had better have held your tongue,” and she set herself to charm away the + shadow from his face and dispel any suspicion he might have formed of her + desire to probe into his affairs. She had an uncommon personality and + could talk cleverly and well when she chose. And today she did choose, + exerting all her wit to combat the taciturn fit that emphasized so + forcibly the change in him. But though he listened with apparent attention + his mind was very obviously elsewhere, and he sat staring into the fire, + mechanically flicking ash from his cigarette. Conversation languished and + at length Miss Craven gave it up, with a wry face, and sat also silent, + drumming with her fingers on the arm of the chair. Her thoughts, in quest + of his, wandered far away until the sudden ringing of the telephone beside + her made her jump violently. + </p> + <p> + She answered the call, then handed the receiver to Craven. + </p> + <p> + “Your heathen,” she remarked dryly. + </p> + <p> + Though the least insular of women she had never grown accustomed to the + Japanese valet. He turned from the telephone with a look of mingled + embarrassment and relief. + </p> + <p> + “I sent a message to the convent this morning. Yoshio has just given me + the answer. The Mother Superior will see me this afternoon.” He + endeavoured to make his voice indifferent, pulling down his waistcoat and + picking a minute thread from off his coat sleeve. Miss Craven's mouth + twitched at the evident signs of nervousness while she glanced at him + narrowly. Prompt action in the matter of an uncongenial duty had not + hitherto been a conspicuous trait in his character. + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly not letting the grass grow under your feet.” + </p> + <p> + He jerked his head impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Waiting will not make the job more pleasant,” he shrugged. “I will see + the child at once and arrange for her removal as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven eyed him from head to foot with a grim smile that changed to a + whole-hearted laugh of amusement. + </p> + <p> + “It's a pity you have so much money, Barry, you would make your fortune as + a model. You are too criminally good looking to go fluttering into + convents.” + </p> + <p> + A ghost of the old smile flickered in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Come and chaperon me, Aunt Caro.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head laughingly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—no. There are limits. I draw the line at convents. Go and + get it over, and if the child is presentable you can bring her back to + tea. I gather that Mary is anticipating a complete failure on our part to + sustain the situation and is prepared to deputise. She has already + ransacked <i>Au Paradis Des Enfants</i> for suitable bribes wherewith to + beguile her infantile affection. I understand that there was a lively + scene over the purchase of a doll, the cost of which—clad only in + its birthday dress—was reported to me as 'a fair affront.' Even + after all these years Mary jibs at Continental prices. It is her way of + keeping up the prestige of the British Empire, bless her. An overcharge, + in her opinion, is a deliberate twist of the lion's tail.” + </p> + <p> + In the taxi he looked through the correspondence he had received that + morning for the lawyer's letter that would establish his claim to John + Locke's child. Then he leaned back and lit a cigarette. He had an absurd + feeling of nervousness and cursed Locke a dozen times before he reached + the convent. He was embarrassed with the awkward situation in which he + found himself—just how awkward he seemed only now fully to + appreciate. The more he thought of it, the less he liked it. The coming + interview with the Mother Superior was not the least of his troubles. The + promise of the morning had not been maintained, overhead the sky was + leaden, and a high wind drove rain in sharp splashes against the glass of + the cab. The pavements were running with water and the leafless trees in + the avenues swayed and creaked dismally. The appearance of the streets was + chill and depressing. Craven shivered. He thought of the warmth and + sunshine that he had left in Japan. The dreariness of the present outlook + contrasted sufficiently with the gay smiling landscape, the riotous wealth + of colour, and the scent-laden air of the land of his recollections. A + feeling almost of nostalgia came to him. But with the thought came also a + vision—a little still body lying on silken cushions; a small pale + face with fast shut eyes, the long lashes a dusky fringe against the + ice-cold cheek. The vision was terribly distinct, horribly real—not + a recollection only, as on the morning that he had found her dead—and + he waited, with the sweat pouring down his face, for the closed eyes to + open and reveal the agony he had read in them that night, when he had torn + her clinging hands away and left her. The faint aroma of the perfume she + had used was in his nostrils, choking him. The slender limbs seemed to + pulsate into life, the little breasts to stir perceptibly, the parted lips + to tremble. He could not define the actual moment of the change but, as he + bent forward, with hands close gripped, all at once he found himself + looking straight into the tortured grey eyes—for a second only. Then + the vision faded, and he was leaning back in the cab wiping the moisture + from his forehead. God, would it never leave him! It haunted him. In the + big bungalow on the Bluff; rising from the sea as he leaned on the steamer + rail; during the long nights on the ship as he lay sleepless in the narrow + brass cot; last night in the crowded railway carriage—then it had + been so vivid that he had held his breath and glanced around stealthily + with hunted eyes at his fellow passengers looking for the horrified faces + that would tell him that they also saw what he could see. He never knew + how long it lasted, minutes or seconds, holding him rigid until it passed + to leave him bathed in perspiration. Environment seemed to make no + difference. It came as readily in a crowd as when he was alone. He lived + in perpetual dread of betraying his obsession. Once only it had happened—in + the bungalow, the night before he left Japan, and his involuntary cry had + brought the watchful valet. And as he crossed the room Craven had + distinctly seen him pass through the little recumbent figure and, with + blazing eyes, had dragged him roughly to one side, pointing and muttering + incoherently. And Yoshio had seemed to understand. Sceptical as he was + about the supernatural, at first Craven's doubt had been rudely shaken; + but with the steadying of his nerves had come the conviction that the + vision was inward, though at the moment so real that often his confidence + momentarily wavered, as last night in the train. It came with no kind of + regularity, no warning that might prepare him. And recurrence brought no + mitigation, no familiarising that could temper the acute horror it + inspired. To what pitch of actuality might it attain? To what lengths + might it drive him? He dragged his thoughts up sharply. To dwell on it was + fatal, that way lay insanity. He set his teeth and forced himself to think + of other things. There was ample material. There was primarily the salvage + of a wasted life. During the last few weeks he had been forced to a + self-examination that had been drastically thorough. The verdict had been + an adverse one. Personal criticism, once aroused, went far. The + purposeless life that he had led seemed now an insult to his manhood. It + had been in his power to do so much—he had actually done + disastrously little. He had loafed through life without a thought beyond + the passing interest of the moment. And even in the greater interests of + his life, travel and big game, he had failed to exert himself beyond a + mediocre level. He had travelled far and shot a rare beast or two, but so + had many another—and with greater difficulties to contend with than + he who had never wrestled with the disadvantages of inferior equipment and + inadequate attendance. Muscularly and constitutionally stronger than the + average, physically he could have done anything. And he had done nothing—nothing + that others had not done as well or even better. It was sufficiently + humiliating. And the outcome of his reflections had been a keen desire for + work, hard absorbing work, with the hope that bodily fatigue might in some + measure afford mental alleviation. It did not even need finding. With a + certain shame he admitted the fact. It had waited for him any time these + last ten years in his own home. The responsibility of great possessions + was his. And he had shirked. He had evaded the duty he owed to a trust he + had inherited. It was a new view of his position that recent thought had + awakened. It was still not too late. He would go back like the prodigal—not + to eat the fatted calf, but to sit at the feet of Peters and learn from + him the secret of successful estate management. + </p> + <p> + For thirty years Peter Peters had ruled the Craven properties, and they + were all his life. For the last ten years he had never ceased urging his + employer to assume the reins of government himself. His entreaties, + protestations and threats of resignation had been unheeded. Craven felt + sure that he would never relinquish his post, he had grown into the soil + and was as firmly fixed as the Towers itself. He was an institution in the + county, a personality on the bench. He ruled his own domains with a kindly + but absolute autocracy which succeeded perfectly on the Craven estates and + was the envy of other agents, who had not his ability to do likewise. Well + born, original and fearless he was popular in castle and in cottage, and + his advice was respected by all. He neither sought nor abused a + confidence, and in consequence was the depository of most of the secrets + of the countryside. To his sympathetic ears came both grave offences and + minor indiscretions, as to a kindly safety-valve who advised and helped—and + was subsequently silent. His exoneration was considered final. “I + confessed to Peter” became a recognised formula, instituted by a giddy + young Marchioness at the north end of the county, whose cousin he was. And + there, invariably, the matter ended. And for Craven it was the one bright + spot in the darkness before him. Life was going to be hell—but there + would always be Peter. + </p> + <p> + At the Convent gates the taxi skidded badly at the suddenly applied + brakes, and then backed jerkily into position. Craven felt an overwhelming + inclination to take to his heels. The portress who admitted him had + evidently received orders, for she silently conducted him to a waiting + room and left him alone. It was sparsely furnished but had on the walls + some fine old rosewood panelling. The narrow heavily leaded windows + overlooked a paved quadrangle, glistening with moisture. For a few moments + the rain had ceased but drops still pattered sharply on to the flagstones + from the branches of two large chestnut trees. The outlook was melancholy + and he turned from the window, shivering. But the chill austere room was + hardly more inspiring. The atmosphere was strange to him. It was a world + apart from anything that had ever touched him. He marvelled suddenly at + the countless lives living out their allotted span in the confined area of + these and similar walls. Surely all could not submit willingly to such a + crushing captivity? Some must agonize and spend their strength + unavailingly, like birds beating their wings against the bars of a cage + for freedom. To the man who had roamed through all the continents of the + world this forced inactivity seemed appalling—stultifying. The + hampering of personal freedom, the forcing of independent minds into one + narrow prescribed channel that admitted of no individual expansion, the + waste of material and the fettering of intellects, that were heaven-sent + gifts to be put out to usury and not shrouded away in a napkin, revolted + him. The conventual system was to him a survival of medievalism, a relic + of the dark ages; the last refuge of the shirkers of the world. The + communities themselves, if he had thought of them at all, had been + regarded as a whole. He had never troubled to consider them as composed of + single individuals. Today he thought of them as separate human beings and + his intolerance increased. An indefinite distaste never seriously + considered seemed, during the few moments in the bare waiting room, to + have grown suddenly into active dislike. He was wholly out of sympathy + with his surroundings, impatient of the necessity that brought him into + contact with what he would have chosen to avoid. He looked about with eyes + grown hard and contemptuous. The very building seemed to be the embodiment + of retrogression and blind superstition. He was filled with antagonism. + His face was grim and his figure drawn up stiffly to its full height when + the door opened to admit the Mother Superior. For a moment she hesitated, + a faint look of surprise coming into her face. And no antagonism, however + intolerant, could have braved her gentle dignity. “It is—<i>Monsieur</i> + Craven?” she asked, a perceptible interrogation in her soft voice. + </p> + <p> + She took the letters he gave her and read them carefully—pausing + once or twice as if searching for the correct translation of a word—then + handed them back to him in silence. She looked at him again, frankly, with + no attempt to disguise her scrutiny, and the perplexity in her eyes grew + greater. One small white hand slid to the crucifix hanging on her breast, + as if seeking aid from the familiar symbol, and Craven saw that her + fingers were trembling. A faint flush rose in her face. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Monsieur</i> is perhaps married, or—happily—he has a + mother?” she asked at last, and the flush deepened as she looked up at the + big man standing before her. She made a little gesture of embarrassment + but her eyes did not waver. They would not, he thought with sudden + intuition. For he realised that it was one of his own order who confronted + him. It was not what he had anticipated. The Mother Superior's low voice + continuing in gentle explanation broke into his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Monsieur</i> will forgive that I catechise him thus but I had expected + one—much older.” Her distress was obvious. And Craven divined that + as a prospective guardian he fell short of expectation. And yet, his lack + of years was apparently to her the only drawback. His lack of years—Good + God, and he felt so old! His youth was a disadvantage that counted for + nothing in the present instance. If she could know the truth, if the + anxious gaze that was fixed so intently on him could look into his heart + with understanding, he knew that she would shrink from him as from a vile + contamination. + </p> + <p> + He conceived the horror dawning in her eyes, the loathing in her attitude, + and seemed to hear her passionate protest against his claim to the child + who had been sheltered in the safety of the community that he had + despised. The safety of the community—that had not before occurred + to him. For the first time he considered it a refuge to those who there + sought sanctuary and who were safeguarded from such as—he. He + winced, but did not spare himself. The sin had been only his. The child + who had died for love of him had been as innocent of sin as the birds who + loved and mated among the pine trees in her Garden of Enchantment. She had + had no will but his. Arrogantly he had taken her and she had submitted—was + he not her lord? Before his shadow fell across her path no blameless soul + within these old convent walls had been more pure and stainless than the + soul of O Hara San. It was the sins of such as he that drove women to this + shelter that offered refuge and consolation, to escape from such as he + they voluntarily immured themselves; surrendering the purpose of their + being, seeking in bodily denial the salvation of their souls. + </p> + <p> + The room had grown very dark. A sudden glare of light made Craven realise + that a question asked was still unanswered. He had not, in his + abstraction, been aware of any movement. Now he saw the Mother Superior + walking leisurely back from the electric switch by the door, and guessed + from her placid face that the interval had been momentary and had passed + unnoticed. Some answer was required now. He pulled himself together. + </p> + <p> + “I am not married,” his voice was strained, “and I have no mother. But my + aunt—Miss Craven—the sculptor—” he paused enquiringly + and she smiled reassurance. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Craven's beautiful work is known to me,” she said with ready tact + that put him more at ease. + </p> + <p> + “My aunt has, most kindly, promised to—to co-operate,” he finished + lamely. + </p> + <p> + The anxiety faded from the Mother Superior's face and she sat down with an + air of relief, motioning Craven to a chair. But with a curt bow he + remained standing. He had no wish to prolong the interview beyond what + courtesy and business demanded. He listened with a variety of feelings + while the Nun spoke. Her earnestness he could not fail to perceive, but it + required a decided effort to concentrate, and follow her soft well + modulated voice. + </p> + <p> + She spoke slowly, with feeling that broke at times the tone she strove to + make dispassionate. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad for Gillian's sake that at last, after all these years, there + has come one who will be concerned with her future. She has no vocation + for the conventual life and—I was beginning to become anxious. For + ourselves, we shall miss her more than it is possible to say. She had been + with us so long, she has become very dear to us. I have dreaded that her + father would one day claim her. She has been spared that contamination—God + forgive me that I should speak so.” For a moment she was silent, her eyes + bent on her hands lying loosely clasped in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian is not altogether friendless,” she resumed, “she will go to you + with a little more knowledge of the world than can be gained within these + old walls.” She glanced round the panelled room with half-sad affection. + “She is popular and has spent vacations in the homes of some of her fellow + pupils. She has a very decided personality, and a facility for attracting + affection. She is sensitive and proud—passionate even at times. She + can be led but not driven. I tell you all this, <i>Monsieur</i>, not + censoriously but that it may help you in dealing with a character that is + extraordinarily complex, with a nature that both demands and repels + affection, that longs for and yet scorns sympathy.” She looked at Craven + anxiously. His complete attention was claimed at last. A new conception of + his unknown ward was forcing itself upon him, so that any humour there + might have been in the situation died suddenly and the difficulties of the + undertaking soared. The Mother Superior smothered a sigh. His attitude was + baffling, his expression inscrutable. Had her words touched him, had she + said what was best for the welfare of the girl who was so dear to her, and + whose departure she felt so keenly? How would she fare at this man's + hands? What lay behind his stern face and sombre tragic eyes? Her lips + moved in silent prayer, but when she spoke her voice was serene as before. + </p> + <p> + “There is yet another thing that I must speak of. Gillian has an unusual + gift.” A sentence in Locke's letter flashed into Craven's mind. + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't <i>dance</i>?” he asked, in some dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Dance, <i>Monsieur</i>—in a convent?” Then she pitied his hot + confusion and smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Is dancing so unusual—in the world? No, Gillian sketches—portraits. + Her talent is real. She does not merely draw a faithful likeness, her + studies are revelations of soul. I do not think she knows herself how her + effects are obtained, they grow almost unconsciously, but they result + always in the same strange delineation of character. It was so impossible + to ignore this exceptional gift that we procured for her the best teacher + in Paris, and continued her lessons even after—” She stopped + abruptly and Craven finished the broken sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Even after the fees ceased,” he said dryly. “For how many years has my + ward lived on your charity, Reverend Mother?” + </p> + <p> + She raised a protesting hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—charity. It is hardly the word—” she fenced. + </p> + <p> + He took out a cheque book. + </p> + <p> + “How much is owing, for everything?” he said bluntly. + </p> + <p> + She sought for a book in a bureau standing against the rosewood panelling + and, scanning it, gave a sum with evident reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian has never been told, but it is ten years since <i>Monsieur</i> + Locke paid anything.” There was diffidence in her voice. “In an + institution of this kind we are compelled to be businesslike. It is rare + that we can afford to make an exception, though the temptation is often + great. The head and the heart—<i>voyez, vous, Monsieur</i>—they + pull in contrary directions.” And she slipped the book back into a + pigeon-hole as if the touch of it was distasteful. She glanced + perfunctorily at the cheque he handed to her, then closer, and the colour + rose again to her sensitive face. + </p> + <p> + “But <i>Monsieur</i> has written treble the amount,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Will you accept the balance,” he said hurriedly, “in the name of my ward, + for any purpose that you may think fit? There is one stipulation only—I + do not wish her to know that there has been any monetary transaction + between us.” His voice was almost curt, and the Nun found herself unable + to question a condition which, though manifestly generous, she deemed + quixotic. She could only bend to his decision with mingled thankfulness + and apprehension. Despite the problem of the girl's future she had it in + her heart to wish that this singular claimant had never presented himself. + His liberality was obvious but—. She locked the slip of paper away + in the bureau with a feeling of vague uneasiness. But for good or ill the + matter was out of her hands. She had said all that she could say. The rest + lay with God. + </p> + <p> + “I do accept it,” she said, “with all gratitude. It will enable us to + carry out a scheme that has long been our hope. Your generosity will more + than pave the way. I will send Gillian to you now.” + </p> + <p> + She left him, more embarrassed than he had been at first, more than ever + dreading the task before him. He waited with a nervous impatience that + irritated himself. + </p> + <p> + Turning to the window he looked out into the dusk. The old trees in the + courtyard were almost indistinguishable. The rain dripped again steadily, + splashing the creeper that framed the casement. A few lights showing dimly + in the windows on the opposite side of the quadrangle served only to + intensify the gloom. The time dragged. Fretfully he drummed with his + fingers on the leaded panes, his ears alert for any sound beyond the + closed door. The echo of a distant organ stole into the room and the soft + solemn notes harmonised with the melancholy pattering of the raindrops and + the gusts of wind that moaned fitfully around the house. + </p> + <p> + In a sudden revulsion of feeling the life he had mapped out for himself + seemed horrible beyond thought. He could not bear it. It would be tying + his hands and burdening himself with a responsibility that would curtail + his freedom and hamper him beyond endurance. A great restlessness, a + longing to escape from the irksome tie, came to him. Solitude and open + spaces; unpeopled nature; wild desert wastes—he craved for them. The + want was like a physical ache. The desert—he drew his breath in + sharply—the hot shifting sand whispering under foot, the fierce + noontide sun blazing out of a brilliant sky, the charm of it! The + fascination of its false smiling surface, its treacherous beauty luring to + hidden perils called to him imperatively. The curse of Ishmael that was + his heritage was driving him as it had driven him many times before. He + was in the grip of one of the revolts against restraint and civilisation + that periodically attacked him. The wander-hunger was in his blood—for + generations it had sent numberless ancestors into the lonely places of the + world, and against it ties of home were powerless. In early days to the + romantic glamour of the newly discovered Americas, later to the silence of + the frozen seas and to the mysterious depth of unexplored lands the + Cravens had paid a heavy toll. A Craven had penetrated into the tangled + gloom of the Amazon forests, and had never returned. In the previous + century two Cravens had succumbed to the fascination of the North West + Passage, another had vanished in Central Asia. Barry's grandfather had + perished in a dust storm in the Sahara. And it was to the North African + desert that his own thoughts turned most longingly. Japan had satisfied + him for a time—but only for a time. Western civilisation had there + obtruded too glaringly, and he had admitted frankly to himself that it was + not Japan but O Hara San that kept him in Yokohama. The dark courtyard and + the faintly lighted windows faded. He saw instead a tiny well-remembered + oasis in Southern Algeria, heard the ceaseless chatter of Arabs, the + shrill squeal of a stallion, the peevish grunt of a camel, and, rising + above all other sounds, the whine of the tackling above the well. And the + smell—the cloying smell that goes with camel caravans, it was + pungent! He flung up his head inhaling deeply, then realised that the + scent that filled the room was not the acrid smell of the desert but the + penetrating odour of incense filtering in through the opened door. It shut + and he turned reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + He saw at first only a pair of great brown eyes, staring almost defiantly, + set in a small pale face, that looked paler by contrast with the frame of + dark brown hair. Then his gaze travelled slowly over the slender + black-clad figure silhouetted against the polished panels. His fear was + substantiated. Not a child who could be relegated to nurses and + governesses, but a girl in the dawn of womanhood. Passionately he cursed + John Locke. + </p> + <p> + He felt a fool, idiotically tongue-tied. He had been prepared to adopt a + suitably paternal attitude towards the small child he had expected. A + paternal attitude in connection with this self-possessed young woman was + impossible, in fact ludicrous. For the moment he seemed unable to cope + with the situation. It was the girl who spoke first. She came forward + slowly, across the long narrow room. + </p> + <p> + “I am Gillian Locke, <i>Monsieur</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + On the cushioned window seat in her bedroom at Craven Towers Gillian Locke + sat with her arms wrapped round her knees waiting for the summons to + dinner. With Miss Craven and her guardian she had left London that + morning, arriving at the Towers in the afternoon, and she was tired and + excited with the events of the day. She leant back against the panelled + embrasure, her mind dwelling on the last three crowded months they had + spent in Paris and London waiting until the house was redecorated and + ready to receive them. It had been for her a wonderful experience. The + novelty, the strangeness of it, left her breathless with the feeling that + years, not weeks, had rushed by. Already in the realisation of the new + life the convent days seemed long ago, the convent itself to have receded + into a far off past. And yet there were times when she wondered whether + she was dreaming, whether waking would be inevitable and she would find + herself once more in the old dormitory to pray passionately that she might + dream again. And until tonight there had scarcely been time even to think, + her days had been full, at night she had gone to bed to sleep in happy + dreamlessness. The hotel bedrooms with their litter of trunks suggesting + imminent flight had held no restfulness. To Gillian the transitory + sensation had strained already over-excited nerves and heightened the + dreamlike feeling that made everything seem unreal. But here, the visible + evidences of travel removed, the deep silence of a large country house + penetrating her mind and conducing to peace, she could think at last. The + surroundings were helpful. There was about the room an air of permanence + which the hotel bedrooms had never given, an atmosphere of abiding quiet + that soothed her. She was sensitive of an influence that was wholly new to + her and very sweet, that brought with it a feeling of laughter and tears + strangely mingled, that made the room appear as no other room had ever + done. It Was her room, and it had welcomed her. It was like a big friendly + silent person offering mute reception, radiating repose. In a few hours + the room had become intimate, dear to her. She laughed happily—then + checked at a guilty feeling of treason against the grey old walls in Paris + that had so long sheltered her. She was not ungrateful, all her life she + would remember with gratitude the love and care she had received. But the + convent had been prison. Since her father had left her there, a tiny + child, she had inwardly rebelled; the life was abhorrent to her, the + restraint unbearable. With childish pride she had hidden her feelings, + living through a period of acute misery with no hint to those about her of + what she suffered. And the habit of suppression acquired in childhood had + grown with her own development. As the years passed the limitations of the + convent became more perceptible. She felt its cramping influence to the + full, as if the walls were closing in to suffocate her, to bury her alive + before she had ever known a fuller freer life. She had longed for + expansion—ideas she could not formulate, desires she could not + express, crowded, jostled in her brain. She wanted a wider outlook on life + than the narrow convent windows offered. Brief excursions into the world + to the homes of her friends had filled her with a yearning for freedom and + for independence, for a greater range of thought and action. Her artistic + studies had served to foster an unrest she struggled against bravely and + to conceal which she became daily more self-contained. Her reserve was + like a barrier about her. She was sweet and gentle to all around her, but + a little aloof and very silent. To the other girls she had been a heroine + of romance, puzzling mystery surrounded her; to the Nuns an enigma. The + Mother Superior, alone, had arrived at a partial understanding, more than + that even she could not accomplish. Gillian loved her, but her reserve was + stronger than her love. Sitting now in the dainty English bedroom, + revelling in the warm beauty of the exquisite landscape that, mellowed in + the evening light, lay spread out beneath her eyes, Gillian thought a + little sadly of her parting with the Reverend Mother. She had tried to + hide the happiness that the strange feeling of freedom gave her, to + smother any look or word that might wound the gentle sensibility of the + frail robed woman whose eyes were sad at the approaching separation. Her + conscience smote her that her own heart held no sadness. She had said very + little, nothing of the new life that lay ahead of her. She hid her hopes + of the future as jealously as she had hidden her longings in the past, and + she had left the convent as silently as she had lived in it. She had + driven back to the hotel with a sense of relief predominating that it was + all over, breathing deeply with a sigh of relaxed tension. It seemed to + her then as if she had learned to breathe only within the last few days, + as if the air itself was lighter, more exhilarating. + </p> + <p> + From the convent her mind went back to earlier days. She thought of her + father, the handsome dissolute man, whose image had grown dim with years. + As a tiny child she had loved him passionately, the central figure of her + chequered and wandering little life—father and mother in one, + playmate and hero. Her recollection seemed to be of constant travelling; + of long hours spent in railway trains; of arrivals at strange places in + the dark night; of departures in the early dawn, half awake—but + always happy so long as the familiar arms held her weary little body and + there was the shabby old coat on which to pillow her brown curls. A + jumbled remembrance of towns and country villages; of kind unknown women + who looked compassionate and murmured over her in a dozen different + languages. It had all been a medley of impressions and experiences—everything + transient, nothing lasting, but the big untidy man who was her all. And + then the convent. For a few years John Locke had reappeared at irregular + intervals, and on the memory of those brief visits she had lived until he + came again. Then he had ceased to come and his letters, grown short and + few, full of vague promises—unsatisfying—meagre, had stopped + abruptly. At first she had refused to admit to herself that he had + forgotten, that she could mean so little to him, that he would + deliberately put her out of his life. She had waited, excusing, trusting, + until, heart-sick with deferred hope, she had come to think of him as + dead. She was old enough then to realise her position and in spite of the + love and consideration surrounding her she had learned misery. Her + popularity even was a source of torment, for in the happy homes of her + friends she had felt more cruelly her own destitute loneliness. + </p> + <p> + When the lawyer's letter had come enclosing a few scrawled lines written + by her dying father she had felt that life could hold no more bitterness. + She had worshipped him—and he had abandoned her callously. She was + bone of his bone and he had made no effort even for his own flesh. He had + thrown her a burden on the convent that sheltered her so willingly only + for want of will power to conquer the weakness that had devitalised brain + and body. The thought crushed her. As she read his confession, full of + tardy remorse, her proud heart had been sick with humiliation. She groped + blindly through a sea of despair, her faith broken, her trust gone. She + hid her sorrow and her shame, fulfilling her usual tasks, following the + ordinary routine—a little more silent, a little more reserved—her + eyes alone betraying the storm that was overwhelming her. She had loved + him so dearly—that was the sting. She had guarded her memory of him + so tenderly, weaving a thousand extravagant tales about him, pinnacling + him above all men, her hero, her knight, her <i>preux chevalier.</i> And + now she realised that her memory was no memory, that she had built up a + fantastic figure of romance whose origin rested on nothing tangible, whose + elevation had been so lofty that his overthrow was demolition. Her god had + feet of clay. Her superman was nothing. All that she had ever had, memory + that was delusion, was taken from her. Woken abruptly to the brutal truth + she felt that she had nothing left to cling to—a loneliness far + greater than she had known before. Then gradually her own honesty + compelled her to admit her fantasy. The dream man she had evolved had been + of her own making, the virtues with which she had endowed him bred of her + own imagination. Of the real man she knew nothing, and for the real man + there dawned slowly—though love for him had died—pity. It came + to her, passionately endeavouring to understand, that in the sheltered + life she led she had no knowledge of the temptations that beset a man + outside in the great world. Dimly she realised that some win out—and + some go under. He had failed. And it seemed to her that on her had fallen + his debt. She must take the place he had forfeited in the universe, she + must succeed where he had failed. Her strength must rise out of his + weakness. His honour was hers to re-establish, given the opportunity. And + the opportunity had been given. She had waited for the coming of her + unknown guardian with a feeling of dull revolt against the degradation of + being handed over inexorably to the disposal and charity of a stranger. + Though she had not been told she had guessed, years ago, that money for + her maintenance was wanting. The kindly deception of the Mother Superior + had been ineffectual. Gillian knew she was a pauper. The charity of the + convent school had been hard to bear. The charity of a stranger would be + harder. She writhed with the humiliation of it. She was nineteen—for + two years she must go and be and endure at the whim of an unknown. And + what would he be like, this man into whose hands her father had thrust + her! What choice would John Locke be capable of making—what love had + he shown during these last years that he should choose carefully and well? + From among what class of man, of the society into which he had sunk, would + he select one to give his daughter? He had written of “my old friend, + Barry Craven.” The name conveyed nothing—the adjective admitted of + two interpretations. Which? Day and night she was haunted with visions of + old men—recollections of faces seen when driving with her friends or + visiting their homes; old men who had interested her, old men from whom + she had instinctively shrunk. What type of man was it that was coming for + her? There were times when her courage deserted her and the constantly + recurring question made her nearly mad with fear. She was like a wild + creature caught in a trap, listening to the feet of the keeper nearing—nearing. + She had longed for the time when she could leave the Convent, she clung to + it now with dread at the thought of the future. The London lawyer had + written that Mr. Craven was returning from Japan to assume his + guardianship, and she had traced his route with growing fear as the days + slipped by—the keeper's tread coming closer and closer. She had + masked the terror the thought of him inspired, preserving an outward + apathy that seemed to imply complete indifference. And in the end he had + come sooner than she expected, for they thought he would go first to + London. One morning she had learned he was in Paris, that very afternoon + she would know her fate. The day had been interminable. During his + interview with the Mother Superior she had paced the room where she was + waiting as it seemed for hours, her nerves at breaking point. When the + Reverend Mother came back she could have shrieked aloud and her desperate + eyes failed to interpret the expression on the Nun's face; she tried to + speak, a husky whisper that died away inarticulately. Faintly she heard + the gentle words of encouragement and with an effort of pride she walked + quickly to the door of the visitors' room. There she paused, irresolute, + and the low peaceful roll of the organ echoing from the distant chapel + seemed to mock her. So often it had comforted, giving courage to go + forward—today its very peacefulness jarred; nerve-racked she was out + of tune with the atmosphere of calm tranquillity about her. She felt alien—that + more than ever she stood alone. Then pride flamed afresh. With head held + high and lips compressed she went in. As he turned from the window it was + his great height and broad shoulders that struck her first—men of + his physique were rare in France—and, in the thought of a moment, + the well cut conventional morning coat had seemed absurd, and mentally she + had clothed his long limbs in damascened steel. Then she had seen that he + was young, how young she could not guess, but younger far than she had + imagined. As their eyes met the sombre tragedy in his had hurt her. She + divined a sorrow before which her own paled to nothingness and quick pity + killed fear. The sadness of his face lifted her suddenly into full + realisation of her womanhood. Compassion rose above self. Instinctively + she knew that the interview that was to her so momentous was to him only + an embarrassing interlude. Shyness remained but the terror she had felt + gave place to a feeling she had not then understood. As quickly as + possible he had taken her to the hotel, leaving to his aunt all + explanations that seemed necessary. And since then he had remained + consistently in the background, delegating his authority to Miss Craven. + But from the first his proximity had troubled her—she was always + conscious of his presence. Hypersensitive from her convent upbringing she + knew intuitively when he entered a room or left it. Men were to her an + unknown quantity; the few she had met—brothers and cousins of school + friends—had been viewed from a different standpoint. Hedged about + with rigid French convention there had been no chance of acquaintance + ripening into friendship—she had been merely a schoolgirl among + other girls, touching only the fringe of the most youthful of the + masculine element in the houses where she had stayed. She had been + unprepared for the change to the daily contact with a man like Barry + Craven. It would take time to accustom herself, to become used to the + continual masculine presence. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven, to her nephew's relief, had taken the shy pale-faced girl to + her eccentric heart with a suddenness and enthusiasm that had surprised + herself. + </p> + <p> + And Gillian's reserve and pride had been unable to withstand the whirlwind + little lady. Miss Craven's personality took a strong hold on her; she + loved the woman, she admired the artist, and she was quick to recognise + the real feeling and deep kindness that lay under brusque manner and + quizzical speeches. She had good reason. She glanced now round the big + room. Everywhere were evidences of lavish generosity, showered on her + regardless of protest. Gillian's eyes filled slowly with tears. It was all + a fairy story, too wonderful almost to be true. Why were they so good to + her—how would she ever be able to repay the kindness lavished on + her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the latest gift that rose out of his + basket with a sleepy yawn and stretching luxuriously came and laid his + head on her knee, looking up at her with sad brown eyes. She had always + loved animals, the possession of some dog had been an ardent desire, and + she hugged the big black poodle now with a little sob. + </p> + <p> + “Mouston, you pampered person, have you ever been lonely? Can you imagine + what it is like to be made to feel that you <i>belong</i> to somebody + again?” She rubbed her cheek against his satiny head, crooning over him, + the dog thrilling to her touch with jerking limbs and sharp half-stifled + whines. It was her first experience of ownership, of responsibility for a + living creature that was dependent on her and for which she was + answerable. And it was likely to prove an arduous responsibility. He was + single-minded and jealous in his allegiance; Miss Craven he tolerated + indifferently, of Craven he was openly suspicious. He followed Gillian + like a shadow and moped in her absence, yielding to Yoshio, who had charge + of him on such occasions, a resigned obedience he gave to no other member + of the household. Through Mouston Gillian and Yoshio had become + acquainted. + </p> + <p> + Mouston's affection this evening became over-enthusiastic and threatening + to fragile silks and laces. Gillian kissed the top of his head, shook + solemnly an insistent paw, and put him on one side. She moved to the + dressing table and inspected herself critically in the big mirror. She + looked with grave amusement. Was that Gillian Locke? She wondered did a + butterfly feel more incongruous when it shed its dull grub skin. For so + many years she had worn the sombre garb of the convent schoolgirl, the + change was still new enough to delight and the natural woman within her + responded to the fascination of pretty clothing. The dark draperies of the + convent had palled, she had craved colour with an almost starved longing. + </p> + <p> + The general reflection in the long glass satisfied, a more detailed + personal survey raised serious doubts. She had never recognised the grace + of her slender figure, the uncommon beauty of her pale oval face—other + types had appealed more, other colouring attracted. She had studied her + face often, disapprovingly. Once or twice, lacking a model, she had + essayed to reproduce her own features. She had failed utterly. The + faithful portraiture she achieved for others was wanting. She was unable + to express in her own likeness the almost startling exposition of + character that distinguished her ordinary work. She had been her own + limitation. Her failure had puzzled her, causing a searching mental + inquiry. She had no knowledge herself of how her special gift took form, + the work grew involuntarily under her hand. She was aware of no definite + impression received, no attempt at soul analysis. Vaguely she supposed + that in some subtle mysterious way the character of her sitter + communicated itself, influencing her; in fact her best work had often had + the least care bestowed upon it. Did her inability to transfer to canvas a + living copy of her own face argue that she herself was without character—had + she failed because there was in truth nothing to delineate? Or was it + because she sought to see something unreal—sought to control a + purely inherent impulse? It was a problem she had never solved. + </p> + <p> + She looked now at the mirrored figure with her usual disapproval, great + brown eyes scowling back at her from the glass, then made a little + obliterating movement with her hand and shook her head. Appearance had + never mattered before, but now she wanted so much to please—to be a + credit to the interest shown, to repay the time and money spent upon her. + Her eyes grew wistful as she leant nearer to see if there were any + tell-tale traces of tears, then danced with sudden amusement as she picked + up a powder puff and dabbed tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gillian Locke, what would the Reverend Mother say!” she murmured, and + laughed. + </p> + <p> + The poodle, jealous for attention, leaped on to a chair beside her, his + paws on the plate glass slab scattering brushes and bottles, and still + laughing she smothered his damp eager nose with powder until he sneezed + disgusted protest. + </p> + <p> + With a conciliatory caress she left him to disarrange the dressing table + further, and went back to the window. Beneath her lawns extended to a wide + terrace, stone balustraded, from the centre of which a long flight of + steps led down to a formal rose garden sheltered by a high yew hedge and + backed by a little copse beyond which the heavily timbered park stretched + indefinitely in the evening light. The sense of space fascinated her. She + had always longed for unimpeded views, for the stillness of the country. + On the smooth shaven lawns great trees were set like sentinels about the + house; fancifully she thought of them as living vigilant keepers + maintaining for centuries a perpetual guard—and smiled at her + childish imagination. Her pleasure in the prospect deepened. Already the + charm of the Towers had taken hold of her, from the first moment she had + loved it. Throughout the long railway journey and during the five mile + drive from the station, she had anticipated, and the actuality had + outstripped her anticipation. The beauty of the park, the herds of grazing + deer, had delighted her; the old grey house itself had stayed her + spellbound. She had not imagined anything half so lovely, so impressively + enduring. She had seen nothing to compare with its fine proportions, with + the luxury of its setting. It differed utterly from the French Chateaux + where she had visited; there toil obtruded, vineyards and rich fields of + crops clustered close to the very walls of the seigneur's dwellings, a + source of wealth simply displayed; here similar activities were banished + to unseen regions, and scrupulously kept avenues, close cut lawns and + immaculate flower-beds formed evidence of constant labour whose results + charmed the eye but were materially profitless. The formal grandeur + appealed to her. She was not altogether alien, she reflected, with a + curious smile—despite his subsequent downfall John Locke had sprung + from just such stock as the owner of this wonderful house. A sudden panic + of lateness interrupted her pleasure and she turned from the window, + calling to the dog. Her suite opened on to a circular gallery—from + which bedrooms opened—running round the central portion of the house + and overlooking the big square hall which was lit from above by a lofty + glazed dome; eastward and westward stretched long rambling wings, a story + higher than the main block, crowned with the turrets that gave the house + its name. + </p> + <p> + A low murmur of men's voices came from below, and leaning over the + balustrade she saw Craven and his agent standing talking before the empty + fireplace. Sudden shyness overcame her; her guardian was still formidable, + Peters she had seen for the first time only a few hours ago when he had + met them at the station—a short broad-shouldered man inclining to + stoutness, with thick grey hair and close-pointed beard. To go down + deliberately to them seemed impossible. But while she hesitated in an + agony of self-consciousness Mouston precipitated the inevitable by dashing + on ahead down, the stairs and plunging into the bearskin hearthrug, + ploughing the thick fur with his muzzle and sneezing wildly. The sense of + responsibility outweighed shyness and she hurried after him, but Peters + anticipated her and already had the dog's unwilling head firmly between + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth has he got on his nose, Miss Locke?” he asked, in a tone of + wonder, but the keen blue eyes looking at her from under bushy grey + eyebrows were twinkling and her shyness was not proof against his + friendliness. + </p> + <p> + She dropped to her knees and flicked the offended organ with a scrap of + lace and lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Powder,” she said gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You can have no idea,” she added, looking up suddenly, “how delightful it + is to powder your nose when you have been brought up in a convent. The + Nuns consider it the height of depravity,” and she laughed, a ringing + girlish outburst of amusement that Craven had never yet heard. He looked + at her as she knelt on the rug soothing the poodle's outraged feelings and + smiling at Peters who was offering his own more adequate handkerchief. + That laugh was a revelation—in spite of her self-possession, of her + reserve, she was in reality only a girl, hardly more than a child, but + influenced by her quiet gravity he had forgotten the fact. + </p> + <p> + As he watched her a slight frown gathered on his face. It seemed that + Peters, in a few hours, had penetrated the barrier outside which he, after + months, still remained. With him she was always shyly silent. On the few + rare occasions in Paris and in London when he had found himself alone with + her she had shrunk into herself and avoided addressing him; and he had + wondered, irritably, how much was natural diffidence and how much due to + convent training. But he had made no effort at further understanding, for + the past was always present dominating inclinations and impulses—perpetual + memory, jogging at his elbow. There were days when the only relief was + physical exhaustion and he disappeared for hours to fight his devils in + solitude. And in any case he was not wanted, it was better in every way + for him to efface himself. There was nothing for him to do—thanks to + the improvidence of John Locke no business connected with the trust. Miss + Craven had taken complete possession of Gillian and he held aloof, not + attempting to establish more intimate relations with his ward. But + tonight, with a fine inconsistency, it piqued him that she should respond + so readily to Peters. He knew he was a fool—it mattered not one + particle to him—Peters' magnetism was proverbial—but, + illogically, the frown persisted. + </p> + <p> + As if conscious of his scrutiny Gillian turned and met his searching gaze. + The colour flooded her face and she pushed the dog aside and rose hastily + to her feet. Shyness supervened again and she was thankful for the arrival + of Miss Craven, who was breathless and apologetic. + </p> + <p> + “Late as usual! I shall be late when the last trump sounds. But this time + it was really not my fault. Mrs. Appleyard descended upon me!—our + old housekeeper, Gillian—and her tongue has wagged for a solid hour + by the clock. I am now <i>au fait</i> with everything that has happened at + the Towers since I was here last—do your ears burn, Peter?—metaphorically + she has dragged me at her heels from garrets to cellars and back to the + garrets again. She is pathetically pleased to have the house open once + more.” + </p> + <p> + Still talking she led the way to the dining room. It was an immense room, + panelled like most of the house, the table an oasis on a desert of Persian + carpet, a huge fireplace predominating, and some of the more valuable + family portraits on the walls. + </p> + <p> + As Miss Craven entered she looked instinctively for the portrait of her + brother, which since his death had hung—following a family custom—in + a panel over the high carved mantelpiece. But it had been removed and for + it had been substituted a beautiful painting of Barry's mother. She + stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence. “An innovation?” she + murmured to her nephew, with her shrewd eyes on his face. + </p> + <p> + “A reparation,” he answered shortly, as he moved to his chair. And his + tone made any further comment impossible. She sat down thoughtfully and + began her soup in silence, vaguely disturbed at the departure from a + precedent that had held for generations. Unconventional and ultra-modern + as she was she still clung to the traditions of her family, and from time + immemorial the portrait of the last reigning Craven had hung over the + fireplace in the big dining room waiting to give place to its successor. + It all seemed bound up somehow with the terrible change that had taken + place in him since his return from Japan—a change she was beginning + more and more to connect with the man whose portrait had been banished, as + though unworthy, from its prominence. Unworthy indeed—but how did + Barry know? What had he learned in the country that had had such a fatal + attraction for his father? The old shameful story she had thought buried + for ever seemed rising like a horrible phantom from the grave where it had + lain so long hidden. + </p> + <p> + With a little shudder she turned resolutely from the painful thoughts that + came crowding in upon her and entered into animated conversation with + Peters. + </p> + <p> + Gillian, content to be unnoticed, looked about her with appreciative + interest; the big room, its sombre, rather formal furniture and fine + pictures, appealed to her. The arrangements were in perfect harmony, + nothing clashed or jarred, electric lighting was carefully hidden and only + wax candles burnt in heavy silver candlesticks on the table. + </p> + <p> + The fascination of the old house was growing every moment more insistent, + like a spell laid on her. She gave herself up to it, to the odd happiness + it inspired. She felt it curiously familiar. A strange feeling came to her—it + was as if from childhood she had been journeying and now come home. An + absurd thought, but she loved it. She had never had a home, but for the + next two years she could pretend. To pretend was easy. All her life she + had lived in a land of dreams, tenanted with shadowy inhabitants of her + own imagining—puppets who moved obedient to her will through all the + devious paths of make-believe; a spirit world where she ranged free of the + narrow walls that restricted her liberty. It had been easy to pretend in + the convent—how much easier here in the solid embodiment of a dream + castle and stimulated by the real human affection for which her heart had + starved. The love she had hitherto known had been unsatisfying, too + impersonal, too restrained, too interwoven with mystical devotion. Mass + Craven's affection was of a hardier, more practical nature. Blunt candour + and sincerity personified, she did not attempt to disguise her attachment. + She had been attracted, had approved, and had finally co-opted Gillian + into the family. She had, moreover, great faith in her own judgment. And + to justify that faith Gillian would have gone through fire and water. + </p> + <p> + She looked gratefully at the solid little figure sitting at the foot of + the table and a gleam of amusement chased the seriousness from her eyes. + Miss Craven was in the throes of a heated discussion with Peters which + involved elaborate diagrams traced on the smooth cloth with a salt spoon, + and as Gillian watched she completed her design with a fine flourish and + leant back triumphant in her chair, rumpling her hair fantastically. But + the agent, unconvinced, fell upon her mercilessly and in a moment she was + bent forward again in vigorous protest, drumming impatiently on the table + with her fingers as he laughingly altered her drawing. They were the best + of friends and wrangled continually. To Gillian it was all so fresh, so + novel. Then her attention veered. Throughout dinner Craven had been + silent. When once started on a discussion his aunt and Peters tore the + controversy amicably to tatters in complete absorption. He had not joined + in the argument. As always Gillian was too shy to address him of her own + accord, but she was acutely conscious of his nearness. She deprecated her + own attitude, yet silence was better than the banal platitudes which were + all she had to offer. Her range was so restricted, his—who had + travelled the world over—must be so great. With the exception of one + subject her knowledge was negligible. But he too was an artist—hopeless + to attempt that topic, she concluded with swift contempt for her own + limitations; to offer the opinions of a convent-bred amateur to one who + had studied in famous Paris ateliers and was acquainted with the art of + many countries would be an impertinence. But yet she knew that sometime + she must break through the wall that her own diffidence had built up; in + the intimacy of country house life the continuance of such an attitude + would be both impossible and ridiculous. Contritely she acknowledged that + the tension between them was largely her own fault, a disability due to + training. But she could not go through life sheltering behind that wholly + inadequate plea. If there was anything in her at all she must rise above + the conventions in which she had been reared; she had done with the + narrowness of the past, now she must think broadly, expansively, in all + things—even in the trivial matter of social intercourse. A saving + sense of humour sent a laugh bubbling into her throat which nearly + escaped. It was such a little thing, but she had magnified it so greatly. + What, after all, did it amount to—the awkwardness of a schoolgirl + very properly ignored by a guardian who could not be other than bored with + her society. <i>Tant pis!</i> She could at least try to be polite. She + turned with the heroic intention of breaking the ice and plunging into + conversation, banal though it might be. But her eyes did not arrive at his + face, they were caught and held by his hand, lying on the white cloth, + turning and twisting an empty wine-glass between long strong fingers. + Hands fascinated her. They were indicative of character, testimonies of + individual peculiarities. She was sensitive to the impression they + conveyed. With the limited material available she had studied them—nuns' + hands, priests' hands, hands of the various inmates of the houses where + she had stayed, and the hands of the man who had taught her. From him she + had learned more than the mere rudiments of her art; under his tuition a + crude interest had developed into a definite study, and as she sat looking + at Barry Craven's hand a sentence from one of his lectures recurred to her—“there + are in some hands, particularly in the case of men, characteristics + denoting certain passions and attributes that jump to the eye as forcibly + as if they were expressions of face.” + </p> + <p> + Engaged in present study she forgot her original purpose, noting the + salient points of a fresh type, enumerating details that formed the + composite whole. A strong hand that could in its strength be merciless—could + it equally in its strength be merciful? The strange thought came + unexpectedly as she watched the thin stem of the wineglass turning rapidly + and then more slowly until, with a little tinkle, it snapped as the hand + clenched suddenly, the knuckles showing white through the tanned skin. + Gillian drew a quick breath. Had she been the cause of the mishap—had + she stared noticeably, and he been angry at an impertinence? Her cheeks + burned and in a misery of shyness she forced her eyes to his face. Her + contrition was needless. Heedless of her he was looking at the splintered + glass between his fingers with a faint expression of surprise, as if his + wandering thoughts were but half recalled by the accident. For a moment he + stared at the shattered pieces—then laid them down indifferently. + </p> + <p> + Gillian smothered an hysterical inclination to laugh. He was so totally + negligent of her presence that even this little incident had failed to + make him sensible of her scrutiny. Immersed in his thoughts he was very + obviously miles away from Craven Towers and the vicinity of a troublesome + ward. And suddenly it hurt. She was nothing to him but a shy <i>gauche</i> + girl whose very existence was an embarrassment. The determination so + bravely formed died before his cold detachment. More than ever was speech + impossible. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged faintly with a little pout. So, confident of his + preoccupation, she continued to study him. Had the homecoming intensified + the sadness of his eyes and deepened the lines about his mouth?—were + memories of the mother he had adored sharpening tonight the look of + suffering on his face? Or was her imagination, over-excited, exaggerating + what she saw and fancying a great sorrow where there was only boredom? She + pondered, and had almost concluded that the latter was the saner + explanation when—watching—she saw a sudden spasm cross his + face of such agony that she caught her lip fiercely between her teeth to + stifle an exclamation. In the fleeting expression of a moment she had seen + the revelation of a soul in torment. She looked away hastily, feeling + dismayed at having trespassed. She had discovered a secret wound. She sat + tense, and a quick fear came lest the others might have also seen. She + glanced at them furtively. But the argument was still unsettled, the + tablecloth between them scored and creased with conflicting sketches. She + drew a sharp little sigh of relief. Only she had noticed, and she did not + matter. For a few moments her thoughts ran riot until she pulled them up + frowningly. It was no business of hers—she had no right even to + speculate on his affairs. Angry with herself she turned for distraction to + the portraits on the walls—they at least would offer no disturbing + problem. But her determination to keep her thoughts from her guardian met + with a check at the outset for she found herself staring at Barry Craven + as she had visualised him in that first moment of meeting—steel-clad. + It was the picture of a young man, dressed in the style of the Elizabethan + period, wearing a light inlaid cuirass and leaning negligently against a + stone balustrade, a hooded falcon on his wrist. The resemblance to the + owner of Craven Towers was remarkable—the same build, the same + haughty carriage of the head, the same features and colouring; the mouth + only of the painted gallant differed, for the lips were not set sternly + but curved in a singularly winning smile. The portrait had recently been + cleaned and the colours stood out freshly. The pose of the figure was + curiously unrestrained for the period, a suggestion of energy—barely + concealed by the indolent attitude—broke through the conventional + treatment of the time, as if the painter had responded to an influence + that had overcome tradition. The whole body seemed to pulsate with life. + Gillian looked at it entranced; instinctively her eyes sought the pictured + hands. The one that held the falcon was covered with an embroidered + leather glove, but the other was bare, holding a set of jesses. And even + the hands were similar, the characteristics faithfully transmitted. + Peters' voice startled her. “You are looking at the first Barry Craven, + Miss Locke. It is a wonderful picture. The resemblance is extraordinary, + is it not?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up and met the agent's magnetic smile across the table. + </p> + <p> + “It is—extraordinary,” she said slowly; “it might be a costume + portrait of Mr. Craven, except that in treatment the picture is so + different from a modern painting.” + </p> + <p> + Peters laughed. + </p> + <p> + “The professional eye, Miss Locke! But I am glad that you admit the + likeness. I should have quarrelled horribly with you if you had failed to + see it. The young man in the picture,” he went on, warming to the subject + as he saw the girl's interest, “was one of the most romantic personages of + his time. He lived in the reign of Elizabeth and was poet, sculptor, and + musician—there are two volumes of his verse in the library and the + marble Hermes in the hall is his work. When he was seventeen he left the + Towers to go to court. He seems to have been universally beloved, judging + from various letters that have come down to us. He was a close friend of + Sir Philip Sidney and one of Spenser's numerous patrons. A special + favourite with Elizabeth—in fact her partiality seems to have been a + source of some embarrassment, according to entries in his private journal. + She knighted him for no particular reason that has ever transpired, indeed + it seems to have been a matter of surprise to himself, for he records it + in his journal thus: + </p> + <p> + “'—dubbed knight this day by Gloriana. God He knoweth why, but not + I.' He was an idealist and visionary, with the power of putting his + thoughts into words—his love poems are the most beautiful I have + ever read, but they are quite impersonal. There is no evidence that his + love was ever given to any 'faire ladye.' No woman's name was ever + connected with his, and from his detached attitude towards the tender + passion he earned, in a fantastical court, the euphuistic appellation of + <i>L'amant d' Amour.</i> Quite suddenly, after ten years in the queen's + household, he fitted out an expedition to America. He gave no reason. + Distaste for the artificial existence prevailing at Court, sorrow at the + death of his friend Sidney, or a wander-hunger fed on the tales brought + home by the numerous merchant adventurers may have been the cause of this + surprising step. His decision provoked dismay among his friends and + brought a furious tirade from Elizabeth who commanded him to remain near + her. But in spite of royal oaths and entreaties—more of the former + than the latter—he sailed to Virginia on a land expedition. Two + letters came from him during the next few years, but after that—silence. + His fate is not known. He was the first of many Cravens to vanish into + oblivion searching for new lands.” The pleasant voice hesitated and + dropped to a lower, more serious note. And Gillian was puzzled at the + sudden anxiety that clouded the agent's smiling blue eyes. She had + listened with eager interest. It was history brought close and made alive + in its intimate connection with the house. The dream castle was more + wonderful even than she had thought. She smiled her thanks at Peters, and + drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “I like that,” and looking at the picture again, “the Lover of Love!” she + repeated softly; “it's a very beautiful idea.” + </p> + <p> + “A very unsatisfactory one for any poor soul who may have been fool enough + to lose her heart to him.” Miss Craven's voice was caustic. + </p> + <p> + “I have often wondered if any demoiselle 'pined in a green and yellow + melancholy for his sake,' she added, rising from the table. + </p> + <p> + “Reason enough, if he knew of it, for going to Virginia,” said Craven, + with a hard laugh. “The family traditions have never tended to undue + consideration of the weaker sex.” + </p> + <p> + “Barry, you are horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly, my dear aunt, but correct,” he replied coolly, crossing the + room to open the door. “Even Peter, who has the family history at his + fingers' ends, cannot deny it.” His voice was provocative but Peters, + beyond a mildly sarcastic “—thank you for the 'even,' Barry—” + refused to be drawn. + </p> + <p> + Her nephew's words would formerly have aroused a storm of indignant + protest from Miss Craven, touched in a tender spot. But now some intuition + warned her to silence. She put her arm through Gillian's and left the room + without attempting to expostulate. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing room she sat down to a patience table, lit a cigarette, + rumpled her hair, and laid out the cards frowningly. More than ever was + she convinced that in the two years he had been away some serious disaster + had occurred. His whole character appeared to have undergone a change. He + was totally different. The old Barry had been neither hard nor cynical, + the new Barry was both. In the last few weeks she had had ample + opportunity for judging. She perceived that a heavy shadow lay upon him + darkening his home-coming—she had pictured it so very differently, + and she sighed over the futility of anticipation. His happiness meant to + her so much that she raged at her inability to help him. Until he spoke + she could do nothing. And she knew that he would never speak. The nightly + occupation lost its usual zest, so she shuffled the cards absently and + began a fresh game. + </p> + <p> + Gillian was on the hearthrug, Houston's head in her lap. She leant against + Miss Craven's chair, dreaming as she had dreamt in the old convent until + the sudden lifting of the dog's head under her hands made her aware of + Peters standing beside her. He looked down silently on the card table for + a few moments, pointed with a nicotine-stained finger to a move Miss + Craven had missed and then wandered across the room and sat down at the + piano. For a while his hands moved silently over the keys, then he began + to play, and his playing was exquisite. Gillian sat and marvelled. Peters + and music had seemed widely apart. He had appeared so essentially a + sportsman; in spite of the literary tendency that his sympathetic account + of the Elizabethan Barry Craven had suggested she had associated him with + rougher, more physical pursuits. He was obviously an out-door man; a gun + seemed a more natural complement to his hands than the sensitive keys of a + piano, his thick rather clumsy fingers manifestly incompatible with the + delicate touch that was filling the room with wonderful harmony. It was a + check to her cherished theory which she acknowledged reluctantly. But she + forgot to theorise in the sheer joy of listening. + </p> + <p> + “Why did he not make music a career?” she whispered, under cover of some + crashing chords. Miss Craven smiled at her eager face. + </p> + <p> + “Can you see Peter kow-towing to concert directors, and grimacing at an + audience?” she replied, rescuing a king from her rubbish heap. + </p> + <p> + With an answering smile Gillian subsided into her former position. Music + moved her deeply and her highly strung artistic temperament was responding + to the beauty of Peters' playing. It was a Russian folk song, plaintive + and simple, with a curious minor refrain like the sigh of an aching heart—wild + sad harmony with pain in it that gripped the throat. Swayed by the + sorrow-haunted music a wave of foreboding came over her, a strange + indefinite fear that was formless but that weighed on her like a crushing + burden. The happiness of the last few weeks seemed suddenly swamped in the + recollection of the misery rampant in the world. Who, if their inmost + hearts were known, were truly happy? And her thoughts, becoming more + personal, flitted back over the desolate days of her own sad girlhood and + then drifted to the tragedy of her father. Then, with a forward leap that + brought her suddenly to the present, she thought of the sorrow she had + seen on Craven's face in that breathless moment at dinner time. Was there + only sadness in the world? The brooding brown eyes grew misty. A + passionate prayer welled up in her heart that complete happiness might + touch her once, if only for a moment. + </p> + <p> + Then the music changed and with it the girl's mood. She gave her head a + little backward jerk and blinked the moisture from her eyes angrily. What + was the matter with her? Surely she was the most ungrateful girl in the + universe. If there was sorrow in the world for her then it must be of her + own making. She had been shown almost unbelievable kindness, nothing had + been omitted to make her happy. The contrast of her life only a few weeks + ago and now was immeasurable. What more did she want? Was she so selfish + that she could even think of the unhappiness that was over? Shame filled + her, and she raised her eyes to the woman beside her with a sudden rush of + gratitude and love. But Miss Craven, interested at last in her game, was + blind to her surroundings, and with a little smile Gillian turned her + attention to the silent occupant of the chair near her. Craven had come + into the room a few minutes before. He was leaning back listlessly, one + hand shading his face, a neglected cigarette dangling from the other. She + looked at him long and earnestly, wondering, as she always wondered, what + association there had been between him and such a man as her father—what + had induced him to take upon himself the burden that had been laid upon + him. And her cheeks grew hot again at the thought of the encumbrance she + was to him. It was preposterous that he should be so saddled! + </p> + <p> + She stifled a sigh and her eyes grew dreamy as she fell to thinking of the + future that lay before her. And as she planned with eager confidence her + hand moved soothingly over the dog's head in measure to the languorous + waltz that Peters was playing. + </p> + <p> + After a sudden unexpected chord the player rose from the piano and joined + the circle at the other end of the room. Miss Craven was shuffling + vigorously. “Thank you, Peter,” she said, with a smiling nod, “it's like + old times to hear you play again. Gillian thinks you have missed your + vocation, she would like to see you at the Queen's Hall.” + </p> + <p> + Peters laughed at the girl's blushing protest and sat down near the card + table. Miss Craven paused in a deal to light a fresh cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “What's the news in the county?” she asked, adding for Gillian's benefit: + “He's a walking chronicle, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Peters laughed. “Nothing startling, dear lady. We have been a singularly + well-behaved community of late. Old Lacy of Holmwood is dead, Bill Lacy + reigns in his stead and is busy cutting down oaks to pay for youthful + indiscretions—none of 'em very fierce when all's said and done. The + Hamer-Banisters have gone under at last—more's the pity—and + Hamer is let to some wealthy Australians who are possessed apparently of + unlimited cash, a most curious phraseology, and an assurance which is + beautiful to behold. They had good introductions and Alex has taken them + up enthusiastically—there are kindred tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “Horses, I presume. How are the Horringfords?” + </p> + <p> + “Much as usual,” replied Peters. “Horringford is absorbed in things + Egyptian, and Alex is on the warpath again,” he added darkly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven grinned. + </p> + <p> + “What is it this time?” + </p> + <p> + Peters' eyebrows twitched quaintly. + </p> + <p> + “Socialism!” he chuckled, “a brand new, highly original conception of that + very elastic term. I asked Alex to explain the principles of this + particular organization and she was very voluble and rather cryptic. It + appears to embrace the rights of man, the elevation of the masses, the + relations between landlord and tenant, the psychological deterioration of + the idle rich—” + </p> + <p> + “Alex and psychology—good heavens!” interposed Miss Craven, her + hands at her hair, “and the amelioration of the downtrodden poor,” + continued Peters. “It doesn't sound very original, but I'm told that the + propaganda is novel in the extreme. Alex is hard at work among their own + people,” he concluded, leaning back in his chair with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “But—the downtrodden poor! I thought Horringford was a model + landlord and his estates an example to the kingdom.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. That's the humour of it. But a little detail like that + wouldn't deter Alex. It will be an interest for the summer, she's always + rather at a loose end when there's no hunting. She had taken up this + socialistic business very thoroughly, organizing meetings and lectures. A + completely new scheme for the upbringing of children seems to be a special + sideline of the campaign. I'm rather vague there—I know I made Alex + very angry by telling her that it reminded me of intensive market + gardening. That Alex has no children of her own presents no difficulty to + her—she is full of the most beautiful theories. But theories don't + seem to go down very well with the village women. She was routed the other + day by the mother of a family who told her bluntly to her face she didn't + know what she was talking about—which was doubtless perfectly true. + But the manner of telling seems to have been disagreeable and Alex was + very annoyed and complained to Thomson, the new agent. He, poor chap, was + between the devil and the deep sea, for the tenants had also been + complaining that they were being interfered with. So he had to go to + Horringford and there was a royal row. The upshot of it was that Alex rang + me up on the 'phone this morning to tell me that Horringford was behaving + like a bear, that he was so wrapped up in his musty mummies that he hadn't + a spark of philanthropy in him, and that she was coming over to lunch + tomorrow to tell me all about it—she's delighted to hear that the + house is open again, and will come on to you for tea, when you will + doubtless get a second edition of her woes. Half-an-hour later Horringford + rang me up to say that Alex had been particularly tiresome over some new + crank which had set everybody by the ears, that Thomson was sending in a + resignation daily, altogether there was the deuce to pay, and would I use + my influence and talk sense to her. It appears he is working at high + pressure to finish a monograph on one of the Pharaohs and was considerably + ruffled at being interrupted.” + </p> + <p> + “If he cared a little less for the Pharaohs and a little more for Alex—” + suggested Miss Craven, blowing smoke rings thoughtfully. Peters shook his + head. + </p> + <p> + “He did care—that's the pity of it,” he said slowly, “but what can + you expect?—you know how it was. Alex was a child married when she + should have been in the schoolroom, without a voice in the matter. + Horringford was nearly twenty years her senior, always reserved and + absorbed in his Egyptian researches. Alex hadn't an idea in the world + outside the stables. Horringford bored her infinitely, and with Alex-like + honesty she did not hesitate to tell him so. They hadn't a thought in + common. She couldn't see the sterling worth of the man, so they drifted + apart and Horringford retired more than ever into his shell.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you propose to do, Peter?” Craven's sudden question was + startling, for he had not appeared to be listening to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + Peters lit a cigarette and smoked for a few moments before answering. “I + shall listen to all Alex has to say,” he said at last, “then I shall tell + her a few things I think she ought to know, and I shall persuade her to + ask Horringford to take her with him to Egypt next winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Horringford in Egypt and Horringford in England are two very + different people. I know—because I have seen. It's an idea, it may + work. Anyhow it's worth trying.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose her ladyship does not succumb to your persuasive tongue?” + </p> + <p> + “She will—before I've done with her,” replied Peters grimly, and + then he laughed. “I guessed from what she said this morning that she was a + little frightened at the hornet's nest she had raised. I imagine she won't + be sorry to run away for a while and let things settle down. She can ease + off gently in the meantime and give Egypt as an excuse for finally + withdrawing.” + </p> + <p> + “You think Alex is more to blame than Horringford?” said Miss Craven, with + a note of challenge in her voice. + </p> + <p> + Peters shrugged. “I blame them both. But above all I blame the system that + has been responsible for the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that Alex should have been allowed to choose her own husband? + She was such a child—” + </p> + <p> + “And Horringford was such a devil of a good match,” interposed Craven + cynically, moving from his chair to the padded fireguard. Gillian was + sitting on the arm of Miss Craven's chair, sorting the patience cards into + a leather case. She looked up quickly. “I thought that in England all + girls choose their own husbands, that they marry to please themselves, I + mean,” she said in a puzzled voice. + </p> + <p> + “Theoretically they do, my dear,” replied Miss Craven, “in practice + numbers do not. The generality of girls settle their own futures and + choose their own husbands. But there are still many old-fashioned people + who arrogate to themselves the right of settling their daughters' lives, + who have so trained them that resistance to family wishes becomes almost + an impossibility. A good suitor presents himself, parental pressure is + brought to bear—and the deed is done. Witness the case of Alex. In a + few years she probably would have chosen for herself, wisely. As it was, + marriage had never entered her head.” + </p> + <p> + “She couldn't have chosen a better man,” said Peters warmly, “if he had + only been content to wait a year or two—” + </p> + <p> + “Alex would probably have eloped with a groom or a circus rider before she + reached years of discretion!” laughed Miss Craven. “But it's a difficult + question, the problem of husband choosing,” she went on thoughtfully. + “Being a bachelor I can discuss it with perfect equanimity. But if in a + moment of madness I had married and acquired a houseful of daughters, I + should have nervous prostration every time a strange man showed his nose + inside the door.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't set us on a very high plane, dear lady,” said Peters + reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “My good soul, I set you on no plane at all—know too much about + you!” she smiled. Peters laughed. “What's your opinion, Barry?” + </p> + <p> + Since his one interruption Craven had been silent, as if the discussion + had ceased to interest him. He did not answer Peters' question for some + time and when at last he spoke his voice was curiously strained. “I don't + think my opinion counts for very much, but it seems to me that the woman + takes a big risk either way. A man never knows what kind of a blackguard + he may prove in circumstances that may arise.” + </p> + <p> + An awkward pause followed. Miss Craven kept her eyes fixed on the card + table with a feeling of nervous apprehension that was new to her. Her + nephew's words and the bitterness of his tone seemed fraught with hidden + meaning, and she racked her brains to find a topic that would lessen the + tension that seemed to have fallen on the room. But Peters broke the + silence before it became noticeable. “The one person present whom it most + nearly concerns has not given us her view. What do you say, Miss Locke?” + </p> + <p> + Gillian flushed faintly. It was still difficult to join in a general + conversation, to remember that she might at any moment be called upon to + put forward ideas of her own. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I am prejudiced. I was brought up in a convent—in + France,” she said hesitatingly. “Then you hold with the French custom of + arranged marriages?” suggested Peters. Her dark eyes looked seriously into + his. “I think it is—safer,” she said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And consequently, happier?” The colour deepened in her face. “Oh, I don't + know. I do not understand English ways. I can speak only of France. We + talked of it in the convent—naturally, since it was forbidden, <i>que + voulez vous?</i>” she smiled. “Some of my friends were married. Their + parents arranged the marriages. It seems that—” she stammered and + went on hurriedly—“that there is much to be considered in choosing a + husband, much that—girls do not understand, that only older people + know. So it is perhaps better that they should arrange a matter which is + so serious and so—so lasting. They must know more than we do,” she + added quietly. + </p> + <p> + “And are your friends happy?” asked Miss Craven bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “They are content.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven snorted. “Content!” she said scornfully. “Marriage should + bring more than contentment. It's a meagre basis on which to found a life + partnership.” + </p> + <p> + A shadow flitted across the girl's face. + </p> + <p> + “I had a friend who married for love,” she said slowly. “She belonged to + the old noblesse, and her family wished her to make a great marriage. But + she loved an artist and married him in spite of all opposition. For six + months she was the happiest girl in France—then she found out that + her husband was unfaithful. Does it shock you that I speak of it—we + all knew in the convent. She went to Capri soon afterwards, to a villa her + father had given her, and one morning she went out to swim—it was a + daily habit, she could do anything in the water. But that morning she swam + out to sea—and she did not come back.” The low voice sank almost to + a whisper. Miss Craven looked up incredulously. “Do you mean she + deliberately drowned herself?” Gillian made a little gesture of evasion. + “She was very unhappy,” she said softly. And in the silence that followed + her troubled gaze turned almost unconsciously to her guardian. He had + risen and was standing with his hands in his pockets staring straight in + front of him, rigidly still. His attitude suggested complete detachment + from those about him, as if his spirit was ranging far afield leaving the + big frame empty, impenetrable as a figure of stone. She was sensitive to + his lack of interest. She regretted having expressed opinions that she + feared were immature and valueless. A quick sigh escaped her, and Miss + Craven, misunderstanding, patted her shoulder gently. “It's a very sad + little story, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “And one that serves to confirm your opinion that a girl does well to + accept the husband who is chosen for her, Miss Locke?” asked Peters + abruptly, as he glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + Gillian joined in the general move. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is—safer,” she said, as she had said before, and stooped + to rouse the sleeping poodle. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Miss Craven was sitting alone in the library at the Towers. She had been + reading, but the book had failed to hold her attention and lay unheeded on + her lap while she was plunged in a profound reverie. + </p> + <p> + She sat very still, her usually serene face clouded, and once or twice a + heavy sigh escaped her. + </p> + <p> + The short November day was drawing in and though still early afternoon it + was already growing dark. The declining light was more noticeable in the + library than elsewhere in the house—a sombre room once the morning + sun had passed; long and narrow and panelled in oak to a height of about + twelve feet, above which ran a gallery reached by a hammered iron + stairway, it housed a collection of calf and vellum bound books which + clothed the walls from the floor of the gallery to within a few feet of + the lofty ceiling. On the fourth side of the room, whither the gallery did + not extend, three tall narrow windows overlooked the drive. The furniture + was scanty and severely Jacobean, having for more than two hundred years + remained practically intact; a ponderous writing table, a couple of long + low cabinets, and half a dozen cavernous armchairs recushioned to suit + modern requirements of ease. Some fine old bronzes stood against the + panelled walls. There was about the room a settled peacefulness. The old + furniture had a stately air of permanence. The polished panels, and, + above, the orderly ranks of ancient books suggested durability; they + remained—while generations of men came and passed, transient figures + reflected in the shining oak, handling for a few brief years the printed + treasures that would still be read centuries after they had returned to + their dust. + </p> + <p> + The spirit of the house seemed embodied in this big silent room that was + spacious and yet intimate, formal and yet friendly. + </p> + <p> + It was Miss Craven's favourite retreat. The atmosphere was sympathetic. + Here she seemed more particularly in touch with the subtle influence of + family that seemed to pervade the whole house. In most of the rooms it was + perceptible, but in the library it was forceful. + </p> + <p> + The house and the family—they were bound up inseparably. + </p> + <p> + For hundreds of years, in an unbroken line, from father to son ... from + father to son.... Miss Craven sat bolt upright to the sound of an + unmistakable sob. She looked with amazement at two tears blistering the + page of the open book on her knee. She had not knowingly cried since + childhood. It was a good thing that she was alone she thought, with a + startled glance round the empty room. She would have to keep a firmer hold + over herself than that. She laughed a little shakily, choked, blew her + nose vigorously, and walked to the middle window. Outside was stark + November. The wind swept round the house in fierce gusts before which the + big bare-branched trees in the park swayed and bowed, and trains of late + fallen leaves caught in a whirlwind eddied skyward to scatter widely down + again. + </p> + <p> + Rain lashed the window panes. Yet even when storm-tossed the scene had its + own peculiar charm. At all seasons it was lovely. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven looked at the massive trees, beautiful in their clean + nakedness, and wondered how often she would see them bud again. Frowning, + she smothered a rising sigh and pressing closer to the window peered out + more attentively. Eastward and westward stretched long avenues that curved + and receded soon from sight. The gravelled space before the house was + wide; from it two shorter avenues encircling a large oval paddock led to + the stables, built at some distance facing the house, but hidden by a belt + of firs. + </p> + <p> + For some time Miss Craven watched, but only a game-keeper passed, a + drenched setter at his heels, and with a little shiver she turned back to + the room. She moved about restlessly, lifting books to lay them down + immediately, ransacking the cabinets for prints that at a second glance + failed to interest, and examining the bronzes that she had known from + childhood with lengthy intentness as if she saw them now for the first + time. + </p> + <p> + A footman came and silently replenished the fire. Her thoughts, + interrupted, swung into a new channel. She sat down at the writing table + and drawing toward her a sheet of paper slowly wrote the date. Beyond that + she did not get. The ink dried on the pen as she stared at the blank + sheet, unable to express as she wished the letter she had intended to + write. + </p> + <p> + She laid the silver holder down at last with a hopeless gesture and her + eyes turned to a bronze figure that served as a paper weight. It was a + piece of her own work and she handled it lovingly with a curiously sad + smile until a second hard sob broke from her and pushing it away she + covered her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Not for myself, God knows it's not for myself,” she whispered, as if in + extenuation. And mastering herself with an effort she made a second + attempt to write but at the end of half a dozen words rose impatiently, + crumpled the paper in her hand and walking to the fireplace threw it among + the blazing logs. + </p> + <p> + She watched it curl and discolour, the writing blackly distinct, and + crumble into ashes. Then from force of habit she searched for a cigarette + in a box on the mantelpiece, but as she lit it a sudden thought arrested + her and after a moment's hesitation the cigarette followed the half—written + letter into the fire. + </p> + <p> + With an impatient shrug she went back to an arm chair and again tried to + read, but though her eyes mechanically followed the words on the printed + page she did not notice what she was reading and laying the book down she + gave up all further endeavour to distract her wandering thoughts. They + were not pleasant and when, a little later, the door opened she turned her + head expectantly with a sigh of relief. Peters came in briskly. + </p> + <p> + “I've come to inquire,” he said laughing, “the family pew held me in + solitary state this morning. Time was when I never minded, but this last + year has spoiled me. I was booked for lunch but I came as soon as I could. + Nobody ill, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven looked at him for a moment before answering as he stood with + his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him, his face ruddy with + the wind and rain, his keen blue eyes on hers, reliable, unchanging. It + was a curious chance that had brought him—just at that moment. The + temptation to make an unusual confidence rose strongly. She had known him + and trusted him for more years than she cared to remember. How much to + say? Indecision held her. + </p> + <p> + “You are always thoughtful, Peter,” she temporised. “I am afraid there is + no excuse,” with a little smile; “Barry rode off somewhere quite early + this morning and Gillian went yesterday to the Horringfords. I expect her + back to-day in time for tea. For myself, I had gout or rheumatism or the + black dog on my back, I forget which! Anyhow, I stayed at home.” She + laughed and pointed to the cigarettes. He took one, tapping it on his + thumbnail. + </p> + <p> + “You were alone. Why didn't you 'phone? I should have been glad to escape + the Australians. They are enormously kind, but somewhat—er—overwhelming,” + he added with a quick laugh. + </p> + <p> + “My dear man, be thankful I never thought of it. I've been like a bear + with a sore head all day.” She looked past him into the fire, and struck + by a new note in her voice he refrained from comment, smoking slowly and + luxuriating in the warmth after a cold wet drive in an open motor. He + never used a closed car. But some words she had used struck him. “Barry is + riding—?” with a glance at the storm raging outside. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He had breakfast at an unearthly hour and went off early. Weather + seems to make no difference to him, but he will be soaked to the skin.” + </p> + <p> + “He's tough,” replied Peters shortly. “I thought he must be out. As I came + in just now Yoshio was hanging about the hall, watching the drive. Waiting + for him, I suppose,” he added, flicking a curl of ash into the fire. “He's + a treasure of a valet,” he supplemented conversationally. But Miss Craven + let the observation pass. She was still staring into the leaping flames, + drumming with her fingers on the arms of the chair. Once she tried to + speak but no words came. Peters waited. He felt unaccountably but + definitely that she wished him to wait, that what was evidently on her + mind would come with no prompting from him. He felt in her attitude a + tension that was unusual—to-day she was totally unlike herself. Once + or twice only in the course of a lifelong friendship she had shown him her + serious side. She had turned to him for help then—he seemed + presciently aware that she was turning to him for help now. He prided + himself that he knew her as well as she knew herself and he understood the + effort it would cost her to speak. That he guessed the cause of her + trouble was no short cut to getting that trouble uttered. She would take + her own time, he could not go half-way to meet her. He must stand by and + wait. When had he ever done anything else at Craven Towers? His eyes + glistened curiously in the firelight, and he rammed his hands down into + his jacket pockets with abrupt jerkiness. Suddenly Miss Craven broke the + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Peter—I'm horribly worried about Barry,” the words came with a + rush. He understood her too well to cavil. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady, so am I,” he replied with a promptness that did not console. + </p> + <p> + “Peter, what is it?” she went on breathlessly. “Barry is utterly changed. + You see it as well as I. I don't understand—I'm all at sea—I + want your help. I couldn't discuss him with anybody else, but you—you + are one of us, you've always been one of us. Fair weather or foul, you've + stood by us. What we should have done without you God only knows. You care + for Barry, he's as dear to you as he is to me, can't you do something? The + suffering in his face—the tragedy in his eyes—I wake up in the + night seeing them! Peter, can't you <i>do</i> something?” She was beside + him, clutching at the mantel-shelf, shaking with emotion. The sight of her + unnerved, almost incoherent, shocked him. He realised the depth of the + impression that had been made upon her—deep indeed to produce such a + result. But what she asked was impossible. He made a little negative + gesture and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady, I can't do anything. And I wonder whether you know how it + hurts to have to say so? No son could be dearer to me than Barry—for + the sake of his mother—” his voice faltered momentarily, “but the + fact remains—he is not my son. I am only his agent. There are + certain things I cannot do and say, no matter how great the wish,” he + added with a twisted smile. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven seemed scarcely to be listening. “It happened in Japan,” she + asserted in fierce low tones. “Japan! Japan!” she continued vehemently, + “how much more sorrow is that country to bring to our family! It happened + in Japan and whatever it was—Yoshio knows! You spoke of him just + now. You said he was hanging about—waiting—watching. Peter, + he's doing it all the time! He watches continually. Barry never has to + send for him—he's always there, waiting to be called. When Barry + goes out the man is restless until he comes in again—haunting the + hall—it gets on my nerves. Yet there is nothing I can actually + complain of. He doesn't intrude, he is as noiseless as a cat and vanishes + if he sees you, but you know that just out of sight he's still there—waiting—listening. + Peter, what is he waiting for? I don't think that it is apparent to the + rest of the household, I didn't notice it myself at first. But a few + months ago something happened and since then I don't seem able to get away + from it. It was in the night, about two o'clock; I was wakeful and + couldn't sleep. I thought if I read I might read myself sleepy. I hadn't a + book in my room that pleased me and I remembered a half-finished novel I + had left in the library. I didn't take a light—I know every turn in + the Towers blindfold. As you know, to reach the staircase from my room I + have to pass Barry's door, and at Barry's door I fell over something in + the darkness—something with hands of steel that saved me from an + awkward tumble and hurried me down the passage and into the moonlit + gallery before I could find a word of expostulation. Yoshio of course. I + was naturally startled and angry in consequence. I demanded an explanation + and after a great deal of hesitation he muttered something about Barry + wanting him—which is ridiculous on the face of it. If Barry had + really wanted him he would have been inside the room, not crouched outside + on the door mat. He seemed very upset and kept begging me to say nothing + about it. I don't remember how he put it but he certainly conveyed the + impression that it would not be good for Barry to know. I don't understand + it—Barry trusts him implicitly—and yet this.... I'm afraid, + and I've never been afraid in my life before.” The little break in her + voice hurt him. He felt curiously unable to cope with the situation. Her + story disturbed him more than he cared to let her see in her present + condition of unwonted agitation. Twice in the past they had stood shoulder + to shoulder through a crisis of sufficient magnitude and she had showed + then a cautious judgment, a reliability of purpose that had been purely + masculine in its strength and sanity. She had been wholly matter-of-fact + and unimaginative, unswayed by petty trivialities and broad in her + decision. She had displayed a levelness of mind which had almost excluded + feeling and which had enabled him to deal with her as with another man, + confident of her understanding and the unlikelihood of her succumbing + unexpectedly to ordinary womanly weaknesses. He had thought that he knew + her thoroughly, that no circumstance that might arise could alter + characteristics so set and inherent. But to-day her present emotion which + had come perilously near hysteria, showed her in a new light that made her + almost a stranger. He was a little bewildered with the discovery. It was + incredible after all these years, just as if an edifice that he had + thought strongly built of stone had tumbled about his ears like a pack of + cards. He could hardly grasp it. He felt that there was something behind + it all—something more than she admitted. He was tempted to ask + definitely but second reflection brought the conviction that it would be a + mistake, that it would be taking an unfair advantage. Sufficient unto the + day—his present concern was to help her regain a normal mental + poise. And to do that he must ignore half of what her suggestions seemed + to imply. He felt her breakdown acutely, he must say nothing that would + add to her distress of mind. It was better to appear obtuse than to concur + too heartily in fears, a recollection of which in a saner moment he knew + would be distasteful to her. She would never forgive herself—the + less she had to forget the better. She trusted him or she would never have + spoken at all. That he knew and he was honoured by her confidence. They + had always been friends, but in her weakness he felt nearer to her than + ever before. She was waiting for him to speak. He chose the line that + seemed the least open to argument. He spoke at last, evenly, unwilling + alike to seem incredulous or overanxious, his big steady hand closing + warmly over her twitching fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think there is any cause—any reason to doubt Yoshio's + fidelity. The man is devoted to Barry. His behaviour certainly sounds—curious, + but can be attributed I am convinced to over-zealousness. He is an alien + in a strange land, cut off from his own natural distractions and + amusements, and with time on his hands his devotion to his master takes a + more noticeable form than is usual with an ordinary English man-servant. + That he designs any harm I cannot believe. He has been with Barry a long + time—on the several occasions when he stayed with him at your house + in London did you notice anything in his behaviour then similar to the + attitude you have observed recently? No? Then I take it that it is due to + the same anxiety that we ourselves have felt since Barry's return. Only in + Yoshio's case it is probably based on definite knowledge, whereas ours is + pure conjecture. Barry has undoubtedly been up against something—momentous. + Between ourselves we can admit the fact frankly. It is a different man who + has come back to us—and we can only carry on and notice nothing. He + is trying to forget something. He has worked like a nigger since he came + home, slogging away down at the estate office as if he had his bread to + earn. He does the work of two men—and he hates it. I see him + sometimes, forgetful of his surroundings, staring out of the window, and + the look on his face brings a confounded lump into my throat. Thank God + he's young—perhaps in time—” he shrugged and broke off + inconclusively, conscious of the futility of platitudes. And they were all + he had to offer. There was no suggestion he could make, nothing he could + do. It was repetition of history, again he had to stand by and watch + suffering he was powerless to aid, powerless to relieve. The mother first + and now the son—it would seem almost as if he had failed both. The + sense of helplessness was bitter and his face was drawn with pain as he + stared dumbly at the window against which the storm was beating with + renewed violence. The sight of the angry elements brought almost a feeling + of relief; it would be something that he could contend with and overcome, + something that would go towards mitigating the galling sense of impotence + that chafed him. He felt the room suddenly stifling, he wanted the cold + sting of the rain against his face, the roar of the wind in the trees + above his head. Abruptly he buttoned his jacket in preparation for + departure. Miss Craven pulled herself together. She laid a detaining hand + on his arm. “Peter,” she said slowly, “do you think that Barry's trouble + has any connection with—my brother? The change of pictures in the + dining-room—it was so strange. He said it was a reparation. Do you + think Barry—found out something in Japan?” + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. “God knows,” he said gruffly. For a moment there was + silence, then with a sigh Miss Craven moved towards a bell. + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay for tea?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, no. I've got a man coming over, I'll have to go. Give my love to + Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon for deserting me this + morning. Has she lost that nasty cough yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost. I didn't want her to go to the Horringfords, but she promised to + be careful.” Miss Craven paused, then: + </p> + <p> + “What did we do without Gillian, Peter?” she said with an odd little + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “'You've got me guessing,' as Atherton says. She's a witch, bless her!” he + replied, holding out his hands. Miss Craven took them and held them for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “You're the best pal I ever had, Peter,” she said unsteadily, “and you've + given all your life to us Cravens.” + </p> + <p> + The sudden gripping of his hands was painful, then he bent his head and + unexpectedly put his lips to the fingers he held so closely. + </p> + <p> + “I'm always here—when you want me,” he said huskily, and was gone. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven stood still looking after him with a curious smile. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God for Peter,” she said fervently, and went back to her station by + the window. It was considerably darker than before, but for some distance + the double avenue leading to the stables was visible. As she watched, + playing absently with the blind-cord, her mind dwelt on the long + connection between Peter Peters and her family. Thirty years—the + best of his life. And in exchange sorrow and an undying memory. The woman + he loved had chosen not him but handsome inconsequent Barry Craven and, + for her choice, had reaped misery and loneliness. And because he had known + that inevitably a day would come when she would need assistance and + support he had sunk his own feelings and retained his post. Her brief + happiness had been hard to watch—the subsequent long years of her + desertion a protracted torture. He had raged at his own helplessness. And + ignorant of his love and the motive that kept him at Craven Towers she had + come to lean on him and refer all to him. But for his care the Craven + properties would have been ruined, and the Craven interests neglected + beyond repair. + </p> + <p> + For some time before her sister-in-law's death Miss Craven had known, as + only a woman can know, but now for the first time she had heard from his + lips a half-confession of the love that he had guarded jealously for + thirty years. + </p> + <p> + The unusual tears that to-day seemed so curiously near the surface rose + despite her and she blinked the moisture from her eyes with a feeling of + irritated shame. + </p> + <p> + Then a figure, almost indistinguishable in the gloom, coming from the + stables, caught her eye and she gave a sharp sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + He was walking slowly, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders + hunched against the storm of wind and rain that beat on his broad back. + His movements suggested intense weariness, yet nearing the house his step + lagged even more as if, despite physical fatigue and the inclement + weather, he was rather forcing himself to return than showing a natural + desire for shelter. + </p> + <p> + There was in his tread a heaviness that contrasted forcibly with the + elasticity that had formerly been characteristic. As he passed close by + the window where Miss Craven was standing she saw that he was splashed + from head to foot. She thought with sudden compassion of the horse that he + had ridden. She had been in the stables only a few weeks before when he + had handed over another jaded mud-caked brute trembling in every limb and + showing signs of merciless riding to the old head groom who had maintained + a stony silence as was his duty but whose grim face was eloquent of all he + might not say. It was so unlike Barry to be inconsiderate, toward animals + he had been always peculiarly tender-hearted. + </p> + <p> + She hurried out to the hall, almost cannoning with a little dark-clad + figure who gave way with a deep Oriental reverence. “Master very wet,” he + murmured, and vanished. + </p> + <p> + “There's some sense in him,” she muttered grudgingly. And quite suddenly a + wholly unexpected sympathy dawned for the inscrutable Japanese whom she + had hitherto disliked. But she had no time to dwell on her unaccountable + change of feeling for through the glass of the inner door she saw Craven + in the vestibule struggling stiffly to rid himself of a dripping + mackintosh. It had been no protection for the driving rain had penetrated + freely, and as he fumbled at the buttons with slow cold fingers the water + ran off him in little trickling streams on to the mat. + </p> + <p> + She had no wish to convey the impression that she had been waiting for + him. She met him as if by accident, hailing him with surprise that rang + genuine. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo, Barry, just in time for tea! I know you don't usually indulge, but + you can do an act of grace on this one occasion by cheering my solitude. + Peter looked in for ten minutes but had to hurry away for an engagement, + and Gillian is not yet back.” + </p> + <p> + His face was haggard but he smiled in reply, “All right. In the library? + Then in five minutes—I'm a little wet.” + </p> + <p> + In an incredibly short time he joined her, changed and immaculate. She + looked up from the tea urn she was manipulating, her eyes resting on him + with the pleasure his physical appearance always gave her. “You've been + quick!” + </p> + <p> + “Yoshio,” he replied laconically, handing her buttered toast. + </p> + <p> + He ate little himself but drank two cups of tea, smoking the while + innumerable cigarettes. Miss Craven chatted easily until the tea table was + taken away and Craven had withdrawn to his usual position on the + hearthrug, lounging against the mantelshelf. + </p> + <p> + Then she fell silent, looking at him furtively from time to time, her + hands restless in her lap, nerving herself to speak. What she had to say + was even more difficult to formulate than her confidence to Peters. But it + had to be spoken and she might never find a more favourable moment. She + took her courage in both hands. + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you of Gillian,” she said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + He looked up sharply. “What of Gillian?” The question was abrupt, an + accent almost of suspicion in his voice and she moved uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Bless the boy, don't jump down my throat,” she parried, with a nervous + little laugh; “nothing of Gillian but what is sweet and good and dear ... + and yet that's not all the truth—it's more than that. I find it hard + to say. It's something serious, Barry, about Gillian's future,” she + paused, hoping that he would volunteer some remark that would make her + task easier. But he volunteered nothing and, stealing a glance at him she + saw on his face an expression of peculiar stoniness to which she had + lately become accustomed. The new taciturnity, which she still found so + strange, seemed to have fallen on him suddenly. She stifled a sigh and + hurried on: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if the matter of Gillian's future has ever occurred to you? It + has been in my mind often and lately I have had to give it more serious + attention. Time has run away so quickly. It is incredible that nearly two + years have passed since she became your ward. She will be twenty-one in + March—of age, and her own mistress. The question is—what is + she to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? There is no question of her <i>doing</i> anything,” he replied + shortly. “You mean that her coming of age will make no difference—that + things will go on as they are?” Miss Craven eyed him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You know less of Gillian than I thought you did.” The old caustic tone + was sharp in her voice. + </p> + <p> + He looked surprised. “Isn't she happy here?” + </p> + <p> + “Happy!” Miss Craven laughed oddly. “It's a little word to mean so much. + Yes, she is happy—happy as the day is long—but that won't keep + her. She loves the Towers, she is adored on the estate, she has a corner + in that great heart of hers for all who live here—but still that + won't keep her. In her way of thinking she has a debt to pay, and all + these months, studying, working, hoping, she has been striving to that + end. She is determined to make her own way in the world, to repay what has + been expended on her——” + </p> + <p> + “That's dam' nonsense,” he interrupted hotly. + </p> + <p> + “It's not nonsense from Gillian's point of view,” Miss Craven answered + quickly, “it's just common honesty. We have argued the matter, she and I, + scores of times. I have told her repeatedly that in view of your + guardianship you stand <i>in loco parentis</i> and, therefore, as long as + she is your ward her maintenance and artistic education are merely her + just due, that there can be no question of repayment. She does not see it + in that light. Personally—though I would not for the world have her + know it—I understand and sympathize with her entirely. Her + independence, her pride, are out of all proportion to her strength. I + cannot condemn, I can only admire—though I take good care to hide my + admiration ... and if you could persuade her to let the past rest, there + is still the question of her future.” + </p> + <p> + “That I can provide for.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “That you can not provide for,” she said gravely. + </p> + <p> + The flat contradiction stirred him. He jerked upright from his former + lounging attitude and stood erect, scowling down at her from his great + height. “Why not?” he demanded haughtily. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven shrugged. “What would you propose to do?” He caught the + challenge in her tone and for a moment was disconcerted. “There would be + ways—” he said, rather vaguely. “Something could be arranged—” + </p> + <p> + “You would offer her—charity?” suggested Miss Craven, wilfully + dense. + </p> + <p> + “Charity be damned.” + </p> + <p> + “Charity generally is damnable to those who have to suffer it. No, Barry, + that won't do.” + </p> + <p> + He jingled the keys in his pocket and the scowl on his face deepened. + </p> + <p> + “I could settle something on her, something that would be adequate, and it + could be represented that some old investment of her father's had turned + up trumps unexpectedly.” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Craven shook her head again. “Clever, Barry, but not clever + enough. Gillian is no fool. She knows her father had no money, that he + existed on a pittance doled out to him by exasperated relatives which + ceased with his death. He told her plainly in his last letter that there + was nothing in the world for her—except your charity. Think of what + Gillian is, Barry, and think what she must have suffered—waiting for + your coming from Japan, and, to a less extent, in the dependence of these + last years.” + </p> + <p> + He moved uncomfortably, as if he resented the plainness of his aunt's + words, and having found a cigarette lit it slowly. Then he walked to the + window, which was still unshuttered, and looked out into the darkness, his + back turned uncompromisingly to the room. His inattentive attitude seemed + almost to suggest that the matter was not of vital interest to him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven's face grew graver and she waited long before she spoke again. + “There is also another reason why I have strenuously opposed Gillian's + desire to make her own way in the world, a reason of which she is + ignorant. She is not physically strong enough to attempt to earn her own + living, to endure the hard work, the privations it would entail. You + remember how bronchitis pulled her down last year; I am anxious about her + this winter. She is constitutionally delicate, she may grow out of it—or + she may not. Heaven knows what seeds of mischief she has inherited from + such parents as hers. She needs the greatest care, everything in the way + of comfort—she is not fitted for a rough and tumble life. And, + Barry, I can't tell her. It would break her heart.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were fixed on him intently and she waited with eager + breathlessness for him to speak. But when at length he answered his words + brought a look of swift disappointment and she relaxed in her chair with + an air of weary despondency. He replied without moving. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you arrange something, Aunt Caro? You are very fond of Gillian, you + would miss her society terribly; cannot you persuade her that she is + necessary to you—that it would be possible for her to work and still + remain with you? I know that some day you will want to go back to your own + house in London, to take up your own interests again, and to travel. I + can't expect you to take pity much longer on a lonely bachelor. You have + given up much to help me—it cannot go on for ever. For what you have + done I can never thank you, it is beyond thanks, but I must not trade on + your generosity. If you put it to Gillian that you, personally, do not + want to part with her—that she is dear to you—it's true, isn't + it?” he added with sudden eagerness. And in surprise at her silence he + swung on his heel and faced her. She was leaning back in the big armchair + in a listless manner that was not usual to her. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you cannot count on me, Barry,” she said slowly. He stared in + sheer amazement. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Aunt Caro?—you do care for her, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Care for her?” echoed Miss Craven, with a laugh that was curiously like a + sob, “yes, I do care for her. I care so much that I am going to venture a + great deal—for her sake. But I cannot propose that she should live + permanently with me because all future permanencies have been taken out of + my hands. I hate talking about myself, but you had to know some day, this + only accelerates it. I have not been feeling myself for some time—a + little while ago I went to London for definite information. The man had + the grace to be honest with me—he bade me put my house in order.” + Her tone left no possibility of misunderstanding. He was across the room + in a couple of hasty strides, on his knees beside her, his hands clasped + over hers. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Caro!” The genuine and deep concern in his voice almost broke her + self-control. She turned her head, catching her lip between her teeth, + then with a little shrug she recovered herself and smiled at him. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy, it must come some day—it has come a little sooner than I + expected, that is all. I'm not grumbling, I've had a wonderful life—I've + been able to do something with it. I have not sat altogether idle in the + market-place.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure? Doctors are not infallible.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure,” she answered steadily; “the man I went to was very kind, + very thorough. He insisted I should have other opinions. There was a + council of big-wigs and they all arrived at the same conclusion, which was + at least consoling. A diversity of opinion would have torn my nerves to + tatters. I couldn't tell you before, it would have worried me. I hate a + fuss. I don't want it mentioned again. You know—and there's an end + of it.” She squeezed his hands tightly for a moment, then got up abruptly + and went to the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “I have only one regret—Gillian,” she said as he followed her. “You + see now that it is impossible for me to make a definite home for her, even + supposing that she were to agree to such a proposal. They gave me two or + three years at the longest—it might be any time.” + </p> + <p> + Craven stood beside her miserable and tongue-tied. Her news affected him + deeply, he was stunned with the suddenness of it and amazed at the courage + she displayed. She might almost have been discoursing on the probable + death of a stranger. And yet, he reflected, it was only in keeping with + her general character. She had been fearless all through life, and for her + death held no terrors. + </p> + <p> + He tried to speak but words failed him. And presently she spoke again, + hurriedly, disjointedly. + </p> + <p> + “I am helpless. I can do nothing for Gillian. I could have left her money + in my will, despite her pride she would have had to accept it. I can't + even do that. At my death all I have, as you know, goes back into the + estate. I have never saved anything—there never seemed any reason. + And what I made with my work I gave away. There is only you—only one + way—Barry, won't you—Barry!” She was crying undisguisedly, + unconscious even of the unaccustomed tears. “You know what I mean—you + must know,” she whispered entreatingly, struggling with emotion. + </p> + <p> + He was standing rigid, to her strained fancy he seemed almost to have + stopped breathing and there was in his attitude something that frightened + her. It came to her suddenly that, after all, he was to all intents and + purposes a stranger to her. Even the intimacy of these last months, living + in close contiguity to him in his own house had not broken down the + barrier that his sojourn in Japan had raised. She understood him no better + than on the day of his arrival in Paris. He had been uniformly thoughtful + and affectionate but had never reverted to the old Barry whom she had + known so well. He had, as it were, retired within himself. He lived his + life apart, with them but not of them, daily carrying through the arduous + work he set himself with a dogged determination in which there was no + pleasure. Yet, beyond a certain gravity, to the casual observer there was + in him no great change. He entertained frequently and was a popular host, + interesting and appearing interested. Only Miss Craven and Peters, more + intimate, saw the effort that he made. To Miss Craven it seemed sometimes + as if he were deliberately living through a self-appointed period—she + had found herself wondering what cataclysm would end it. She was conscious + of the impression, which she tried vainly to dismiss as absurd, of living + over an active volcano. What would be the result of the upheaval when it + came? She had prayed earnestly for some counter-distraction that might + become powerful enough to surmount the tragic memory with which he lived—a + memory she was convinced and the tragedy was present in his face. She had + cherished a hope, born in the early days of their return to Craven Towers + and maintained in the face of seeming improbability of fulfilment, that + had grown to be an ardent desire. In the realization of that hope she + thought she saw his salvation. With the knowledge of her own precarious + hold on life she clung even more closely to what had become the strongest + wish she had ever known. She had never deluded herself into imagining the + consummation of her wish imminent, she had frankly acknowledged to herself + that his inscrutability was impenetrable, and now hope seemed almost + extinguished. She realized it with a feeling of helplessness. And yet she + had a curious impulse, an inner conviction that urged with a + peremptoriness that over-rode subterfuge. She would speak plainly, be the + consequences what they were. It was for the ultimate happiness of the two + beings whom she loved best on earth—for that surely she might + venture something. She had never been afraid of plain speaking, it would + be strange if she let convention deter her now. Convention! it had wrecked + many a life—so had interference, she thought with sudden racking + indecision. What if by interference she hindered now, rather than helped? + What if speech did more mischief than silence? Irresolutely she wavered, + and to her indecision there came suddenly the further disturbing thought—if + Barry acceded to her earnest wish what ground had she for pre-supposing + that it would result in his happiness? She had no definite knowledge, no + positive assurance wherewith to press her request. The inmost feelings of + both were hidden from her. Her meddling might only bring more sorrow to + him who seemed already weighed down under a crushing burden of grief. + Gratitude and an intense admiration she knew existed. But between + admiration and any deeper feeling there was a wide gulf. And yet what + might not be hidden behind the grave seriousness of those great dark eyes + that looked with apparently equal frankness at every member of the + household? Months spent in the proximity of an unusually handsome man, the + romance of the tie between them—it was an experience that any woman, + least of all an unsophisticated convent-bred girl, could hardly pass + through unscathed. It was surely enough to gamble on, she reflected with + grim humour that did not amuse. It was a great hazzard, the highest stakes + she had ever played for who had never been afraid of losing. The thought + spurred her. If it was to be the last throw then let there be no + hesitation. A reputation for courage and coolness had gone with her + through life. + </p> + <p> + She turned to him abruptly, all indecision gone, complete mistress of + herself again. + </p> + <p> + “Barry, don't you understand?” she said with slow distinctness. “I want + you to ask Gillian to marry you.” + </p> + <p> + He started as if she had stabbed him. + </p> + <p> + “Good God,” he cried violently, “you don't know what you are saying!” And + from his tortured face she averted her eyes hastily, sick at heart. But + she held her ground, aware that retreat was not now possible. + </p> + <p> + She answered gently, steadying her voice with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so extraordinary that I should wish it, should hope for it? I care + for you both so deeply. To know that your mother's place would be filled + by one who is worthy to follow her—how worthy only I, who have been + admitted to her high ideals, appreciate; to know that there would be the + happiness of home ties here for you, to know that I leave Gillian safe in + your hands—it would make my going very easy, Barry.” + </p> + <p> + His head was down on his arms on the mantelshelf, his face hidden from + her. “Gillian—safe—in my hands—<i>my God</i>!” he + groaned, and shuddered like a man in mortal agony. + </p> + <p> + All the deep love she had for him, all the fears she entertained for him + leaped up in her with sudden strength, forcing utterance and breaking down + the reticence she had imposed upon herself. She caught his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Barry, what is it—for heaven's sake speak! Do you think I have been + blind all these months, that I have seen nothing? Can't you tell me—anything?” + her voice, quivering with emotion, was strange to him, strange enough to + recall him to himself. He straightened slowly and drew away from her with + a little shiver. “There is nothing I can tell you,” he replied dully, + “nothing that I can explain, only this—I went through hell in Japan. + I don't want any sympathy—it was my own fault, my own doing.... Just + now I made a fool of myself, I was off my guard, your words startled me. + Forget it, you can do me no good by remembering.” + </p> + <p> + He made an abrupt movement as if to leave the room but Miss Craven stood + squarely in front of him, her chin raised stubbornly. She knew now that + she was face to face with something even more terrible than she had + imagined. He had avoided a definite answer. By all reasoning she should + have accepted his rebuff but intuition, stronger than reason, impelled + her. If he went now it would be the end. She knew that positively. The + question could never be opened up again. She could not let it pass without + a final effort. It was inconceivable that this shadow could always lie + across his life. Whatever tragical event had occurred belonged to the past—surely + the future might hold some alleviation, some happiness that might + compensate for the sorrow that had lined his face and brought the silver + threads that gleamed in his thick dark hair. Surely in the care for + another life memory might be dulled and there might dawn for him a new + hope, a new peace. Despite his broken suggestive words her trust in him + was still maintained; she had no fear for Gillian—with him her + future would be assured. And there seemed no other alternative. Her + confidence in herself furthermore was not shaken, she had a deep + unalterable conviction that the wish for the union she so desired was + based upon something deeper than mere fancy. It was not anything that she + could put into words or even into concrete thought, but the belief was + strong. It was a vivid assurance that went beyond reasoning, that made it + possible for her to speak again. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to let the past dominate the rest of your life,” she asked + slowly, “is the future to count for nothing? There are, in all + probability, many years ahead of you—cannot you, in them, obliterate + what has gone before?” + </p> + <p> + He turned from her with a hopeless gesture and a muttered word she could + not catch. But he did not go as she feared he would. He lingered in the + room, staring into the heart of the glowing fire and Miss Craven played + her last card. + </p> + <p> + “And—Gillian?” she said firmly, all the Craven obstinacy in her + voice, and waited long for his answer. When it came it was flat, + monotonous. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot marry her. I cannot marry—anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you married already?” The question escaped before she could bite it + back. With a quickening heartbeat she awaited an outburst, a retort that + would end everything. But he answered quietly, in the same toneless voice: + “No, I am not married.” + </p> + <p> + She caught at the loop-hole it seemed to offer. “If there is no bar——” + she began eagerly, but he cut her short. “I have done with all that sort + of thing,” he said harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she persisted, with a doggedness that matched his own. “If you have + known sorrow, does that necessarily mean that you can never again know + happiness? Must you for a—a memory, turn your back irrevocably on + any chance that may restore your peace of mind? I believe that such a + chance is waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with strange intentness. “For me....” he smiled bitterly. + “If you only knew!” + </p> + <p> + “I only know that you are hesitating at what most men would jump at,” she + retorted, suddenly conscious of strained nerves and feeling as if she were + battering impotently against a granite rock-face. His hands clenched but + he did not reply and swift contrition fell on her. She turned to him + impulsively. “Forgive me, Barry. I shouldn't have said that, but I want + this thing so desperately. I am convinced that it would mean happiness for + you, for you both. And when I think of Gillian—alone—fighting + against the world——” She broke down completely and he gripped + her hands with a strength that made her wince. + </p> + <p> + “She'll never do that if I can help it,” he said swiftly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven looked up with sudden hope. “You will ask her?” she whispered + expectantly. He put her from him gently. “I can promise nothing. I must + think,” he said deliberately, and there was in his face a look that held + her silent. + </p> + <p> + With uncertain feelings she watched him leave the room.... Inevitable + re-action set in, doubts overwhelmed her. Had she done what was best or + had she blundered irretrievably? She went unsteadily to a chair, + extraordinarily tired, exhausted in her new weakness by the emotional + strain through which she had passed. She was beginning to be a little + aghast at what she had done, at the force that she had set moving. And yet + she had been actuated by the highest motives. She believed implicitly that + the joining of the two lives whose future was all her care would result in + the ultimate happiness of both. They had grown used to each other. A + closer relationship than that of guardian and ward seemed, in view of the + comparatively slight difference in age, a natural outcome of the intimacy + into which they had been thrown. It was not without precedent; similar + events had happened before and would doubtless happen again, she argued, + striving to stifle the still lingering doubt that whispered that she had + gone beyond her prerogative. And what she had done was in a way + inexplicable even to herself. All through she had felt that involuntary + forceful impulse that had been almost fatalistic, she had urged through + the prompting of an inward conviction. She had perhaps attached too much + importance to it, her own wish had been magnified until it assumed the + appearance of fate. + </p> + <p> + Her closed eyes quivered as she leaned back in the chair. + </p> + <p> + She had done it for the best, she kept repeating mechanically to herself, + to try and bring happiness into his life; to insure the safety of the girl + who had become so dear to her. Had it been his thought too, even before + she spoke? His manner had been so strange. He had recoiled from her + suggestion but she had been left with the impression that it was no new + one to him. She had caught a fleeting look, before his face had taken on + that impenetrable mask, that had given the lie to his emphatic words. He + had seemed to be wrestling with himself, she had seen the moisture thick + on his forehead, his set face had looked as if it could never soften + again. When he had gone he had given her no definite promise and she had + no possibility of guessing what his decision would be. But on reflection + she found hope in his deferring reply. It was all that was left to her. + She had done her utmost, the rest lay with him. She sighed deeply, she had + never felt such weariness of mind and body. As she gave way to a feeling + of growing lassitude drowsiness came over her which she was too tired to + combat and for some time she slept heavily. She awoke with a start to find + Gillian, wide-eyed with concern, kneeling beside her, the girl's slim warm + fingers clasped closely round her sleep-numbed hands. Dazed with sudden + waking she looked up without speaking at the fresh young face that bent + over her. Gillian rubbed the cold hands gently. “Aunt Caro, you were + asleep! I've never caught you napping before,” she laughed, but a hint of + anxiety mingled with the wonder in her voice. Miss Craven slowly smiled + reassurance. Her weakness seemed to have vanished with sleep, she felt + herself once more strong enough to hide from the searching affectionate + eyes anything that might give pain or cause uneasiness. She sat up + straighter. + </p> + <p> + “Laziness, my dear, sheer laziness,” she said sturdily. Gillian looked at + her gravely. “Sure?” she asked, “you are sure that you are quite well? You + looked so tired—your face was quite white.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure—unbeliever! And you—did you have a good time; did + you remember to take your tonic, and did you keep warm?” + </p> + <p> + Gillian laughed softly and stood up, ticking off the items on her fingers. + “I did have a good time, I did remember to take my tonic, and this + heavenly coat has kept me as warm as pie—Nina Atherton taught me + that. That nice family considerably enlarged my vocabulary,” she added + with enjoyment, slipping out of a heavy fur coat and coming back to perch + on the arm of Miss Craven's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Not yours only,” was the answer, “Peter was quoting the husband this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for a moment thinking of the three charming + Americans who had spent a couple of months at the Towers the previous + summer, bringing with them an adored scrap of humanity and a host of + nurses, valets and maids. + </p> + <p> + Then Gillian drew her arm closer around Miss Craven. + </p> + <p> + “Alex pressed me to stay until to-morrow, I had the greatest trouble to + get away. But I promised to come back this afternoon, and, do you know, + Aunt Caro, I had the queerest feeling this morning. I thought you <i>wanted</i> + me, wanted me urgently. As if you could ever want anybody urgently, you + self-reliant wonder.” She gave the shoulder she was caressing an + affectionate hug. “But it was odd, wasn't it? I nearly telephoned, and + then I concluded you would think I had taken leave of my senses.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven sat very still. + </p> + <p> + “I should have,” she replied, and hoped that her voice appeared more + natural than it sounded to herself. Gillian laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, I'm glad you had Mr. Peters to cheer your solitary tea. I hated + to think of you being alone.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't. He left early. But Barry condescended to take pity on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Craven!” There was the slightest pause before she added: “I thought + he scorned <i>le five o'clock</i>. He's not nearly so domesticated as + David.” + </p> + <p> + “As who, my dear?” asked Miss Craven, staring. Gillian gave another little + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's my private name for Mr. Peters—he doesn't mind—he + spoils me dreadfully—'the sweet singer in Israel'—you know. He + has got the most beautiful tenor voice I have ever listened to.” + </p> + <p> + “Peter—sing! I've never heard him sing,” said Miss Craven in wonder, + and she looked up with a new curiosity. “I've known him for thirty years, + and in less than that number of months you discover an accomplishment of + which everybody else is ignorant. How did you manage it, child?” + </p> + <p> + “By accident, one evening in the summer. You were dining out, and Mouston + and I had gone for a ramble in the park—it's gorgeous there in the + <i>crepuscule</i>—and we were quite close to the Hermitage. I heard + him and I eaves-dropped—is there such a word? It was so lovely that + I had to clap and he came out and found an unexpected audience on the + windowsill. Wasn't it dreadful? He was so dear about it and explained that + it was a very private form of amusement, but since the cat was out of the + bag there was an end of the matter, only he positively declined to perform + in public. I bullied him into singing some more, and then he walked home + with me.” + </p> + <p> + “You twist Peter round your little finger and trade on his good nature + shamelessly,” said Miss Craven severely, but her teasing held no terrors. + </p> + <p> + “He's such a dear,” the girl repeated softly, and slipping off the arm of + the chair she went to the fire and knelt down to put back a log that had + fallen on to the hearth and was smouldering uselessly. Miss Craven looked + at her as, the log replaced, she still knelt on the rug and held her hands + mechanically to the blaze. She had an intense and wholly futile longing to + speak what was in her mind and, demanding confidence for confidence, + penetrate the secret of the heart that had confided to her all but this + one thing. Little by little through no pressure but by mere telepathic + sympathy, reserve had melted away and hopes and aspirations had been + submitted and discussed. But of this one thing there could be no + discussion. Miss Craven realised it and stifled a regretful sigh. Even + she, dear as she knew herself to be, might not intrude so intimately. For + by such an intrusion she might lose all that she had gained. She could not + forfeit the confidence that had grown to mean so much to her, it was too + high a price to pay even for the knowledge she sought. She must have + patience, she thought, as she ran her fingers with the old gesture through + her grey curls. But it was hard to be patient when any moment might bring + the summons that would put her beyond the ken of earthly events. To go, + leaving this problem still unsolved! She set her teeth and sat rigid, + gripping the oak rails of the chair until her fingers ached, battling with + herself. She looked again at the slim kneeling figure, the pale oval face + half turned to her, the thick dark hair piled high on the small proud head + glistening in the firelight. A thing of grace and beauty—in mind and + body desirable. How could he hesitate.... + </p> + <p> + “Barry was riding—all day—in this atrocious weather. He came + in soaked,” she said abruptly, almost querulously, unlike her usual + tolerant intonation. There was no immediate answer and for a moment she + thought she had not been heard. The girl had moved slightly, turning her + face away, and with a steady hand was building the dying fire into a + pyramid. She completed the operation carefully and sat back on her heels + flourishing the tiny brass tongs. + </p> + <p> + “He's tough,” she said lightly, unconsciously echoing Peters' words and + apparently heedless of the interval between Miss Craven's remark and her + own reply. She seemed more interested in the fire than in her guardian. + Laying the tongs away leisurely she came back to Miss Craven's chair and + settled down on the floor beside her, her arms crossed on the elder + woman's knee. She looked up frankly, a faint smile lightening her serious + brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think Mr. Craven wants any sympathy, <i>cherie</i>,” she said + slowly, “I reserve all mine for Yoshio, he fusses so dreadfully when the + 'honourable master' goes for those tremendous long rides or is out + hunting. Have you noticed that he always waits in the hall, to be ready at + the first moment to rush away and get dry clothes and a hot bath and all + the other Oriental paraphernalia for checking chills and driving the ache + out of sore bones? I don't suppose Mr. Craven has ever had sore bones—he + is so splendidly strong—and Yoshio certainly seems determined he + never shall. Mary thoroughly approves of him, she's a fusser by nature + too; she deplores his heathenism but says he has more sense than many a + Christian. Soon after we came here I found him in the hall one day staring + through the window, looking the picture of misery, his funny little yellow + face all puckered up. He saw me out of the back of his head, truly he did, + for he never turned, and tried to slip away. But I made him stay and talk + to me. I sat on the stairs and he folded himself up on the mat—I + can't describe it any other way—and told me all about Japan, and + California and Algeria and all the other queer places he has been to with + Mr. Craven. He has such a quaint dramatic way of speaking and lapses into + unintelligible Japanese just at the exciting moments—so tantalising! + They seem to have been in some very—what do you say?—tight + corners. We got quite sociable. I was so interested in listening to his + description of the wonderful gardens they make in Japan that I never heard + Mr. Craven come in and did not realise that he was standing near us until + Yoshio suddenly shot up and fled, literally vanished, and left me <i>planteel</i>! + I felt so idiotic sitting on the stairs hugging my knees and Mr. Craven, + all splashed and muddy, waiting for me to let him pass—I was + dreadfully frightened of him in those days,” the faintest colour tinged + her cheeks. “I longed for an earthquake to swallow me up,” she laughed and + scrambled to her feet, gathering the heap of furs into her arms and + holding them dark and silky against her face. “You shouldn't have + encouraged in me a love of beautiful furs, Aunt Caro,” she said + inconsequently, with sudden seriousness. “I've sense enough left to know + that I shouldn't indulge it—and I'm human enough to adore them.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish! furs suit you—please my sense of the artistic. I would not + encourage you if you had a face like a harvest moon and no carriage—I + can't bear sloppiness in anything,” snapped Miss Craven in quite her old + style. “When do the Horringfords start for Egypt?” she added by way of + definitely changing the subject. + </p> + <p> + Gillian rubbed her cheek against the soft sealskin with an understanding + smile. It was hopeless to try and curb Miss Craven's generosity, hopeless + to attempt to argue against it. “Next week,” she answered the inquiry. + “Tuesday, probably. They stay in Paris for a month <i>en route;</i> Lord + Horringford wants some data from the Louvre and also to arrange some + preliminaries with the French Egyptologist who is joining their party.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! And Alex—still interested in mummies?” + </p> + <p> + “More than ever, she is full of enthusiasm. She talks of dynasties and + tribal deities, of kings and <i>Kas</i> and symbols until my head spins. + Lord Horringford teases her but it is easy to see that her interest + pleases him. He says she is the mascot of the expedition, that she brought + luck to the digging last year.” + </p> + <p> + “Alex has had many hobbies but never one that ran for two seasons,” said + Miss Craven thoughtfully; “I am glad she has found an interest at last + that promises to be permanent.” + </p> + <p> + Gillian gathered the furs closer in her arms and made a few steps toward + the door. “She has found more than that,” she said softly, and the colour + flamed in her sensitive face. Miss Craven nodded. “You mean that in + unearthing the buried treasure of a dead past she has found the living + treasure of a man's love? Yes, and not any too soon, poor silly child. Men + like Horringford don't bear playing with. I wonder whether she knows how + near she has been to making shipwreck of her life.” + </p> + <p> + “I think she knows—now,” said Gillian, with a little wise smile as + she left the room. + </p> + <p> + The sound of her soft contralto singing an old French nursery rhyme echoed + faintly back to the library: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mon père m'a donné un petit mari, + Mon Dieu, quel homme!” + </pre> + <p> + And, listening, Miss Craven smiled half-sadly, for the quaint words + carried her back to the days of her own childhood. But the exigencies of + the present thrust aside past memories. She sat on, wrapped in her + thoughts until the dropping temperature of the room sent through her a + sudden chill, so she rose with a shiver and a startled glance at her + watch. + </p> + <p> + “Dry bones and love,” she said musingly, “it's a curious combination! + Peter, my man, you gave wise advice there.... But not all your wisdom can + help <i>my</i> trouble.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + December had brought a complete change of weather. It was within a few + days of Christmas, a typical old-fashioned Yuletide with a firm white + mantle of snow lying thick over the country. + </p> + <p> + Underneath the ground was iron and for two weeks all hunting had been + stopped. + </p> + <p> + Craven was returning to the Towers after an absence of ten days. The motor + crawled through the park for in places the frozen road was slippery as + glass and the chauffeur was a cautious North-countryman whose faith in the + chains locked round the wheels was not unlimited; he was driving + carefully, with a wary eye for the worst patches noted on the outward run, + and, beside him, equally alert, sat Yoshio muffled to the ears in an + immense overcoat, a shapeless bundle. + </p> + <p> + It was early afternoon, calm and clear, and in the air the intense + stillness that succeeds a heavy snowfall. The pale sun, that earlier in + the day had iridised the snow, was now too low to affect the dead + whiteness of the scene against which the trees showed magnified and + sharply black. Here and there across the smooth surface stretching on + either side of the road lay the curiously differing tracks of animals. + From the back seat of the car where he sat alone Craven marked them + mechanically. He knew every separate spoor and could have named the owner + of each; ordinarily they would have claimed from him a certain interest + but today he passed them without a second thought. He did not resent the + slow progress of the car, he was in no hurry to reach the Towers. He had + come to a momentous decision but shrank from the action that must + necessarily follow; once at the house he knew that he would permit himself + no further delay, he would put his purpose into effect at the earliest + opportunity—today if possible; here there was still time—vaguely + he wondered for what? Not for reflection, that was done with. He had + striven with all his strength to arrive at a right determination; he had + thought until reasoning became a mere repetition of fixed ideas moving in + a circle and arriving always at an unvaried starting point. There seemed + no consequence that he had not weighed in his mind, no issue that he had + not considered. To ponder afresh would be to cover again uselessly ground + that he had gone over a hundred times. Three days ago he had made his + choice, he had no intention of departing from it. For good or ill the + thing must go forward now. And, after all, the ultimate decision did not + lie with him. Admitting it his thoughts became introspective. Throughout + his deliberations he had put self on one side, there had been no question + of his own wishes; now for the first time he allowed personal + considerations to rise unchecked. For what did he hope? He knew the reason + of his reluctance to reach the house—he desired success and yet he + feared it, feared the consequences that might result, feared the strength + of his own will to persevere in the course he had chosen. For him there + was no other way but, merciful God, it would be hard! He set his teeth and + stared at the frozen landscape with unseeing eyes. Since her outburst four + weeks ago Miss Craven had not spoken again of the wish that was nearest + her heart, but he knew that she was waiting for an answer, knew that that + answer must be given. One way or the other. Day had succeeded day in + torturing indecision. He had lived, slept with the problem, at no time was + it out of his mind. In the course of the long rides that had become more + frequent, obtruding during the monotonous hours spent in the estate + office, the problem persisted. In the sleepless hours of the night he + wrestled with it. If it had been a matter of personal inclination, if the + past had not risen between them there would have been no hesitation. He + would have gone to her months ago, would have begged the priceless gift + that she alone could give. He wanted her, almost above the hope of + salvation, and the inducement to ignore the past had been all but + overpowering. He loved and desired with all the strength of the passionate + nature he had inherited. He craved for her with an intensity that was + anguish, that set him wondering how far the power of endurance reached, + how much a man could bear. He was torn with the fierce promptings of + primeval forces. To take her, willing or unwilling, despite honour, + despite all that stood between them, to make her his and hold her in the + face of all the world—at times the temptation had been maddening. + There had been days when he had not dared to look on her, when he had + drawn himself more than ever apart from the common life, fearful of + himself, fearful of circumstances that seemed beyond his ordering. And the + thought that another could take what he might not had engendered an + insensate jealousy that was beyond reason. He did not recognise himself, + he had not known the depths of his own nature. If there had been no bar, + if she could have come to him willingly, if there could indeed have been + for him the full ties of home—the thought was agony. Miss Craven's + words had been a sword turning in an open wound. To the burden he already + carried had been added this. + </p> + <p> + The future of his ward had been his problem as well as Miss Craven's. Only + a little while ago a way had seemed clear, not a way to his own happiness—by + his own act he had put himself beyond all possibility of that—but a + way that would mean security and happiness for her who had come to mean + more than life to him. For her safety he would have given his soul. The + term of his guardianship was drawing to an end, in a few months his legal + control over her terminated. Miss Craven who had surrendered her + independence for two years would be returning to her own home, to her old + life; it had seemed a foregone conclusion that Gillian would accompany + her. + </p> + <p> + But the double shock in the revelation of Miss Craven's precarious state + and Gillian's delicacy had been staggering. He had not been prepared for a + contingency that seemed to cut the ground from under his feet. With all + the will in the world his aunt was powerless to further the plan he + proposed, any day might bring the Great Summons. And Gillian! The little + persistent cough rang in his ears always. Gillian and poverty—by day + it haunted him, he woke in the night sweating at the very thought. It was + intolerable. And yet there appeared no means of escaping it—save + one. For a moment, with a fierce joy, he saw fate aiding him, forcing into + his hands what he yearned to gather to himself, then he recoiled from even + the thought of her purity linked with the stain of his past. He had racked + his brain to discover an alternative. To force upon her an adequate income + that would put her beyond want and the necessity of work would be easy. To + induce her to use the money thus provided he divined would be impossible, + he seemed to know intuitively that her will would not give way to his. + During these last weeks he had looked at her with new understanding, it + seemed incredible that he had never before recognised the determination + that underlay her shy gentleness. Character shone in the frank brown eyes, + there was a firmness that was unmistakable in the arched lips that were + the only patch of colour in her delicate face. From his wealth she would + accept nothing. Would she accept him—all that he dared offer? It was + no new idea, the thought had been in his mind often but always he + resolutely put it from him with a feeling of abhorrence. It was an insult + to her womanhood, an expedient that nothing could justify. And yet step by + step he was forced back upon it—there seemed no other way to save + her from herself. Days of harrassing indecision, his only thought she, + brought him no nearer to a conclusion. And time was passing. He had + reached a point when further deliberation was beyond his power; when all + his strength seemed to turn into hopeless longing that, to the exclusion + of all else, craved even the mockery of possession; when days were torment + and nights a sleepless horror. Then change of scene had aided final + determination. The factor of the Scotch estate had written of a sudden and + unexpected difficulty for which he asked personal advice. A telegram had + stopped his proposed visit to the Towers and Craven had himself gone + instead to Scotland. And in the solitude of his northern home he had + decided on the only course that seemed open to him. He would go to her + with his poor offer, the poorest surely that ever a man made to a woman, + and the rest would lie with her. But how would she receive it? He had a + vision of the soft brown eyes blazing with scorn, of the slender figure he + ached to hold in his arms turning from him in cold disgust, and he + clenched his hands until the nails bit deep into his wet palms. + </p> + <p> + A bad skid that slewed the car half round broke his thoughts and in a few + minutes they were at the house. + </p> + <p> + Forbes, the elderly butler who had been an under footman when Peters first + came to the Towers, was waiting for him in the hall, informative with the + garrulousness of an old and privileged servant. A late luncheon was + waiting—he sighed patiently on hearing that it was not required—Miss + Craven had gone to the Vicarage for tea; Mr. Peters was expected to dinner + that night and he had telephoned in the morning to tell Mr. Craven—Craven + cut him short. Peter's message could wait, only one thing seemed to matter + just now. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Miss Locke?” he asked curtly. “In the studio, sir,” replied + Forbes with resignation. If Mr. Barry didn't want to hear what Mr. Peters + had got to say he, for one, was not going to press the matter. Mr. Barry + had had his own way of doing things since the days when he sat on the + pantry table kicking his heels and flourishing stolen jam under Forbes' + very nose—a masterful one always, he was. And if it was a case of + Miss Gillian—Forbes retired with an armful of ulster and rugs into + the cloakroom to hide a sympathetic grin. + </p> + <p> + Craven crossed the hall and went into the study. He looked without + interest through an accumulation of letters lying on the writing table, + then threw them down indifferently. Walking to the fireplace he lit a + cigarette and stood staring at the cheerful blaze. At last he raised his + head and gazed with deliberation at himself in the glass over the mantle. + He scowled at the stern worn face reflected in the mirror, looking + curiously at its deep cut lines, at the silver patches in the thick brown + hair. Then with a violent exclamation he swung abruptly on his heel, flung + the cigarette into the fire and left the room. He went upstairs slowly, surprised + at the feeling of apathy that had come over him. In the face of direct + action the high tension of the last few weeks had snapped, leaving him + dull, almost inert, and reluctance to go forward grew with every step. But + at the head of the stairs his mood changed suddenly. All that the coming + interview meant to him revealed itself with startling clearness. With a + deep breath he caught at the rail, for he was shaking uncontrollably, and + covered his face with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “God!” he whispered, and again: “God!” + </p> + <p> + Then he gripped himself and went quickly across the gallery, turning down + the corridor that led to the west wing. He followed the oddly twisting + passage, contorted at the whim of succeeding generations where rooms had + been enlarged or abolished, passing rows of closed doors and another + staircase. The corridor terminated in the room he was seeking. It had been + the old playroom; at the extreme end of the wing it faced northward and + westward and was well suited for the studio into which it had been + converted. It was Gillian's own domain and he had never asked to visit it. + As he reached the door he heard from within the shrill treble of a boy's + mirth and then a low soft laugh that made his heart beat quicker. He + tapped and went in and for a moment stared in amazement. He did not + recognise the room, it was a totally unexpected French <i>atelier</i> + tucked away in the corner of a typically English house. + </p> + <p> + The polished rug-laid floor, the fluted folds of <i>toile-de-genes</i> + clothing the walls, the litter of sketches and pictures, casts and easels, + the familiar lay-figure grotesquely attitudinising in a corner, above all + the atmosphere carried him straight to Paris. It was the room of an + artist, and a French artist. His eyes leaped to her. She was standing + before a big easel looking wonderingly over her shoulder at the opening + door, the brush she was using poised in her hand, her eyes wide with + astonishment, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + In the picturesque painter's blouse, her brown hair loosely framing her + face, she seemed altogether different. He could not define wherein lay the + change, he had no time to discriminate, he only knew that seen thus she + was a thousand times more desirable than she had ever been and that his + heart cried out for her more fiercely than before. He looked at her with + hungry longing, then quickly—lest his eyes should betray him—from + her to her model. A boy of ten with an intelligent small brown face, a mop + of black curls, and red lips parted in a mischievous smile, he stood on + the raised platform with the easy assurance of a professional. + </p> + <p> + Craven shut the door behind him and came forward. She turned to meet him + and the colour rushed in a crimson wave to the roots of her hair. “<i>Monsieur + ... vous etes de retour ... mais, soyez le bienvenu</i>!” she stammered, + with surprise unconsciously lapsing into the language of childhood. Then + she caught herself up with a little laugh of confusion and hurried on in + English: “I am so sorry ... there is nobody in but me. Will you have some + tea? It is only three o'clock,” with a glance at her wrist, “but I expect + you lunched early.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any tea,” he said bluntly. “I came to see you.” He spoke in + French, mindful of two sharp ears on the platform. The colour in her face + deepened painfully and her eyes fell under his steady gaze. She moved + slowly back to the easel. + </p> + <p> + “If you could wait a few moments——” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to interrupt,” he said hastily. “Please finish your work. + You don't mind if I stay? I haven't been here since I was a boy; you have + changed the room incredibly. May I look round?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded assent over a tube of colour, and returned to her study. + </p> + <p> + Left to himself he wandered leisurely round the room, examining the + pictures and sketches that were heaped indiscriminately. He had never + before displayed any interest in her work, and was now amazed at what he + saw. There was power in it that surprised him, that made him wonder what + intuition had given the convent-bred girl the knowledge she exhibited. The + tardy recognition of her talent strengthened his stranger feeling toward + her. He went thoughtfully to the fireplace, and, from the rug, surveyed + the room and its occupants. The atmosphere recalled old memories—he + had studied in Paris after leaving Oxford—only one thing seemed + lacking. + </p> + <p> + “May I smoke?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Gillian turned with a quick smile. + </p> + <p> + “But, of course. What need to ask? After Aunt Caro has been here for an + hour the room is blue.” + </p> + <p> + For another ten minutes he watched her in silence, free to look as he + would, for her back was toward him and in his position before the fire he + was beyond the range of the little model's inquisitive black eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then she laid palette and brushes on a near table and stepped back, + frowning at what she had done until a smile came slowly to chase the + creases from her forehead. She spoke without moving, still looking at the + canvas: “That is all for to-day, Danny. The light has gone.” + </p> + <p> + The small boy stretched himself luxuriously, and descending from the + platform, joined her and gazed with evident interest at his portrait. He + peered in unconscious but faithful imitation of her own critical attitude, + his head slanted at the same angle as hers. “It's coming on,” he announced + solemnly, and Craven guessed from the girl's laugh that it was a + repetition of some remark heard and stored up for future use. The boy + grinned in response, and slipping behind her went to the table where she + had laid her tools. “Can I clean palut?” he asked hopefully, his hand + already half-way to the coveted mass of colour. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day, thanks, Danny.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I fetch th' dog, Miss?” more hopefully. Gillian turned to him + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “He bit you last time.” + </p> + <p> + Danny wriggled his feet and his small white teeth flashed in a wide smile. + “He won't bite I again,” he said confidently. “Mammy said 'twas 'cos he + loved you and hated to have folks near you. She said I was to whisper in + his ear I loved you too, 'cos then he wouldn't touch me. Dad he says 'tis + a damned black devil,” he added with candid relish and a sidelong glance + of mischief at his employer. + </p> + <p> + Gillian laughed and gave his shoulder a little pat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he is,” she admitted ruefully. The boy threw his head back. “I + ain't afeard o' he,” he said stoutly. “<i>Shall</i> I fetch 'im?” + </p> + <p> + “I think we'll leave him where he is, Danny,” she said gravely, as if in + confidence. “He's probably very happy. Now run away and come again on + Saturday.” She waved a paint-stained rag at him and turned again to the + picture. Obediently he started towards the door, then hesitated, glancing + irresolutely at Craven, and tip-toed back to the easel. + </p> + <p> + “Them things in the drawer,” he muttered sepulchrally, in a voice not + intended to reach the ears of the rather awe-inspiring personage on the + hearthrug. Gillian whipped round contritely. “Danny, I forgot them!” she + apologised, and tweaking a black curl went to a bureau and produced a + square cardboard box. Danny tucked it under his arm with murmured thanks + and a duck of the head, and crossing the room noiselessly went out, + closing the door behind him softly. Craven came slowly to her. She moved + to give him place before the easel. Craven looked at the small alert brown + face, the odd black eyes dancing with almost unearthly merriment, the red + lips curving upward to an enigmatical smile, and his wonder and admiration + grew. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” he asked curiously, puzzled by a likeness he seemed to + recognise dimly and yet was unable to place. + </p> + <p> + “Danny Major—the son of one of your gamekeepers,” said Gillian; “his + mother has gipsy blood in her.” + </p> + <p> + Craven whistled. “I remember,” he said, interested. “Old Major was + head-keeper. Young Major lost his heart to a gipsy lass and his father + kicked him out of doors. Peters, as usual, smoothed things over and kept + the fellow on at his job, in spite of a great deal of opposition—he + had seen the girl and formed his own opinion. I asked once or twice and he + said that it had turned out satisfactorily. So this is the son—he's + a rum-looking little beggar.” + </p> + <p> + Gillian was cleaning brushes at the side table. “He's the terror of the + neighbourhood,” she said smiling, “but for some reason he is a perfect + angel when he comes here. It isn't the chocolates,” she added hastily as + she saw a fleeting smile on his face, “he just likes coming. And he tells + me the most wonderful things about the woods and the wood beasties.” + </p> + <p> + “He would,” said Craven significantly, “it's in the blood. What's this?” + he asked, pointing to a smaller board propped face inward against the big + canvas. For a moment she did not answer and the colour flamed into her + face again. She put the brushes away, and wiping her fingers on a cloth, + lifted the board and gave it into his hands. + </p> + <p> + “It's Danny as I see him,” she said in an odd voice. And, looking at it, + Craven realised that the cleverness of the painted head on the large + canvas paled to mediocrity beside the brilliance of the sepia sketch he + held. It was the same head—but marvellously different—set on + the body of a faun. The dancing limbs were pulsing with life, the tiny + hoofs stamping the flower-strewn earth in an ecstasy of movement; the head + was thrown forward, bent as though to catch a distant echo, and among the + tossing curls showed two small curving horns; to the enigmatical smile of + the original had been added a subtle touch of mockery, and the wide eyes + held a look of mystical knowledge that was uncanny. Craven held it + silently, it seemed an incredible piece of work for the girl to have + conceived. And, beside him, she waited nervously for his verdict, with + close-locked twitching fingers. He had never come before, had never shown + any interest in the work that meant so much to her. She was hungry for his + praise, fearful of his censure. If he saw nothing in it now but the + immature efforts of an amateur! Her heart tightened. She drew a little + nearer to him, her eyes fixed apprehensively on his intent face, her + breath coming quickly. At length he replaced the sketch carefully. “You + have a wonderful talent,” he said slowly. A little gasp of relief escaped + her and her lips trembled in spite of all efforts to keep them steady. + “You like it?” she whispered eagerly, and was terrified at the awful + pallor that overspread his face. For a moment he could not speak. The + words, the intonation! He was back again in Japan, looking at the painting + of a lonely fir tree clinging to a jutting sea-washed cliff—the + faintest scent of oriental perfume seemed stealing through the air. He + drew his hand across his eyes. “Merciful God ... not here ... not now!” he + prayed in silent agony. Then with a desperate effort he mastered himself + and turned to the frightened girl with a forced smile. “Forgive me—I've + a beastly headache—the room went spinning round for a minute,” he + said jerkily, wiping the moisture from his forehead. She looked at him + gravely. “I think you are very tired, and I don't believe you had any + lunch,” she said with quiet decision. “I'm going to make some coffee. Aunt + Caro says my coffee drinking is more vicious than her smoking,” she went + on, purposely giving him time to recover himself, and crossing the room + she collected little cups and a small brass pot. “Any how it's the real + article, and in spite of what she says Aunt Caro doesn't scorn it. She + comes regularly to drink my <i>cafe noir</i> with her after-lunch + cigarette.” + </p> + <p> + Craven dropped down heavily on the broad cushioned window seat, his hands + clasped over his throbbing temples, fighting to regain his shaken nerve. + And yet there was a great hope dawning. For the first time the threatening + vision had failed to materialise, and the fact gave him courage. If a time + should come when it would definitely cease to haunt him! He could never + forget, never cease to regret, but he would feel that in the Land of + Understanding the hapless victim of his crime had forgiven the sin that + had robbed her of her young life. + </p> + <p> + And as he grew calmer he began to be conscious that in the room where he + sat there was a restfulness that he had not felt in any other part of the + house since his return to Craven Towers. It was acting on him curiously + and he wondered what it portended. And as he pondered it Gillian came to + him with a cup of coffee in either hand. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Monsieur est servi,”</i> she said with a little laugh. She seemed to + have suddenly overcome shyness as if, in her own domain, the first + surprise of his visit over, her surroundings gave her confidence. Or, + perhaps, the womanliness that had been called out to meet his passing + weakness had set her on another plane. All signs of giddiness had left him + and, with her usual intuition, she did not trouble him with questions. For + the first time she found it easy to speak to him, and talked as she would + have done to Peters. She spoke of his northern visit and, following his + lead, of her work, freely and without embarrassment. Every moment the + restraint that had been between them seemed growing less. She marvelled + that she had ever found him unapproachable and wondered, contritely, if + her shyness had been alone to blame. She had been always constrained and + silent with him—small wonder that he had avoided her, she thought + humbly. Yet how could it have been otherwise? The tie between them, the + wonderful generosity he had shown, the aloofness he had maintained, had + made it impossible for her to view him as an ordinary human being. She + owed him everything and passionate recognition and a sense of her + indebtedness had grown with equal fervour. She had almost worshipped him. + He had taken her from a life that had grown unbearable, he had given her + the opportunity to follow the career for which she longed. She could never + repay him, she found it difficult to put into words even to herself just + what she felt towards him. From the first she had raised him to the empty + pedestal vacated by that fallen idol, her father. And out of hero-worship + had grown love, at first the exalted devotion of an immature girl, + adoration that was purely sexless and selfless—a mystical love + without passion, spiritual. He had appeared to her as a being of another + sphere and, mentally, she had knelt at his feet as to a patron saint. But + with her own development love had expanded. She realised that what she + felt for him was no longer childish adoration, but a greater, more + wonderful emotion. She had grown to a full understanding of her own heart, + the divinity had become a man for whose love she yearned. But she loved + hopelessly as she loved deeply, she had no thought that her love could be + returned. His proximity had always troubled her, and to-day as she sat on + the window seat beside him she was conscious of a greater unrest than she + had ever before felt, and her heart throbbed painfully with the vague + formless longings, inexplicable and frightening, that stirred within her + until it seemed impossible that her agitation could pass unnoticed. + Shyness fell on her again, the ready words faltered, and gradually she + became silent. Craven took the empty coffee cups and replaced them on the + table by the fire. Going back to the window he found her kneeling up on + the cushioned seat, her hands clasped before her, looking out at the white + world. The childish attitude that seemed in keeping with the artist's + blouse and tumbled hair made her look singularly young. He stood beside + her, so close that he almost touched her shoulder, and his eyes ranged + hungrily over the whole slim beauty of her, lingering on the little bent + brown head, the soft curve of her girlish bosom, until the yearning for + her grew intolerable and the restraint he put upon himself took all his + resolution. The temptation to gather her into his arms was almost more + than he could resist, he folded them tightly across his chest—he + could not trust them. He could barely trust himself. The unwonted + intimacy, the subtle torture of her nearness set his pulses leaping madly. + The blood beat in his head, his body quivered with the passionate longing, + the fierce desire that rushed over him. In the agony of the moment only + the elemental man existed, and he was sensible alone of the burning + physical need that rose above all higher purer sentiment. To hold her + crushed against his throbbing heart, to bury his face in the fragrance of + her soft hair, to kiss her lips till she should beg his mercy—there + seemed no greater joy on earth. He wanted her as he had wanted nothing in + his life before. And yet, if he gained what he had come to ask he knew + that what he suffered now would be as nothing to what he would have to + endure. To know her his wife, bound in every sense to him—and to + turn his face from the happiness that by all laws was his! Had he the + strength? Almost it seemed that he had not. He was only human—and + there was a limit to human endurance. If circumstances proved too hard.... + The sound of a little smothered cough checked his thoughts abruptly. He + realised that in self-commiseration he had lost sight of the purpose of + his visit. It was only she who mattered; her health, her happiness that + must be considered. He cursed himself and searched vainly for words to + express what he must say. And the more he thought the more utterly speech + evaded him. Then chance aided. She coughed again and with a little + impatient gesture rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Caro has decided to go to Cimiez for the rest of the winter—because + of my cough. She settled it while you were away. I don't want to go, my + cough is nothing. I wouldn't exchange this”—pointing to the + snow-clad park—“for all the warmth and sunshine of the Riviera. I + want to store up all the memories I can. You don't know how I have learned + to love the Towers.” It was as if the last words had escaped + unintentionally for she flushed and turned again abruptly to the darkening + window. His heart gave a sudden leap but he did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Then why leave it?” he asked brusquely. + </p> + <p> + She leaned her forehead on the frosting glass and her eyes grew misty. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>know</i>,” she said softly, and her voice trembled. “In all the + world I have only my—my talent and my self-respect. If I were to do + what you and Aunt Caro, in your wonderful generosity, propose—oh, + don't stop me, you <i>must</i> listen—I should only have my talent + left. Can't you see, can't you understand that I must work, that I must + prove my self-respect? For all that you have done, for all that you have + given me I have tried to thank you—often. Always you have stopped + me. Do you grudge me the only way in which I can show my gratitude, the + only way in which I can prove myself worthy of your esteem?” Her voice + broke in a little sob. Then she turned to him quickly, her hands + out-stretched and quivering. “If I could only do something to repay——” + she cried, with a passionate earnestness he had never heard in her before. + He caught at the opening that offered. “You can,” he said quietly, “but it + is so big a thing—it would more than swamp the debt you think you + owe me.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she whispered urgently as he paused. + </p> + <p> + He turned from her eager questioning face with acute embarrassment. He + hated himself, he hated his task, only the darkness of the room seemed to + make it possible. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian,” he said, with constrained gravity. “I came to you to-day + deliberately to ask you what I believe no man has any right to ask a + woman. I have tried all the afternoon to tell you. Something you said just + now makes it easier. You say you love the Towers—do you love it well + enough to stay here as its mistress, on the only terms that I can offer?” + </p> + <p> + The look of incredulous horror that leaped into her startled eyes made him + realise suddenly the interpretation that might be put upon his words. He + caught her hands almost roughly. “Good heavens, child, not that!” he cried + aghast. “What do you take me for? I am asking you to marry me—but + not the kind of marriage that every woman has the right to expect. If I + could offer you that, God knows how willingly I would. But there has been + that in my life which comes between me and the happiness that other men + can look forward to. For me that part of life is over. I have only + friendship to offer. I know I am asking more than it seems possible for + you to grant, more, a thousand times more than I ought to ask you—but + I do ask it, most earnestly. If you can bring yourself to make so great a + sacrifice, if you can accept a marriage that will be a marriage only in + name——” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered from him with a bitter cry. “You are offering me <i>charity</i>!” + she wailed, struggling to free her hands. But he held them firmer. “I am + asking you to take pity on a very lonely man,” he said gently. “I am + asking you to care for a very lonely house. You have brought sunshine into + the Towers, you have brought sunshine into the lives of many people living + on the estate. I am asking you to stay where you are so much wanted—so + much—loved.” + </p> + <p> + Then he let her go and she walked unsteadily to the fireplace. She stood + for a moment, her fingers working convulsively, staring into the + smouldering embers, and then sank into a chair, for her limbs were shaking + under her. He followed slowly and stooped to stir the fire to a blaze. + Covertly she looked at him as the red light illuminated his face and + scalding tears gathered in her eyes. And, curiously, it was not wholly of + herself that she was thinking. She was envying, with a feeling of hopeless + intolerable pain, that other woman whom he had loved. For his words could + only have meant one thing, and the great sorrow she had imagined seemed + all at once explained. She wondered what manner of woman she had been, if + she had died—or if she had proved unworthy. And the last thought + roused a sudden fierce resentment—how could a woman who had won his + love throw it back at his feet, unwanted! The envious tears welled over + and she brushed them furtively away. Then her thoughts turned in + compassion to him. Through death or faithlessness love had brought no joy + to him—he suffered as she was suffering now. She looked at the + silver threads gleaming in his hair, at the deep lines in his face and the + pain in her eyes gave place to a wonderful tenderness. She had prayed for + a chance to show her gratitude; if what he asked could bring any + alleviation to his life, if her presence could bring any sort of comfort + to his loneliness, was not even that more than she had ever dared to hope? + That he should turn to her was understandable. He had men friends in + plenty, but women he openly and undisguisedly avoided. He had grown used + to her presence at the Towers, a marriage such as he proposed would call + for no great alteration in the daily routine to which he had become + accustomed. If by doing this she could in any way repay.... + </p> + <p> + The replenished fire was filling the room with soft flickering light, it + cast strange shadows on the curtained walls and revealed the girl's + strained white face pitilessly. Craven had risen and was standing looking + down on her. She grew aware of his scrutiny and flinched, the hot blood + rolling slowly, painfully over her face and neck. He spoke abruptly, as if + the words were forced from him: + </p> + <p> + “But I want you to realise fully what this marriage with me would mean, + for it is a very big sacrifice I am asking of you. Whatever happened, you + would be bound to me. If”—his voice faltered momentarily—“if + you were sometime to meet a man—and love him—you would be my + wife, you would not be free to follow your heart.” + </p> + <p> + She stared straight before her, her hands clasped tight around her knees, + shivering slightly. “I shall never—want to marry—in that way,” + she said in a strangled voice. He smiled sadly. “You think that now—you + are very young,” he argued, “but we have the future to think of.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer and in the silence that ensued he wondered what had + induced him to put forward an argument that might defeat his purpose. In + any other case it would have been only the honourable thing to do, but in + this it was a risk he should not have taken. He moved impatiently. Then + suddenly he leaned forward and laid his hands on her shoulders, drawing + her gently to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly she raised her head. The touch of his hands was almost more than + she could bear, but she steadied her trembling lips and met his gaze + bravely as he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “If you will agree to this—this <i>mariage de convenance</i>, I will + do all that lies in my power to make your life happy. You will be free in + everything. I ask nothing but that you will look on me as a friend to whom + you can always come in any difficulty or any trouble. You will be complete + mistress of yourself, your time, your inclinations. I will not interfere + with you in any way.” + </p> + <p> + She searched his face, trying to read what lay behind his inscrutable + expression. His eyes were kind, but there was in them a curious underlying + gleam that she could not understand. And his voice puzzled her. She was + bewildered, torn with conflicting doubts. Sensitively she shrank from his + inexplicable suggestion, she could see no reason for his amazing proposal + save an extraordinary generosity that filled her with gratitude and yet + against which she revolted. + </p> + <p> + “You are doing this in pity!” she cried miserably. + </p> + <p> + “Before God I swear that I am not,” he said, with unexpected fierceness + that startled her, and the sudden painful gripping of the strong hands on + her shoulders made her for the first time aware of his strength. She + thought of it wonderingly. If it had been otherwise, if he had loved her, + how gladly she would have surrendered to it. It would have stood between + her and the unknown world that loomed sometimes in spite of her confidence + with a sinister horror on which she dared not dwell. In the safety of his + arms she would never have known fear, his strength would have shielded her + through life. And, in a lesser degree, his strength might still be hers to + turn to, if she would. A new conception of the future she had planned + rushed over her, the confidence she had felt fell suddenly away, leaving + fear and dread and a terror of loneliness. His touch had destroyed her + faith in herself. It had done more. In some subtle way it seemed to her he + had by his touch claimed her. And with his hands still pressing her + shoulders she felt a strange inability to oppose him. He had sworn that it + was not pity that dictated his offer. He had said that love did not exist + for him. What then could be his motive? She could find none. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't lie to me?” she whispered, tormented with doubt, “you wish + this—this marriage—truly?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it, truly,” he said firmly. + </p> + <p> + “You would let me go on with my work?” she faltered, fighting for time. + </p> + <p> + “I have said that I would not interfere with you in any way, that you + would be free in everything,” he answered, and as if in earnest of the + freedom promised his hands slipped from her. + </p> + <p> + The fire had died down again, and the room was almost dark, he could + hardly see her where she stood. He waited, hoping she would speak, then + abruptly: “Can you give me an answer, Gillian?” + </p> + <p> + He heard the quick intake of her breath, felt her trembling beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you would give me time,” she murmured entreatingly. “I want to + think. It means so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Take all the time you wish,” he said, and went quietly away. And his + going brought a sudden desolation. She longed to call him back, to promise + what he asked, to yield without further struggle. But uncertainty held + her. Motionless she stood staring through the darkness at the dim outline + of the door that had closed behind him, her breast heaving tumultuously, + until tears blinded her and with a gasping sob she slipped to the floor. + She had never dared to hope that he could love her, but the truth from his + own lips was bitter. And for a time the realisation of that bitterness + deadened all other feeling. Overwrought with the emotion of the last few + hours, her nerves strained to breaking point, she was unable to check the + tide of grief that shook her to the very depths of her being. With her + face hidden in the soft rug, her outflung hands clenching convulsively, + she wept in an abandonment of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + If he had never spoken, if he had never made this strange proposal but had + maintained until the end the detached reserve that had seemed to set so + wide a gulf between them, it would have been easier to bear. He would have + passed out of her life, inscrutable as he had always been. But with his + change of attitude, in the intimacy of the few hours they had spent alone, + she had seen him with new eyes. The mysterious unapproachable guardian had + gone for ever, and in his place was a very human man revealing + characteristics she had never imagined to exist, showing an interest and a + gentleness she had never suspected. He had exhibited a similarity of + tastes and ideas that agreed extraordinarily with her own, he had talked + as to a comrade. The companionship had been very sweet—very + sorrowful. She could never think of him again as he had been, and the new + conception of him gave a poignant stab to her grief. In the brief + happiness of the afternoon she had had a fleeting vision of what might + have been “if he had loved me,” she moaned, and it seemed to her that she + had never known until now the real depth of her own love. What she had + felt before was not comparable with the overwhelming passion that the + touch of his hands had quickened. It swept her like a raging torrent, + carrying her beyond the limit of her understanding, bringing with it + strange yearnings that, half-understood, she shuddered from, ashamed. + </p> + <p> + Torn with emotion she wept until she had no tears left, until the hard + racking sobs died away and her tired sorrow-shaken body lay still. For the + moment, exhausted, her agony of mind was dulled and time was non-existent. + She did not move or lift her head from the tear-wet rug. A great weariness + seemed to deaden all faculty. The minutes passed unnoticed. Then some + latent consciousness stirred in her brain and she looked up startled. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark and she realised, shivering, that the room had grown + very cold. The calm afternoon had given place to a stormy night and heavy + gusts of wind were sweeping round the angle of the house, shrieking and + whistling eerily; from the window came the soft <i>swish swish</i> of dry + hard snow beating against the panes. She started to her feet. She had no + idea of the hour but she knew it must be late. Perhaps the dinner gong had + already sounded and, missed, somebody might come in search of her. She + shrank from being found thus. Feeling her way to a lamp she turned the + switch and the soft light flooding the room made her wince. A glance at + her watch showed that she had still a few moments in which to gain her + room unobserved. + </p> + <p> + She felt oddly lightheaded and her feet dragged wearily. The tortuous + passage had never seemed so interminable, the succession of closed doors + appeared unending. Reaching her own room she collapsed on to a sofa that + was drawn up before the fire, her head aching, her limbs shivering + uncontrollably, worn out with emotion. Exhausted in mind and body she + seemed unable even to frame a thought logically or coherently—only + an interrupted medley of unconnected ideas chased through her tired brain + until her temples throbbed agonisingly. She knew that sometime she would + have to rouse herself, that sometime a decision would have to be made, but + not now. Now she could only lie still and make no effort. She was angry + with herself, contemptuous of her weakness. She had disdained nerves, she + was humiliated now by her present lack of control. But even self-scorn was + a passing thought from which she turned wearily. + </p> + <p> + One fact only remained, clear and distinct from the confusion in her mind—he + did not love her. He did not love her. It hurt so. She hid her face in the + pillows, writhing with the shame the knowledge of her own love brought + her. The deep booming of the dinner gong awoke her to the necessity of + some kind of action. She rang the bell that hung within reach of her hand + and, by the maid who answered her summons, sent her excuses to Miss + Craven, pleading a headache for remaining upstairs. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later Mary, grim-visaged and big-hearted, appeared with a + tray, headache remedies and multifarious messages from the dining room. + She bathed the girl's aching head, brushing the tumbled brown hair and + piling it afresh into a soft loose knot. Grumbling gently at the long + hours of work to which she attributed the unusual indisposition, she took + full advantage of the rare opportunity of rendering personal attention and + fussed to her heart's content, stripping off the stained overall and + substituting a loose velvet wrapper; and then stood over her, a kindly + martinet, until the light dinner she had brought was eaten. Afterwards she + packed pillows, made up the fire, and administered a particularly nauseous + specific emanating from a homeopathic medicine chest that was her greatest + pride, and then took herself away, still mildly admonishing. + </p> + <p> + Gillian leaned back against the cushions with a feeling of greater ease + and restfulness. Food had given her strength and under Mary's + ministrations her mental poise had steadied. She would not let herself + dwell on the question that must before long be settled, Miss Craven would + be coming soon, and until she had been and gone no definite settlement + could be attempted. + </p> + <p> + She lay looking at the fire, endeavouring to keep her mind a blank. It was + odd to be alone, she missed the familiar black form lying on the + hearth-rug, but tonight she could not bear even Mouston's presence, and + Mary had taken a request to Yoshio, to whose room the dog had been + banished from the studio, that he would keep him until the morning. + </p> + <p> + A tap at the door and Miss Craven appeared, anxious and questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Only a headache?—my dear, I don't believe it!” she protested, + plumping down on the side of the sofa and clutching at her hair, that sure + sign of perturbation. “You've never had a headache like this before. + You've been working too hard. You were painting all the morning and they + tell me you worked throughout the afternoon and had no tea. Gillian, dear, + when will you learn sense? I don't at all approve of you having tea sent + to the studio <i>only</i> when you ring for it. Young people require + regular meals and as often as not neglect 'em; young artists are the worst + offenders—you needn't contradict me, I know all about it. I did it + myself.” She patted the clasped hands lying near her and scrutinised the + girl more closely. “You're as pale as a ghost and your eyes are too + bright. Did Mary take your temperature? No?—the woman must have lost + her senses. I'll telephone to Doctor Harris to come and see you in the + morning. If you looked a fraction more feverish I'd send for you to-night, + storm or no storm. Peter braved it, open car as usual. He sent his love. + Barry turned up from Scotland this afternoon. He looks very tired—says + he had a bothering time and a wretched journey—Gillian!” she cried + sharply as the girl slid from the sofa on to her knees beside her and + raised a quivering piteous face. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Caro, I'm not ill,” the words came in tumbling haste, “there's + nothing bodily the matter with me—I'm only dreadfully unhappy. I + know Mr. Craven is back—he came to me in the studio this afternoon. + He asked me to marry him,” the troubled voice sank to a whisper, “and I—I + don't know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear.” The tenderness of Miss Craven's tone sent a strangling wave of + emotion into Gillian's throat. “Aunt Caro, did you know? Do you wish it + too?” she murmured wistfully. + </p> + <p> + Unwilling to admit a previous knowledge which would be difficult to + explain, Miss Craven temporised. “I very greatly hoped for it,” she said + guardedly; “you and Barry are all I have to care for, and you are both so—alone. + I know you think of a very different life, I know you have dreams of + making a career for yourself. But a career is not all that a woman wants + in her life; it can perhaps mean independence and fame, it can also mean + great loneliness and the loss of the full and perfect happiness that + should be every woman's. You mustn't judge all cases by me. I have been + happy in my own way but I want a greater, richer happiness for you, dear. + I want for you the best that the world can give, and that best I believe + to be the shelter and the safety of a man's love.” + </p> + <p> + The brown head dropped on her knee. “You are thinking of me—I am + thinking of him,” came a stifled whisper. + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven stroked the soft hair tenderly. “Then why not give him what he + asks, my dear,” she said gently. “He has known sorrow and suffering. If + through you, he can forget the past in a new happiness, will you not grant + it him? Oh, Gillian, I have so hoped that you might care for each other; + that, together, you might make the Towers the perfect home it should be, a + home of mutual trust and love. You and Barry and, please God, after you—your + children.” She choked with unexpected emotion and brushed the mist from + her eyes impatiently. + </p> + <p> + And at her knee Gillian knelt motionless, her lip held fast between her + teeth to stop the bitter cry that nearly escaped her, her heart almost + bursting. The picture Miss Craven's words called up was an ideal of + happiness that might have been. The suffering that reality promised seemed + more than she could contemplate. What happiness could come from such a + travesty? The strange yearnings she had experienced seemed suddenly + crystallised into form, and the knowledge was a greater pain than she had + known. What she would have gone down to the gates of death to give him he + did not require—the unutterable joy that Miss Craven suggested would + never be hers. She searched for words, for an explanation of her silence + that must seem strange to the elder woman. Miss Craven obviously knew + nothing of the unusual conditions attached to his proposal, her words + proved it, and Gillian could not tell her. She could not betray his + confidence even if she had so wished. If she could but speak frankly and + show all her difficulty to the friend who had never yet failed in love and + sympathy——She sought refuge in prevarication. “How can I marry + him?” she cried miserably. “You don't know anything about me. I'm not a + fit person to be his wife—my antecedents——” + </p> + <p> + “Bother your antecedents!” interrupted Miss Craven, with a somewhat shaky + laugh. “My dearest girl, Barry isn't going to marry them, he's going to + marry you. They can have been anything you like or imagine but it does not + alter the fact that their daughter is the one woman on earth I want for + Barry's wife.” She stooped and gathered the girl into her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian, can you give us, Barry and me, this great happiness?” + </p> + <p> + Gently Gillian disengaged herself and rose slowly to her feet. She made a + little helpless gesture, swaying as she stood. “What can I say?” she said + brokenly. “Do you think it means nothing to me! Don't you know that what I + already owe you and Mr. Craven is almost more than I can bear, that I + would give my life for either of you? But this—oh, you don't + understand—I can't tell you—I can't explain——” She + dropped back on the sofa and her voice came muffled and entreatingly from + among the silken cushions, “If you knew how I long to repay you for your + wonderful goodness, if you knew what your love has meant to me! Oh, + dearest, I'd give the world to please you! But I don't know what to do, I + don't know what is honest—and you can't help me, nobody can help me. + I've got to settle it myself. I've got to think——” + </p> + <p> + Miss Craven guessed the crying need for solitude conveyed in the last + faltering words and rose in obedience to the unspoken request. She stood + for a moment, looking tenderly down on the slim prostrate figure, and a + fear that grew momentarily stronger came to her that in her endeavour to + bring happiness to these two lives she had blundered fatally. She had been + a fool, rushing in. And with almost a feeling of dismay she realised it + was beyond her ability now to stay what she had put in motion. She was as + one who, having wantonly released some complex mechanism, stands aghast + and powerless at the consequence of his rashness. And yet, despite the + seeming setback to her hopes, the conviction that had urged her to this + step was still strong in her; she still had faith in its ultimate + achievement. She touched the girl's shoulder in a quick caress. “You are + worn out, child. Go to bed and rest now, and think to-morrow,” she said + soothingly. + </p> + <p> + For long after she left the room Gillian lay without moving. Then with a + long shuddering sigh she sat up. She tried to concentrate on the decision + she must make but her thoughts, ungovernable, dwelt persistently on the + unknown woman whom she had convinced herself he must have loved, and the + passionate envy she had felt before swept her again until the pain of it + sent a whispered prayer to her lips for strength to put it from her. + Huddled on the side of the sofa, her head supported on her hands, she + stared fixedly into the fire as if seeking in the leaping flames the + answer to the problem that confronted her. Then in her agony of mind + inaction became impossible and she rose and paced the room with hurried + nervous tread. + </p> + <p> + To do what was right—to do what was honourable; to conquer the + clamorous self that cried out for acceptance of this semblance of + happiness that was offered. To bear his name, to have the right to be near + him, to care for him and for his interests as far as she might. To be his + wife—even if only in name. Dear God, did he know how he had tempted + her? But she had no right. The crushing burden of debt she owed rose like + an unsurpassable mountain between her and what she longed for. Only by + repayment could she keep her self-respect. The dreams of independence, the + place she had thought to make for herself in the world, the + re-establishing of her father's name—could she forego what she had + planned? Was it not a nobler aim than the gratification of self that urged + the easier way? Yet would it be the easier way? Was she not really in her + heart shrinking from the difficulty and sadness that this loveless + marriage would bring? Was it not cowardice that prompted a supposed + nobility of thought that now appeared ignoble? She wrung her hands in + desperation. Had she no courage or steadfastness at all? Was the weakness + of purpose that had ruined her father's life to be her curse as it had + been his? + </p> + <p> + She felt suddenly very young, very inexperienced. Her early training that + had denied the exercise of individual responsibility and had inculcated a + passivity of mind that precluded self-determination had bitten deeper than + she knew. Her life since leaving the convent had been smooth and + uneventful, there had been no occasion to practise the new liberty of + thought and action that was hers. And now before a decision that would be + so irrevocable, that would involve her whole life—and not hers alone—she + felt to the full the disability of her upbringing. Alone she must make her + choice and she shrank from the burden of responsibility that fell upon + her. She had nobody to turn to for counsel or advice. In her loneliness + she longed for the solace of a mother's tenderness, the shelter of a + mother's arms, and bitterness came to her as she thought of the parents + who had each in their turn abandoned her so callously. She had been robbed + of her birthright of love and care. She was alone in the world, alone to + fight her own battles, alone in the moment of her direst need. + </p> + <p> + Then all at once she seemed to see in the trend of her thoughts only a + supreme selfishness that had lost sight of all but personal consideration. + Was her love of so little worth that in thought for herself she had + forgotten him? He had asked her to pity his loneliness—and she had + had only pity for herself. Her lips quivered as she whispered his name in + an agony of self-condemnation. + </p> + <p> + Coming back slowly to the fireside she slipped to the floor and leaned her + head against the sofa listening to the storm that beat with increasing + violence against the house, and the roar of the tempest without seemed in + strange agreement with the tumult that was raging in her heart. The words + he had used came back to her. Did it really lie in her power to lessen the + loneliness of his life? To give him what he asked—was not that, + after all, the true way to pay her debt? With a little sob she bowed her + head on her hands.... An hour later she rose stiffly, cramped with long + sitting, and moving nearer to the fire chafed her cold hands mechanically. + Her face was very sad and her wide eyes heavy with unshed tears. She drew + a long sobbing breath. “Because I love him,” she murmured. “If I didn't + love him I couldn't do it.” A thought that brought new hope came to her. + She loved him so deeply, might not her love, she wondered wistfully, + perhaps some day be strong enough to heal the wound he had sustained—strong + enough even to compel his love? Then doubt seized hold on her again. Would + she, in the limited scope that she would have, find opportunity—would + he ever allow her to get near enough to him?... She flung her hands out in + passionate appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God! if this thing that I am doing is wrong, if it brings sorrow and + unhappiness, let me be the only one to pay!” + </p> + <p> + A sudden longing to make retraction impossible came over her. She looked + anxiously at her watch. Was it too late to go to him to-night? Only when + she had told him would she be sure of herself. Her word once given there + could be no withdrawal. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight but she knew he rarely left his study until later. + Peters would be gone, he was methodical in his habits and retired + punctually at eleven o'clock with a regularity that was unvarying. She was + sure of finding him alone. She dared not wait until the morning, she must + go now while she had the courage. Delay might bring new doubts, new + uncertainty. Impulsively she started towards the door, then paused on a + sudden thought that sent the warm blood in a painful wave to her face. + Would he misunderstand, think her unwomanly, attribute her hasty decision + to a sordid desire for material gain, for the ease that would be hers, for + the position that his name would give? It was the natural thought for him + who offered so much to one who would give nothing in return. And not for + him alone—in the eyes of the world she would be only a little + adventuress who had skilfully seized the opportunity that circumstance had + given to advantage herself. But the world did not matter, she thought with + scornful curling lip, it was only in his eyes that she desired to stand + well. Then with quick shame she knew that the sentiments she had ascribed + to him were unworthy, the outcome only of her own strained imagination, + and she put them from her. She went quickly to the gallery, dimly lit from + a single lamp left alight in the hall below—left for Craven as she + knew. Silence brooded over the great house. The storm that earlier had + beat tempestuously against the dome as if striving to shatter the massive + glass plates that opposed its fury had blown itself out and glancing + upward Gillian saw the huge cupola shrouded with snow that gleamed palely + in the soft light. The stillness oppressed her and odd thoughts chased + through her mind. She looked to right and left nervously and in a sudden + inexplicable panic sped down the wide staircase and across the shadowy + hall until she reached the study door. There she halted with wildly + beating heart, panting and breathless. It was a room which she had never + before entered, and an almost paralysing shyness made her shake from head + to foot. Nerving herself with a strong effort she tapped with trembling + fingers and, at the sound of an answering voice, went in. + </p> + <p> + Strength seemed all at once to leave her. Physically and mentally + exhausted, a feeling of unreality supervened. The strange room swam before + her eyes. As in a dream she saw him start to his feet and come swiftly to + her across a seemingly unending length of carpet that billowed and wavered + curiously, his big frame oddly magnified until he appeared a very giant + towering above her; as in a dream she felt him take her ice-cold hands in + his. But the warm strong grasp, the grave eyes bent compellingly on her, + dragged her back from the shuddering abyss into which she was sinking. Far + away, as though coming from a great distance, she heard him speaking. And + his voice, gentler than she had ever known it, gave her courage to + whisper, so low that he had to bend his tall head to catch the fluttering + words, the promise she had come to give. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + On an afternoon in early September eighteen months after her marriage + Gillian was driving across the park toward the little village of Craven + that, old world and quite unspoiled, clustered round a tiny Norman church + two miles distant from the Towers. She leaned back in the victoria, her + hands clasped in her lap, preoccupied and thoughtful. A scented heap of + deep crimson roses and carnations lay at her feet; beside her, in contrast + to her listless attitude, Mouston sat up tense and watchful, his sharp + muzzle thrust forward, his black nose twitching eagerly at the distracting + agitating smells borne on the warm air tempting him from monotonous + inactivity to a soul satisfying scamper over the short cropped grass but, + conscious of the dignity of his position, ignoring them with a gravity of + demeanour that was almost comical. Once or twice when his wrinkling + nostrils caught some particularly attractive odour his pads kneaded the + cushions vigorously and a snarly gurgle rose in his throat. But no other + sign of restlessness escaped him—it was patience bred of experience. + For miles around he was a well-known figure, sitting grave and motionless + on his accustomed side of the victoria as it rolled through the country + lanes. To the villagers of Craven, all directly or indirectly dependent on + the estate, he was welcome in that he was inseparable from the gentle + tender-hearted girl whom they worshipped, but their welcome was a + qualified one that never descended to the familiar; his strange appearance + and disdainful aloofness made him an object of curiosity to be viewed with + most safety from a respectful distance; time had not accustomed them to + him and tales of his uncanny understanding filtering through, richly + embroidered, to the village from the house, did not tend to lessen the awe + with which he was regarded. They marvelled, without comprehension, at the + partiality of his mistress; he was the “black French devil” to more + households than that of Major, the gamekeeper, an “unorranary brute” to + those of less gifted imagination. + </p> + <p> + To Mouston Gillian's periodical visits to the village were a tedium + endured for the sake of the coveted seat beside her. + </p> + <p> + The passing of a herd of deer, feeding intently and—save for one or + two more timid hinds who started nervously—too used to the carriage + to heed its approach, roused the poodle, as always, to a high pitch of + excitement; they were old enemies and his annoyance gave vent to a sharp + yelp as he sidled close to Gillian and endeavoured to attract her + attention with an insistent paw. But for once she was heedless of the + hints of her dumb companion, and, whining, he slunk back into his own + corner, curling up on the seat with his forepaws brushing the mass of + scented blossom. And ignorant of the pleading brown eyes fixed + pathetically on her, Gillian followed the train of her own troubled + thoughts. For eighteen months she had been Barry Craven's wife, for + eighteen months she had endeavoured to fulfill her share of the contract + they had made—and to herself she admitted failure. + </p> + <p> + The strain was becoming unendurable. + </p> + <p> + In the eyes of the world an ideal couple, in reality—she wondered if + in the whole universe there were two more lonely souls than they. She knew + now that the task she had set herself that stormy December night was + beyond her power, that it had been the unattainable dream of an immature + love-sick girl. She had fought to retain her high ideals, to believe that + love—as great, as unselfish as hers—must beget love, but she + had come to realise the utter futility of her dream and to wonder at the + childish ignorance that had inspired it. The sustaining hope that she + might indeed be a comfort to his loneliness had died hard, but surely. For + he gave her no opportunity. Despite unfailing kindness and overwhelming + generosity he maintained always a baffling reserve she found impossible to + penetrate. Of his inner self she knew no more than she had ever done, she + could get no nearer to him. But in all matters that dealt with their + common life he was scrupulously frank and out-spoken; he had insisted on + her acquiring a knowledge of his interests and a working idea of his + affairs, from which she had shrunk sensitively, but he had persisted, + arguing that in the event of his death—Peters not being immortal—it + was necessary that she should be able to administer possessions that would + be hers—and the thought of those possessions crushed her. It was + only after a long struggle, in distress that horrified him, that she + persuaded him to forego the big settlement he proposed making. If she had + not loved him his liberality would have hurt her less, but because of her + love his money was a scourge. She hated the wealth to which she felt she + had no right, to herself she seemed an impostor, a cheat. She felt + degraded. She would rather he had bought her, as women have from time + immemorial been bought, that she might have paid the price, as they pay, + and so retained the self-respect that now seemed for ever lost. It would + have been a means of re-establishing herself in her own eyes, of easing + the burden of his bounty that grew daily heavier and from which she could + never escape. It was evident in all about her; in the greater state and + ceremony observed at the Towers since their marriage, which, while it + pleased the household, who rejoiced in the restoration of the old régime, + oppressed her unspeakably; in the charities she dispensed—his + charities that brought her no sense of sacrifice, no joy of self-denial; + in the social duties that poured in upon her. + </p> + <p> + His wealth served only to strengthen the barrier between them, but for + that she might have been to him what she longed to be. If the talent that + now seemed so useless could have been used for him she would have found a + measure of happiness even if love had never come to crown her service. In + poverty she would have worked for him, slaved for him, with the strength + and tirelessness that only love can give. But here the gladness of giving, + of serving, was denied, here there was nothing she might do and the + futility of her life choked her. She had conscientiously endeavoured to + assume the responsibilities and duties of her new position, but there + seemed little for her to do, for the big household ran smoothly on oiled + wheels under the capable administration of Forbes and Mrs. Appleyard, with + whom, both honest and devoted to the interests of the family they had + served so long and faithfully, she knew it was unnecessary and unwise to + interfere. In any unusual circumstance they would refer to her with + tactful deference but for the rest she knew that, perforce, she must be + content to remain a figure-head. Even her work—interrupted + constantly by the social duties incumbent on her and performed from a + sense of obligation—failed to comfort and distract. It was all so + utterly useless and purposeless. The gift with which she had thought to do + so much was wasted. She could do nothing with it. She was no longer + Gillian Locke who had dreamed of independence, who had hoped by toil and + endeavour to clear the stain from her father's name. She was the rich Mrs. + Craven—who must smile to hide a breaking heart, who must play the + part expected of her, who must appear always care-free and happy. And the + constant effort was almost more than she could achieve. In the ceaseless + watch she set upon herself, in the rigid self-suppression she exercised, + it seemed to her as if her true self had died, and her entity faded into + an automaton that moved in mechanical obedience to the driving of her + will. Only during the long night hours or in the safe seclusion of the + studio could she relax, could she be natural for a little while. That + Craven might never learn the misery of her life, that she might not fail + him as she had failed herself, was her one prayer. She welcomed eagerly + the advent of guests, of foreign guests—more exigent in their + demands upon her society—particularly; with the house filled the + time of host and hostess was fully occupied and the difficult days passed + more easily, more quickly. The weeks they spent alone she dreaded; from + the morning greeting in the breakfast room to the moment when he gave her + the quiet “Good-night” that might have come from an undemonstrative + brother, she was in terror lest an unguarded word, a chance expression, + might tell him what she sought to keep from him. But so insensible did his + own constant pre-occupation of mind make him appear of much that passed, + that she feared his intuition less than that of Peters who she was + convinced had a very shrewd idea of the state of affairs existing between + them. It was manifested in diverse ways; not by any spoken word direct or + indirect, but by additional fatherly tenderness of manner, by unfailing + tactfulness, by quick intervention that had saved many awkward situations. + It was practically impossible in view of his almost daily association with + the house and its inmates that he could be unaware of certain facts. But + the wise kindly eyes that she had feared most were closed for ever. + </p> + <p> + The Great Summons for which Miss Craven had been so calmly prepared had + come more suddenly, more tragically even than she had anticipated. She had + passed over as she would have wished, had she been given the choice, not + in the awful loneliness of death but one of a company of heroic souls who + had voluntarily and willingly stood aside that others might have the + chance to live. + </p> + <p> + A few months after the marriage on which she had set her heart the family + curse had seized her as suddenly and as imperatively as it had ever done + her nephew. An exhibition of statuary in America had served as an adequate + excuse and she had started at comparatively short notice, accompanied by + the faithful Mary, after a stormy interview with her doctor, whose gloomy + warnings she refuted with the undeniable truism that one land was as good + as another to die in. Within a few hours of the American coast the + tragedy, short and overwhelming, had occurred. From the parent ice a + thousand miles away in the north the stupendous white destruction had + moved majestically down its appointed course to loom out of the + pitch-black night with appalling consequence. A sudden crash, slight + enough to be unnoticed by hundreds, a convulsive shudder of the great ship + like the death struggle of a Titan, had been followed by unquellable + panic, confusion of darkness, inadequate boats and jamming bulkheads. Miss + Craven and Mary were among the first on deck and for the short space of + time that remained they worked side by side among the terror-stricken + women and children, their own life-belts early transferred to dazed + mothers who clutched wild-eyed at wailing babes. Together they had stood + back from the overcrowded boats, smiling and unafraid; together they had + gone down into the mystery of the deep, two gallant women, no longer + mistress and maid but sisters in sacrifice and in the knowledge of that + greater love for which they cheerfully laid down their lives. + </p> + <p> + And while Gillian mourned her bitterly she was yet glad that Miss Craven + was spared the sadness of witnessing the complete failure of her cherished + dream. + </p> + <p> + In the little Norman church toward which Gillian was driving there had + been added yet another memorial to a Craven who had died tragically and + far from home; a record of disastrous calamity that, beginning four + hundred years before with the Elizabethan gallant, had relentlessly + pursued an ill-starred family. The church lay on the outskirts of the + village and close to the south entrance of the park. + </p> + <p> + Gillian stopped the carriage for a few moments to speak to the + anxious-looking woman who had hurried out from the creeper-covered lodge + to open the gates. Behind one of the casements of the cottage a child was + fighting for life, a cripple, with an exquisite face, whom Gillian had + painted. To the sorrowful mother the eager tender words, the soft + impulsive hand that clasped her own work-roughened palm, the wide dark + eyes, misty with sympathy were worth infinitely more than the material + aid, so carefully packed by Mrs. Appleyard, that the footman carried up + the narrow nagged path to the cottage door. + </p> + <p> + And as the impatient horses drew the carriage swiftly on again Gillian + leaned back in her seat with a quivering sigh. The woman at the lodge, + despite her burden of sorrow, despite her humbleness, was yet richer than + she and, with intolerable pain, she envied her the crowning joy of + womanhood that would never be her own. The child she longed for would + never by the touch baby hands bring consolation to her starved and lonely + heart. Her thoughts turned to her husband in a sudden passion of hopeless + love and longing. To bear him a child—to hold in her arms a tiny + replica of the beloved figure that was so dear to her, to watch and + rejoice in the dawning resemblance that the ardour of her love would make + inevitable.... Hastily she brushed away the gathering tears as the + carriage stopped abruptly with a jingle of harness at the lichgate. + </p> + <p> + Coaxing the reluctant Mouston from the seat where he still sulked she tied + him to the gate, took the armful of flowers from the grave-faced footman, + and dismissing the carriage walked slowly up the lime-bordered avenue. The + orderliness and beauty of the churchyard struck her as it always did—a + veritable garden of sleep, with level close-shorn turf set thick with + standard rose trees, that even the clustering headstones could not make + chill and sombre. + </p> + <p> + From the radiant sunshine without she passed into the cool dimness of the + little building. With its tiny proportions, ornate and numerous Craven + memorials and—for its size—curiously large chancel, it seemed + less the parish church it had become than the private chapel for which it + had been built. Then the house had been close by, but during the troublous + years of Mary Tudor was pulled down and rebuilt on the present site. + </p> + <p> + Through the quiet silence Gillian made her way up the short central aisle + until she reached the chancel steps. For a few minutes she knelt, her face + crushed against the flowers she held, in silent passionate prayer that + knew neither form nor words—a soundless supplication that was an + inchoate appeal to a God of infinite understanding. Then rising slowly she + pushed back the iron gate and went into the chancel. Directly to the left + the new monument gleamed cleanly white against the old dark wall. Simple + and bold, as she would herself have designed it, the sculptor's memorial + was the work of the greatest genius of the day who had willingly come from + France at Craven's invitation to perpetuate the memory of a sister artist + who had also been a lifelong friend. + </p> + <p> + A rugged pedestal of green bronze—with an inset panel representing + the tragedy—rose upward in the shape of billowing curling waves + supporting a marble Christ standing erect with outstretched pitying hand, + majestic and yet wholly human. + </p> + <p> + Gillian gazed upward with quivering lips at the Saviour's inclined tender + face, and opening her arms let the scented mass of crimson blossom fall + slowly to the slab at her feet that bore Miss Craven's name and Mary's cut + side by side. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>“Greater love hath no man than this, that + a man lay down his life for his friends.”</i> +</pre> + <p> + She read the words aloud, and with a stifled sob slipped down among the + roses and carnations that Caro Craven had loved, and leaned her aching + head against the cool hard bronze. “Dearest,” she whispered, in an agony + of tears, “I wonder can you hear? I wonder are you allowed, where you are, + to know what happens here on earth? Oh, Aunt Caro, <i>cherie</i>, do you + know that I have failed—failed to bring him the peace and + consolation I thought my love was strong enough to give, I have tried so + hard to understand, to help ... I have prayed so earnestly that he might + turn to me, that I might be to him what you would have me be ... but I + have not been able ... I have failed him ... failed you ... myself. Oh, + dearest, do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Prone among the roses, at the feet of the pitying Christ, she cried aloud + in her desperate loneliness to the dead woman who had given her the + tenderest love she had ever known. The shadows lengthened widely before + she rose and drew the scattered flowers into a fragrant heap. She stood + for a while studying intently the relief of the wreck; it suggested a + train of thought, and with a sudden impulse she traversed the chancel and + sought among the memorials of dead Cravens for the tablets commemorating + those who had disappeared or died tragically. By chance at first and later + by design these had all been placed within the confines of the chancel + that formed so large a part of the tiny church. Before the florid Italian + monument that recorded all that was known of the short life of the + Elizabethan adventurer she paused long, looking with quickening heart-beat + at the graceful kneeling figure whose face and form were those of the man + she loved. + </p> + <p> + <i>Barry Craven ... he set his eyes unto the west</i>.... Amongst the + calamitous record there were four more of the name—their bodies + scattered widely in distant unknown graves, victims of the spirit of + adventure and unrest. She moved slowly from one to the other, reading + again the tragical inscriptions she knew by heart, cut as deeply in her + memory as on the marble slabs before her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Barry Craven—Lost in the Amazon Forest</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—In the silence of the frozen seas</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—Perished in a sandstorm in the Sahara</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—In Japan</i>. + <i>Barry Craven—Barry Craven</i>. +</pre> + <p> + The name leaped at her from all sides until, with a shudder, she buried + her face in her hands to shut out the staring capitals that flamed in + black and gold before her eyes. The dread that was with her always seemed + suddenly closer than it had ever been, menacing, inevitable. Would the + fear that haunted her day and night become at some not far distant time an + actual fact? Would the curse that had already led to ten years' perpetual + wandering lay hold of him again—would he, too, in quest of the peace + he had never found, disappear as they had done? Was it for this that he + had insisted on her acquiring a knowledge of his affairs? With the quick + intuition of love she had come to understand the deep unrest that beset + him periodically, an unrest she recognised as wholly apart and separate + from the other shadow that lay across his life. With unfailing patience + she had learned to discriminate. Covertly she had watched him, striving to + fathom the varying moods that swayed him, endeavouring to anticipate the + alternating frames of mind that made any definite comprehension of his + character so difficult. The charm of manner and apparent serenity that led + others to think of him as one endowed beyond further desire with all that + life could give did not deceive her. He played a part, as she did, a part + that was contrary to his nature, contrary to his whole inclination. She + guessed at the strain on him, a strain it seemed impossible for him to + endure, which some day she felt must inevitably break. His habitual + self-control was extraordinary—once only during their married life + had he lost it when some event, jarring on his overstrung nerves, had + evoked a blaze of anger that seemed totally out of proportion to the + circumstance, that would have given her proof, had she needed one, of his + state of mind. + </p> + <p> + His outburst had been a perfectly natural reaction, but while she admitted + the fact she felt a nervous dread of its recurrence. + </p> + <p> + She feared anything that might precipitate the upheaval that loomed always + before her like a threatening cloud. For sooner or later the unrest that + filled him would have to be satisfied. The curse of Craven would claim him + again and he would leave her. And she would have to watch him go and wait + in agony for his return as other women of the race had watched and + agonised. And if he went would he ever return? or would she too know the + anguish of suspense, the long drawn horror of uncertainty, the fading hope + that year by year would become slighter until at last it would vanish + altogether and the bitter waters of despair close over her head? A moan, + like the cry of a wounded animal, broke from her. In vivid self-torturing + imagination she saw among the sinister record around her another tablet—that + would mean finality. He was the last of the Cravens. Did it mean nothing + to him—had the sorrow of that past that was unknown to her but which + had become woven into her own life so inextricably, so terribly, killed in + him even the pride of race? Had he, deep down in the heart that was hidden + from her, no thought of parenthood, no desire to perpetuate the family + name, the family traditions? It would seem that he had not—and yet + she wondered. The woman he had loved—of whose existence she had + convinced herself—if she had lived, or proved faithful, would he + still have desired no son? She shrank from the stabbing thought with a + very bitter sob. + </p> + <p> + A sudden horror of her environment came over her. Around her were + suggestions from which she shuddered, evidences that raised the haunting + dread with which she lived to a culmination of fear. It had never seemed + so near, so strong. It was stronger than her will to put it from her and + in it, with inherent superstition, she saw a premonition. The little + peaceful church became all at once a place of terror, a grisly charnel + house of vanished hopes and lives. The spirits of countless Cravens seemed + all about her, hostile, malign, triumphing in her weakness, rejoicing in + her fear—spectral figures of the dead crowding, hurrying, + threatening. She seemed to see them, a dense and awful concourse, closing + round her, to hear them whispering, muttering, jibing—at her, a + thing apart, an alien soul whose presence they resented. The clamorous + voices rang in her ears; vague shapes, illusive and shadowy, appeared to + float before her eyes. She shrank from what seemed the contact of actual + bodily forms. Unnerved and overwrought she yielded to the horror of her + own imagination. With a stifled cry she turned and fled, her arms + outstretched to fend from her the invisible host that seemed so real, not + daring even to look again at the pitying Christ whose calm serenity formed + such a striking contrast to her storm-tossed heart. + </p> + <p> + Blindly she sped down the chancel steps, along the short central aisle, + out into the timbered porch, where she blundered sharply into somebody who + was on the point of entering. Who, it did not at the moment seem to matter—enough + that it was a human creature, real and tangible, to whom she clung + trembling and incoherent. A strong arm held her, and against its strength + she leaned for a few moments in the weakness of reaction from the nervous + strain through which she had passed. Then as she slowly regained control + of herself she realised the awkwardness of her position, and her cheeks + burned hotly. She drew back, her fingers uncurling from the tweed coat + they clutched so tightly, and, trying to slip clear of the arm that still + lay about her shoulders, looked up shyly with murmured thanks. + </p> + <p> + Then: “David,” she cried. “Oh, David——” and burst into tears. + Guiding her to the bench that rested against the side of the porch Peters + drew her down beside him. “Just David,” he said, with rather a sad little + smile, “I was passing and Mouston told me you were here.” He spoke slowly, + giving her time to recover herself, thanking fate that she had collapsed + into his arms rather than into those of some chattering village busybody. + He had caught a glimpse of her face as she came through the church door + and knew that her agitation was caused by something more than sorrow for + Miss Craven, great as that sorrow was. He had seen fear in the hunted eyes + that looked unrecognisingly into his—a fear that he somehow resented + with a feeling of helpless anger. + </p> + <p> + The affection he had for her was such as he would have given the daughter + that might have been his had providence been kinder. And with the insight + that affection gave he had seen, with acute uneasiness, a steadily + increasing change in her during the last eighteen months. The marriage + from which he, as well as Miss Craven, had hoped so much seemed after all + to have brought no joy to either husband or wife. With his intimate + knowledge and close association he saw deeper than the casual visitor to + whom the family life at the Towers appeared an ideal of domestic happiness + and concord. There was nothing he could actually take hold of, Craven was + at all times considerate and thoughtful, Gillian a model of wifely + attention. But there was an atmosphere that, super-sensitive, he + discerned, a vague underlying feeling of tension that he tried to persuade + himself was mere imagination but which at the bottom of his heart he knew + existed. There had been times when he had seen them both, as it were, off + their guard, had read in the face of each the same bitter pain, the same + look of unsatisfied longing. Possessing in so high a degree everything + that life could give they appeared to have yet missed the happiness that + should by all reasoning have been theirs. Whose was the fault? Caring for + them both it was a question that he turned from in aversion, he had no + wish to judge between them, no desire to probe their hidden affairs. + Thrown constantly into their society while guessing much he shut his eyes + to more. But anxiety remained, fostered by the memory of the tragedy of + Barry's father and mother. Was he fated to see just such another tragedy + played out before him with no power to avert the ruin of two more lives? + The pity of it! He could do nothing and his helplessness galled him. + </p> + <p> + To-day as he sat in the little porch with Gillian's hand clasped in his he + felt more than ever the extreme delicacy of his position. Intuitively he + guessed that he was nearer than he had ever been to penetrating the cloud + that shadowed her life and Barry's but with equal intuition he knew he + must convey no hint of his understanding. He gauged her shy sensitive mind + too accurately and his own loyalty debarred him from forcing such a + confidence. Instead he spoke as though the visit to Miss Craven's memorial + must naturally be the cause of her agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Why come, my dear, if it distresses you?” he said, in quiet remonstrance; + “she would not misunderstand. She had the sanest, the healthiest + conception of death. She died nobly—willingly. It would sadden her + immeasurably if she knew how you grieved.” Her fingers worked convulsively + in his. “I know—I know,” she whispered, “but, oh, David, I miss her + so—so inexpressibly.” + </p> + <p> + “We all do,” he answered; “one cannot lose a friend like Caro Craven + lightly. But while we mourn the dead we have the living to consider—and + you have Barry,” he added, with almost cruel deliberation. She faced him + with steady eyes from which she had brushed all trace of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Barry understands,” she said with quick loyalty; “he mourns her too—but + he doesn't <i>need</i> her as I do.” It was an undeniable truth that + reduced Peters to silence and for a while Gillian also was silent. Then + she turned to him again with a little tremulous smile, the colour flooding + her delicate face. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad it was only you, David, just now. Please forget it. I don't know + what's the matter with me to-day, I let my nerves get the upper hand—I'm + tired—the sun was hot——” + </p> + <p> + “So of course you sent the carriage away and proposed walking two miles + home by way of a rest cure!” he interrupted, jumping up with alacrity, and + taking advantage of the turn in the conversation. “Luckily I've got the + car. Plenty of room for you and the pampered one.” And waving aside her + protests he tucked her into the little two-seater, bundling Mouston + unceremoniously in after her. + </p> + <p> + The village school was near the church, and while Peters steered the car + carefully through groups of children who were loitering in the road she + sat silent beside him, wondering, in miserable self-condemnation, how much + she had betrayed during those few moments of hysterical outburst. + Resolutely she determined that she would be strong, strong enough to put + away the dread that haunted her, strong enough to meet trouble only when + it came. + </p> + <p> + Clear of the children and running smoothly through the park Peters + condescended to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “How went Scotland?” he asked, slowing down behind a frightened fawn who + was straying on the carriage road and cantering ahead of the car in + panicky haste. “Your letters were not satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't taught to write letters. I never had any to write,” she said + with a smile that made the sensitive man beside her wince. “I did my best, + David, dear. And there wasn't much to tell. There were only men—Barry + said he couldn't stand women with the guns again after the bother they + were last year. They were nice men, shy silent creatures, big game hunters + mostly, and two doctors who have been doing research work in Central + Africa. When any of them could be induced to talk of their experiences it + was a revelation to me of what men will endure and yet consider enjoyment. + You would have liked them, David. Why didn't you come? It would have done + you more good than that horrid little yacht. And we were alone the last + two weeks—we missed you,” she added reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + Peters had had his own reasons for absenting himself from the Scotch + lodge, reasons that, connected as they were with Craven and his wife, he + could not enlarge upon. He turned the question with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The yacht was better suited to a crusty old bachelor, my dear,” he + smiled. Then he gave her a searching glance. “And what did you do all day + long by yourself while the men were on the hills?” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little shrug. + </p> + <p> + “I sketched—and—oh, lots of things,” she answered, rather + vaguely. “There's always plenty to do wherever you are if you take the + trouble to look for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Which most people don't,” he replied, bringing the car to a standstill + before the front door. + </p> + <p> + “Is Barry back from London?” + </p> + <p> + “Coming this afternoon. Thanks for the lift, David, you've been a Good + Samaritan this afternoon. I don't think I could have walked. Goodbye—and + please forget,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He smile reassuringly and waved his hand as he restarted the car. + </p> + <p> + Calling to Mouston, who was rolling happily on the cool grass, she went + slowly into the house. With the poodle rushing round her she mounted + thoughtfully the wide stairs and turned down the corridor leading to the + studio. It seemed of all rooms the one best suited to her mood. She wanted + to be alone, beyond the reach of any chance caller, beyond the possibility + of interruption, and it was understood by all that in the studio she must + not be disturbed. + </p> + <p> + In the passage she met her maid and, giving her her hat and gloves, + ordered tea to be sent to her. + </p> + <p> + Mouston trotted on ahead into the room with the confident air of a + proprietor, fussily inspecting the contents with the usual canine interest + as if suspicious that some familiar article of furniture had been removed + during his absence and anxious to reassure himself that all things were as + he had left them. Then he curled up with a satisfied grunt on the + chesterfield beside which he knew tea would be placed. Gillian looked + about her with a sigh. The room, much as she loved it, had never been the + same to her since that December afternoon that seemed so much longer than + a bare eighteen months ago. The peace it had given formerly was gone. Now + there was associated with it always the memory of bitter pain. She had + never been able to recapture the old feeling of freedom and happiness it + had inspired. It was her refuge still, where she came to wrestle with + herself in solitude, where she sought forgetfulness in long hours of work + but it was no longer the antechamber to a castle of dreams. There were no + dreams left, only a crushing numbling reality. She thought of her husband, + and the question that was always in her mind seemed to-day more than ever + insistent. Why had he married her? The reason he had given had been + disproved by his subsequent attitude. He had asked her to take pity on a + lonely man—and he had given her no opportunity. She had tried by + every means in her power to get nearer to him, to be to him what she + thought he meant her to be and all her endeavour had come to nothing. Had + she tried enough, done enough? Miserably she wondered would another have + succeeded where she had failed? And had she failed because, after all, the + reason he had given was no true reason? And suddenly, for the first time, + in a vivid flash of illuminating comprehension she seemed to realise the + true reason and the quixotic generosity that had prompted it. It was as if + a veil had been rudely torn from before her eyes. It explained much, + letting in an entirely new light upon many things that had puzzled her. It + placed her in a new position, changing her whole mental standpoint. How + could she have been so stupidly blind, so dense—how could she have + misunderstood? He had lied to her, a kindly noble lie, but a lie + notwithstanding—he had married her out of pity, to provide for her + in the lack of faith he had in her power to provide for herself. To him, + then, her dreams of independence had been only a childish ambition that he + judged unsubstantial, and in his dilemma he had conceived it his duty to + do what seemed to her now a thing intolerable. A burning wave of shame + went through her. She was humiliated to the very dust, crushed with the + sense of obligation. She was only another burden thrust upon him by a man + who had had no claim to his liberality. Her father—the superman of + her childish dreams! How had he dared? If love for him had not died years + before it would have died at that moment in the fierce resentment that + burned in her. But to the man who had so willingly accepted such an + imposition her heart went out in greater love and deeper gratitude than + she had yet known. + </p> + <p> + Yet, how, with this new knowledge searing her soul, could she ever face + him again? She longed to creep away and hide like a stricken animal—and + he was coming home to-day. Within a few hours she would have to meet him, + conscious at last of the full extent of her indebtedness and conscious + also of the impossibility of communicating her discovery. For she knew + that she could never bring herself to refer to it, and she knew him well + enough to be aware that any such reference was out of the question. The + gulf between them was too wide. The two days she had spent alone at the + Towers had seemed interminable, but with a revulsion of feeling she wished + now that his coming could be delayed. She shrank from even the thought of + seeing him. Though she called herself coward she determined to postpone + the meeting she dreaded until dinner, when the presence of Forbes and a + couple of footmen would brace her to meet the situation and give her time + to prepare for the later more difficult hours when she would be alone with + him. For he made a practice, rigidly adhered to, of sitting with her in + the evenings during the short time she remained downstairs. He was + punctilious in that courtesy as in all other acts of consideration. His + own bed-hour was very much later and she often wondered what he did, what + were his thoughts, alone in the solitary study that was his refuge as the + studio was hers. + </p> + <p> + But she had come almost to fear the evening hours they spent together, the + feeling of constraint was becoming more and more an embarrassment. The + last two weeks in Scotland had been more difficult than any preceding + them. Craven's restlessness had been more apparent, more pronounced. And + looking back on it now she wondered whether it was association with the + men with whom he had travelled and shot in distant countries that was + stirring in him more acutely the wander-hunger that was in his blood. + During the after dinner reminiscences in the Scotch shooting lodge he had + himself been curiously silent, but he had sat listening with a kind of + fierce intentness that to her anxious watching eyes had been like the + forced calm of a caged animal enduring captivity with seeming resignation + but cherishing always thoughts of escape. + </p> + <p> + It was then that her vague dread leaped suddenly into concrete fear. An + incident that had occurred a few days after the big game hunters had left + them had further disquieted her. On going to him for advice on some + domestic difficulty she had found him poring over a large map. He had + rolled it up at her approach and his manner had made it impossible for her + to express an interest that would otherwise have seemed natural. With the + reticence to which she had schooled herself she had made no comment, but + the thought of that rolled up hidden canvas and its possible significance + remained with her. It might mean only a renewed interest in the scenes of + past exploits—fervently she hoped it did. But it might also mean the + projection of new activities.... + </p> + <p> + The arrival of a footman bringing tea put a period to her thoughts. While + the man arranged the simple necessaries that were more suited to the + studio than the elaborate display Forbes considered indispensable + downstairs, she crossed the room to an easel where stood a half-finished + picture. She looked at it critically. Was he right—was there, after + all, nothing in her work but the mediocre endeavour of an amateur? She had + been so confident, so sure. And the master in Paris who had taught her—he + also had been confident and sure. Yet as she studied the uncompleted + sketch before her she felt her confidence waver. It had not satisfied her + while she was working on it, it seemed now hopelessly and utterly bad. + With a heavy sigh she stared at it despondently, seeing in it the failure + of all her hopes. Then in quick recoil courage came again. One piece of + bad work did not constitute failure—she would not admit failure. She + had worked on it at a time of extreme depression, when all the world had + seemed black and hopeless, and the deplorable result was due to lack of + concentration. She had allowed her own disturbed thoughts to intrude too + vividly, and her wandering attention, her unhappiness, had reacted + disastrously on her work. It must be so. Her own judgment she might have + doubted, but the word of her teacher—no. She <i>had</i> to succeed, + she had to justify herself, to justify de Myères. “<i>Travaillez, + travaillez, et puis encore travaillez</i>,” she murmured, as she had heard + him say a hundred times, and tore the sketch across and across, tossing + the pieces into a large wicker basket. With a little shrug she turned to + the tea table beside which Mouston was sitting up in eager expectation, + watching the dancing kettle lid with solemn brown eyes. She made tea and + then drew the dog close to her, hugging him with almost passionate + fervour. It was not a frequent event, but there were times when her + starved affections, craving outlet, were expended in default of other + medium upon the poodle who gave in return a devotion that was entirely + single-minded. Yoshio was still the only member of the household who could + touch him with impunity, and toward Craven his attitude was a curious + mixture of hatred and fear. To Mouston—her only confidant—she + whispered now the new projects she had formed during the last two solitary + days for a better understanding of the obscure mind that had hitherto + baffled her, for a further endeavour to break through the barrier existing + between them. To speak, if only to a dog, was relief and she was too + engrossed to notice the sound the poodle's quick ears caught directly. + With a growl he wrenched his head free of her arm and, startled, she + looked up expecting to see a servant. + </p> + <p> + She saw instead her husband. His unexpected appearance in a room he + habitually avoided robbed her, all unprepared to meet him as she was, of + the power of speech. White-lipped she stared at him, unable to formulate + even a conventional greeting, her heart beating rapidly as she watched him + cross the room. He, too, seemed to have no words, and she saw with + increased nervousness that his face was dark with obvious displeasure. The + silence that was fast becoming marked was broken by Mouston who with + another angry snarl leaped suddenly at Craven with jealous hostility, to + be caught up swiftly by a pair of powerful hands and flung into a far + corner, where he landed heavily with a shrill yelp of surprise and pain + that died away in a broken whimper as, cowed by the unlooked-for + retribution, he crawled under a big bureau that seemed to offer a safe + retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Barry!” Gillian's exclamation of incredulous amazement made Craven + sensible that the punishment he had inflicted must seem to her + unnecessarily severe. She could not be expected to see into his mind, + could not possibly know the feeling of loathing inspired by the sight of + the poodle in her arms. He was jealous—of a dog and in no mood to + curb the temper that his jealousy roused. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said shortly. “I didn't mind him going for me, it's + perhaps natural that he should—but I hate to see you kiss the dam' + brute,” he added with a sudden violence in his voice that braced her as a + more temperate explanation would not have done. To be deliberately cruel + to an animal, no matter how great the provocation, was unlike Craven; she + felt convinced that Mouston was not the primary cause of his irritability. + Something must have occurred previously to disturb him—the business, + perhaps, for which he had waited in London, and, seeking her, the scene he + had surprised had grated on fretted nerves. He had never before commented + on her affection for the dog who was her shadow; he had never even + remonstrated with her, as Peters had many times, for spoiling him. His + present attitude seemed therefore the more inexplicable—but she + realised the impossibility of remonstrance. The dog had behaved badly and + had suffered for his indiscretion; she could not defend him—had she + wanted to. And she did not want to. At the moment Mouston hardly seemed to + matter—nothing mattered but the unbearable fact of Craven's + displeasure. If she could have known the real cause of that displeasure it + would have made speech easier. She feared to aggravate his mood but she + knew some answer was expected of her. Silence might be misconstrued. + </p> + <p> + With calmness she did not feel she forced her voice to steadiness. + </p> + <p> + “Most women make fools of themselves over some animal, <i>faute de mieux,”</i> + she said lightly. “I only follow the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it <i>faute de mieux</i> with you?” The sharp rejoinder struck her + like a physical blow. Unable to trust herself, unable to check the + quivering of her lips, she turned away to get another cup and saucer from + a near cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me, Gillian,” he said tensely. “Is it for want of something better + that you give so much affection to that cringing beast”—he pointed + to the poodle who was crawling abjectly on his stomach toward her from the + bureau where he had taken refuge—“is it a child that your arms are + wanting—not a dog?” His face was drawn, and he stared at her with + fierce hunger smouldering in his eyes. He was hurting himself beyond + belief—was he hurting her too? Could anything that he might say + touch her, stir her from the calm placidity that sometimes, in + contradiction to his own restlessness, was almost more than he could + tolerate? She had fulfilled the terms of their bargain faithfully, + apparently satisfied with its limitation. She appeared content with this + damnable life they were living. But a sudden impulse had come to him to + assure himself that his supposition was a true one, that the outward + content she manifested did not cover longings and desires that she sought + to hide. Yet how would it benefit either of them for him to wring from her + a secret to which he, by his own doing, had no right? In winning her + consent to this divided marriage he had already done her injury enough—he + need not make her life harder. And just now, in a moment of ungovernable + passion, he had said a brutal thing, a thing beyond all forgiveness. His + face grew more drawn as he moved nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “Gillian, I asked you a question,” he began unsteadily. She confronted him + swiftly. Her eyes were steady under his, though the pallor of her face was + ghastly. + </p> + <p> + “You are the one person who has no right to ask me that question, Barry.” + There was no anger in her voice, there was not even reproach, but a gentle + dignity that almost unmanned him. He turned away with a gesture of + infinite regret. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said, in a strangled voice. “I was a cur—what + I said was damnable.” He faced her again with sudden vehemence. “I wish to + God I had left you free. I had no right to marry you, to ruin your life + with my selfishness, to bar you from the love and children that should + have been yours. You might have met a man who would have given you both, + who would have given you the full happy life you ought to have. In my + cursed egoism I have done you almost the greatest injury a man can do a + woman. My God, I wonder you don't hate me!” + </p> + <p> + She forced back the words that rushed to her lips. She knew the danger of + an unconsidered answer, the danger of the whole situation. The durability + of their future life seemed to depend on her reply, its continuance to + hang on a slender thread that, perilously strained, threatened momentarily + to snap. She was fearful of precipitating the crisis she had long realised + was pending and which now seemed drawing to a head. An unconsidered word, + an intonation even, might bring about the catastrophe she feared. + </p> + <p> + She sought for time, praying for inspiration to guide her. The waiting tea + table supplied her immediate want. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically she filled the cups and cut cake with deliberate precision + while her mind worked feverishly. + </p> + <p> + His distress weighed with her more than her own. + </p> + <p> + Positive as she now was of the true reason that had prompted him to marry + her she saw in his outburst only another chivalrous attempt to hide that + reason from her. He had purposely endeavoured to misrepresent himself, + and, understanding, a wave of passionate gratitude filled her. + </p> + <p> + Her love was clamouring for audible expression. If she could only speak! + If she could only break through the restrictions that hampered her, tell + him all that was in her heart, measure the force of her living love + against the phantom of that dead past that had killed in him all the joy + of life. But she could not speak. Pride kept her silent, and the knowledge + that she could not add to the burden he already bore the embarrassment of + an unsought love. + </p> + <p> + But something she must say, and that before he noticed the hesitation that + might rob her words of any worth. Only by refusing to attach an undue + value to the significance of what he had said could she arrest the + dangerous trend of the conversation and bring it to a safer level. + </p> + <p> + She sat down slowly, re-arranging the simple tray with ostentatious care. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't force me to marry you, Barry,” she said quietly. “I knew what + I was doing, I realised the difficulties that might arise. But you have + nothing to reproach yourself with. You have been kind and considerate in + everything. I am enormously grateful to you—and I am very content + with my life. Please believe that. There is only one thing that I could + wish changed; you said that we were to be friends—and you have let + me be only a fair weather friend. Won't you let me sometimes share and + help in the difficulties, as well as in the pleasures? Your interests, + your obligations are so great—” she went on hurriedly, lest he + should think she was aiming at deeper, more personal concerns—“I + can't help knowing that there must be difficulties. If you would only let + me take my part—” She looked up, meeting his gloomy stare at last, + and a faint appeal crept into her eyes. “I'm not a child, Barry, to be + shown only the sunny side of life.” + </p> + <p> + An indescribable expression flitted across his face, changing it + marvellously. + </p> + <p> + “I would never have you know the dark side,” he said briefly, as he took + the cup she held out to him. + </p> + <p> + She was conscious that the tension, though lessened had not altogether + disappeared. There was in his manner a constraint that set her heart + throbbing painfully. She glanced furtively from time to time at his stern + worn face, and the weariness in his eyes brought a lump into her throat. + </p> + <p> + He talked spasmodically, of friends whom he had seen in London, of a + hundred and one trivial matters, but of the business that had kept him in + town he said nothing and she wondered what had been in his mind when he + had departed from an established rule and deliberately sought her in a + room that he never entered. Had he come with any express intention, any + confidence that had been thwarted by Mouston's stupid behaviour? She + stifled a sigh of disappointment. He might never again be moved by the + same impulse. + </p> + <p> + With growing anxiety she noticed that his restlessness was greater even + than usual. Refusing a second cup of tea he lit a cigarette, pacing up and + down as he talked, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + In one of the silences that punctuated his jerky periods he paused by a + little table on which lay a portfolio, and lifting it idly looked at the + sketches it contained. With a sudden look of apprehension Gillian started + and made a half movement as if to rise, then with a shrug she sank back on + the sofa, watching him intently. It was her private sketch book, and there + was in it one portrait in particular, his own, that she had no wish for + him to see. But remonstrance would only call attention to what she hoped + might pass unnoticed. Craven turned over the sketches slowly. He had seen + little of his wife's work since their marriage, she was shy of submitting + it to him, and with the policy of non-interference he had adopted he had + expressed no curiosity. He recognised many faces, and, recognising, + remembered wherein lay her special skill. He found himself looking for + characteristics that were known to him in the portraits of the men and + women he was studying. There was no attempt at concealment—vices and + virtues, liberality of mind, pettiness of soul were set forth in naked + truth. A sympathetic picture of Peters arrested him, though the name + written beneath it puzzled. He looked at the kindly generous countenance + with its friendly half-sad eyes and tender mouth with a feeling of envy. + He would have given years of his life to have possessed the peace of mind + that was manifested in the calm serenity of his agent's face. + </p> + <p> + His lips tightened as he laid the sketch down. With his thoughts lingering + on the last portrait for a second or two he looked at the next one + absently. Then a stifled exclamation broke from him and he peered at it + closer. And, watching, Gillian drew a deep breath, clenching her hands + convulsively. He stood quite still for what seemed an eternity, then came + slowly across the room and stood directly in front of her. And for the + first time she was afraid of meeting his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like—that?” + </p> + <p> + Her head drooped lower, her fingers twining and intertwining nervously, + and her dry lips almost refused their office. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen you like that,” very slowly and almost inaudibly, but he + caught the reluctant admission. + </p> + <p> + “So—<i>damnable</i>?” + </p> + <p> + She flinched from the loathing in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> sorry—” she murmured faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” the profanity was wrung from him, but had he thought of it he + would have considered it justified, for the face at which he was staring + was the beautiful tormented face of a fallen angel. He looked with a kind + of horror at the hungry passionate eyes fierce with unsatisfied longing, + shadowed with terrible memory, tortured, hopeless; at the set mouth, a + straight grim line under the trim golden brown moustache; at the + bitterness and revolt expressed in all the deep cut lines of the tragic + face. He laid it down with a feeling of repulsion. She saw him like that! + The pain of it was intolerable. + </p> + <p> + He laughed with a harsh mirthlessness that made her quiver. + </p> + <p> + “It is a truer estimation of my character than the one you gave me a few + minutes ago,” he said bitterly, “and you may thank heaven I am your + husband only in name. God keep you from a nearer acquaintance with me.” + And turning on his heel he left her. Long after he had gone she sat on + motionless, her fingers picking mechanically at the chintz cover of the + sofa, staring into space with wide eyes brimming with tears. She knew it + was a cruel sketch, but she had never meant him to see it. It had taken + shape unconsciously under her hand, and while she hated it she had kept it + because of the remarkable likeness and because it was the only picture she + had of him. + </p> + <p> + The dreams of a better understanding seemed swept away by her own + thoughtlessness and folly. She had hurt him and she could never explain. + To refer to it, to try and make him understand, would do more harm than + good. With a pitiful sob she covered her face with her hands, and, beside + her, Mouston the pampered cringed and whimpered unheeded and forgotten. + </p> + <p> + She had looked forward to his return with such high hopes and now they lay + shattered at her feet. During a brief hour that might have drawn them + nearer together they had contrived to hurt each other as it must seem to + both by deliberate intent. For herself she knew that she was innocent of + any such intention—but was he? He had never hurt her before, even in + his most difficult moods he had been to her unfailingly kind and + considerate. But to-day—shudderingly she wondered did it mark a new + era in their relations? And in miserable futile longing she wished that + this afternoon had never been. + </p> + <p> + After what had occurred the thought of facing him across a table during an + interminable dinner and sitting with him alone for the long hours of a + summer evening drove her to a state bordering on panic. She pushed the + thick hair off her forhead with a little gasp. It was cowardly—but + she could not, would not. Despising herself she crossed the room to the + telephone. + </p> + <p> + At the Hermitage Peters was indulging in a well-earned rest after a long + hot day that had been both irksome and tiring. Wearing an old tweed coat + he lounged comfortably in a big chair, a couple of sleepy setters at his + feet, a foul and ancient pipe in full blast. The room, flooded with the + evening sun, was filled with a heterogeneous collection of books and music + manuscript, guns, fishing rods and whips. The homely room had stamped on + it the characteristics of its owner. It was a room to work in, and equally + a room in which to relax. The owner was now relaxing, but the bodily rest + he enjoyed did not extend to his mind, which was very actively disturbed. + His usually genial face was furrowed and he sucked at the old pipe with an + energy that enveloped him in a haze of blue smoke. The ringing of the + telephone in the opposite corner of the room came as an unwelcome + interruption. He glared at it resentfully, disinclined to move, but at the + second ring rose reluctantly with a grunt of annoyance, pushing the drowsy + setters to one side. He took down the receiver with no undue haste and + answered the call gruffly, but his bored expression changed rapidly as he + listened. The soft voice came clearly but hesitatingly: + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, David? Could you come up to dinner—if—if you're + not going anywhere else—I've got a tiresome headache and it will be + so stupid for Barry. I don't want him to be dull the first evening at + home. So if you could—please, David—” + </p> + <p> + His face grew grim as he detected the quiver in the faltering indecisive + words, but he answered briskly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'll come. I'd love to,” he said, with a cheeriness he was far + from feeling. He hung up the receiver with a heavy sigh. But he had hardly + moved when the telephone rang again sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Damn the thing!” he muttered irritably. + </p> + <p> + This time a very different voice, curt and uncompromising: + </p> + <p> + “—that you, Peter?—Yes!—Doing anything tonight?—Not?—Then + for God's sake come up to dinner.” And then the receiver jammed down + savagely. + </p> + <p> + With grimmer face Peters moved thoughtfully across the room and touched a + bell in the wall by the fireplace. His call was answered with the usual + promptness, and when he had given the necessary orders and the man had + gone he laid aside his pipe, tidied a few papers, and went slowly to an + adjoining room. + </p> + <p> + The Hermitage was properly the dower house of the Towers, but for the last + two generations had not been required as such. The room Peters now entered + had originally been the drawing room, but for the thirty years he had + lived in the house he had kept it as a music room. Panelled in oak, with + polished floor and innocent of hangings, the only furniture a grand piano + and a portrait, it was at once a sanctuary and a shrine. And during those + thirty years to only two people had he given the right of entrance. To the + woman whose portrait hung on the wall and, latterly, to the girl who had + succeeded her as mistress of Craven Towers. To this room, to the portrait + and the piano, he brought all his difficulties; it was here he wrestled + with the loneliness and sadness that the world had never suspected. + To-night he felt that only the peace that room invariably brought would + enable him to fulfil the task he had in hand. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * +</pre> + <p> + Craven was alone in the hall when he arrived, and it was not until the + gong sounded that Gillian made a tardy appearance, very pale but with a + feverish spot on either cheek. Peters' quick eye noticed the absence of + the black shadow that was always at her heels. “Where is the faithful + Mouston? Not in disgrace, surely—the paragon?” he teased, and was + disconcerted at the painful flush that overspread her face. But she thrust + her arm through his and forced a little laugh. “Mouston is becoming rather + incorrigible, I'm afraid I've spoiled him hopelessly. I'll tell him you + inquired, it will cheer him up, poor darling. He's doing penance with a + bone upstairs. Shall we go in—I'm famished.” + </p> + <p> + But as dinner progressed she did not appear to be famished, for she ate + scarcely anything, but talked fitfully with jerky nervousness. Craven, + too, was at first almost entirely silent, and on Peters fell the main + burden of conversation, until by a direct question he managed to start his + host on a topic that was of interest to both and lasted until Gillian left + them. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing room, after she had finished her coffee, she opened the + piano and then subsided wearily on to the big sofa. The emotions of the + day and the effort of appearing at dinner had exhausted her, and in her + despondency the future had never seemed so black, so beset with + difficulties. While she was immeasurably thankful for Peters' presence + to-night she knew it was impossible for him to act continually as a buffer + between them. But from the problem of to-morrow, and innumerable + to-morrows, she turned with a fixed determination to live for the moment. + <i>A chaque jour suffit sa peine</i>. + </p> + <p> + She lay with relaxed muscles and closed eyes. It seemed a long while + before the men joined her. She wondered what they were talking about—whether + to Peters would be imparted the information that had been withheld from + her. For the feeling of a nearly impending calamity was strong within her. + When at last they came she looked with covert anxiety from one to the + other, but their faces told her nothing. For a few minutes Peters lingered + beside her chatting and then gravitated toward the piano, as she had hoped + he would. Arranging the heaped up cushions more comfortably around her she + gave herself up to the delight of his music and it seemed to her that she + had never heard him play so well. + </p> + <p> + Near her Craven was standing before the fern-filled fireplace, leaning + against the mantel, a cigarette drooping between his lips. From where she + lay she could watch him unperceived, for his own gaze was directed through + the open French window out on to the terrace, and she studied his set + handsome face with sorrowful attention. He appeared to be thinking deeply, + and, from his detached manner, heedless of the harmony of sound that + filled the room. But her supposition was soon rudely shaken. Peters had + paused in his playing. When a few moments later the plaintive melody of an + operatic air stole through the room she saw her husband start violently, + and the terrible pallor she had witnessed once before sweep across his + face. She clenched her teeth on her lip to keep back the cry that rose, + and breathlessly watched him stride across the room and drop an arresting + hand on Peters' shoulder. “For God's sake don't play that damned thing!” + she heard him say in a voice that was almost unrecognisable. And then he + passed out swiftly, into the garden. + </p> + <p> + A spasm of jealous agony shook her from head to foot. With quick intuition + she guessed that the air that was unknown to her must be connected in some + way with the sorrow that darkened his life, and the spectre of the past + she tried to forget seemed to rise and grin at her triumphantly. She + shivered. Would its power last until life ended? Would it stand between + them always, rivalling her, thwarting her every effort? + </p> + <p> + For a long time she dared not look at Peters, who had responded without + hesitation to Craven's unceremonious request, but when at length she + summoned courage to glance at him it seemed as if he had already forgotten + the interruption. His face wore the absent, almost spiritual look that was + usual when he was at the piano and his playing gave no indication of + either annoyance or surprise. She breathed a quick sigh of relief and, + slightly altering her position, lay where she could see the solitary + figure on the terrace. Erect by the stone ballustrade, his arms folded + across his chest, staring intently into the night as if his gaze went far + beyond the confines of the great park, he seemed to her a symbol of + incarnate loneliness, and her heart contracted at the thought of the + suffering and solitude she might not share. If he would only turn to her! + If she had only the right to go to him and plead her love, beg the + confidence she craved, and stand beside him in his sorrow! But he stood + alone, beyond her reach, even unaware of her longing. + </p> + <p> + The slow tears gathered thick in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + For long after the keyboard became an indistinguishable blur Peters played + on untiringly. But at last he rose, closed the piano and turned on an + electric lamp that stood near. + </p> + <p> + “Eleven o'clock,” he exclaimed contritely. “Bless my soul, why didn't you + stop me! I forget the time when I'm playing. I've tired you out. Go to + bed, you pale child. I'm walking home, I'll see Barry on the terrace as I + pass.” + </p> + <p> + She slid from the sofa and took his outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + “Your playing never tires me!” she answered, with a little upward glance. + “You've magic at the ends of your fingers, David dear.” + </p> + <p> + She went to the open window to watch him go, and presently saw him + reappear round the angle of the house and join Craven on the terrace. They + stood talking for a few minutes and then together descended the long + flight of stone steps to the rose garden, from which, by a short cut + through a little copse, could be reached the path that crossing the park + led to the Hermitage. It was the habit of Peters when he had been dining + at the big house to walk home thus and, as to-night, Craven almost always + accompanied him. + </p> + <p> + Gillian had long known her husband's propensity for night rambling and she + knew it might be hours before he returned. Was he angry with her still + that he had omitted the punctilious good-night he had never before + forgotten? Her lips quivered like a disappointed child's as she turned + back slowly into the room. But as she passed through the hall and climbed + the long stairs she knew in her heart that she had misjudged him. He was + not capable of petty retaliation. He had only forgotten—why indeed + should he remember? It was a small matter to him, he could not know what + it meant to her. In her bedroom she dismissed her maid and went to an open + window. She was very tired, but restless, and disinclined for bed. + Dropping down on the low seat she stared out over the moonlit landscape. + The repentant Mouston, abject at her continued neglect, crawled from his + basket and crept tentatively to her, and as absently her hand went out to + him gained courage and climbed up beside her. Inch by inch he sidled + nearer, and unrepulsed grew bolder until he finally subsided with his head + across her knees, whining his satisfaction. Mechanically she caressed him + until his shivering starting body lay quiet under her soothing touch. The + night was close and very silent. No breath of wind came to stir the + heavily leafed trees, no sound broke the stillness. She listened vainly + for the cry of an owl, for the sharp alarm note of a pheasant to pierce + the brooding hush that seemed to have fallen even over nature. A coppery + moon hung like a ball of fire in the sky. At the far end of the terrace a + group of tall trees cast inky black shadows across the short smooth lawn + and the white tracery of the stone balustrade. The faint scent of jasmine + drifted in through the open window and she leaned forward eagerly to catch + the sweet intermittent perfume that brought back memories of the peaceful + courtyard of the convent school. A night of intense beauty, mysterious, + disturbing, called her compellingly. The restlessness that had assailed + her grew suddenly intolerable, and she glanced back into the spacious room + with a feeling of suffocation. + </p> + <p> + The four walls seemed closing in about her. She knew that the big white + bed would bring no rest, that she would toss in feverish misery until the + morning, and she turned with dread from the thought of the long weary + hours. Night after night she lay awake in loneliness and longing until + exhaustion brought fitful sleep that, dream-haunted, gave no refreshment. + </p> + <p> + Sleep was impossible—the room that witnessed her nightly vigil a + prison house of dark sad thoughts. Her head throbbed with the heat; she + craved the space, the freshness of the moonlit garden. + </p> + <p> + Rousing the slumbering dog she went out on to the gallery and down the + staircase she had climbed so wearily an hour before. By the solitary light + still burning in the hall she knew that Craven had not yet returned. + Through the darkness of the drawing room she groped her way until her + outstretched hands touched shutters. Slipping the bar softly and + unlatching the window she passed out. For a moment she stood still, + breathing deeply, drinking in the beauty of the scene, exhilarated with + the sudden feeling of freedom that came to her. The silent garden, + beautiful always but more beautiful still in the mystery of the night, + appealed to her as never before. It was the same, yet wonderfully, + curiously unlike. A glamour hung over it, a certain settled peace that + soothed the tumult of her mind and calmed her nerves. Surrendering to the + charm of its almost unearthly loveliness she slowly paced the long length + of the terrace, the wondering Mouston pressing close beside her. + </p> + <p> + Then when her tired limbs could go no further she halted by the steps and + leant her arms on the coping of the balustrade. Cupping her chin in her + hands she looked down at the rose garden beneath her and smiled at its + quaint formality. Running parallel with the terrace on the one side the + three remaining sides were enclosed by a high yew hedge through which a + door, facing the terrace steps, led to a path that gave access to the + copse that was Peters' short cut. The shadow of the high dense yew + stretched far across the garden and she gazed dreamily into its dusky + depths, conjuring up the past, peopling the solitude about her with + forgotten ghosts who in the silks and satins of a bygone age had walked + those same flagged paths and talked and laughed and wept among the roses. + Poor lonely ghosts—were they lonelier than she? + </p> + <p> + The silence broke at last. Far off from the trees in the park an owl + called softly to its mate and the swift answering note seemed to mock her + desolation. Her whole being shuddered into one great soundless cry of + utter longing: “Barry! Oh, Barry, Barry!” + </p> + <p> + And as if in answer to her prayer she heard a sound that sent the quick + blood leaping to her heart. + </p> + <p> + In the deep shadow of the yew hedge the door that had opened shut with a + sudden clang. Her hands crept to her breast as she strained her eyes into + the darkness. Then the echo of a firm tread, and Craven's tall figure + emerged from the surrounding gloom. With fluttering breath she watched him + slowly cross the bright strip of moonlight lying athwart the rose garden + and mount the steps. Only when he reached the terrace did he seem aware of + her presence, and joined her with an exclamation of surprise, “You—Gillian?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't sleep—it was so hot—the garden tempted me,” she + faltered, in sudden fear lest he might think she spied on him. But the + fascination of the night was to Craven too natural to evoke comment. He + lit a cigarette and smoked in a silence she did not know how to break, and + a cold wave of chill foreboding passed over her as she waited with nervous + constraint for him to speak. He turned to her at last with a certain + deliberation and spoke with blunt directness. + </p> + <p> + “I have been asked to lead an expedition in Central Africa. It is partly a + hunting trip, partly a scientific mission. They have approached me because + I know the country, and because I am interested in tropical diseases and + am willing to defray a proportion of the expense which will be necessarily + heavy—I should gladly have done so in any case whether I went with + the party or not. The question of leading the expedition I deferred as + long as I could for obvious reasons.—I had not only myself to + consider. But I have been pressed to give a definite answer and have + agreed to go. There are plenty of other men who would do the job better + than myself but, as I said, I happen to know the locality and speak + several of the dialects, so my going may make things easier for them. But + that is not what has weighed with me most, it is you. Do you think I don't + know how completely I have failed you—how difficult your life is? I + do know. And because I know I am going. For I see no other way of making + your life even bearable for you. It has become impossible for us to go on + as we are—and the fault is mine, only mine. You have been an angel + of goodness and patience, you have done all that was humanly possible for + any woman to do, but circumstances were against us. I had no right to ask + you to make such a marriage. I cannot undo it. I cannot give you your + freedom, but I can by my absence make your life easier than it has been. I + have arranged everything with the lawyers in London and with Peters, here + to-night. If I do not return, for there are of course risks, everything is + left in your control—it is the only satisfaction in my power. If I + do return—God give me grace to be kinder to you than I have been in + the past.” + </p> + <p> + The blow she had been waiting for had fallen at last, in fulfilment of her + premonition. In her heart she had always known it would come, but its + suddenness paralysed. She had nothing to say. Silently she stood beside + him, her hands tight-locked, numbed with a desperate fear. He would go—and + he would never return. It hammered in her brain, making her want to + shriek. She felt to the full her own powerlessness, nothing she could say + would turn him from his purpose. It was the end she had always foreseen, + the end of all her dreams, the end of everything but sorrow and pain and + loneliness unspeakable. And for him—danger and possibly death. He + had admitted risk, he had set his house in order. From Craven it meant + much. She had learned his complete disregard for danger from the men who + had stayed with them in Scotland; his recklessness in the hunting field, + which was a by-word in the county, was already known to her. He set no + value on his own life—what reason was there to suppose that, in the + mysterious land of sudden and terrible death, he would take even ordinary + precautions? Was he going with a pre-conceived determination to end a life + that had become unbearable? In agony that seemed to rive her heart she + closed her eyes lest he might see in them the anguish she knew was there. + How long a time was left to her before the parting that would leave her + desolate? “When do you go?” The question burst from her, and Craven + glanced at her keenly, trying to read the colourless face that was like a + still white mask. He fancied he had caught a tremor in her voice, then he + called himself a fool as he noted the composure that seemed to argue + indifference. Her calmness stung while it strengthened him. Why should she + care, he asked himself bitterly. His going could mean to her only relief. + And disappointment made his own voice ring cold and distant. “Within the + next few weeks. The exact date is not yet fixed,” he said evasively. Again + she was silent while he wondered what were her thoughts. Suddenly she + turned to him, words pouring out in stammering haste, “While you are away—may + I go to France—to Paris—to work? This life of idleness is + killing me!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in amazement, startled at her passionate utterance, + dismayed at a suggestion he had never contemplated. To think of her at the + Towers, in the position he would have her fill, watched over by Peters, + was the only comfort he could take away with him. For a second he + meditated a refusal that seemed within his right, arbitrary though it + might be. But the promise he had made to leave her free stayed him. He + could not break that promise now. “As you please,” he said, with forced + unconcern, “you are your own mistress. You can do whatever you wish.” And + with a slight shrug he turned toward the house. She walked beside him in a + tumult of emotion. He would now never know the love she bore him, the + aching passion that throbbed like a living thing within her. She could not + speak, the gulf between them was too wide to bridge, and he would leave + her, thinking her indifferent, callous! Tears blinded her as she stumbled + through the dark drawing room. In the dimly lit hall, standing at the foot + of the staircase with his hand clenched on the oaken rail, Craven watched + with tortured eyes the slender drooping figure move slowly upward, + battling with himself, praying for strength to let her go—for he + knew that if she even turned her head his self-control would shatter. It + was weakening now and the sweat broke out in heavy drops on his forehead + as he strove to crush an insidious inward voice that bade him forget the + past and take what was his. “Only one life,” it seemed to shout in mocking + derision, “live while you can, take what you can! What is done, is done; + only the present matters. Of what use is regret, of what use an abstinence + that mortifies yet feeds desire? Fool, fool to set aside the chance of + happiness!” + </p> + <p> + With a deep breath that was almost a groan he sprang forward. Then, in + deadly fear, he checked himself, and wrenching his eyes away from the + woman he craved fled out into the night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + In a little tent pitched in the midst of an Arab camp in the extreme south + of Southern Algeria Craven sat writing. A day of intense heat had been + succeeded by a night airless and suffocating, and he was wet with + perspiration that dripped from his forehead and formed in sticky pools + under his hand, making writing laborious and difficult, impossible indeed + except for the sheet of blotting paper on which his fingers rested. His + thin silk shirt, widely open at the throat, the sleeves rolled up above + his elbows, clung limply to his broad shoulders. A multitude of tiny flies + attracted by the light circled round the lamp eddying in the heat of the + flame, immolating themselves, and falling thickly on the closely written + sheets of paper that strewed the camp table, smeared the still wet ink and + clogged his pen. He swept them away impatiently from time to time. + Squatting on his heels in a corner, his inscrutable yellow face damp and + glistening, Yoshio was cleaning a revolver with his usual thoroughness and + precision. A ragged square of canvas beside him held the implements + necessary to his work, set out in methodical order, and as he cleaned, and + oiled and polished assiduously without raising his eyes his deft fingers + selected unerringly the tool he required. The weapon appeared already + speckless, but for some time he continued to rub vigorously, handling it + with almost affectionate care as if loth to put it down; at last with a + grunt of demur he reluctantly laid aside the cloth he was using and + wrapping the revolver in a silk handkerchief slid it slowly into a + leathern holster which his care had kept soft and pliable. Placing it + noiselessly on the ground before him he turned his oblique gaze on Craven + and watched him for a moment or two intently. Assured at length that his + master was too absorbed in his own task to notice the doings of his + servant he reached his hand behind him and produced a second revolver, + which he began to clean more hurriedly, more superficially than the first, + keeping the while a wary eye on the stooping figure at the table. When + that too was finished to his satisfaction and restored to his hip pocket, + a flicker of almost childlike amusement crossed his usually immobile + features and he started operations with an air of fine unconsciousness + upon one of a couple of rifles that stood propped against the tent wall + near him. Two years of hardships and danger had left no mark upon him, the + deadly climate of the region through which he had passed had not impaired + his powerful physique, and disease that had ravaged the scientific mission + had left him, like Craven, unscathed. With no care beyond his master's + comfort, indifferent to fatigue and perils, the months spent in Central + Africa had been far more to his taste than the dull monotony of the life + at Craven Towers. But with his face turned, though indirectly, toward home—the + home of his adoption—Yoshio was still cheerful. For him life held + only one incentive—the man who had years before saved his life in + California. Where Craven was Yoshio was content. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the Arab camp was in an uproar. Groups of tribesmen passed the + tent continually, conversing eagerly, their raucous voices rising shrill, + shouting, arguing, in noisy excitement. The neighing of horses came from + near by and once a screaming stallion backed heavily against the canvas + wall where Yoshio was sitting, rousing the phlegmatic Japanese to an + unwonted ejaculation of wrath as he ducked and grabbed into safety the + remaining rifle before the animal was hauled clear with a wealth of + detailed Arabic expletives, and he grinned broadly when an authoritative + voice broke into the Arabs' clamour and a subsequent sudden silence fell + in the vicinity of the stranger's tent. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of the disturbance resounding from all quarters of the camp + Craven wrote on steadily for some time longer. Then with a short sigh he + shuffled the scattered sheets together, brushed clear the clinging + accumulation of scorched wings and tiny shrivelled bodies, and without + re-reading the closely written pages stuffed them into an envelope, and + having closed and directed it, leaned back with an exclamation of relief. + </p> + <p> + The letter to Peters was finished but there remained still the more + difficult letter he had yet to address to his wife—a letter he + dreaded and yet longed to write. A letter which, reaching her after the + death he confidently expected and earnestly prayed for, would reveal to + her fully the secret of his past and the passion that had driven him, + unworthy, from her. For never during the two years of adventure and peril + had death seemed more imminent than now, and before he died he would give + himself this one satisfaction—he would break the silence of years + that had eaten like a canker into his soul. At last she would know all he + had never dared to tell her, all his hopeless love, all his remorse and + shame, all his passionate desire for her happiness. + </p> + <p> + Scores of times during the last two years he had attempted to write such a + letter and had as often refrained, but to-night his need was imperative. + It was his last chance. In the early hours of the dawn he would ride with + his Arab hosts on a punitive expedition from which he had no intention of + returning alive. Death that he had courted openly since leaving England + would surely be easy to find amid the warring tribes with whom he had + thrown in his lot. A curious smile lit his face for an instant, then + passed abruptly at the doubt that shook his confidence. Would fate again + refuse him release from a life that had become more than ever intolerable? + </p> + <p> + Haunted as he was with the memory of O Hara San, tortured with longing for + the woman he had made his wife, the double burden had become too heavy to + bear. He had grasped at the opportunity offered by the scientific mission. + The dangerous nature of the country, the fever that saturated its swamps + and forests, was known to him and he had gone to Africa courting a death + that would free him and yet leave no stain on the name borne by his wife. + And the death that would free him would free her too! The bitter justice + of it made him set his teeth. For he had left her his fortune and his + great possessions unrestrictedly to deal with as she would. Young, rich + and free! Who would claim what he had surrendered? Even now, after months + of mental struggle, the thought was torment. + </p> + <p> + But death that had laid a heavy toll on his companions had turned away + from him. Disease and disaster had dogged the mission from the outset. The + medical and scientific researches had proved satisfactory beyond + expectation, but the attendant loss of life had been terrible, and himself + utterly reckless and heedless of all precautions Craven had watched + tragedy after tragedy with envy he had been hardly able to hide. Immune + from the sudden and deadly fevers that had swept the camps periodically + with fatal results he had worked fearlessly and untiringly among the + stricken members of the mission and the fast dwindling army of demoralised + porters who had succumbed with alarming rapidity. With the stolid Japanese + always beside him he had wrestled entire nights and days to save the + expedition from extermination. And in the intervals of nursing, and + shepherding the unwilling carriers, he had ranged far and wide in search + of fresh food to supply the wants of the camp. The danger he deliberately + sought, with a rashness that had provoked open comment, had miraculously + evaded him. He had borne a charmed life. He had snatched at every + hazardous enterprise, he had exposed himself consistently to risk until + one evening shortly before the expedition was due to start on the return + march to civilization, when a chance word spoken by the camp fire had + brought home to him abruptly the dependence of the remnant of the mission + on him to bring them to the coast in safety. By some strange dealing of + fate it had been among the non-scientific members of the expedition that + mortality had ranged highest; the big game hunters, though hardier and + physically better equipped than the students of the party for hardship and + endurance had, with the exception of Craven himself, been wiped out to a + man. It had been an unpremeditated remark uttered in all good faith with + no ulterior motive by a shuddering fever-stricken scientist writing up his + notes and diary by the light of the fire with trembling fingers that could + scarcely hold the fountain pen that moved laboriously driven by an + indomitable will. A grim jest, horrible in its significance, had followed + the startling utterance and Craven had looked with perplexity at the + shivering figure with its drawn yellow face from which a pair of + glittering eyes burned with an almost uncanny brilliance until the meaning + of the man's words slowly penetrated. But the true importance of the + suggestion once realised had aroused in him a full understanding of the + duty he owed to the men he had undertaken to lead. Of those who could have + convoyed the expedition on its homeward march only he remained. Without + him the survivors of the once large party might eventually reach safety + but it was made clear to him that night how completely his companions + relied on him for a quick return and for the management of the train of + porters whose frequent mutinies only Craven seemed able to quell. He had + sat far into the night, staring gloomily into the blazing fire, smoking + pipe after pipe, listening to the multifarious noises of the forest—the + sudden distant crash of falling trees, the incessant hum of insect life, + the long-drawn howl of beasts of prey hovering on the outskirts of the + camp, the soft whoo-whoo of an owl whose cry brought vividly to his mind + the cool fragrance of the garden at Craven Towers and the nearer more + ominous sounds of muffled agony that came from a tent close beside him + where yet another victim of science was gasping his life away. + </p> + <p> + Hour after hour he sat thinking. There was no getting away from it—it + was only despicable that he had not himself recognised it earlier. The + narrow path of duty lay before him from which he might not turn aside to + ease the burden of a private grief. He was bound to the men who trusted + him. Honour demanded that he should forego the project he had formed—until + his obligation had been discharged. Loyalty to his companions must come + before every selfish consideration. After all it was only a postponement, + he reflected with a kind of grim satisfaction. The residue of the mission + once safely conducted to the coast his responsibility would end and he + would be free to pursue the course that would liberate the woman he loved. + </p> + <p> + In the chill silence of the hour that precedes the dawn he had risen + cramped and shivering from his seat by the dying fire and too late then to + take the rest he had neglected, had roused Yoshio and started on the usual + foraging expedition that was his daily occupation. And from that time he + had been careful of a life which, though valueless to him, was invaluable + to his companions. From that time, too, the ill-luck that had pursued them + ceased. There had been no more deaths, no more desertions from the already + depleted train of carriers. The work had gone forward with continuing + success and, six months ago, after a hazardous march through a hostile + country, Craven had led the remnant of the expedition safely to the coast. + He had waited for some weeks at the African port after the mission had + returned to England, and then embarking on a small trading steamer, had + made his way northward to an obscure station on the Moroccan seaboard, + when by a leisurely and indirect route he had slowly crossed the desert to + the district where he now was and which he had reached only a week ago. + Twice before he had visited the tribe as the guest of the Sheik Mukair Ibn + Zarrarah's younger son, an officer of Spahis whom he had met in Paris, and + the warm hospitality shown him had left a deep impression. A sudden + unaccountable impulse had led him to revisit a locality where he had spent + some of the happiest months of his life. He had conceived an intense + admiration and liking for the stern old Arab Chief and his two utterly + dissimilar sons; the elder a grave habitually silent man, who clung to the + old traditions with the rigid tenacity of the orthodox Mohammedan, + disdainful of the French jurisdiction under which he was compelled to + live, and occupied solely with the affairs of the tribe and his beautiful + and adored wife who reigned alone in his harem, despite the fact that she + had given him no child; the younger in total contrast to his brother, a + dashing ultra-modern young Arab as deeply imbued with French tendencies as + the conservative Omar was opposed to them. The wealthy and powerful old + Sheik, whose friendship had been assiduously sought by the French + Administration to ensure the co-operation of a tribe that with its far + reaching influence might have proved a dangerous element in an unsettled + district, shared in his inmost heart the sentiments of his heir, but with + a larger and more discriminating wisdom saw the desirability of + associating at least one of his family with the Government he was obliged, + though grudgingly and half contemptuously, to acknowledge. He had hovered + long between prejudice and policy before he reluctantly gave his consent + for Saïd to be placed on the roll of the regiment of Spahis. And the + unusual love existing between the two brothers had survived a test that + might have proved too strong for its continuance; Omar, bowing to the + decision of the autocratic old Chief, had refrained even from comment, and + Saïd, despite his enthusiasm, had carefully avoided inflaming his + brother's deeply rooted hatred of the nation the younger man was proud to + serve. His easy-going nature adapted itself readily to the two wholly + separate lives he lived, and though secretly preferring the months spent + with his regiment he contrived to extract every possible enjoyment from + the periods of leave for which he returned to the tribe where, laying + aside the picturesque uniform his ardent soul rejoiced in and scrupulously + suppressing every indication of his Francophile inclinations he resumed + with consummate tact the somewhat invidious position of younger son of the + house. + </p> + <p> + The meeting of the young Spahi with Craven in Paris had led to the + discovery of similar tastes and ultimately to an intimate friendship. + Together in Algeria they had shot panther and Barbary sheep and eventually + Craven had been induced to visit the tribe, where he had seen the true + life of the desert that appealed strongly to his unconventional wandering + disposition. The heartiness of his reception had been unqualified, even + the taciturn Omar had unbent to the representative of a nation he felt he + could respect with no loss of prestige. To Craven the weeks passed in the + Arab camp had been a time of uninterrupted enjoyment and a second visit + had strengthened mutual esteem. Situated on the extreme fringe of the + Algerian frontier, in the heart of a perpetually disturbed country, the + element of danger prevailing in the district was to Craven not the least + of its attractions. It had been a source of keen disappointment that + during both his visits there had been a cessation of the intertribal + warfare that was carried on in spite of the Government's endeavours to + preserve peace among the great desert families. For generations the tribe + of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah had been at feud with another powerful tribe which, + living further to the south and virtually beyond the suzerainty of the + nominal rulers of the country, harried the border continually. But, aware + of the growing power and resources of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, for many years + the marauders had avoided collision with him and confined their attention + to less dangerous adversaries. The apparent neglect of his hereditary + enemies had not, however, lessened the old Sheik's precautions. With + characteristic oriental distrust he maintained a continual watch upon them + and a well organized system of espionage kept him conversant with all + their movements. Often during his visits Craven had listened to the + stories of past encounters and in the fierce eager faces around him he had + read the deep longing for renewed hostilities that animated the younger + members of the tribe in particular and had wondered what spark would + eventually set ablaze the smouldering fires of hatred and rivalry that had + so long lain dormant. And it had been really a subconscious presage of + such an outbreak that had brought him back to the camp of Mukair Ibn + Zarrarah. His presentiment, the outcome of earnest desire, had been + fulfilled, and in its fulfilment attended with horrible details which, had + it not been already his intention, would have driven him to beg a place in + the ranks of the punitive force that was preparing to avenge an outrage + that involved the honour of the tribe. A week ago he had arrived to find + the camp seething with an infuriated and passion-swayed people who bore no + kind of resemblance to the orderly well-disciplined tribesmen he had seen + on his former visits, and the daily arrival of reinforcements from + outlying districts had kept the tension strained and swelled the + excitement that rioted day and night. + </p> + <p> + In the barbaric sumptuousness of his big tent and with a calm dignity that + even tragedy could not shake the old Sheik had received him alone, for the + unhappy Omar was hidden in the desolate solitude of his ravished harem. To + the Englishman, before whom he could speak openly the old man had revealed + the whole terrible story with vivid dramatic force and all the flowery + eloquence of which he was master. It was a tale of misplaced confidence + and faithlessness that, detected and punished with oriental severity, had + led to swift and dastardly revenge. A headman of the tribe whom both the + Sheik and his elder son trusted implicitly had proved guilty of grave + indiscretion that undetected might have seriously impaired the prestige of + the ruling house. Deposed from his headmanship, and deserted with + characteristic vacillation by the adherents on whom he counted, the + delinquent had fled to the camp of the rival tribe, with whom he had + already been in secret negotiation. This much Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's spies + had ascertained, but not in time to prevent the catastrophe that followed. + Plans thought to be known only to the Sheik and his son had been disclosed + to the marauding Chief, who had long sought an opportunity of aiming an + effectual blow at his hated rival, and on one of Omar's periodical tours + of inspection to the more remote encampments of the large and scattered + tribe, the little caravan had been surrounded by an overwhelmingly + superior force led by the hereditary enemy and the renegade tribesman. + Hemmed in around the litter of the dearly loved young wife, from whom he + rarely parted, Omar and his small bodyguard had fought desperately, but + the outcome had been inevitable from the first. Outnumbered they had + fallen one by one under the vigorous onslaughts of the attacking party + who, victorious, had retired southward as quickly as they had come, + carrying with them the beautiful Safiya—the price of the traitor's + treachery. Covered with wounds and left for dead under a heap of dying + followers Omar and two others had alone survived, and with death in his + heart the young man had lived only for the hour when he might avenge his + honour. Animated by the one fierce desire that sustained him he had + struggled back to life to superintend the preparations for retaliation + that should be both decisive and final. To old injuries had been added + this crowning insult, and the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, roused to the + highest pitch of fury, were resolved to a man to exterminate or be + exterminated. The preparations had been almost completed when Craven + arrived at the camp, and tonight, for the first time, at a final war + council of all the principal headmen held in the Sheik's tent, he had seen + the stricken man and had hardly recognized in the gaunt attenuated figure + that only an inflexible will seemed to keep upright, the handsome stalwart + Arab who of all the tribe had most nearly approached his own powerful + physique. The frenzied despair in the dark flashing eyes that met his + struck an answering chord in his own heart and the silent handclasp that + passed between them seemed to ratify a common desire. Here, too, was a man + who for love of a woman sought death that he might escape a life of + terrible memory. A sudden sympathy born of tacit understanding seemed to + leap from one to the other, an affinity of purpose that drew them + strangely close together and brought to Craven an odd sense of kinship + that dispelled the difference he had felt and enabled him to enter + reservedly into the discussions that followed. After this meeting he had + gone back to his tent to make his own final preparations with a feeling + almost of exhilaration. To Yoshio, more than usually stolid, he had given + all necessary instructions for the conveyance of his belongings to + England. + </p> + <p> + Remained only the letter to his wife—a letter that seemed curiously + hard to begin. Pushing the writing materials from him he leant back + further in his chair, and searching in his pockets found and filled a pipe + with slow almost meticulous deliberation. Another search failed to produce + the match he required, and rising with a prolonged stretch he bent over + the table and lit his pipe at the lamp. Crossing the tent he stood for a + few moments in the doorway, but movements did not seem to produce + inspiration, and with an impatient shrug he returned to his seat and sat + staring gloomily at the blank sheet of paper before him. The flaring light + of the lamp illuminated his deeply tanned face and lean muscular figure. + In perfect physical condition and bronzed with the African sun, he looked + younger than when he had left England. At that moment death and Barry + Craven seemed very widely separated—and yet in a few hours, he + reflected with a curiosity that was oddly impersonal, the vultures might + be congregating round the body that was now so strong and virile. + “Handsome Barry Craven.” He had heard a woman say it in Lagos with a + feeling of contemptuous amusement—a cynical smile crossed his face + as the remark recurred to him and he pictured the loathing that would + succeed admiration in the same woman's eyes if she could see what would + remain of him after the scavengers of the desert had done their work. The + thought gave him personally no feeling of disgust. He had lived always too + near to Nature to shrink from contemplation of her merciless laws. + </p> + <p> + He filled another pipe and strove to collect his wandering thoughts, but + the power of definite expression seemed beyond him as there rose in him + with almost overwhelming force the terrible longing that never left him—the + craving to see her, to hear her voice. Of his own free will he was putting + away all that life could mean or hold for him, and in the flood of natural + reaction that set in he called himself a fool and revolted at his + self-imposed sentence. The old struggle recommenced, the old temptation + gripped him in all its bitterness, and never so bitterly as to-night. In + the revulsion of feeling that beset him it was not death he shrank from + but the thought of eternity—alone. Neither in this world nor in the + life everlasting would she be his, and in an agony of longing his soul + cried out in anguished loneliness. The yearning for her grew intolerable, + a burning physical ache that was torture; but stronger far rose the finer + nobler desire for the perfect spiritual companionship that he would never + know. By his own act it would be denied him. By his own act he had made + this hell in which he lived, of his own making would be the hell of the + hereafter. Always he had recognised the justice of it, he did not attempt + to deny the justice of it now. But if it had been otherwise—if he + had been free to woo her, free to win her to his arms! It was not the + least of his punishment that, deep down in his heart, he had the firm + conviction that despite her assertions to the contrary, love was lying + dormant in her. And that love might have been his, would have been his, + for the strength and tenderness of his own passion would have compelled + it. She must have turned to him at last and in his love found happiness. + And to him her love would have been the crown of life—a life of + exquisite joy and beauty, a union of perfect and undivided sympathy. + Together they might have made the Towers a paradise on earth; together + they might have broken the curse of Craven; together they might have + brought happiness into the lives of many. And in the dream of what might + have been there came to him for the first time the longing for parenthood, + the desire for a child born of the woman he adored, a child who joining in + his tiny personality the essentials of each would be a tangible proof of + their mutual love, a child who would perpetuate the race he sprang from. + Craven's breath came fast with a new and tremendous emotion. Then with + terrible suddenness came a lightning flash of recollection, a stabbing + remembrance that laid his dream in pieces at his feet. He heard again the + low soft sobbing voice, “Are you not glad?” He saw again O Hara San's + pleading tear-filled eyes, felt again her slender sorrow-shaken body + trembling in his arms, and he bowed his head on his hands in shuddering + horror.... + </p> + <p> + Numbed with the pain of memory and self-loathing he was unaware of the + renewal of noisy demonstration in the camp that to Yoshio's attentive and + interested ears pointed to the arrival of yet another adherent of Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah, an adherent of some special standing, judging from the + warmth of his reception. Moved by curiosity the Jap rose noiselessly and + passing unnoticed by his master vanished silently into the night. + </p> + <p> + Some little while later the sound of a clear tenor voice calling to him + loudly by name sent Craven stumbling to his feet. He turned quickly with + outstretched hands to meet the tall young Arab, who burst unceremoniously + into the tent and flung himself upon him in boisterous greeting. Gripped + by a pair of muscular arms Craven submitted with an Englishman's + diffidence to the fervid oriental embrace that was succeeded to his + greater liking by a hearty and prolonged English handshake and a storm of + welcoming excited and almost incoherent speech. “<i>C'est bien toi, mon + vieux</i>! You are more welcome than you have ever been—though I + could wish you a thousand miles away, <i>mon ami</i>, but of that, more, + later. <i>Dame</i>, but I have ridden! As though the hosts of Eblis were + behind me. I was on leave when the messenger came for me—he seems to + have been peremptory in his demands, that same Selim. Telegrams despatched + to every likely place—one caught me fortunately at Marseilles. Yes, + I had been in Paris. I hastened to headquarters and asked for long and + indefinite leave on urgent private affairs, all the lies I thought <i>mon + colonel</i> would swallow, but no word of war, <i>bien entendu</i>! Praise + be to <i>Allah</i> they put no obstacle in my way and I left at once. + Since then I have ridden almost without stopping, night and day. Two + horses I have killed, the last lies dead of a broken heart before my + father's tent—you remember her?—my little Mimi, a chestnut + with a white star on her forehead, dear to me as the core of my heart. For + none but Omar would I have driven so, for I loved her, look you, <i>mon + ami</i>, as I could never love a woman. A woman! Bah! No woman in the + world was worth a toss of my Mimi's head. And I killed her, Craven. Killed + her who loved and trusted me, who never failed me. My little Mimi! For the + love of <i>Allah</i> give me a whisky.” And laughing and crying together + he collapsed with a groan on to Craven's bed but sat up again immediately + to gulp down the prohibited drink that was almost the last in a nearly + depleted flask. + </p> + <p> + “The Prophet never tasted whisky or he would not have forbidden it to the + true believer,” he said with a boyish grin, as he handed back the empty + cup. + </p> + <p> + “Which you are not,” commented Craven with a faint smile. “In the sense + you mean, no,” replied Saïd, swinging his heels to the ground and + searching in the folds of his burnous for a cigarette, which he lit and + smoked for a few minutes thoughtfully. Then with all trace of his former + excitement gone he began to discuss soberly the exigency of the moment, + revealing a sound judgment and levelness of mind that appeared + incompatible with his seemingly careless and easy-going disposition. It + was a deeper studiously hidden side of his character that Craven had + guessed very early in their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + He talked now with unconcealed seriousness of the gravity of the + situation. In the short time he had been with his father before seeking + his friend he had mastered the particulars of the projected expedition + and, with his European knowledge, had suggested and even—with a + force of personality he had never before displayed in the old Sheik's + presence—insisted on certain alterations which he detailed now for + Craven's benefit, who concurred heartily, for they were identical with + suggestions put forward by himself which had been rejected as impossible + innovations by the conservative headmen, and conscious of his position as + guest he had not pressed them. Then with a sudden change of tone the young + Arab turned to Craven in frowning inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “But you, mon cher, what are you doing in this affair? It was that I meant + when I said I wished you a thousand miles away. You are my friend, the + friend of all of us, but friendship does not demand that you ride with us + to-night. That you would offer—yes—it was only to be expected. + But that we should accept your offer—no! a hundred times no! you are + an Englishman, a big man in your own country, what have you to do with the + tribal warfare of minor Arab Chiefs—voyez vous, I have my moments of + modesty! If anything should happen—as happen it very likely will—what + will your paternal British Government say? It will only add to my father's + difficulties with our own over-lords.” There was a laugh in his eyes + though his voice was serious. Craven brushed his objection aside with an + indifferent hand. + </p> + <p> + “The British Government will not distress itself about me,” he said dryly. + “I am not of sufficient importance.” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments the Arab sat silent, smoking rapidly, then he raised his + dark eyes tentatively to Craven's face. + </p> + <p> + “In Paris they told me you were married,” he said slowly, and the remark + was in itself ample indication of his European tendencies. + </p> + <p> + Craven turned away with an abrupt movement and bent over the lamp to light + his pipe. “They told you the truth,” he said, with a certain reluctance, + his face hidden by a cloud of smoke. “<i>Pourtant</i>, I ride with you + to-night.” There was a note of brusque finality in his voice that Saïd + recognised, and he shrugged acquiescence as he lit another cigarette. “It + is almost certain death,” he said, with nonchalant oriental calm. But + Craven did not answer and Saïd relapsed into a silence that was + protracted. From the midst of the blue haze surrounding him, his earnest + scrutiny hidden by the thick lashes that curved downwards to his swarthy + cheek, he gazed intently through half-closed eyes at the friend whose + presence he found for the first time embarrassing. Fatalist though he was + in all things that concerned himself, western influence had bitten deep + enough to make him realise that the same doctrine did not extend to + Craven. He recognised that self-determination came more largely into the + Englishman's creed than into his own. Whether he himself lived or died was + a matter of no great moment. But with Craven it was otherwise and he had + no liking for the thought that should the morrow's venture go against them + his friend's blood would, virtually, be upon his hands! So far had his + Francophile tendencies taken him. And the more he dwelt upon the + uncomfortable fact the less he liked it. He turned his attention more + directly upon the man himself and he noted changes that surprised and + disturbed him. The stern weary looking face was not the careless smiling + one he remembered. The man he had known had been vividly alive, care-free + and animated; one who had jested alike at life and death with an + indifferent laugh, but one who though careless of danger even to the + extent of foolhardiness had never given any indication of a desire to quit + a life that was obviously easy and attractive. But this man was different, + grave and abrupt of speech, with an air of tired suffering, and a grim + purposefulness in his determination to ignore his friend's warning that + conveyed an impression of underlying sinister intent that set the Arab + wondering what sting had poisoned his life even to the desire to sacrifice + it. For the look on Craven's face was not new to him, he had seen it + before—on the face of a French officer in Algiers who had + subsequently taken his own life, and again this very evening on the face + of his brother Omar. The personalities of the three men were widely + different, but the expression of each was identical. The deduction was + simple and yet to him wholly inexplicable. A woman—without doubt a + woman! In the first two cases it was certainly so, he seemed to know + instinctively that here, too, he was not mistaken in his supposition. A + puzzled look crept into his fine dark eyes and a cynical smile hovered + round his mouth as he viewed these three dissimilar men from the height of + his own contemptuous indifference towards any and every woman. It was a + weakness he did not understand, a phase of life that held no meaning for + him at all. He had never bestowed a second glance on any woman of his own + race, the attentions of European women in Paris and Algiers had been met + with cold scorn that he masked with racial gravity of demeanour or frank + insolence according to circumstances. For him women did not exist; he + lived for his horses, for his regiment and for sport. To his strangely + cold nature the influence that women exercised over other men was a thing + inconceivable—the houris of the paradise of his fathers' creed were + to him no incentive to enter the realms of the blessed. A character apart, + incomprehensible alike to the warm-blooded Frenchmen with whom he + associated and to his own passionate countrymen, he maintained his + peculiarity tranquilly, undisturbed by the banter of his friends and the + admonitions of his father, who in view of his heir's childlessness + regarded his younger son's temperament with growing uneasiness as the + years advanced. + </p> + <p> + The action of the French officer in Algiers had provoked in Saïd only + intolerant contempt but, as he realised tonight, contempt was not possible + in the cases of Craven and his brother. He pondered it with a curious + feeling of irritation. What was it after all, this emotion of which he was + ignorant—this compelling impulse that entered into a man driving him + beyond the power of endurance? It was past his comprehension. And he + wondered suddenly for the first time why he had been made so different to + the generality of men. But introspection was foreign to him, he had not + been in the habit of dissecting his own personality and his thoughts + turned quickly with greater interest to the man who sat near him plunged + like himself into silent reverie. And as he looked he scowled with angry + irritation. The Frenchman in Algiers had not mattered, but Omar and Craven + mattered very much. He resented the suffering he did not understand—the + termination of a friendship he valued, for it was almost inevitable should + Craven persist in his decision and the loss of a brother who was dearer to + him than he would admit and whose death would mean a greater change in his + own life than he cared to contemplate. That through a woman this should be + possible! With hearty thoroughness and picturesque attention to detail he + silently cursed all women in general and two women in particular. For the + seriousness of the venture lay, at the moment, heavily upon him. He was + tired and his enthusiasm temporarily damped by the unexpected and + incomprehensible attitude of the two men by whom alone he permitted + himself to be influenced. But gradually his natural buoyancy reasserted + itself, and abandoning as insoluble the perplexing problem, he spoke again + eagerly of the impending meeting with his hereditary foes. For half an + hour they talked earnestly and then Saïd rose, announcing his intention of + getting a few hours sleep before the early start. But he deferred his + going, making one pretext after another for remaining, walking about the + little tent in undecided hesitation, plainly embarrassed. Finally he swung + toward Craven with a characteristic gesture of his long arms. + </p> + <p> + “Can I say nothing to deter you from this expedition?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” replied Craven; “you always promised me a fight some day—do + you want to do me out of it now, you selfish devil?” he added with a + laugh, to which Saïd did not respond. With an inarticulate grunt he moved + toward the door, pausing as he went out to fling over his shoulder: “I'll + send you a burnous and the rest of the kit.” + </p> + <p> + “A burnous—what for?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” echoed Saïd, coming back into the tent, his eyes wide with + astonishment. “<i>Allah</i>! to wear, of course, <i>mon cher</i>. You + can't go as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + The Arab rolled his eyes heavenward and waved his hands in protest as he + burst out vehemently: “Because they will take you for a Frenchman, a spy, + an agent of the Government, and they will finish you off even before they + turn their attention to us. They hate us, by the Koran! but they hate a + Frenchman worse. You wouldn't have the shadow of a chance.” + </p> + <p> + Craven looked at him curiously for a few moments, and then he smiled. + “You're a good fellow, Saïd,” he said quietly, taking the cigarette the + other offered, “but I'll go as I am, all the same. I'm not used to your + picturesque togs, they would only hamper me.” + </p> + <p> + For a little while longer Saïd remained arguing and entreating by turns + and then went away suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and for a few + minutes Craven stood in the door of the tent watching his retreating + figure by the light of the newly risen moon with a smile that softened his + face incredibly. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned back into the tent and once more drew toward him the + writing materials. + </p> + <p> + The difficulty he had before felt had passed away. It seemed suddenly + quite easy to write and he wondered why it had appeared so impossible + earlier in the evening. Words, phrases, leaped to his mind, sentences + seemed to form themselves, and, with rapidly moving pen, he wrote without + faltering for the best part of an hour—all he had never dared to + say, more almost than he had ever dared to think. He did not spare + himself. The tragic history of O Hara San he gave in all its pitifulness + without attempting to extenuate or shield himself in any way; he sketched + frankly the girl's loneliness and childish ignorance, his own casual and + selfish acceptance of the sacrifice she made and the terrible catastrophe + that had brought him to abrupt and horrible conviction of himself, and his + subsequent determination to end the life he had marred and wasted. He + wrote of the coming of John Locke's letter at the moment of his deepest + abasement, and of the chance it had seemed to offer; of her own entry into + his life and the love for her that almost from the first moment had sprung + up within him. + </p> + <p> + In its entirety he laid bare the burning hopeless passion that consumed + him, the torturing longing that possessed him, and the knowledge of his + own unworthiness that had driven him from her that she might be free with + a freedom that would be at last absolute. But even in this letter which + tore down so completely the barrier between them he did not admit to her + the true reason of his marriage, he preferred to leave it obscure as it + had always been, even should the motive she might attribute to him be the + wrong one. He must chance that and the impression it might leave with her. + Her future life he alluded to very briefly not caring to dwell on business + that was already cut and dried, but referring her to Peters who was fully + instructed and on whose advice and help she could count. He expressed no + wish with regard to Craven Towers and his other properties, leaving her + free to dispose of or retain them as she pleased. He shrank from + suggesting in any way that she benefited by his death. + </p> + <p> + He saw her before him as he wrote. It seemed almost as if the ardent + passionate wards were spoken to present listening ears, and as with + Peters' letter he did not reread the many closely written sheets. What + use? He did not wish to alter or amend anything he had said. He had done, + and a deeper peace came to him than he had known since those far away days + in Japan. + </p> + <p> + He called to Yoshio. Almost before the words had left his lips the man was + beside him. And as the Jap listened to the minute instructions given him + the light that had sprung to his eyes died out of them and his face became + if possible more than usually stolid and inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + “You quite understand?” said Craven in conclusion. “You will wait here + until it becomes evident that further waiting is useless. Then you are to + go straight back to England and give those letters into Mrs. Craven's own + hand.” + </p> + <p> + With marked reluctance Yoshio slowly took up the two heavy packets and + fingered them for a time silently. Then with a sudden exclamation in his + own language he shook his head and pushed them back across the table. + “Going with master,” he announced phlegmatically, and raised his eyes with + a glance that was at once provocative and stubborn. Craven met his direct + stare with a feeling of surprise. Only once before had the docile Japanese + asserted himself definitely and the memory of it made anger now + impossible. He pointed to the letters lying on the table between them. + “You have your orders,” he said quietly, and cut short further protests + with a quick gesture of authority. “Do as you're told, you obstinate + little devil,” he added, with a short laugh. And like a chidden child + Yoshio pocketed the letters sullenly. Stifling a yawn Craven kicked off + his boots and moved over to the bed with a glance at his watch. He flung + himself down, dressed as he was. + </p> + <p> + “Two hours, Yoshio—not a minute longer,” he murmured drowsily, and + slept almost before his head touched the pillow. + </p> + <p> + For an hour or more, squatting motionless on his heels in the middle of + the tent, Yoshio watched him, his mask-like face expressionless, his eyes + fixed in an unwavering stare. Then he rose cautiously and glided from the + tent. + </p> + <p> + During the last two years Craven had become accustomed to snatching a few + hours of sleep when and how he could. He slept now deeply and dreamlessly. + And when the two hours were passed and Yoshio woke him he sprang up, wide + awake on the instant, refreshed by the short rest. In silence that was no + longer sullen the valet indicated a complete Arab outfit he had brought + back with him to the tent, but Craven waved it aside with a smile at the + thought of Saïd's pertinacity and finished his dressing quickly. As he + concluded his hasty preparations he found time to wonder at his own frame + of mind. He had an odd feeling of aloofness that precluded even + excitement. It was as if his spirit, already freed, looked down from some + immeasurable height with scant interest upon the doings of a being who + wore the earthly semblance of himself but who mattered not at all. He + seemed to be above and beyond actualities. He heard himself repeating the + instructions he had given earlier to Yoshio, he found himself taking leave + of the faithful little Jap and wondering slightly at the man's apparent + unconcern. But outside the little tent the strange feeling left him + suddenly as it had come. The cool wind that an hour later would usher in + the dawn blew about his face dispelling the visionary sensation that had + taken hold of him. He drew a deep breath looking eagerly at the beauty of + the moon-lit night, feeling himself once more keenly alive, keenly excited + at the prospect of the coming venture. + </p> + <p> + Excitement was rife also in the camp and he made his way with difficulty + through the jostling throng of men and horses towards the rallying point + before the old Sheik's tent. The noise was deafening, and trampling + screaming horses wheeled and backed among the crowd pressing around them. + With shouts of acclamation a way was made for the Englishman and he passed + through the dense ranks to the open space where Mukair Ibn Zarrarah with + his two sons and a little group of headmen were standing. They welcomed + him with characteristic gravity and Saïd proffered the inevitable + cigarette with a reproachful glance at his khaki clothing. For a few + moments they conversed and then the Sheik stepped forward with uplifted + hand. The clamour of the people gave way to a deep silence. In a short + impassioned speech the old man bade his tribe go forward in the name of + the one God, Merciful and Beneficent. And as his arm dropped to his side + again a mighty shout broke from the assembled multitude. <i>Allah! Allah!</i> + the fierce exultant cry rose in a swelling volume of sound as the fighting + men leaped to their maddened horses dragging them back into orderly ranks + from among the press of onlookers and tossing their long guns in the air + in frenzied excitement. A magnificent black stallion was led up to Craven, + and the Sheik soothed the beautiful quivering creature, caressing his + shapely head with trembling nervy fingers. “He is my favourite, he will + carry you well,” he murmured with a proud smile as he watched Craven + handling the spirited animal. Mounted Craven bent down and wrung Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah's hand and in another moment he found himself riding between + Omar and Saïd at the head of the troop as it moved off followed by the + ringing shouts of those who were left behind. He had a last momentary + glimpse of the old Sheik, a solitary upright figure of pathetic dignity, + standing before his tent, and then the camp seemed to slide away behind + them as the pace increased and they reached the edge of the oasis and + emerged on to the open desert. A few minutes more and the fretting horses + settled down into a steady gallop. The dense ranks of tribesmen were + silent at last, and only the rythmical thud of hoofs sounded with a + muffled beat against the soft shifting sand. + </p> + <p> + Craven felt himself in strange accordance with the men with whom he rode. + The love of hazardous adventure that was in his blood leaped into activity + and a keen fierce pleasure swept him at the thought of the coming + conflict. The death he sought was the death he had always hoped for—the + crashing clamour of the battlefield, the wild tumultuous impact of + contending forces, with the whining scream of flying bullets in his ears. + To die—and, dying, to atone! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “<i>Come to Me all ye who ... are heavy laden + and I will give you rest</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + Might that ineffable rest that was promised be even for him? Would his + deep repentance, the agony of spirit he had endured, be payment enough? + Eternal death—the everlasting hell of the Jehovah of the ancients! + Not that, merciful God, but the compassion of Christ: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “<i>He that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + On that terrible day in Yokohama that seemed so many weary years ago + Craven had laid his sin-stained soul in all sincerity and humbleness at + the feet of the Divine Redeemer, but with no thought or hope of + forgiveness. Always the necessity of personal atonement had remained with + him, without which by his reasoning there could be no salvation. That + offered, but not until then, he would trust in the compassion that passed + man's understanding. And to-night—to-day—he seemed nearer than + he had ever been to the fulfilment of his desire. The mental burden that + had lain like an actual crushing weight upon him seemed to slip away into + nothingness. A long deep sigh of wonderful relief escaped him and he drew + himself straighter in the saddle, a new peace dawning in his eyes as he + raised them to the starlit sky. Out of the past there flashed into his + mind the picture—forgotten since the days of childhood—of + Christian freed of his burden at the foot of the Cross, as represented in + the old copy of the “Pilgrim's Progress” over which he had pored as a boy, + enthralled by the quaint text which he had known nearly by heart and + fascinated by the curious illustrations that had appealed to his young + imagination. + </p> + <p> + The years rolled back, he saw himself again a little lad stretched on the + rug before the fire in the library at Craven Towers, the big book propped + open before him, studying with a child's love of the grotesque the grisly + picture of Apollyon whose hideous black-winged form had to his boyish mind + been the actual image of the devil, a tangible demon whom he had longed to + conquer like Christian armed with sword and shield. The childish idea, a + bodily adversary to contend with—it would have been simpler. But the + devil in a man's own heart, the insidious inward prompting to sin that + unrepelled grows imperceptibly stronger and greater until the realisation + of sin committed comes with horrible suddenness! To Craven, as to many + others, came the futile longing to have his life to live again, to start + afresh from the days of innocency when he had hung, enraptured, over the + woodcuts of the “Pilgrim's Progress.” He forced his thoughts back to the + present. Death, not life, lay before him. Instinctively he glanced at the + man who rode at his right hand. In the cold white moonlight the Arab's + face was like a piece of beautiful carved bronze, still and terrible in + its fixed intentness. Sitting his horse with evident difficulty, animated + by mere strength of will, his wasted frame rigidly upright, his sombre + tragic eyes peering steadfastly ahead, he seemed in his grim + purposefulness the very incarnation of avenging justice. And as Craven + looked at him covertly he wondered what lay hidden behind those set + features, what of hope, what of fear, what of despair was seething in the + fierce heart of the desert man. Of the dearly loved wife who had been + ravished from him there had come no further word, her fate was unknown. + Had she died, or did she still live—in shameful captivity, the slave + of the renegade who had made her the price of his treachery? What + additional horror still awaited the unhappy husband who rode to avenge + her? With a slight shudder Craven turned from the contemplation of a + sorrow that seemed to him even greater than his own and sought his left + hand neighbour. With a quick smile Saïd's eyes met his. With an easy swing + of his graceful body he drew his horse nearer to the spirited stallion + Craven was riding but did not speak. The ready flow of conversation that + was habitual had apparently forsaken him. + </p> + <p> + The young Arab's silence was welcome, Craven had himself no desire to + speak. The dawn wind was blowing cool against his forehead, soothing him. + The easy gallop of the horse between his knees, tractable and steady now + he was allowed free rein, was to him the height of physical enjoyment. He + would get from it what he could, he thought with a swift smile of self + mockery—the flesh still urged in contradiction to his firm resolve. + It was a blind country through which they were riding, though seemingly + level the ground rose and fell in a succession of long undulating sweeps + that made a wide outlook impossible. A regiment could lie hidden in the + hollows among the twisting deviating sandy hillocks and be passed + unnoticed. And as he topped each rise at the head of the Arab troop Craven + looked forward eagerly with unfailing interest. He hardly knew for what he + looked for their destination lay many miles further southward and the + possibility of unexpected attack had been foreseen by Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, + whose scouts had ranged the district for weeks past, but the impression + once aroused of an impending something lingered persistently and fixed his + attention. + </p> + <p> + From time to time the waiting scouts joined them, solitary horsemen riding + with reckless speed over the broken ground or slipping silently from the + shadow of a side track to make a brief report and then take their place + among the ranks of tribesmen. So far they told no more than was already + known. The wind blew keener as the dawn approached. Far in the east the + first faint pinky streaks were spreading across the sky, overhead the + twinkling stars paled one by one and vanished. The atmosphere grew + suddenly chill. The surrounding desert had before been strangely silent, + not so much as the wailing cry of a jackal had broken the intense + stillness, but now an even deeper hush, mysterious and pregnant, closed + down over the land. For the time all nature seemed to hang in suspense, + waiting, watching. To Craven the wonder of the dawn was not new, he had + seen if often in many countries, but it was a marvel of which he never + tired. And there was about this sunrise a significance that had been + attached to no other he had ever witnessed. Eagerly he watched the faint + flush brighten and intensify, the pale streaks spread and widen into far + flung bars of flaming gold and crimson. Daylight came with startling + suddenness and as the glowing disc of the sun rose red above the horizon a + horseman broke from the galloping ranks, and spurring in advance of the + troop, wheeled his horse and dragged him to an abrupt standstill. Rising + in his stirrups he flung his arms in fervid ecstasy toward the heavens. + Craven recognised in him a young Mullah of fanatical tendencies who had + been particularly active in the camp during the preceding week. That the + opposing tribe was of a different sect, abhorred by the followers of + Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had been an original cause of dissent between them, + and the priests had made good use of the opportunity of fanning religious + zeal. + </p> + <p> + The cavalcade came to a sudden halt, and as Craven with difficulty reined + in his own horse the sustained and penetrating cry of the muezzin rose + weirdly high and clear on the morning air, “<i>al-ilah-ilah</i>.” The + arresting and solemn invocation had always had for Craven a peculiar + fascination, and as the last lingering notes died away it was not purely + from a motive of expediency that he followed the common impulse and knelt + among the prostrate Arabs. His creed differed from theirs but he + worshipped the same God as they, and in his heart he respected their overt + profession of faith. + </p> + <p> + As he rose from his knees he caught Saïd's eyes bent on him with a curious + look in them of interrogation that was at once faintly mocking and yet + sad. But the expression passed quickly into a boyish grin as he waved an + unlit cigarette toward the fiery young priest who had seized the chance to + embark on a passionate harangue. + </p> + <p> + “When prayer is ended disperse yourselves through the land as ye list,” he + murmured, with a flippant laugh at the perverted quotation. “The holy man + will preach till our tongues blacken with thirst.” And he turned to his + brother to urge him to give the order to remount. Omar was leaning against + his horse, his tall figure sagging with fatigue. He started violently as + Saïd spoke to him, and, staggering, would have fallen but for the strong + arm slipped round him. And, watching Craven saw with dismay a dark stain + mar the whiteness of his robes where a wound had broken out afresh, and he + wondered whether the weakened body would be able to respond to the urging + of the resolute will that drove it mercilessly, or, when almost within + view, the fiercely longed for revenge would yet be snatched from him. + </p> + <p> + But with an effort the Arab pulled himself together and, mounting, + painfully cut short the Mullah's eloquence and gave in a firm tone the + desired order. + </p> + <p> + The swift gallop southward was resumed. + </p> + <p> + The breeze dropped gradually and finally died away, but for an hour or + more the refreshing coolness lingered. Then as the sun rose higher and + gained in strength the air grew steadily warmer until the heat became + intense and Craven began to look eagerly for the oasis that was to be + their first halting place. In full daylight the landscape that by night + had seemed to possess an eerie charm developed a dull monotony. The + successive rise and fall of the land, always with its limited outlook, + became tedious, and the labyrinthine hillocks with their intricate + windings seemed to enclose them inextricably. But on reaching the summit + of a longer steeper incline that had perceptibly slowed the galloping + horses, he saw spread out before him a level tract of country stretching + far into the distance, with a faint blue smudge beyond of the chain of + hills that Saïd told him marked the boundary of the territory that Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah regarded as his own, the boundary, too, of French + jurisdiction. Through a defile in the hills lay the enemy country. + </p> + <p> + The change was welcome to men and horses alike, the latter—aware + with unerring instinct of the nearness of water—of their own accord + increased their pace and thundering down the last long shifting slope + pressed forward eagerly toward the oasis that Craven judged to be between + two and three miles away. In the clear deceptive atmosphere it appeared + much nearer, and yet as they raced onward it seemed to come no closer but + rather to recede as though some malevolent demon of the desert in wanton + sport was conjuring it tantalizingly further and further from them. The + tall feathery palms, seen through the shimmering heat haze, took an + exaggerated height towering fantastically above the scrub of bushy thorn + trees. + </p> + <p> + Craven had even a moment's doubt whether the mirage-like oasis actually + existed or was merely a delusion bred of fancy and desire. But the + absurdity of the doubt came home to him as he looked again at the outline + of the distant hills—too conspicuous a landmark to allow of any + error on the part of his companions to whom the country was familiar. + </p> + <p> + The prospect of the welcome shade made him more sensitive to the scorching + strength of the sun that up till now he had endured without more than a + passing sensation of discomfort. He was inured to heat, but to-day's heat + was extraordinary, and even the Arabs were beginning to show signs of + distress. It was many hours since they started and the pace had been + killing. His mouth was parched and his eyeballs smarted with the blinding + glare. With the thirst that increased each moment the last half mile + seemed longer than all the preceding ride, and when the oasis was at + length reached he slipped from his sweating horse with an exclamation of + relief. + </p> + <p> + The Arabs crowded round the well and in a moment the little peaceful spot + was the scene of noisy confusion; men shouting, scrambling and + gesticulating, horses squealing, and above all the creaking whine of the + tackling over the well droning mournfully as the bucket rose and fell. + Saïd swung himself easily to the ground and held his brother's plunging + horse while he dismounted. For a few moments they conversed together in a + rapid undertone, and then the younger man turned to Craven, a cloud on his + handsome face. “Our communication has broken down. Two scouts should have + met us here,” he said, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “It + disconcerts our scheme for we counted on their report. They may be late—it + is hardly likely. They had ample time. More probably they have been + ambushed—the country is filled with spies—in which event the + advantage lies with the other side. They will know that we have started, + while we shall have no further information. The two men who are missing + were the only ones operating beyond the border. The last scout who + reported himself was in touch with them last night. From them he learned + that two days ago the enemy were forty miles south of the hills yonder. We + had hoped to catch them unawares, but they may have got wind of our + intentions and be nearer than we expect. The curse of <i>Allah</i> on + them!” he added impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Craven with a backward glance at the + dismounted tribesmen clustering round the well and busily employed in + making preparations for rest and food. Saïd beckoned to a passing Arab and + dispatched him with a hurried order. Then he turned again to Craven. “The + horses must rest though the men would go forward at a word. I am sending + two scouts to reconnoitre the defile and bring back what information they + can,” he said. And as he spoke the two men he had sent for appeared with + disciplined promptness and reined in beside him. Having received their + brief instructions they started off in a cloud of dust and sand at the + usual headlong gallop. Saïd turned away immediately and disappeared among + the jostling crowd, but Craven lingered at the edge of the oasis looking + after the fast receding horsemen who, crouched low in their saddles, their + long white cloaks swelling round them, were very literally carrying out + their orders to ride “swift as the messengers of Azrael.” He had known + them both on his previous visits, though he had not recognised them in the + dark hours of the dawn when they joined the troop, and remembered them as + two of the most dare-devil and intrepid of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's + followers. A moment since they had grinned at him in cheery greeting, + exhibiting almost childlike pleasure when he had called them by name, and + had set off with an obeisance as deep to him as to their leader. + </p> + <p> + Incidents of those earlier visits flashed through his mind as he watched + them speeding across the glaring plain and a feeling almost of regret came + to him that it should be these two particular men who had been selected + for the hazardous mission. For he guessed that their chance of return was + slight. And yet hardly slighter than for the rest of them! With a shrug he + moved away slowly and sought the shadow of a camel thorn. He lay on his + back in the welcome patch of shade, his helmet tilted over his eyes, + drawing vigorously at a cigarette in the vain hope of lessening the + attentions of the swarms of tormenting flies that buzzed about him, and + waiting patiently for the desired water before he swallowed the dark brown + unsavoury mass of crushed dates which, warm from his pocket and gritty + with the sand that penetrated everything, was the only food available. + Saïd was still busy among the throng of men and horses, but near him Omar + sat plunged in gloomy silence, his melancholy eyes fixed on the distant + hills. He had re-adjusted his robes, screening the ominous stain that + revealed what he wished to hide. His hands, which alone might have + betrayed the emotion surging under his outward passivity, were concealed + in the folds of his enveloping burnous. When the immediate wants of men + and horses were assuaged the prevailing clamour gave place to sudden quiet + as the Arabs lay down and, muffling their heads in their cloaks, seemed to + fall instantly asleep. His supervision ended, Saïd reappeared, and + following the example of his men was soon snoring peacefully. Craven + rolled over on his side, and lighting another cigarette settled himself + more comfortably on the warm ground. For a time he watched the solitary + sentinel sitting motionless on his horse at no great distance from the + oasis. Then a vulture winging its slow heavy way across the heavens + claimed his attention and he followed it with his eyes until it passed + beyond his vision. He was too lazy and too comfortable to turn his head. + He lay listening to the shrill hum of countless insect life, smoking + cigarette after cigarette till the ground around him was littered with + stubs and match ends. The hours passed slowly. When he looked at the guard + again the Arab was varying the monotony by walking his horse to and fro, + but he had not moved further into the desert. And suddenly as Craven + watched him he wheeled and galloped back toward the camp. Craven started + up on his arm, screening his eyes from the sun and staring intently in the + direction of the hills. But there was nothing to be seen in the wide empty + plain, and he sank down again with a smile at his own impatience as the + reason of the man's return occurred to him. Reaching the oasis the Arab + led his horse among the prostrate sleepers and kicked a comrade into + wakefulness to take his place. From time to time the intense stillness was + broken by a movement among the horses, and once or twice a vicious scream + came from a stallion resenting the attentions of a restless neighbour. The + slumbering Arabs lay like sheeted figures of the dead save when some + uneasy dreamer rolled over with a smothered grunt into a different + position. Craven had begun to wonder how much longer the siesta would be + protracted when Omar rose stiffly, and going to his brother's side awoke + him with a hand on his shoulder. Saïd sat up blinking sleepily and then + leaped alertly to his feet. In a few minutes the oasis was once more + filled with noisy activity. But this time there was no confusion. The men + mounted quickly and the troop was reformed with the utmost dispatch. The + horses broke almost immediately into the long swinging gallop that seemed + to eat up the miles under their feet. + </p> + <p> + The fiercest heat of the day was passed. The haze that had hung shimmering + over the plain had cleared away and the hills they were steadily nearing + grew more clearly defined. Soon the conformation of the range was easily + discernible, the rocky surface breaking up into innumerable gullies and + ravines, the jagged ridges standing out clean against the deep blue of the + sky. Another mile and Saïd turned to him with outstretched hand, pointing + eagerly. “See, to the right, there, by that shaft of rock that looks like + a minaret, is the entrance to the defile. It is well masked. It comes upon + one suddenly. A stranger would hardly find the opening until he was close + upon it. In the dawn when the shadows are black I have ridden past it + myself once or twice and had to—<i>Allah</i>! Selim—and + alone!” he cried suddenly, and shot ahead of his companions. The troop + halted at Omar's shouted command, but Craven galloped after his friend. He + had caught sight of the horseman emerging from the pass a moment after + Saïd had seen him and the same thought had leaped to the mind of each—the + news on which so much depended might still never reach them. The spy came + on toward them slowly, his horse reeling under him, and man and beast + alike were nearly shot to pieces. As Saïd drew alongside of them the + wounded horse collapsed and the dying man fell with him, unable to + extricate himself. In a flash the Arab Chief was on his feet, and with a + tremendous effort pulled the dead animal clear of his follower's crushed + and quivering limbs. Slipping an arm about him he raised him gently, and + bending low to catch the faint words he could scarcely hear, held him + until the fluttering whisper trailed into silence, and with a convulsive + shudder the man died in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Laying the corpse back on the sand he wiped his blood-stained hands on the + folds of his cloak, then swung into the saddle again and turned to Craven, + his eyes blazing with anger and excitement. “They were trapped in the + defile—ten against two—but Selim got through somehow to make + his reconnaissance, and they finished him off on the way back—though + I don't think he left many behind him! Either our plans have been betrayed—or + it may be merely a coincidence. Whichever it is they are waiting for us + yonder, on the other side of the hills. They have saved us a day's journey—at + the very least,” he added with a short laugh that was full of eager + anticipation. + </p> + <p> + They waited until Omar and the troop joined them, and after a short + consultation with the headmen it was decided to press forward without + delay. Aware that but few hours of daylight remained, Craven deemed it a + foolhardy decision, but Omar was deeply stirred at the nearness of the man + who had wronged him—for Selim had managed to extract that + information from one of his opponents before killing him—and the + tribesmen were eager for immediate action. The horses, too, were fresh + enough, thanks to the mid-day rest. The troop moved on again, a guard of + fifty picked men slightly in advance of the main body. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the hills they drew rein to reform for the defile only + admitted of three horses walking abreast, and as Craven waited for his own + turn to come to enter the narrow pass he looked curiously at the bare rock + face that rose almost perpendicularly out of the sand and towered starkly + above him. But he had no time for a lengthy inspection, and in a few + minutes, with Omar and Saïd on either hand, he guided his horse round the + jutting spur of rock that masked the opening and rode into the sombre + shade of the defile. The change was startling, and he shivered with the + sudden chill that seemed so much cooler by contrast with the heat of the + plain. Hemmed in by sheer sinister looking cliffs, which were broken at + intervals by lateral ravines, the tortuous track led over rough slippery + ground sprinkled with huge boulders that made any pace beyond a walk + impossible. The horses stumbled continually and the necessity of keeping a + sharp look-out for each succeeding obstacle drove from Craven's mind + everything but the matter in hand. He forgot to wonder how near or how far + from the other side of the hills lay the opposing force, or whether they + would have time to reform before being attacked or be picked off by + waiting marksmen as they emerged from the pass without any possibility of + putting up a fight. For himself it didn't after all very much matter one + way or the other, but it would be hard luck, he reflected, if Omar did not + get a chance at the renegade and Saïd was shot before the encounter he was + aching for—and broke off to swear at his horse, which had stumbled + badly for the sixth time. + </p> + <p> + Omar was riding a pace or two in advance, bending forward in the saddle + and occasionally swaying as if from weakness, his burning eyes filled with + an almost mystical light as if he saw some vision that, hidden from the + others, was revealed to him alone. The dark stain on his robe had spread + beyond concealment and he had not spoken since they entered the defile. To + Craven, who had never before traversed it, the pass was baffling. He did + not know its extent and he had no idea of the depth of the hills. But soon + a growing excitement on the part of Saïd made him aware that the exit must + be near and the continued silence argued that the vanguard had got through + unmolested. He slipped the button of his holster and freed his revolver + from the silk handkerchief in which Yoshio had wrapped it. + </p> + <p> + A sharp turn to the right revealed the scene of the ambuscade, where in + one of the lateral openings Selim and his companion had been trapped. The + bodies of men and horses had been pulled clear of the track by the advance + guard as they went by a few minutes earlier. The old sheik's horse showed + the utmost repugnance to the grim pile of corpses, snorting and rearing + dangerously, and Craven wrestled with him for some moments before he + bounded suddenly past them with a clatter of hoofs that sent the loose + stones flying in all directions. + </p> + <p> + Another turn to the right, an equally sharp bend to the left, where the + track widened considerably, and they debouched abruptly into open desert. + </p> + <p> + The vanguard was drawn up in order and their leader spurred to Omar's side + in eager haste to communicate what was patent to the eyes of all. A little + ripple of excitement went through Craven as he saw the dense body of + horsemen, still about two miles away, who were galloping steadily towards + them. It had come then. With a curious smile he bent forward and patted + the neck of his fretting horse, which was fidgeting badly. The opposing + force appeared to outnumber them considerably, but he knew from Saïd that + Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's men were better equipped and better trained. It + would be skill against brute force, though it yet remained to be seen how + far Omar's men would respond to their training when put to the test. Would + they be able to control their own headstrong inclinations or would their + zeal carry them away in defiance of carefully rehearsed orders? + </p> + <p> + Word of the near presence of the enemy had been sent back to those who + were still moving up the pass, and so far discipline was holding good. The + men were pouring out from the yawning mouth of the file in a steady + stream, the horses crowded together as closely as possible, and as each + detachment arrived it reformed smartly under its own headman. + </p> + <p> + Watching the rapid approach of the hostile tribe, Craven wondered whether + there would be time for their own force to reassemble to enable them to + carry out the agreed tactics. + </p> + <p> + Already they were within half a mile. He had reined back to speak to Omar, + when a shout of exultation from Saïd, taken up by his followers till the + rocks above them echoed with the ringing cry, heralded the arrival of the + last party. There was no time to recapitulate orders or to urge steadiness + among the men. With almost no sign from Omar, or so it seemed to Craven, + with another deafening shout that drowned the yelling of the enemy the + whole force leaped forward simultaneously. Craven's teeth clenched on his + lip in sudden fear for Omar's plan of attack, but a quick glance assured + him that the madly galloping horses were being kept in good formation, and + that fast as was the pace the right and left wing were, according to + instructions, steadily opening out and drawing forward in an extended + line. The feeling of excitement had left him, and, revolver in hand, he + sat down firmer in the saddle with no more emotion than if he were in the + hunting field at home. + </p> + <p> + They were now close enough to distinguish faces—it would be an + almighty crash when it did come! It was surprising that up till now there + had been no shooting. Accustomed to the Arabs' usually reckless + expenditure of ammunition he had been prepared minutes ago for a hail of + bullets. And with the thought came a solitary whining scream past his ear, + and Saïd, close on his left, flung him a look of reproach and shouted + something of which he only caught the words, “Frenchman ... burnous.” + </p> + <p> + But there was no time left to reply. Following rapidly on the single shot + a volley was poured in among them, but the shooting was inaccurate and did + very little damage. That it had been intended to break the charge and + cause confusion in the orderly ranks was apparent from the further + repeated volleys that, nearer, did more deadly execution than the first + one. But, bending low in their saddles, Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's men swept on + in obedience to Omar's command. His purpose was, by the sheer strength of + his onset, to cut through the opposing force with his centre while the + wings closed in on either side. To effect this he had bidden his men ride + as they had never ridden before and reserve their fire till the last + moment, when it would be most effectual. And the swift silent onslaught + seemed to be other than the enemy had expected, for there were among them + signs of hesitation, their advance was checked, and the firing became + wilder and more erratic. Omar and his immediate companions appeared to + bear charmed lives, bullets sang past them, over and around them, and + though here and there a man fell from the saddle or a horse dropped + suddenly, the main body raced on unscathed, or with wounds they did not + heed in the frenzy of the moment. + </p> + <p> + The pace was terrific, and when at last Omar gave the signal for which his + men were waiting, the crackling reverberation of their rifles had not died + away when the impact came. But the shattering crash that Craven had + expected did not occur. Giving way before them and scattering to right and + left a break came in the ranks of the opposing force, through which they + drove like a living wedge. Then with fierce yells of execration the enemy + rallied and the next moment Craven found himself in the midst of a + confused mêlée where friends and foes were almost indistinguishable. The + thundering of horses' hoofs, the raucous shouting of the Arabs, the rattle + of musketry, combined in deafening uproar. The air was dense with clouds + of sand and smoke, heavy with the reek of powder. He had lost sight of + Omar, he tried to keep near to Saïd, but in the throng of struggling men + he was carried away, cut off from his own party, hemmed in on every side, + fighting alone. He had forgotten his desire for death, his heart was + leaping with a kind of delirious happiness that found nothing but fierce + enjoyment in the scene around him. The stench in his nostrils of blood and + sulphur seemed to awaken memories of another existence when he had fought + for his life as he was doing now, unafraid, and caring little for the + outcome. He was shooting steadily, exulting in his markmanship with no + thought in his mind but the passionate wish to kill and kill, and he + laughed with almost horrible pleasure as he emptied his revolver at the + raving Arabs who surrounded him. Drunk with the blood lust of an + unremembered past for the moment he was only a savage like them. And to + the superstitious desert men he seemed possessed, and with sudden awe they + had begun to draw away from him when a further party galloped up to + reinforce them. Craven swung his horse to meet the new-comers and at the + same moment realised that he had no cartridges left. With another reckless + laugh he dashed his empty revolver in the face of the nearest Arab and, + wheeling, spurred forward in an attempt to break through the circle round + him. But he found retreat cut off. Three men bore down upon him + simultaneously with levelled rifles. He saw them fire, felt a sharp + searing as of a red hot wire through his side, and, reeling in the saddle, + heard dimly their howl of triumph as they raced toward him—heard + also another yell that rose above the Arabs' clamour, a piercing yell that + sounded strangely different to the Arabic intonation ringing in his ears. + And as he gripped himself and raised his head he had a vision of another + horseman mounted on a frenzied trampling roan that, apparently out of + control and mad with excitement, was charging down upon them, a horseman + whose fluttering close-drawn headgear shaded features that were curiously + Mongolian—and then he went down in a welter of men and horses. A + flying hoof touched the back of his head and consciousness ceased. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Craven woke to a burning pain in his side, a racking headache and an + intolerable thirst. It was not a sudden waking but a gradual dawning + consciousness in which time and place as yet meant nothing, and only + bodily suffering obtruded on a still partially clouded mind. Fragmentary + waves of thought, disconnected and transitory, passed through his brain, + leaving no permanent impression, and he made no effort to unravel them. + Effort of any kind, mental or physical, seemed for the moment beyond him. + He was too tired even to open his eyes, and lay with them closed, + wondering feebly at the pain and discomfort of his whole body. He had the + sensation of having been battered, he felt bruised from head to foot. + Suffering was new to him. He had never been ill in his life, and in all + his years of travel and hazardous adventure he had sustained only trivial + injuries which had healed readily and been regarded as merely part of the + day's work. + </p> + <p> + But now, as his mind grew clearer, he realised that some accident must + have occurred to induce this pain and lassitude that made him lie like a + log with throbbing head and powerless limbs. He pondered it, trying to + pierce the fog that dulled his intellect. He had a subconscious impression + of some strenuous adventure through which he had passed, but knowledge + still hovered on the borderland of fancy and actuality. He had no + recollection of the fight or of events preceding it. That he was Barry + Craven he knew; but of where he had no idea—nor what his life had + been. Of his personality there remained only his name, he was quite sure + about that. And out of the past emerged only one clear memory—a + woman's face. And yet as he dwelt on it the image of another woman's face + rose beside it, mingling with and absorbing it until the two faces seemed + strangely merged the one into the other, alike and yet wholly different. + And the effort to disentangle them and keep them separate was greater than + his tired brain could achieve, and made his head ache more violently. + Confused, and with a sudden feeling of aversion, he stirred impatiently, + and the sharp pain that shot through him brought him abruptly to a sense + of his physical state and forced utterance of his greatest need. It had + not hitherto occurred to him to wonder whether he were alone, or even + where he was. But as he spoke an arm was slipped under him raising him + slightly and a cup held to his lips. He drank eagerly and, as he was again + lowered gently to the pillow, raised his eyes to the face of the man who + bent over him, a puckered yellow face whose imperturbability for once had + given place to patent anxiety. Craven stared at it for a few moments in + perplexity. Where had he seen it before? Struggling to recall what had + happened prior to this curiously obscured awakening there dawned a dim + recollection of shattering noise and tumult, of blood and death and fierce + unbridled human passion, of a horde of wild-eyed dark-skinned men who + surged and struggled round him—and of a yelling Arab on a fiery + roan. Memory came in a flash. He gave a weak little croaking laugh. “You + damned insubordinate little devil,” he murmured, and drifted once more + into unconsciousness. When he woke again it was with complete remembrance + of everything that had passed. He felt ridiculously weak, but his head did + not ache so badly and his mind was perfectly clear. Only of the time that + had elapsed between the moment when he had gone down under the Arabs' + charge and his awakening a little while ago he had no recollection. How + long had he been unconscious? He found himself mildly puzzled, but without + any great interest as yet. Plenty of time to find out about that and what + had befallen Omar and Saïd. It was not that he did not care, but that, for + the moment, he was too tired and listless to do more than lie still and + endure his own discomfort. His side throbbed painfully and there was + something curious about his left arm, a dead feeling of numbness that made + him wonder whether it was there at all. He glanced down at it with sudden + apprehension—he had no fancy for a maimed existence—and was + relieved to find it still in place but bent stiffly across his chest + wrapped in a multitude of bandages—broken, presumably. His eyes + wandered with growing interest round the little tent where he lay. It was + his own, from which he inferred that the fight must have gone in favour of + Mukair Ibn Zarrarah's forces or he would never have been brought back here + to it. He glanced from one familiar object to another with a drowsy + feeling of contentment. + </p> + <p> + Presently he became aware that somebody had entered and turning his head + he found Yoshio beside him eyeing him with a look in which solicitude, + satisfaction, and a faint diffidence struggled for supremacy. Craven + guessed the reason of his embarrassment, but he had no mind to refer to an + order given, and disobeyed through overzealousness. That, too, could wait—or + be forgotten. He contented himself with a single question. “How long?” he + asked laconically. With equal brevity the Jap replied: “Two days,” and + postponed further inquiries by slipping a clinical thermometer into his + master's mouth. He had always been useful in attending on minor camp + accidents, and during the last two years in Central Africa he had picked + up a certain amount of rough surgical knowledge which now stood him in + good stead, and which he proceeded to put into practice with a gravity of + demeanour that made Craven, in his weakened state, want to giggle + hysterically. But he suppressed the inclination and held on to the + thermometer until Yoshio solemnly removed it, studied it intently, and + nodded approval. With the exact attention to detail that was his ruling + passion he carefully rinsed the tiny glass instrument and returned it to + its case before leaving the tent. He was back again in a few minutes with + a bowl of steaming soup, and handling Craven as if he were a child, fed + him with the gentleness of a woman. Then he busied himself about the room, + tidying it and reducing its confusion to order. + </p> + <p> + Craven watched him at first idly and then with a more definite desire to + know what had occurred. But to the questions he put Yoshio returned + evasive answers, and, resuming his professional manner, spoke gravely of + the loss of blood Craven had sustained, of the kick on the head from which + he had lain two days insensible, and his consequent need of rest and + sleep, finally departing as if to remove temptation from him. Craven + chafed at the little Jap's caution and swore at his obstinacy, but a + pleasant drowsiness was stealing over him and he surrendered to it without + further struggle. + </p> + <p> + It was more than twelve hours before he opened his eyes again, to find the + morning sunlight streaming into the tent. + </p> + <p> + Yoshio hovered about him, deft-handed and noiseless of tread, feeding him + and redressing the wounds in his side where the bullet had entered and + passed out. After which he relaxed the faintly superior tone he had + adopted and condescended to consult with his patient as to which of the + scanty drugs in the tiny medicine chest would be the best to administer. + He was disappointed but acquiescent in Craven's decision to trust to his + own hardy constitution as long as the wounds appeared healthy and leave + nature to do her own work. And again recommending sleep he glided away. + </p> + <p> + But Craven had no desire or even inclination to sleep. He was tremendously + wide awake, his whole being in revolt, facing once more the problem he had + thought done with for ever. Again fate had intervened to thwart his + determination. For the third time death, for which he longed, had been + withheld, and life that was so bitter, so valueless, restored. To what + end? Why had the peace he craved for been torn from him—why had he + been forced to begin again an existence of hideous struggle? Had he not + repented, suffered as few men suffer, and striven to atone? What more was + required of him, he wondered bitterly. A galling sense of impotence swept + him and he raged at his own nothingness. Self-determination seemed to have + been taken from him and with fierce resentment he saw himself as merely a + pawn in the game of life; a puppet to fulfil, not his own will, but the + will of a greater power than his. In the black despair that came over him + he cursed that greater power until, shuddering, he realised his own + blasphemy, and a broken prayer burst from his lips. He had come to the end + of all things, he was fighting through abysmal darkness. His need was + overwhelming—alone he could not go forward, and desperately, he + turned to the Divine Mercy and prayed for strength and guidance. + </p> + <p> + Too weary in spirit to mark the slow passing of the hours he fought his + last fight. And gradually he grew calmer, calm enough to accept—if + not to understand—the inscrutable rulings of Providence. He had + arrogated to himself the disposal of his life, but it was made clear to + him that a higher wisdom had decreed otherwise. He did not attempt to seek + the purpose of his preservation, enough that for some unfathomable reason + it was once more plainly indicated that there was to be no shirking. He + had to live, and to do what was possible with the life left him. Gillian! + the thought of her was torment. He had tried to free her, and she was + still bound. It would be part of his punishment that, suffering, he would + have to watch her suffer too. With a groan he flung his uninjured arm + across his eyes and lay very still. The day wore on. He roused himself to + take the food that Yoshio brought at regular intervals but feigned a + drowsiness he did not feel to secure the solitude his mood demanded. And + Yoshio, enjoying to the full his state of temporary authority, sat outside + the door of the tent and kept away inquirers. Listlessly Craven watched + the evening shadows deepen and darken. For hours he had thought, not of + himself but of the woman he loved, until his bruised head ached + intolerably. And all his deliberation had taken him no further than where + he had begun. He was to take up anew the difficult life he had fled from—for + that was what it amounted to. He had deserted her who had in all the world + no one but him. It had an ugly sound and he flinched from the naked truth + of it, but he had done with subterfuges and evasions. He had made her his + wife and he had left her—nothing could alter the fact or mitigate + the shame. Past experience had taught him nothing; once again he had left + a woman in her need to fend for herself. She was his wife, his to shield + and to protect, doubly so in her equivocal position that subjected her to + much that would not affect one happily married. During the few months they + had lived at Craven Towers after their marriage she had shown by every + means in her power her desire to be to him the comrade he had asked her to + be. And he had repelled her. He had feared himself and the strength of his + resolution. Now, as he thought of it with bitter self-reproach, he + realised how much more he could have done to make her life easier, to + smooth the difficulties of their relationship. Instead he had added to + them, and under the strain he had broken down, not she. The egoism he had + thought conquered had triumphed over him again to his undoing. Crushing + shame filled him, but regrets were useless. The past was past—what + of the future? He was going back to her. He was to have the torturing + happiness of seeing her again—but what would his re-entry into her + life mean to her? What had these two years of which he knew nothing done + for her? There had been an accumulated mail waiting for him at Lagos. She + had written regularly—but she had told him nothing. Her short + letters had been filled with inquiries for the mission, references to + Peters' occasional visits to Paris, trivialities of the weather—stilted + laborious communications in which he read effort and constraint. How would + she receive him—would she even receive him at all? It seemed + incredible that she should. He knew her innate gentleness, the + selflessness of her disposition, but he knew also that there was a limit + to all things. Would she not see in his return the reappearance of a + master, a jailer who would curb even that small measure of freedom that + had been hers? For bound to him the freedom he had promised her was a + mockery. And how was he to explain his prolonged absence? She could not + have failed to see some mention of the return of the medical mission, to + have wondered why he still lingered in Africa. The letter he had written + and entrusted to Yoshio could never now be delivered. She must not learn + what he had meant her to know only after his death. He could not explain, + he must leave her to put whatever interpretation she would upon it. And + what but the most obvious could she put? He writhed in sudden agony of + mind, and the physical pain the abrupt movement caused was easier to bear + than the thought of her scorn. It was all so hopeless, so complicated. He + turned from it with a weary sigh and fell to dreaming of the woman + herself. + </p> + <p> + The tent had grown quite dark. Outside the camp noises were dying away. + The sound of subdued voices reached him occasionally, and once or twice he + heard Yoshio speak to some passer by. + </p> + <p> + Then, not far away, the mournful chant of a singer rose clearly out of the + evening stillness, penetrating and yet curiously soft—a plaintive + little desert air of haunting melancholy, vibrant with passion. It stopped + abruptly as it had begun and Craven was glad when it ended. It chimed too + intimately with his own sad thoughts and longings. He was relieved when + Yoshio came presently to light the lamp and attend to his wants. The Jap + chatted with unusual animation as he went about his duties and Craven let + him talk uninterrupted. The functions of nurse and valet were quickly + carried through and in a short time preparations for the night were + finished and Yoshio, wrapped in a blanket, asleep at the foot of Craven's + bed. He had scarcely closed his eyes since the day before the punitive + force set out, but tonight, conscious that his vigilance might be relaxed, + he slept heavily. + </p> + <p> + Craven himself could not sleep. He lay listening to his servant's even + breathing, looking at the tiny flame of the little lamp, which was small + enough not to add to the heat of the tent and too weak to illuminate it + more than partially, thinking deeply. He strove to stem the current of his + thoughts, to keep his mind a blank, or to concentrate on trivialities—he + followed with exaggerated interest the swift erratic course of a bat that + had flown in through the open door flap, counted the familiar objects + around him showing dimly in the flickering light, counted innumerable + sheep passing through the traditional gate, counted the seconds + represented in the periodical silences that punctuated a cicada's + monotonous shrilling. But always he found himself harking back to the + problem of the future that he could not banish from his mind. His mental + distress reacted on his body. He grew restless, but every movement was + still attended by pain and he compelled himself to lie still, though his + limbs twitched almost uncontrollably. He was infinitely weary of the + forced posture that was not habitual with him, infinitely weary of + himself. + </p> + <p> + The moon rose late, but when it came its clear white light filled the tent + with a cold brilliance that killed the feeble efforts of the little lamp + and intensified the shadows where its rays did not penetrate. Craven + looked at the silvery beam streaming across the room, and quite suddenly + he thought of the moonlight in Japan—the moonlight filtering through + the tall dark fir trees in the garden of enchantment; he heard the night + wind sighing softly round the tiny screen-built house; the air became + heavy with the cloying smell of pines and languorous scented flowers, + redolent with the well-remembered dreaded fragrance of the perfume she had + used. Bathed in perspiration, shuddering with terrible prescience, he + stared wild-eyed at the moonlit strip where a nebulous form was rising and + gathering into definite shape. An icy chill ran through him. Suffocated + with the rapid pounding of his heart, sick with horror at the impending + vision he knew to be inevitable, he watched the shadowy figure slowly + substantiate into the semblance of a living, breathing body. Not + intangible as she had always appeared before, but material as she had been + in life, she stood erect in the brilliant pathway of light, facing him. He + could see the outline of her slender limbs, solid against the shimmering + background; he could mark the rise and fall of the bosom on which her + delicate hands lay clasped; he recognised the very obi that she wore—his + last gift, sent from Tokio during his three weeks' absence. The little + oval face was placid and serene, but he waited, with fearful apprehension, + for the fast closed eyes to open and reveal the agony he knew that he + would see in them. He prayed that they might open soon, that his torture + might be brief, but the terrible reality of her presence seemed to + paralyse him. He could not turn his eyes away, could not move a muscle of + his throbbing, shivering body. She seemed to sway, gently, almost + imperceptibly, from side to side—as though she waited for some sign + or impellent force to guide her. Then with horrible dread he became aware + that she was coming slowly, glidingly, toward him and the spell that had + kept him motionless broke and he shrank back among the pillows, his sound + hand clenched upon the covering over him, his parched lips moving in dumb + supplication. Nearer she came and nearer till at last she stood beside him + and he wondered, in the freezing coldness that settled round his heart, + did her coming presage death—had her soul been sent to claim his + that had brought upon her such fearful destruction? A muffled cry that was + scarcely human broke from him, his eyes dilated and the clammy sweat + poured down his face as she bent toward him and he saw the dusky lashes + tremble on her dead white cheek and knew that in a second the anguished + eyes would open to him in all their accusing awfulness. The bed shook with + the spasm that passed through him. Slowly the heavy lids were raised and + Craven looked once more into the misty depths of the great grey eyes that + were the facsimile of his own. Then a tearing sob of wonderful and almost + unbelievable relief escaped him, for the agony he dreaded was not visible—the + face so close to his was the face of the happy girl who had loved him + before the knowledge of despair had touched her, the tender luminous eyes + fixed on him were alight with trust and adoration. Lower and lower she + bent and he saw the parted lips curve in a smile of exquisite welcome—or + was it fare-well? For as he waited, scarcely breathing and tense with a + new wild hope, the definite outline of her figure seemed to fade and + tremble; a cold breath like the impress of a ghostly kiss lay for an + instant on his forehead, he seemed to hear the faint thin echo of a + whispered word—and she was gone. Had she ever been at all? + Exhausted, he had no strength to probe what had passed, he was only + conscious of a firm conviction that he would never see again the dreaded + vision that had haunted him. His rigid limbs relaxed, and with a gasping + prayer of unutterable thankfulness he turned his face to the darkness and + broke down completely, crying like a child, burying his head in the pillow + lest Yoshio should be awakened by the sound of his terrible sobs. And, + presently, worn out, he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly mid-day when he woke again, in less pain and feeling + stronger than the day before. + </p> + <p> + The vision of the previous night was vivid in his recollection, but he + would not let himself ponder it. It was to him a message from the dead, an + almost sacred sign that the spirit of the woman he had wronged was at rest + and had vouchsafed the forgiveness for which he had never hoped. He would + rather have it so. He shrank from brutally dissecting impressions that + might after all be only the result of remorse working on a fevered + imagination. The peace that had come to him was too precious to be lightly + let go. She had forgiven him though he could never forgive himself. + </p> + <p> + But despite the tranquillizing sense of pardon he felt he knew that the + penalty of his fault was not yet paid, that it would never be paid. The + tragic memory of little O Kara San still rose between him and happiness. + He was still bound, still trapped in the pit he had himself dug. He was + unclean, unfit, debarred by his sin from following the dictates of his + heart. A deep sadness and an overwhelming sense of loss filled him as he + thought of the woman he had married. She was his wife, he loved her + passionately, longed for her with all the strength of his ardent nature, + but, sin-stained, he dared not claim her. In her spotless purity she was + beyond his desire. And because of him she must go through life robbed of + her woman's heritage. In marrying her he had wronged her irreparably. He + had always known it, but at the time there had seemed no other course open + to him. Yet surely there must have been some alternative if he had set + himself seriously to find it. But had he? Doggedly he argued that he had—that + personal consideration had not swayed him in his decision. But even as he + persisted in his assertion accusing conscience rose up and stripped from + him the last shred of personal deception that had blinded him, and he + acknowledged to himself that he had married her that she might not become + the wife of any other man. He had been the meanest kind of dog in the + manger. At the time he had not realised it—he had thought himself + influenced solely by her need, not his. But his selfishness seemed very + patent to him now. And what was to be the end of it? How was he ever to + compensate for the wrong done her? + </p> + <p> + Yoshio's entry put a stop to introspection that was both bitter and + painful. And when he left him an hour later Craven was in no mood to + resume speculation that was futile and led nowhere. He had touched bedrock—he + could not think worse of himself than he did. The less he thought of + himself the better. His immediate business seemed to be to get well as + quickly as possible and return to England—beyond that he could not + see. The sound of Saïd's voice outside was a welcome relief. He appeared + to be arguing with Yoshio, who was obstinately refusing him entrance. + Craven cut short the discussion. + </p> + <p> + “Let the Sheik come in, Yoshio!” he called, and laughed at the weakness of + his own voice. But it was strong enough to carry as far as the tent door, + and, with a flutter of draperies, the Arab Chief strode in. He grasped + Craven's outstretched hand and stood looking down on him for a moment with + a broad smile on his handsome face. “<i>Enfin, mon brave</i>, I thought I + should never see you! Always you were asleep, or so it was reported to + me,” he said with a laugh, dropping to his heels on the mat and lighting a + cigarette. Then he gave a quick searching glance at the bandaged figure on + the bed and laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be dead, you know, would have been dead if it hadn't been + for that man of yours,” with a backward jerk of his head toward the door. + “You owe him your life, my friend. You know he came with us that night, + borrowed a horse and the burnous you wouldn't wear, and kept out of sight + till the last minute. He was close behind you when we charged, lost you in + the mêlée, and found you again just in the nick of time. I was cut off + from you myself for the moment, but I saw you wounded, saw him break a way + through to you and then saw you both go down. I thought you were done for. + It was just then the tide turned in our favour and I managed to reach you, + with no hope of finding you alive. I was never more astonished in my life + than when I saw that little devil of a Japanese crawl out from under a + heap of men and horses dragging you after him. He was bruised and dazed, + he didn't know friend from foe, bu he had enough sense left to know that + you were alive and he meant to keep you so. He laid you out on the sand + and he sat on you—you can laugh, but it's true—and blazed away + with his revolver at everybody who came near, howling his national war cry + till I wept with laughter. And after it was all over he snarled like a + panther when I tried to touch you, and, refusing any assistance, carried + you back here on the saddle in front of him—and you were no light + weight. A man, by <i>Allah</i>!” he concluded enthusiastically. Craven + smiled at the Arab's graphic description, but he found it in his heart to + wish that Yoshio's zeal had not been so forward and so successful. But + there were other lives than his that had been involved. + </p> + <p> + “Omar?” he asked anxiously. The laughter died abruptly from Saïd's eyes + and his face grew grave. + </p> + <p> + “Dead,” he said briefly; “he did not try to live. Life held nothing for + him without Safiya,” he added, with an expressive shrug that was eloquent + of his inability to understand such an attitude. + </p> + <p> + “And she—?” + </p> + <p> + “Killed herself the night she was taken. Her abductor got no pleasure of + her and Omar's honour was unsmirched—though he never knew it, poor + devil. He killed his man,” added Saïd, with a smile of grim satisfaction. + “It made no difference, he was renegade, a traitor, ripe for death. The + Chief fell to my lot. It was from him I learned about Safiya—he + talked before he died.” The short hard laugh that followed the meaning + words was pure Arab. He lit another cigarette and for some time sat + smoking silently, while Craven lay looking into space trying not to envy + the dead man who had found the rest that he himself had been denied. + </p> + <p> + To curb the trend of his thoughts he turned again to Saïd. Animation had + vanished from the Arab's face, and he was staring gloomily at the strip of + carpet on which he squatted. His dejected bearing did not betoken the + conqueror he undoubtedly was. That his brother's death was a deep grief to + him Craven knew without telling, but he guessed that something more than + regret for Omar was at the bottom of his depression. + </p> + <p> + “It was decisive, I suppose,” he said, rather vaguely, thinking of the + action of four days ago. Saïd nodded. “It was a rout,” he said with a hint + of contempt in his voice. “Dogs who could plunder and kill when no + resistance was offered, but when it came to a fight they had no stomach + for it. Yet they were men once, and, like fools, we thought they were men + still. They had talked enough, bragged enough, by <i>Allah</i>! and it is + true there were a few who rallied round their Chief. But the rank and file—bah!” + He spat his cigarette on to the floor with an air of scorn. “It promised + well enough at first,” he grumbled. “I thought we were going to have an + opportunity of seeing what stuff my men were made of. But they had no + organisation. After the first half hour we did what we liked with them. It + was a walk over,” he added in English, about the only words he knew. + </p> + <p> + Craven laughed at his disgusted tone. + </p> + <p> + “And you, who were spoiling for a fight! No luck, Sheik.” + </p> + <p> + Saïd looked up with a grin, but it passed quickly, leaving his face + melancholy as before. Craven made a guess at the trouble. + </p> + <p> + “It will make a difference to you—Omar's death, I mean,” he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + Saïd gave a little harsh laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Difference!” he echoed bitterly. “It is the end of everything,” and he + made a violent gesture with his hands. “I must give up my regiment,” he + went on drearily, “my comrades, my racing stable in France—all I + care for and that makes life pleasant to me. For what? To rule a tribe who + have become too powerful to have enemies; to listen to interminable tales + of theft and disputed inheritances and administer justice to people who + swear by the Koran and then lie in your face; to marry a wife and beget + sons that the tribe of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah may not die out. <i>Grand Dieu</i>, + what a life!” The tragic misery of his voice left no doubt as to his + sincerity. And Craven, who knew him, was not inclined to doubt. The + expedient that had been adopted in Saïd's case was justifiable while he + remained a younger son with no immediate prospect of succeeding to the + leadership of the tribe—there had always been the hope that Omar's + wife would eventually provide an heir—but as events had turned out + it had been a mistake, totally unfitting him for the part he was now + called upon to play. His innate European tendencies, inexplicable both to + himself and to his family, had been developed and strengthened by + association with the French officers among whom he had been thrown, and + who had welcomed him primarily as the representative of a powerful desert + tribe and then, very shortly afterwards, for himself. His personal charm + had won their affections and he had very easily become the most popular + native officer in the regiment. Courted and feted, shown off, and extolled + for his liberality of mind and purse, his own good sense had alone + prevented him from becoming completely spoiled. To the impecunious + Frenchmen his wealth was a distinct asset in his favour, for racing was + the ruling passion in the regiment, and the fine horses he was able to + provide insured to them the preservation of the inter-regimental trophy + that had for some years past graced their mess table. He had thrown + himself into the life whole-heartedly, becoming more and more influenced + by western thought and culture, but without losing his own individuality. + He had assimilated the best of civilization without acquiring its vices. + But the experience was not likely to conduce to his future happiness. + Craven thought of the life led by the Spahi in Algiers, and during periods + of leave in Paris, and contrasted it with the life that was lying before + him, a changed and very different existence. He foresaw the difficulties + that would have to be met, the problems that would arise, and above all he + understood Saïd's chief objection—the marriage from which his + misogynous soul recoiled. Like himself the Arab was facing a crisis that + was momentous. Two widely different cases but analogous nevertheless. + While he was working out his salvation in England Saïd would be doing the + same in his desert fastness. The thought strengthened his friendship for + the despondent young Arab. He would have given much to be able to help him + but his natural reserve kept him silent. He had made a sufficient failure + of his own life. He did not feel himself competent to offer advice to + another. + </p> + <p> + “It's a funny world,” he said with a half sigh, “though I suppose it isn't + the world that's at fault but the people who live in it,” and in his + abstraction he spoke in his own language. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Plait-il?</i>” Saïd's puzzled face recalled him to himself and he + translated, adding: “It's rotten luck for you, Sheik, but it's kismet. All + things are ordained,” he concluded almost shyly, feeling himself the worst + kind of Job's comforter. The Arab shrugged. “To those who believe,” he + repeated gloomily, “and I, my friend, have no beliefs. What would you? All + my life I have doubted, I have never been an orthodox Mohammedan—though + I have had to keep my ideas to myself <i>bien entendu</i>! And the last + few years I have lived among men who have no faith, no god, no thought + beyond the world and its pleasures. Islam is nothing to me. 'The will of + <i>Allah</i>—the peace of <i>Allah</i>,' what are they but words, + empty meaningless words! What peace did <i>Allah</i> give to Omar, who was + a strict believer? What peace has <i>Allah</i> given to my father, who + sits all day in his tent mourning for his first-born? I swear myself by <i>Allah</i> + and by the Prophet, but it is from custom, not from any feeling I attach + to the terms. I have read a French translation of a life of Mohammed + written by an American. I was not impressed. It did not tend to make me + look with any more favour on his doctrine. I have my own religion—I + do not lie, I do not steal, I do not break my word. Does the devout + follower of the Prophet invariably do as much? You know, and I know, that + he does not. Wherein then is he a better man than I? And if there be a + future life, which I am quite open to admit, I am inclined to think that + my qualifications will be as good as any true son of the faith,” he + laughed unmirthfully, and swung to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “There are—other religions,” said Craven awkwardly. He had no desire + to proselytise and avoided religious discussions as much as possible, but + Saïd's confidence had touched him. He was aware that to no one else would + the Arab have spoken so frankly. But Saïd shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I will keep my own religion. It will serve,” he said shortly. Then he + shrugged again as if throwing aside the troubles that perplexed him and + looked down on Craven with a quick laugh. “And you, my poor friend, who + had so much better have taken the burnous I offered you, you will stay and + watch the metamorphosis of the Spahi, <i>hein</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could,” said Craven with an answering smile, “but I have my own + work waiting for me in England. I'll have to go as soon as I'm + sufficiently patched up.” + </p> + <p> + Saïd nodded gravely. He was perfectly well aware of the fact that Craven + had deliberately sought death when he had ridden with the tribe against + their enemies. That a change had come over him since the night of the raid + was plainly visible even to one less astute than the sharp-eyed Arab, and + his expressed intention of returning to England confirmed the fact. What + had caused the change did not seem to matter, enough that, to Saïd, it + marked a return to sanity. For it had been a fit of madness, of course—in + no other light could he regard it. But since it had passed and his English + friend was once more in full possession of his senses he could only + acquiesce in a decision that personally he regretted. He would like to + have kept him with him indefinitely. Craven stood for the past, he was a + link with the life the Francophile Arab was reluctantly surrendering. But + it was not the moment to argue. Craven looked suddenly exhausted, and + Yoshio who had stolen in noiselessly, was standing at the head of the bed + beyond the range of his master's eyes making urgent signals to the visitor + to go. + </p> + <p> + With a jest and a cheery word Saïd obediently removed his picturesque + person. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + It was nearly four months before Craven left the camp of Mukair Ibn + Zarrarah. His injuries had healed quickly and he had rapidly regained his + former strength. He was anxious to return to England without delay, but he + had yielded to Saïd's pressing entreaties to wait until they could ride to + Algiers together. There had been much for the young Sheik to do. He was + already virtual leader of the tribe. Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, elderly when his + sons had been born, had aged with startling suddenness since the death of + Omar. He had all at once become an old man, unable to rally from the shock + of his bereavement, bewailing the fate of his elder and favourite son, and + trembling for the future of his beloved tribe left to the tender mercies + of a man he now recognised to be more Frenchman than Arab. He exaggerated + every Francophile tendency he saw in Saïd and cursed the French as + heartily as ever Omar had done, forgetting that he himself was largely + responsible for the inclinations he objected to. And his terrors were + mainly imaginary. A few innovations Saïd certainly instituted but he was + too astute to make any material changes in the management of his people. + They were loyal and attached to the ruling house and he was clever enough + to leave well alone; broad-minded enough to know that he could not run a + large and scattered tribe on the same plan as a regiment of Spahis; + philosophical enough to realise that he had turned down a page in his + life's history and must be content to follow, more or less, in the + footsteps of his forebears. The fighting men were with him solidly, even + those who had been inclined to object to his European tactics had, in view + of his brilliant generalship, been obliged to concede him the honour that + was his due. For his victory had not been altogether the walkover he had + airily described to Craven. The older men—the headmen in particular—more + prejudiced still, who, like Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, had centred all their + hopes on Omar, were beginning to comprehend that their fears of Saïd's + rule were unfounded and that his long sojourn among the hated dominant + race had neither impaired his courage nor fostered practices abhorrent to + them. Craven watched with interest the gradual establishment of mutual + goodwill between the young Sheik and his petty Chiefs. Since his recovery + he had attended several of the councils called in consequence of the old + Sheik's retirement from active leadership of the tribe, and he had been + struck by Saïd's restrained and conciliatory attitude toward his headmen. + He had met them half-way, sinking his own inclinations and disarming their + suspicions of him. At the same time he had let it be clearly understood + that he meant to be absolute as his father had been. In spite of the + civilisation that had bitten so deeply he was still too much an Arab, too + much the son of Mukair Ibn Zarrarah, to be anything but an autocrat at + heart. And his assumption of power had been favourably looked upon by the + minor Chiefs. They were used to being ruled by an iron hand and would have + despised a weak leader. They had feared the effects of foreign influence, + dreaded a régime that might have lessened the prestige of the tribe. Their + doubts set at rest they had rallied with enthusiasm round their new Chief. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had been able to get about again Craven had visited Mukair + Ibn Zarrarah in his darkened tent and been shocked at his changed + appearance. He could hardly believe that the bowed stricken figure who + barely heeded his entrance, but, absorbed in grief, continued to sway + monotonously to and fro murmuring passages from the Koran alternately with + the name of his dead son, was the vigorous alert old man he had seen only + a few weeks before dominating a frenzied crowd with the strength of his + personality and addressing them in tones that had carried to the furthest + extent of the listening multitude. Crushing sorrow and the weight of years + suddenly felt had changed him into a wreck that was fast falling to + pieces. + </p> + <p> + Saïd had followed him out into the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “You see how it is with him,” he said. “I cannot leave him now. As soon as + possible I will go to Algiers to give in my resignation and smooth matters + with the Government. We shall not be in very good odour over this affair. + We have kept the peace so long in this quarter of the country that + deliberate action on our part will take a lot of explaining. They will + admit provocation but will blame our mode of retaliation. They may blame!” + he laughed and shrugged. “I shall be called hasty, ill-advised. The + Governor will haul me over the coals unmercifully—you know him, that + fat old Faidherbe? He is always trembling for his position, seeing an + organized revolt in the petty squabbles of every little tribe, and fearful + of an outbreak that might lead to his recall. A mountain of flesh with the + heart of a chicken! He will rave and shout and talk a great deal about the + beneficent French administration and the ingratitude of Chiefs like myself + who add to the Government's difficulties. But my Colonel will back me up, + unofficially of course, and his word goes with the Governor. A very + different man, by <i>Allah</i>! It would be a good thing for this country + if he were where Faidherbe is. But he is only a soldier and no politician, + so he is likely to end his days a simple Colonel of Spahis.” + </p> + <p> + As they moved away from the tent they discussed the French methods of + administration as carried out in Algeria, and Craven learned a great deal + that astonished him and would also have considerably astonished the + Minister of the Interior sitting quietly in his office in the Place + Beauveau. Saïd had seen and heard much. His known sympathies had made him + the recipient of many confidences and even his Francophile tendencies had + not blinded him to evils that were rampant, corruption and double dealing, + bribes freely offered and accepted by highly placed officials, fortunes + amassed in crooked speculations with Government money—the faults of + individuals who had abused their official positions and exploited the + country they had been sent to administer. + </p> + <p> + As Craven listened to these frank revelations from the only honest Arab he + had ever met he wondered what effect Saïd's intimate knowledge would have + upon his life, how far it would influence him, and what were likely to be + his future relations with the masters of the country. With a Chief less + broadminded and of less innate integrity the result might easily be + disastrous. But Saïd had had larger experience than most Arab Chiefs and + his adherence to the French was due to what he had seen in France rather + than to what had been brought to his notice in Algeria. + </p> + <p> + It was early in January when they started on the long ride across the + desert. For some weeks Craven had been impatient to get away, only his + promise to Saïd kept him. + </p> + <p> + It was a large cavalcade that left the oasis, for the new Chief required a + bigger escort to support his dignity than the Captain of Spahis had done. + The days passed without incident. Despite Craven's desire to reach England + the journey was in every way enjoyable. When he had actually started his + restlessness decreased, for each successive sunrise meant a day nearer + home. And Saïd, too, had thrown off the depression and new gravity that + had come to him and talked more hopefully of the future. As they travelled + northward they reached a region of greater cultivation and in their route + passed some of the big fruit farms that were becoming more and more a + feature of the country. Spots of beauty in the wilderness, carved out of + arid desert by patience and perseverance and threatened always by the + devastating locust, though no longer subjected to the Arab raids that had + been a daily menace twenty or thirty years before. The motley gangs of + European and native workers toiling more or less diligently in the + vineyards and among the groves of fruit trees invariably collected to + watch the passing of the Sheik's troop, a welcome break in the monotony of + their existence, and once or twice Saïd accepted the hospitality of + farmers he knew. + </p> + <p> + Craven stayed only one night in Algiers. When writing home from Lagos he + had given, without expecting to make use of it, an address in Algiers to + which letters might be sent, but when he called at the office the morning + after his arrival he found that owing to the mistake of a clerk his mail + had been returned to England. The lack of news made him uneasy. He was + gripped by a sudden fear that something might have happened to Gillian, + and he wondered whether he should go first to Paris, to the flat he had + taken for her. But second thoughts decided him to adhere to his original + intention of proceeding straight to Craven—surely she must by this + time have returned to the Towers. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to do but telegraph to Peters that he was on his way + home and make arrangements for leaving Africa at the earliest opportunity. + He found there was no steamer leaving for Marseilles for nearly a week but + he was able to secure berths for himself and Yoshio on a coasting boat + crossing that night to Gibraltar, and at sunset he was on board waving + fare-well to Saïd, who had come down to the quay to see the last of him, + and was standing a distinctive figure among the rabble of loafers and + water-side loungers of all nationalities who congregated night and morning + to watch the arrival and departure of steamers. The tide was out and the + littered fore-shore was lined with fishing-boats drawn up in picturesque + confusion, and in the shallow water out among the rocks bare-legged native + women were collecting shell fish and seaweed into great baskets fastened + to their backs, while naked children splashed about them or stood with + their knuckles to their teeth to watch the thrashing paddle wheels of the + little steamer as she churned slowly away from the quay. Craven leant on + the rail of the ship, a pipe between his teeth—he had existed for + the last four months on Saïd's cigarettes—and waved a response to + the young Sheik's final salute, then watched him stalk through the + heterogeneous crowd to where two of his mounted followers were waiting for + him holding his own impatient horse. He saw him mount and the passers-by + scatter as the three riders set off with the usual Arab impetuosity, and + then a group of buildings hid him from sight. + </p> + <p> + The idlers by the waterside held no interest for Craven, he was too used + to them, too familiar with the riff-raff of foreign ports even to glance + at them. But he lingered for a moment to look up at the church of Notre + Dame d'Afrique that, set high above the harbour and standing out sharply + against the skyline, was glowing warmly in the golden rays of the setting + sun. + </p> + <p> + Then he went below to the stuffy little cabin where dinner was waiting. + </p> + <p> + The next four days he kicked his heels impatiently in Gibraltar waiting to + pick up a passage on a home bound Indian boat. When it came it was half + empty, as was to be expected at that time of year, and the gale they ran + into immediately drove the majority of the passengers into the saloons, + and Craven was able to tramp the deck in comparative solitude without + having to listen to the grumbles of shivering Anglo-Indians returning home + at an unpropitious season. In a borrowed oilskin he spent hours watching + the storm, looking at the white topped waves that piled up against the + ship and threatened to engulf her, then slid astern in a welter of spray. + The savage beauty of the sea fascinated him, and the heavy lowering clouds + that drove rapidly across a leaden sky, and the stinging whip of the wind + formed a welcome change after more than two years of pitiless African sun + and intense heat. + </p> + <p> + They passed up the Thames dead slow in a dense fog that grew thicker and + murkier as they neared the docks, but they berthed early enough to enable + Craven to catch a train that would bring him home in time for dinner. It + was better than wasting a night in London. + </p> + <p> + He had a compartment to himself and spent the time staring out of the + misty rain-spattered windows, a prey to violent anxiety and impatience. + The five-hour journey had never seemed so long. He had bought a number of + papers and periodicals but they lay unheeded on the seat beside him. He + was out of touch with current events, and had stopped at the bookstall + more from force of habit than from any real interest. He had wired to + Peters again from the docks. Would she be waiting for him at the station? + It was scarcely probable. Their meeting could not be other than + constrained, the platform of a wayside railway station was hardly a + suitable place. And why in heaven's name should she do him so much honour? + He had no right to expect it, no right to expect anything. That she should + be even civil to him was more than he deserved. Would she be changed in + any way? God, how he longed to see her! His heart beat furiously even at + the thought. With his coat collar turned up about his ears and his cap + pulled down over his eyes he shivered in a corner of the cold carriage and + dreamed of her as the hours drew out in maddening slowness. Outside it was + growing dusk and the window panes had become too steamy for him to + recognise familiar landmarks. The train seemed to crawl. There had been an + unaccountable wait at the last stopping place, and they did not appear to + be making up the lost time. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange homecoming, he thought suddenly. Stranger even than when, + rather more than six years ago, he had travelled down to Craven with his + aunt and the shy silent girl whom fate and John Locke had made his ward. + Was she also thinking of that time and wishing that a kinder future had + been reserved for her? Was she shrinking from his coming, deploring the + day he had ever crossed her path? It was unlikely that she could feel + otherwise toward him. He had done nothing to make her happy, everything to + make her unhappy. With a stifled groan he leant forward and buried his + face in his hands, loathing himself. How would she meet him? Suppose she + refused to resume the equivocal relationship that had been fraught with so + much misery, refused to surrender the greater freedom she had enjoyed + during his absence, claimed the right to live her own life apart from him. + It would be only natural for her to do so. And morally he would have no + right to refuse her. He had forfeited that. And in any case it was not a + question of his allowing or refusing anything, it was a question solely of + her happiness and her wishes. + </p> + <p> + Darkness had fallen when the train drew up with a jerk and he stepped out + on to the little platform. It was a cheerless night and the wind tore at + him as he peered through the gloom and the driving rain, wondering whether + anybody had come to meet him. Then he made out Peters' sturdy familiar + figure standing under the feeble light of a flickering lamp. Craven + hurried toward him with a smile softening his face. His life had been made + up of journeys, it seemed to him suddenly, and always at the end of them + was Peters waiting for him, Peters who stuck to the job he himself + shirked, Peters who stood loyally by an employer he must in his heart + despise, Peters whose boots he was not fit to clean. + </p> + <p> + The two men met quietly, as if weeks not years had elapsed since they had + parted on the same little platform. + </p> + <p> + “Beastly night,” grumbled the agent, though his indifference to bad + weather was notorious, “must feel it cold after the tropics. I brought a + man to help Yoshio with your kit. Wait a minute while I see that it's all + right.” He started off briskly, and with the uncomfortable embarrassment + he always felt when Peters chose to emphasise their relative positions, + Craven strode after him and grabbed him back with an iron hand. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't any need,” he said gruffly. “I wish you wouldn't always + behave as if you were a kind of upper servant, Peter. It's dam' nonsense. + Yoshio is quite capable of looking after the kit, there's very little in + any case. I left the bulk of it in Algiers, it wasn't worth bringing + along. There are only the gun cases and a couple of bags. We haven't much + more than what we stand up in.” + </p> + <p> + Peters acquiesced good-temperedly and led the way to the closed car that + was waiting at the station entrance. As the motor started Craven turned to + him eagerly, with the question that had been on his lips for the last ten + minutes. + </p> + <p> + “How is Gillian?” + </p> + <p> + Peters shot a sidelong glance at him. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't say,” he said shortly; “she didn't mention her health when she + wrote last—but then she never does.” + </p> + <p> + “When she wrote—” echoed Craven, and his voice was dull with + disappointment; “isn't she at the Towers? I missed my mail at Algiers—some + mistake of a fool of a clerk. I haven't had any home news for nearly a + year.” + </p> + <p> + “She is still in Paris,” replied Peters dryly, and to Craven his tone + sounded faintly accusing. He frowned and stared out into the darkness for + a few minutes without speaking, wondering how much Peters knew. He had + disapproved of the African expedition, stating his opinion frankly when + Craven had discussed it with him, and it was obvious that since then his + views had undergone no change. Craven understood perfectly what those + views were and in what light he must appear to him. He could not excuse + himself, could give no explanation. He doubted very much whether Peters + would understand if he did explain—his moral code was too simple, + his sense of right and wrong too fine to comprehend or to countenance + suicide. Craven also felt sure that had he been aware of the circumstances + Peters would not have hesitated to oppose his marriage. Why hadn't he told + Peters the whole beastly story when he returned from Japan? Peters had + never failed a Craven, he would not have failed him then. He stifled a + bitter sigh of useless regret and turned again to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Then I take it the Towers is shut up. Are you giving me a bed at the + Hermitage?” he asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “No. I have kept the house open so that it might be ready if at any time + your wife suddenly decided to come home. I imagined that would be your + wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course,” said Craven hurriedly, “you did quite right.” Then + he glanced about him and frowned again thoughtfully. “Isn't this the + Daimler Gillian took to France with her—surely that is Phillipe + driving?” he asked abruptly, peering through the window at the chauffeur's + back illuminated by the electric lamp in the roof of the car. + </p> + <p> + “She sent it back a few months afterwards—said she had no need for + it,” replied Peters. “I kept Phillipe on because he was a better mechanic + than the other man. There was no need for two.” + </p> + <p> + Craven refrained from comment and relapsed into silence, which was + unbroken until they reached the house. + </p> + <p> + During dinner the conversation was mainly of Africa and the scientific + success of the mission, and of local events, topics that could safely be + discussed in the hearing of Forbes and the footmen. From time to time + Craven glanced about the big room with tightened lips. It seemed chill and + empty for lack of the slight girlish figure whose presence had brought + sunshine into the great house. If she chose never to return! It was + unthinkable that he could live in it alone, it would be haunted by + memories, he would see her in every room. And yet the thought of leaving + it again hurt him. He had never known until he had gone to Africa with no + intention of returning how dear the place was to him. He had suddenly + realised that he was a Craven of Craven, and all that it meant. But + without Gillian it was valueless. A shrine without a treasure. An empty + symbol that would stand for nothing. Her personality had stamped itself on + the house, even yet her influence lingered in the huge formal dining room + where he sat. It had been her whim when they were alone to banish the + large table that seemed so preposterously big for two people and + substitute a small round one which was more intimate, and across which it + was possible to talk with greater ease. Forbes was a man of fixed ideas + and devoted to his mistress. Though absent her wishes were faithfully + carried out. Mrs. Craven had decreed that for less than four people the + family board was an archaic and cumbersome piece of furniture, + consequently tonight the little round table was there, and brought home to + Craven even more vividly the sense of her absence. It seemed almost a + desecration to see Peters sitting opposite in her place. He grew impatient + of the lengthy and ceremonious meal the old butler was superintending with + such evident enjoyment, and gradually he became more silent and heedless, + responding mechanically and often inaptly to Peters' flow of conversation. + He wished now he had obeyed the impulse that had come to him in Algiers to + go straight to Paris. By now he would have seen her, have learned his + fate, and the whole miserable business would have been settled one way or + the other. He could not wonder that she had elected to remain abroad. He + had put her in a horrible position. By lingering in Africa after the + return of the rest of the mission he had made her an object of idle + curiosity and speculation. He had left her as the elder Barry Craven had + left his mother, to the mercy of gossip-mongers and to the pity and + compassion of her friends which, though even unexpressed, she must have + felt and resented. He glanced at the portrait of the beautiful sad woman + in the panel over the mantelpiece and a dull red crept over his face. It + was well that his mother had died before she realised how completely the + idolised son was to follow in the footsteps of the husband who had broken + her heart. It was a tradition in the family. From one motive or another + the Cravens had consistently been pitiless to their womenkind. And he, the + last of them, had gone the way of all the others. A greater shame and + bitterness than he had yet felt came to him, and a passionate longing to + undo what he had done. And what was left for him to do was so pitifully + little. But he would do it without further delay, he would start for Paris + the next day. Even the few hours of waiting seemed almost unbearable. The + thought occurred to him to motor to London that night to catch the morning + boat train from Victoria, but a glance at his watch convinced him of the + impossibility of the idea. Owing to the delay of the train it had been + nine o'clock before he reached the Towers. It was ten now. Another hour + would be wasted before Phillipe and the car would be ready for the long + run. And it was a wicked night to take a man out, the strain of driving + under such conditions at top speed through the darkness would be + tremendous. Reluctantly he abandoned the project. There was nothing for it + but to wait until the morning. + </p> + <p> + Forbes at his elbow recalled him to his duties as host. With a murmured + apology to Peters he rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Coffee in the study, please,” he said, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + In the study, in chairs drawn up to the blazing fire, the two men smoked + for some time in silence. Though consumed with anxiety to hear more of his + wife Craven felt a certain diffident in mentioning her name, and Peters + volunteered nothing. After a time the agent began to speak of the estate. + “I want to give an account of my stewardship,” he said, with an odd ring + in his voice that Craven did not understand. And for the best part of an + hour he talked of farms and leases, of cottage property and timber, of + improvements and alterations carried out during Craven's absence or in + progress, of the conditions under which certain of the bigger houses + scattered about the property were let—a complete history of the + working and management of the estate extending back many years until + Craven grew more and more bewildered as to the reason of this detailed + revelation that seemed to him somewhat unnecessary and certainly + ill-timed. He did not want to be bothered with business the very moment of + his arrival. Peters was punctilious of course, always had been, but his + stewardship had never been called in question and there was surely no need + for this complicated and lengthy narrative of affairs tonight. + </p> + <p> + “And then there are the accounts,” concluded the agent, in the dry + curiously formal voice he had adopted all the evening. Craven made a + gesture of protest. “The accounts can wait,” he said shortly. “I don't + know why on earth you want to bother about all this tonight, Peter. There + will be plenty of time later. Have I ever criticised anything you did? I'm + not such a fool. You've forgotten more than I ever knew about the estate.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like you to see them,” persisted Peters, drawing a big bundle of + papers from his pocket and proceeding to remove and roll up with his usual + precise neatness the tape that confined them. He pushed the typed sheets + across the little table. “I don't think you will find any error. The + estate accounts are all straightforward. But there is an item in the + personal accounts that I must ask you to consider. It is a sum of eight + thousand pounds standing to your credit that I do not know what to do + with. You will remember that when you went to Africa you instructed me to + pay your wife four thousand a year during your absence. I have sent her + the money every quarter, which she has acknowledged. Three months ago the + London bank advised me that eight thousand pounds had been paid into you + account by Mrs. Craven, the total amount of her allowance, in fact, during + the time you have been away.” + </p> + <p> + There was a lengthy pause after Peters stopped speaking, and then Craven + looked up slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” he said thickly; “all her allowance! What has she + been living on—what the devil does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + Peters shrugged. “I don't know any more about it than you do. I am simply + telling you what is the case. It was not for me to question her on such a + matter,” he said coldly. + </p> + <p> + “But, Good Heavens, man,” began Craven hotly, and then checked himself. He + felt stunned by Peters' bald statement of fact, unable, quite, for the + moment, to grasp it. Heavens above, how she must hate him! To decline to + touch the money he had assured her was hers, not his! On what or on whom + had she been living? His face became suddenly congested. Then he put the + hateful thought from him. It was not possible to connect such a thing with + Gillian. Only his own foul mind could have imagined it. And yet, if she + had been other than she was, if it had been so, if in her loneliness and + misery she had found love and protection she had been unable to withstand—the + fault would be his, not hers. He would have driven her to it. He would be + responsible. For a moment the room went black. Then, he pulled himself + together. Putting the bundle of accounts back on to the table he met + steadily Peters' intent gaze. “My wife is quite at liberty to do what she + chooses with her own money,” he said slowly, “though I admit I don't + understand her action. Doubtless she will explain it in due course. Until + then the money can continue to lie idle. It is not such a large sum that + you need be in such a fierce hurry about it. In any case I am going to + Paris tomorrow. I can let you know further when I have seen her.” His + voice was harsh with the effort it cost him to steady it. “And having seen + her—what are you going to do to her?” The question, and the manner + of asking it, made Craven look at Peters in sudden amazement. The agent's + face was stern and curiously pale, high up on his cheek a little pulse was + beating visibly and his eyes were blazing direct challenge. Craven's brows + drew together slowly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Peters leant forward, resting one arm on his knee, and the knuckles of his + clenched hand shone white. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you in so many words what you were going to do to her,” he said, + in a voice vibrant with emotion. “You will say it is no business of mine. + But I am going to make it my business. Good God, Barry, do you think I've + seen nothing all these years? Do you think I can sit down and watch + history repeat itself and make no effort to avert it for lack of moral + courage? I can't. When you were a boy I had to stand aside and see your + mother's heart broken, and I'm damned if I'm going to keep silent while + you break Gillian's heart. I loved your mother, the light went out for me + when she died. For her sake I carried on here, hoping I might be of use to + you—because you were her son. And then Gillian came and helped to + fill the blank she had left. She honoured me with her friendship, she + brought brightness into my life until gradually she has become as dear to + me as if she were my own daughter. All I care about is her happiness—and + yours. But she comes first, poor lonely child. Why did you marry her if it + was only to leave her desolate again? Wasn't her past history sad enough? + She was happy here at first, before your marriage. But afterwards—were + you blind to the change that came over her? Couldn't you see that she was + unhappy? I could. And I tell you I was hard put to it sometimes to hold my + tongue. It wasn't my place to interfere, it wasn't my place to see + anything, but I couldn't help seeing what was patent to the eye of anybody + who was interested. You left her, and you have come back. For what? You + are her husband, in name at any rate—oh, yes, I know all about that, + I know a great deal more than I am supposed to know, and do you think I am + the only one?—legally she is bound to you, though I do not doubt she + could easily procure her freedom if she so wished, so I ask you again—what + are you going to do? She is wholly in your power, utterly at your mercy. + What more is she to endure at your hands? I am speaking plainly because it + seems to me to be a time for plain speaking. I can't help what you think, + I am afraid I don't care. You've been like a son to me. I promised your + mother on her death-bed that I would never fail you, I could have forgiven + you any mortal thing on earth—but Gillian. It's Gillian and me, + Barry. And if it's a case of fighting for her happiness—by God, I'll + fight! And now you know why I have told you all that I have tonight, why I + have rendered an account of my stewardship. If you want me to go I shall + quite understand. I know I have exceeded my prerogative but I can't help + it. I've left everything in order, easy for anybody to take over—” + Craven's head had sunk into his hands, now he sprang to his feet unable to + control himself any longer. “Peter—for God's sake—” he cried + chokingly, and stumbling to the window he wrenched back the curtain and + flung up the sash, lifting his face to the storm of wind and rain that + beat in about him, his chest heaving, his arms held rigid to his sides. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I don't care?” he said at last, brokenly. “Do you think it + hasn't nearly killed me to see her unhappiness—to be able to do + nothing. You don't know—I wasn't fit to be near her, to touch her. I + hoped by going to Africa to set her free. But I couldn't die. I tried, God + knows I tried, by every means in my power short of deliberately blowing my + brains out—a suicide's widow—I couldn't brand her like that. + When men were dying around me like flies death passed me by—I wasn't + fit even for that, I suppose.” He gave a ghastly little mirthless laugh + that made Peters wince and came back slowly into the room, heedless of the + window he had left open, and walked to the fireplace dropping his head on + his arm on the mantel. “You asked me just now what I meant to do to her—it + is not a question of me at all but what Gillian elects to do. I am going + to her tomorrow. The future rests with her. If she turns me down—and + you turn me down—I shall go to the devil the quickest way possible. + It's not a threat, I'm not trying to make bargains, it's just that I'm at + the end of my tether. I've made a damnable mess of my life, I've brought + misery to the woman I love. For I do love her, God help me. I married her + because I loved her, because I couldn't bear to lose her. I was mad with + jealousy. And heaven knows I've been punished for it. My life's been hell. + But it doesn't matter about me—it's only Gillian who matters, only + Gillian who counts for anything.” His voice sank into a whisper and a long + shudder passed over him. + </p> + <p> + The anger had died out of Peters' face and the old tenderness crept back + into his eyes as they rested on the tall bowed figure by the fireplace. He + rose and went to the window, shutting it and drawing the curtain back + neatly into position. Then he crossed the room slowly and laid his hand + for an instant on Craven's shoulder with a quick firm pressure that + conveyed more than words. “Sit down,” he said gruffly, and going back to + the little table splashed some whisky into a glass and held it under the + syphon. Craven took the drink from him mechanically but set it down barely + tasted as he dropped again into the chair he had left a few minutes + before. He lit a cigarette, and Peters, as he filled his own pipe, noticed + that his hands were shaking. He was silent for a long time, the cigarette, + neglected, smouldering between his fingers, his face hidden by his other + hand. At last he looked up, his grey eyes filled with an almost desperate + appeal. + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay, Peter—for the sake of the place?” he said unsteadily. + “You made it what it is, it would go to pieces if you went. And I can't go + without you—if you chuck me it will about finish me.” + </p> + <p> + Peters drew vigorously at his pipe and a momentary moisture dimmed his + vision. He was remembering another appeal made to him in this very room + thirty years before when, after a stormy interview with his employer, the + woman he had loved had begged him to remain and save the property for the + little son who was her only hold on life. It was the mother's face not the + son's he saw before him, the mother's voice that was ringing in his ears. + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay, Barry—as long as you want me,” he said at length huskily + from behind a dense cloud of smoke. A look of intense relief passed over + Craven's worn face. He tried to speak and, failing, gripped Peters' hand + with a force that left the agent's fingers numb. + </p> + <p> + There was another long pause. The blaze of the cheerful fire within and + the fury of the storm beating against the house without were the only + sounds that broke the silence. Peters was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You say you are going to her tomorrow—do you know where to find + her?” + </p> + <p> + Craven looked up with a start. + </p> + <p> + “Has she moved?” he asked uneasily. Peters stirred uncomfortably and made + a little deprecating gesture with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It was a tallish rent, you know. The flat you took was in the most + expensive quarter of Paris,” he said with reluctance. Craven winced and + his hands gripped the arms of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “But you—you write to her, you have been over several times to see + her,” he said, with a new trouble coming into his eyes, and Peters turned + from his steady stare. + </p> + <p> + “Her letters, by her own request, are sent to the bank. I was only once in + the flat, shortly after you left. I think she must have given it up almost + immediately. Since then when I have run over for a day—she never + seemed to want me to stay longer—we have met in the Louvre or in the + gardens of the Tuileries, according to weather,” he said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + Craven stiffened in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “The Louvre—the gardens of the Tuileries,” he gasped, “but what on + earth—” he broke off with a smothered word Peters did not catch, and + springing up began to pace the room with his hands plunged deep in his + pockets. His face was set and his lips compressed under the neat + moustache. His mind was in a ferment, he could hardly trust himself to + speak. He halted at last in front of Peters, his eyes narrowing as he + gazed down at him. “Do you mean to tell me that you yourself do not know + where she is?” he said fiercely. Peters shook his head. “I do not. I wish + to heaven I did. But what could I do? I couldn't question her. She made it + plain she had no wish to discuss the subject. The little I did say she put + aside. It was not for me to spy on your wife, or employ a detective to + shadow her movements, no matter how anxious I felt.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you couldn't have done that,” said Craven drearily, and turned away. + To pursue the matter further, even with Peters, seemed suddenly to him + impossible. He wanted to be alone to think out this new problem, though at + the same time he knew that no amount of thought would solve it. He would + have to wait with what patience he could until the morning when he would + be able to act instead of think. + </p> + <p> + His face was expressionless when he turned to Peters again and sat down + quietly to discuss business. Half an hour later the agent rose to go. + “I'll bring up a checque book and some money in the morning before you + start. You won't have time to go to the bank in London. Wire me your + address in Paris—and bring her back with you, Barry. The whole place + misses her,” he said with a catch in his voice, stuffing the bundle of + papers into his pocket. Craven's reply was inaudible but Peters' heart was + lighter than it had been for years as he went out into the hall to get his + coat. “Yes, I'm walking,” he replied in response to an inquiry, “bit of + rain won't hurt me, I'm too seasoned,” and he laughed for the first time + that evening. + </p> + <p> + Going back to the study Craven threw a fresh log on the fire, filled a + pipe, and drew a chair close to the hearth. It was past one but he was + disinclined for bed. Peters' revelations had staggered him. His brain was + on fire. He felt that not until he had found her and got to the bottom of + all this mystery would he be able to sleep again. And perhaps not even + then, he thought with a quickening heart-beat and a sick fear of what his + investigations in Paris might lead to. + </p> + <p> + Before leaving England he had snatched time from his African preparations + to superintend personally the arrangements for her stay in Paris. He had + himself selected the flat and installed her with every comfort and luxury + that was befitting his wife. She had demurred once or twice on the score + of extravagance, particularly in the case of the car he had insisted on + sending over for her use, but he had laughed at her protests and she had + ceased to make any further objection, accepting his wishes with the shy + gentleness that marked her usual attitude toward him. And she must have + hated it all! Why? She was his wife, what was his was hers. He had + consistently impressed that on her from the first. But it was obvious that + she had never seen it in that light. He remembered her passionate refusal—ending + in tears that had horrified him—of the big settlement he had wished + to make at the time of their marriage, her distress in taking the + allowance he had had to force upon her. Was it only his money she hated, + or was it himself as well? And to what had her hatred driven her? A + fiercer gust of wind shrieked round the house, driving the rain in + torrents against the window, and as he listened to it splashing sharply on + the glass Craven shivered. Where was she tonight? What shelter had she + found in the pitiless city of contrasts? Fragile and alone—and + penniless? His hand clenched until the stem of the pipe he was holding + snapped between his fingers and he flung the fragments into the fire, + leaning forward and staring into the dying embers with haggard eyes—picturing, + remembering. He was intimately acquainted with Paris, with two at least of + its multifarious aspects—the brilliant Paris of the rich, and the + cruel Paris of the struggling student. And yet, after all, what did his + knowledge of the latter amount to? It had amused him for a time to live in + the Latin quarter—it was in a disreputable cabaret on the south side + of the river that he had first come across John Locke—he had mixed + there with all and sundry, rubbing shoulders with the riff-raff of + nations; he had seen its vice and destitution, had mingled with its + feverish surface gaiety and known its underlying squalor and ugliness, but + always as a disinterested spectator, a transient passer by. Always he had + had money in his pocket. He had never known the deadly ever present fear + that lies coldly at the heart of even the wildest of the greater number of + its inhabitants. He had seen but never felt starvation. He had never sold + his soul for bread. But he had witnessed such a sale, not once or twice + but many times. In his carelessness he had accepted it as inevitable. But + the recollection stabbed him now with sudden poignancy. Merciful God, + toward what were his thoughts tending! He brushed his hand across his eyes + as though to clear away some hideous vision and rose slowly to his feet. + The expiring fire fell together with a little crash, flared for an instant + and then died down in a smouldering red mass that grew quickly grey and + cold. With a deep sigh Craven turned and went heavily from the room. He + lingered for a moment in the hall, dimly lit by the single lamp left + burning above, listening to the solemn ticking of the clock, that at that + moment chimed with unnatural loudness. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically he took out his watch and wound it, and then went slowly up + the wide staircase. At the head of the stairs he paused again. The great + house had never seemed so silent, so empty, so purposeless. The rows of + closed doors opening from the gallery seemed like the portals of some huge + mausoleum, vacant and chill. A house of desolation that cried to him to + fill its emptiness with life and love. With lagging steps he walked half + way along the gallery, passing two of the closed doors with averted head, + but at the third he stopped abruptly, yielding to an impulse that had come + to him. For a moment he hesitated, as though before some holy place he + feared to desecrate, then with a quick drawn breath he turned the handle + and went in. + </p> + <p> + In the darkness his hand sought and found the electric switch by the door, + and pressing it the room was flooded with soft shaded light. Peters had + spoken only the truth when he said that the house was kept in immediate + readiness for its mistress's return. Craven had never crossed the + threshold of this room before, and seeing it thus for the first time he + could hardly believe that for two years it had been tenantless. She might + have gone from it ten minutes before. It was redolent of her presence. The + little intimate details were as she had left them. A bowl of bronze + chrysanthemums stood on the dressing table where lay the tortoise-shell + toilet articles given her by Miss Craven. A tiny clock ticked + companionably on the mantelpiece. The pain in his eyes deepened as they + swept the room with hungry eagerness to take in every particular. Her + room! The room from which his unworthiness had barred him. All that he had + forfeited rose up before him, and in overwhelming shame and misery a wave + of burning colour rolled slowly over his face. Never had the distance + between them seemed so wide. Never had her purity and innocence been + brought home to him so forcibly as in this spotless white chamber. Its + simplicity and fresh almost austere beauty seemed the reflection of her + own stainless soul and the fierce passion that was consuming him seemed by + contrast hideous and brutal. It was as if he had violated the sanctuary of + a cloistered Nun. And yet might not even passion be beautiful if love + hallowed it? His arms stretched out in hopeless longing, her name burst + from his lips in a cry of desperate loneliness, and he fell on his knees + beside the bed, burying his face in the thick soft quilt, his strong brown + hands outflung, gripping and twisting its silken cover in his agony. + </p> + <p> + Hours later he raised his tired eyes to the pale light of the wintry dawn + filtering feebly through the close drawn curtains. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * +</pre> + <p> + He left that morning for Paris, alone. + </p> + <p> + It was still raining steadily and the chill depressing outlook from the + train did not tend to lighten his gloomy thoughts. + </p> + <p> + In London the rain poured down incessantly. The roads were greasy and + slippery with mud, the pavements filled with hurrying jostling crowds, + whose dripping umbrellas glistened under the flaring shop lights. Craven + peered at the cheerless prospect as he drove from one station to the other + and shivered at the gloom and wretchedness through which he was passing. + The mean streets and dreary squalid houses took on a greater significance + for him than they had ever done. The sight of a passing woman, ill-clad + and rain-drenched, sent through him a stab of horrible pain. Paris could + be as cruel, as pitiless, as this vaster, wealthier city. + </p> + <p> + He left his bag in the cloakroom at Charing Cross and spent the hours of + waiting for the boat train tramping the streets in the vicinity of the + station. He was in no mood to go to his Club, where he would find a host + of acquaintances eager for an account of his wanderings and curious + concerning his tardy return. + </p> + <p> + The time dragged heavily. He turned into a quiet restaurant to get a meal + and ate without noticing what was put before him. At the earliest + opportunity he sought the train and buried himself in the corner of a + compartment praying that the wretched night might lessen the number of + travellers. Behind an evening paper which he did not attempt to read he + smoked in silence, which the two other men in the carriage did not break. + Foreigners both, they huddled in great coats in opposite corners and were + asleep almost before the train pulled out of the station. Laying down the + paper that had no interest for him Craven surveyed them for a moment with + a feeling of envy, and tilting his hat over his eyes, endeavoured to + emulate their good example. But, despite his weariness, sleep would not + come to him. He sat listening to the rattle of the train and to the + peaceful snoring of his companions until his mind ceased to be diverted by + immediate distractions and centred wholly on the task before him. + </p> + <p> + At Dover the weather had not improved and the sea was breaking high over + the landing stage, drenching the few passengers as they hurried on to the + boat and dived below for shelter from the storm. Indifferent to the + weather Craven chose to stay on deck and stood throughout the crossing + under lea of the deckhouse where it was possible to keep a pipe alight. + </p> + <p> + Contrary to his expectation he managed to sleep in the train and slept + until they reached Paris. Avoiding a hotel where he was known he drove to + one of the smaller establishments, and engaging a room ordered breakfast + and sat down to think out his next move. + </p> + <p> + There were two possible sources of information, the flat, where she might + have left an address when she vacated it, and the bank where Peters had + told him she called for letters. He would try them before resorting to the + expedient of employing a detective, which he was loth to do until all + other means failed. He hated the idea, but there was no alternative except + the police, whose aid he had determined not to invoke unless it became + absolutely necessary. It was imperative that his search should be + conducted as quietly and as secretly as possible. He decided to visit the + flat first, and, having wired to Peters in accordance with his promise, + set out on foot. + </p> + <p> + It was not actually raining but the clouds hung low and threatening and + the air was raw. He walked fast, swinging along the crowded streets with + his eyes fixed straight in front of him. And his great height and deeply + tanned face made him a conspicuous figure that excited attention of which + he was ignorant. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the narrow street where was his hotel he emerged into the Place de + la Madeleine, and threading his way through the stream of traffic turned + into the Boulevard de Malesherbes, which he followed, cutting across the + Boulevard Haussmann and passing the Church of Saint Augustin, until the + trees in the Parc Monceau rose before him. How often in the heat of Africa + had he pictured her sitting in the shade of those great spreading planes, + reading or sketching the children who played about her? He had thought of + her every hour of the day and night, seeing her in his mind moving about + the flat he had taken and furnished with such care. How utterly futile had + been all his dreams about her. His lips tightened as he passed up the + steps of the house he remembered so well. + </p> + <p> + But to his inquiries the concierge, who was a new-comer, could give no + reply. He had no knowledge of any Madame Craven who had lived there, and + was plainly uninterested in a tenant who had left before his time. It was + past history with which he had nothing to do, and with which he made it + clear he did not care to be involved. He was curt and decisive but, with + an eye to Craven's powerful proportions, refrained from the insolence that + is customary among his kind. It was the first check, but as he walked away + Craven admitted to himself that he had not counted overmuch on obtaining + any information from that quarter, taking into account the short time she + had lived there. Remained the bank. He retraced his steps, walking + directly to the Place de l'Opéra. But the bank, which was also a tourists' + agency, could give him no assistance. The lady called for her letters at + infrequent intervals, they had no idea where she might be found. Would the + gentleman care to leave a card, which would be given to her at the first + opportunity? But Craven shook his head—the chance of her calling was + too vague—and passed out again into the busy streets. There was + nothing for it now but a detective agency, and with his face grown grimmer + he went without further delay to the bureau of a firm he knew by repute. + In the private room of the <i>Chef de Bureau</i> he detailed his + requirements with national brevity and conciseness. His knowledge of the + language stood him in good stead and the painfulness of the interview was + mitigated by the businesslike and tactful manner in which his commission + was received. The keen-eyed man who sat tapping a gold pencil case on his + thumbnail in the intervals of taking notes had a reputation to maintain + which he was not unwilling to increase; foreign clients were by no means + rare, but they did not come every day, nor were they always so apparently + full of wealth as this stern-faced Englishman, who spoke authoritatively + as one accustomed to being obeyed and yet with a turn of phrase and <i>politesse</i> + unusual in his countrymen. + </p> + <p> + Followed two days of interminable waiting and suspense, two days that to + Craven seemed like two lifetimes. He hung about the hotel, not daring to + go far afield lest he should lose some message or report. He had no wish + either to advertise his presence in Paris, he had too many friends there, + too many acquaintances whose questions would be difficult to parry. + </p> + <p> + But on the morning of the third day, about eleven o'clock, he was called + to the telephone. A feeling of dread ran through him and he was conscious + of a curious sensation of weakness as he lifted the receiver. But the + voice that hailed him was reassuring and complacently expressive of a neat + piece of work well done. The wife of <i>Monsieur</i> had been traced, they + had taken time—oh, yes, but they had followed <i>Monsieur's</i> + instructions <i>au pied de la lettre</i> and had acted with a discretion + that was above criticism. Then followed an address given minutely. For a + moment he leaned against the side of the telephone box shaking + uncontrollably. Only at this moment did he realise completely how great + his fear had been. There had been times when the recurring thought of the + Morgue and its pitiful occupants had been a foretaste of hell. The feeling + of weakness passed quickly and he went out to the entrance of the hotel + and leaped into a taxi which had just set down a fare. + </p> + <p> + He knew well the locality toward which he was driving. Years ago he could + almost have walked to it blindfold, but today time was precious. And as he + sat forward in the jolting cab, his hands locked tightly together, it + seemed to him as if every possible hindrance had combined to bar his + progress. The traffic had never appeared so congested, the efforts of the + agents on point duty so hopelessly futile. Omnibuses and motors, unwieldy + meat carts and fiacres, inextricably jammed, met them at every turn, until + at last swinging round by the corner of the Louvre the streets became + clearer and the car turned sharply to cross the river. As they approached + the address the detective had given him Craven was conscious of no + sensation of any kind. A deadly calm seemed to have taken possession of + him. He had ceased even to speculate on what lay before him. The house at + which they stopped at last was typical of its kind; in his student days he + had rented a studio in a precisely similar building, and the concierge to + whom he applied might have been the twin sister of the voluble amply + proportioned citoyenne of long ago who had kept a maternal eye on his + socks and shirts and a soft spot in her heart for the <i>bel Anglais</i> + who chaffed her unmercifully, but paid his rent with commendable + promptitude. A huge woman, with a shrewd not unkindly face, she sat in a + rocking chair with a diminutive kitten on her shoulder and a mass of + knitting in her lap. As she listened to Craven's inquiry she tossed the + kitten into a basket and bundled the shawl she was making under her arm, + while she rose ponderously to her feet and favoured the stranger with a + stare that was frankly and undisguisedly inquisitive. A pair of twinkling + eyes encased in rolls of fat swept him from head to foot in leisurely + survey, and he felt that there was no detail about him that escaped + attention, that even the texture of his clothing and the very price of the + boots he was wearing were gauged with accuracy and ease. She condescended + to speak at last in a voice that was curiously soft, and warmed into + something almost approaching enthusiasm. Madame Craven? but certainly, <i>au + quatrieme</i>. Monsieur was perhaps a patron of the arts, he desired to + buy a picture? It was well, painters were many but buyers were few. Madame + was assuredly at home, she was in fact engaged at that moment with a + model. A model—<i>Sapristi</i>!—he called himself such, but + for herself she would have called him <i>un vrai apache</i>! Of a + countenance, <i>mon Dieu</i>! She paused to wave her hands in horror and + jerk her head toward the staircase, continuing her confidences in a + lowered tone. The door of the studio was open, it was wiser when such + gentry presented themselves, and also did she not herself always sit in + the hall that she might be within call, one never knew—and Madame + was an angel with the heart of a child. A face to study—and she + thought of nothing else. But there were those who thought for her, the + blessed innocent. It was doubtless because she was English—Monsieur + was also English, she observed with another shrewd glance and a wide + smile. Madame would be glad to see a compatriot. If Monsieur would do + himself the trouble of ascending the stairs he could not mistake the door, + it was at the top, and, as she had said, it was open. + </p> + <p> + She beamed on him graciously as with a murmur of thanks Craven turned to + mount the stone staircase. A feeling of relief came to him at the thought + of the warm hearted self-appointed guardian sitting in kindly vigilance in + the big armchair below. Here, too, it would appear, Gillian had made + herself beloved. As he passed quickly upward the unnatural calm that had + come over him gave place to a very different feeling. It was brought home + to him all at once that what he had longed and prayed for was on the point + of taking effect. He realised that the ghastly waiting time was over, that + in a few moments he would see her, and his heart began to throb violently. + Every second that still separated them seemed an age and he took the last + remaining flight two steps at a time. But he stopped abruptly as he + reached the level of the landing. The open door was within a few feet of + him but screened from where he stood. + </p> + <p> + It was her voice that had arrested him, speaking with an accent of + weariness he had never heard before that sent a sudden quiver to his lips. + His fingers clenched on the soft hat he held. + </p> + <p> + “But it does not do at all,” she was saying, and the racking cough that + accompanied her words struck through Craven's heart like a knife, “it is + the expression that is wrong. If you look like that I can never believe + that you are what you say you are. Think of some of the horrible things + you have told me—try and imagine that you are still tracking down + that brute who took your little Colette from you—” A husky voice + interrupted her. “No use, Madame, when I remember that I can only think of + you and the American doctor who gave her back to me, and our happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't deserve her, and she hates the things you do,” came the quick + retort, and the man who had been speaking laughed. + </p> + <p> + “But not me,” he answered promptly, “and the things I do keep a roof over + our heads,” he added grimly. “But, see, I will try again—does that + satisfy Madame?” + </p> + <p> + Craven moved forward as he heard her eager assent and her injunction to + “hold that for a few minutes,” and in the silence that ensued he reached + the door. For a moment his entrance passed unobserved. + </p> + <p> + The stark bareness of the room was revealed to him in a single + comprehensive glance and the chill of it sent a sudden feeling of anger + surging through him. His face was drawn and his eyes almost menacing with + pain as they rested on the slight figure bending forward in unconscious + absorption over the easel propped in the middle of the rugless floor. Then + his gaze travelled slowly beyond her to the model who stood on the little + dais, and he understood in a flash the reason of the old concierge's + vigilance as he saw the manner of man she was painting. The slender darkly + clad youth with head thrust forward and sunk deep on his shoulders, with + close fitting peaked cap pulled low over his eyes shading his pale + sinister face was a typical representative of the class of criminal who + had come to be known in Paris as <i>les apaches</i>; no artist's model + masquerading as one of the dreaded assassins, but the genuine article. Of + that Craven was convinced. The risk she had taken, the quick resentment he + felt at the thought of such a presence near her forced from him an + exclamation. + </p> + <p> + Artist and model turned simultaneously. There was a moment of tense + silence as husband and wife stared into each other's eyes. Then the + palette and brushes she was holding dropped with a little chatter to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Barry,” she whispered fearfully, “Barry—” + </p> + <p> + Both men sprang forward, but it was Craven who caught her as she fell. She + lay like a featherweight in his strong clasp, and as he gazed at the + delicate face crushed against his breast a deadly fear was knocking at his + heart that he had come too late. Convulsively his arms tightened round the + pitifully light little body and he spoke abruptly to the man who was + scowling beside him. “A doctor—as quick as you can—and tell + the concierge to come up.” Anxiety roughened his voice and he turned away + without waiting to see his orders carried out. For a second the apache + glowered at him under narrowing lids, his sullen face working strangely, + then he jerked the black cap further over his eyes and slipped away with + noiseless tread. + </p> + <p> + With a broken whisper Craven caught his frail burden closer, as though + seeking by the strength and warmth of his own body to animate the fragile + limbs lying so cold and lifeless in his arms, and he bent low over the + pallid lips he craved and yet did not dare to kiss. They were not for him + to take, he reflected bitterly, and in her unconsciousness they were + sacred. + </p> + <p> + His eyes were dark with misery as he raised his head and looked about + quickly for some couch on which to lay her. But the bare studio was devoid + of any such luxury, and with his face set rigidly he carried her across + the room and pushed open a door leading to an inner sleeping apartment. + Barer it was and colder even than the studio, and its bleak poverty formed + a horrible contrast to the big white bedroom at Craven Towers. He laid her + on the narrow comfortless bed with a smothered groan that seemed to tear + his heart to pieces. And as he knelt beside her chafing her icy hands in + helpless agony there burst in on him a tempestuous fury who raved and + stormed and called on heaven to witness the iniquity of men. “<i>Bete! + animal!</i>” she raged, “what have you done to her—you and that + rat-faced devil!” and she thrust her bulky figure between him and the bed. + Then with a sudden change of manner, her voice grown soft and caressing, + she bent over the fainting girl and slipped a plump arm under her, + crooning, over her and endeavouring to restore her to consciousness. She + snapped an enquiry at Craven and he explained as best he could, and his + explanation brought down on him a wealth of biting sarcasm. The husband of + <i>cet ange la</i>! In the name of heaven! was there no limit to the + blundering stupidity of men—had he no more sense than to present + himself with such unexpectedness, after so long an absence? Small wonder + <i>la pauvre petite</i> had fainted. What folly! And lashing him with her + tongue she renewed her fruitless efforts. But Craven scarcely heeded her. + His eyes were fixed on the little white face on the pillow, and he was + praying desperately that she might be spared to him, that his punishment + might not take so terrible a form. For the change in her appalled him. + Slight and delicate always, she was now a mere shadow of what she had + been. If she died!—he clenched his teeth to keep silent—must + he be twice a murderer? O Hara San's blood was on his hands, would hers + also— + </p> + <p> + He turned quickly as a tall, loosely made man swung into the room. The + new-comer shot a swift glance at him and moved past to the bedside, + addressing the concierge in fluent French that was marked by a pronounced + American accent. He cut short her eager communication as he bent over the + bed and made a rapid examination. + </p> + <p> + “Light a fire in the stove, bring all the blankets you can find, and make + some strong coffee. I have been waiting for this, the marvel is it hasn't + happened before,” he said brusquely. And as the woman hurried away with + surprising meekness to do his bidding he turned again to Craven. “Friend + of Mrs. Craven's?” he asked with blunt directness. “Pity her friends + haven't looked her up sooner. Guess you can wait in the other room until + I'm through here—that is if you are sufficiently interested. It will + probably be a long job and the fewer people she sees about her when she + comes to, the better.” + </p> + <p> + The blood flamed into Craven's face and an angry protest rose to his lips, + but his better judgment checked it. It was not the time for explanations + or to press the claim he had to remain in the room. And had he a claim at + all, he wondered with a dull feeling of pain. “I'll wait,” he said + quietly, fighting an intolerable jealousy as he watched the doctor's + skilful hands busy about her. Strangers might tend her, but the husband + she had evidently never spoken of, was banished to an outer room to wait + “if sufficiently interested.” He winced and passed slowly into the studio. + And yet he had brought it on himself. She could have had little wish to + mention him situated as she was, the bare garret he was pacing + monotonously was evidence in itself that she had determined to cut adrift + from everything that was connected with the life and the man she had + obviously loathed. His surroundings left no doubt on that score. She had + plainly preferred to struggle independently for existence rather than be + beholden to him who was her natural protector. He recalled with an aching + heart the swift look of fear that had leapt into her eyes during that long + moment before she had lost consciousness, and the memory of it went with + him, searing cruelly, as he tramped up and down in restless anxiety that + would not allow him to keep still. To see that look in her eyes again + would be more than he could endure. + </p> + <p> + From time to time the concierge passed through the room bearing the + various necessaries the doctor had demanded, but her mouth was grimly shut + and he did not ask for information that she did not seem inclined to + vouchsafe. She did unbend so far at last as to light a fire in the stove, + but she let it be clearly understood that it was not for his benefit. “It + will help to warm the other room, and it has been empty long enough,” she + said, with a glance and a shrug that were full of meaning. But as she saw + the misery of his face her manner softened and she spoke confidently of + the skill of the American doctor, who from motives of pure philanthropy + had practised for some years in a quarter that offered much experience but + little pecuniary profit. + </p> + <p> + Then she left him to wait again alone. + </p> + <p> + He could not bring himself to look at the canvases propped against the + bare walls, they were witnesses of her toil, witnesses perhaps of a + failure that hurt him even more than it must have hurt her. And to him who + knew the spirit-crushing efforts of the unknown artist to win recognition, + her failure was both natural and intelligible. He guessed at a pride that + scorning patronage had not sought assistance but had striven to succeed by + merit alone, only to learn the bitter lesson that falls to the lot of + those who fight against established convention. She had pitted her + strength against a system and the system had broken her. Her studies might + be—they were—marked with genius, but genius without + advertisement had gone unrecognised and unrewarded. + </p> + <p> + But before the portrait of the strange model he had found with her he + paused for a long time. Still unfinished it was brilliantly clever. The + lower part of the face had evidently not satisfied her, for it was wiped + out, but the upper part was completed, and Craven looked at the deep-set + eyes of the apache staring back at him with almost the fire of life—melancholy + sinister eyes that haunted—and wondered again what circumstance had + brought such a man across her path. He remembered the fragmentary + conversation he had heard, remembered too that mention had been made of + the man who was even now with her in the adjoining room, and he sighed as + he realised how utterly ignorant he was of the life she had led during his + absence. + </p> + <p> + Had she meditated a complete severance from him, formed ties that would + bind her irrevocably to the life she had chosen? He turned from the + picture wearily. It was all a tangle. He could only wait, and waiting, + suffer. + </p> + <p> + He went to the window and leant his arms unseeingly on the high narrow + sill that looked out over the neighbouring housetops, straining to hear + the faintest sound from the inner room. It seemed to him that he must have + waited hours when at last the door opened and shut quietly and the + American came leisurely toward him. He faced him with swift unspoken + inquiry. The doctor nodded, moving toward the stove. “She's all right + now,” he said dryly, “but I don't mind telling you she gave me the fright + of my life. I have been wondering when this was going to happen, I've seen + it coming for a long time.” He paused, and looked at Craven frowningly + while he warmed his hands. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask if you are an intimate friend of Mrs. Craven's—if you + know her people? Can you put me in communication with them? She is not in + a fit state to be alone. She should have somebody with her—somebody + belonging to her, I mean. I gather there is a husband somewhere abroad—though + frankly I have always doubted his existence—but that is no good. I + want somebody here, on the spot, now. Mrs. Craven doesn't see the + necessity. I do. I'm not trying to shunt responsibility. I've shouldered a + good deal in my time and I'm not shirking now—but this is a case + that calls for more than a doctor. I should appreciate any assistance you + could give me.” + </p> + <p> + The fear he had felt when he held her in his arms was clutching anew at + Craven and his face grew grey under the deep tan. “What is the matter with + her?” Something in his voice made the doctor look at him more closely. + </p> + <p> + “That, my dear sir,” he parried, “is rather a leading question.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a right to know,” interrupted Craven quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me if I ask—what right?” was the equally quick + rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + The blood surged back hotly into Craven's face. + </p> + <p> + “The right of the man whose existence you very justly doubted,” he said + heavily. The doctor straightened himself with a jerk. “You are Mrs. + Craven's husband! Then you will forgive me if I say that you have not come + back any too soon. I am glad for your wife's sake that the myth is a + reality,” he said gravely. Craven stood rigidly still, and it seemed to + him that his heart stopped beating. “I know my wife is delicate, that her + lungs are not strong, but what is the cause of this sudden—collapse?” + he said slowly, his voice shaking painfully. For a moment the other + hesitated and shrugged in evident embarrassment. “There are a variety of + causes—I find it somewhat difficult to say—you couldn't know, + of course—” + </p> + <p> + Craven cut him short. “You needn't spare my feelings,” he said hoarsely. + “For God's sake speak plainly. + </p> + <p> + “In a word then—though I hate to have to say it—starvation.” + The keen eyes fixed on him softened into sudden compassion but Craven did + not see them. He saw nothing, for the room was spinning madly round him + and he staggered back against the window catching at the woodwork behind + him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he whispered, and wiped the blinding moisture from his eyes. + If it had been possible for her gentle nature to contemplate revenge she + could have planned no more terrible one than this. But in his heart he + knew that it was not revenge. For a moment he could not speak, then with + an effort he mastered himself. He could give no explanation to this + stranger, that lay between him and her alone. + </p> + <p> + “There was no need,” he said at last dully, forcing the words with + difficulty; “she misunderstood—I can't explain. Only tell me what I + can do—anything that will cure her. There isn't any permanent + injury, is there—I haven't really come too late?” he gasped, with an + agony of appeal in his voice. The American shook his head. “You ran it + very fine,” he said, with a quick smile, “but I guess you've come in time, + right enough. There isn't anything here that money can't cure. Her lungs + are not over strong, her heart is temporarily strained, and her nerves are + in tatters. But if you can take her to the south—or better still, + Egypt—?” he hesitated with a look of enquiry, and as Craven nodded, + continued with more assurance, “Good! then there's no reason why she + shouldn't be a well woman in time. She's constitutionally delicate but + there's nothing organically wrong. Take her away as soon as possible, feed + her up—and keep her happy. That's all she wants. I'll look in again + this evening.” And with another reassuring smile and a firm handclasp he + was gone. + </p> + <p> + As his footsteps died away Craven turned slowly toward the adjoining room + with strangely contending emotions. “... keep her happy.” The bitter irony + of the words bit into him as he crossed to the door and, tapping softly, + went in. + </p> + <p> + She was waiting for him, lying high on the pillows that were no whiter + than her face, toying nervously with the curling ends of the thick plait + of soft brown hair that reached almost to her waist. Her eyes were fixed + on him appealingly, and as he came toward her her face quivered suddenly + and again he saw the look of fear that had tortured him before. “Oh, + Barry,” she moaned, “don't be angry with me.” + </p> + <p> + It was all that he could do to keep his hungry arms from closing round + her, to keep back the passionate torrent of love that rushed to his lips. + But he dared not give way to the weakness that was tempting him. + Controlling himself with an effort of will he sat down on the edge of the + bed and covered her twitching fingers with his lean muscular hands. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not angry, dear. God knows I've no right to be,” he said gently. “I + just don't understand. I never dreamt of anything like this. Can't you + tell me—explain—help me to understand?” + </p> + <p> + She dragged her hands from his, and covering her face gave way to bitter + weeping. Her tears crucified him and his heart was breaking as he looked + at her. “Gillian, have a little pity on me,” he pleaded. “Do you think I'm + a stone that I can bear to see you cry?” + </p> + <p> + “What can I say?” she whispered sobbingly. “You wouldn't understand. You + have never understood. How should you? You were too generous. You gave me + your name, your wealth, you sacrificed your freedom to save me from a + knowledge of the callousness and cruelty of the world. You saw further + than I did. You knew that I would fail—as I have failed. And because + of that you married me in pity. Did you think I would never guess? I + didn't at first. I was a stupid ignorant child, I didn't realise what a + marriage like ours would mean. But when I did—oh, so soon—and + when I knew that I could never repay you—I think I nearly died with + shame. When I asked you to let me come to Paris it was not to lead the + life you purposed for me but because my burden of debt had grown + intolerable. I thought that if I worked here, paid my own way, got back my + lost self-respect, that it would be easier to bear. When you took the flat + I tried to make you understand but you wouldn't listen and I couldn't + trouble you when you were going away. And then later when they told me at + the convent what you had done, when I learned how much greater was my debt + than I had ever dreamt, and when I heard of the money you gave them—the + money you still give them every year—the money they call the Gillian + Craven Fund—” + </p> + <p> + “They had no right, I made it a stipulation—” + </p> + <p> + “They didn't realise, they thought because we were married that I must + surely know. I couldn't go on living in the flat, taking the allowance you + heaped on me. All you gave,—all you did—your generosity—I + couldn't bear it! Oh, can't you see—your money <i>choked</i> me!” + she wailed, with a paroxysm of tears that frightened him. He caught her + hands again, holding them firmly. “Your money as much as mine, Gillian. I + have always tried to make you realise it. What is mine is yours. You're my + wife—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not, I'm not,” she sobbed wildly. “I'm only a burden thrust on you.” + </p> + <p> + A cry burst from his lips. “A burden, my God, a burden!” he groaned. And + suddenly he reached the end of his endurance. With the agony of death in + his eyes he swept her into his arms, holding her to him with passionate + strength, his lips buried in the fragrance of her hair. “Oh, my dear, my + dear,” he murmured brokenly, “I'm not fit to touch you, but I've loved you + always, worshipped you, longed for you until the longing grew too great to + bear, and I left you because I knew that if I stayed I should not have the + strength to leave you free. I married you because I loved you, because + even this damnable mockery of a marriage was better than losing you out of + my life—I was cur enough to keep you when I knew I might not take + you. And I've wanted you, God knows how I've wanted you, all these ghastly + years. I want you now, I'd give my hope of heaven to have your love, to + hold you in my arms as my wife, to be a husband to you not only in name—but + I'm not fit. You don't know what I've done—what I've been. I had no + right to marry you, to stain your purity with my sin, to link you with one + who is fouled as I am. If you knew you'd never look at me again.” With a + terrible sob he laid her back on the pillows and dropped on his knees + beside her. Into her tear-wet eyes there came suddenly a light that was + almost divine, her quivering face became glorious in its pitiful love. + Trembling, she leant towards him, and her slender hands went out in swift + compassion, drawing the bowed shamed head close to her tender breast. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she whispered. And with her soft arms round him he told her, + waiting in despair for the moment when she would shrink from him, repel + him with the horror and disgust he dreaded. But she lay quite still until + he finished, though once or twice she shuddered and he felt the quickened + beating of her heart. And for long after his muffled voice had died away + she remained silent. Then her thin hand crept quiveringly up to his hair, + touching it shyly, and two great tears rolled down her face. “Barry, I've + been so lonely”—it was the cry of a frightened desolate child—“if + you have no pity on yourself, will you have no pity on me?” + </p> + <p> + “Gillian!” he raised his head sharply, staring at her with desperate + unbelieving eyes, “You care?” + </p> + <p> + “Care?” she gave a tremulous little sobbing laugh. “How could I help but + care! I've loved you since the day you came to me in the convent parlour. + You're all I have, and if you leave me now”—she clung to him + suddenly—“Barry, Barry, I can't bear any more. I haven't any + strength or courage left. I'm afraid! I can't face the world alone—it's + cruel—pitiless. I love you, I want you, I can't live without you,” + and with a piteous sob she strained him to her, hiding her face against + his breast, beseeching and distraught. His lips were trembling as he + gathered the shuddering little body closely in his arms, but still he + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Think, dear, think,” he muttered hoarsely, “I'm not fit to stay with you. + I've done that which is unforgivable.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm your wife, I've the right to share your burden,” she cried + passionately. “You didn't know, you couldn't know when you did that + dreadful thing. And if God punishes you let Him punish me too. But God is + love, He knows how you have suffered, and for those who repent His + punishment is forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you forgive—can you bear to come to me?” he faltered, still + only half believing. + </p> + <p> + “I love you,” she said simply, “and life without you is death,” and + lifting her face to his she gave him the lips he had not dared to take. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of the East, by E. M. Hull + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST *** + +***** This file should be named 8143-h.htm or 8143-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8143/ + + +Text file produced by Anne Reshnyk, Lois Gaudard, Gloria Bryant, +Suzanne L. 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