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+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: 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. Hull
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHADOW OF THE EAST ***
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