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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33876-h.zip b/33876-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2cb45db --- /dev/null +++ b/33876-h.zip diff --git a/33876-h/33876-h.htm b/33876-h/33876-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f94041e --- /dev/null +++ b/33876-h/33876-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12673 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wave by Algernon Blackwood</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + font-size: medium; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:12%; + margin-right:12%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; } + blockquote.footnote { font-size: small; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + .ind1 {margin-left: 1em; } + .ind2 {margin-left: 2em; } + .ind3 {margin-left: 3em; } + .ind4 {margin-left: 4em; } + .ind5 {margin-left: 5em; } + .ind6 {margin-left: 6em; } + .ind7 {margin-left: 7em; } + .ind8 {margin-left: 8em; } + .ind9 {margin-left: 9em; } + .ind10 {margin-left: 10em; } + .ind11 {margin-left: 11em; } + .ind12 {margin-left: 12em; } + .ind13 {margin-left: 13em; } + .ind14 {margin-left: 14em; } + .ind15 {margin-left: 15em; } + .ind16 {margin-left: 16em; } + .ind17 {margin-left: 17em; } + .ind18 {margin-left: 18em; } + .ind19 {margin-left: 19em; } + .ind20 {margin-left: 20em; } + .large {font-size: large; } + table { font-size: medium; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wave, by Algernon Blackwood + +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 Wave + An Egyptian Aftermath + +Author: Algernon Blackwood + +Release Date: October 18, 2010 [EBook #33876] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAVE *** + + + + +Produced by Lionel Sear + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" noshade> + +<h2>THE WAVE.</h2> + +<h3>An Egyptian Aftermath.</h3> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>ALGERNON BLACKWOOD.</h2> + +<h5>Author of 'Education of Uncle Paul,' 'A Prisoner in Fairyland' Etc.</h5> +<br><br><br> + + +<h4>MACMILLAN AND CO LIMITED +St Martin's Street LONDON. +1916</h4> + +<br><br><br> + + +<h3>TO</h3> +<h2>M. S.=K.</h2> +<h4>EGYPT'S FORGETFUL AND UNWILLING CHILD.</h4> + + + +<br><br><br> +<br><br><br> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER LINKS</h2> +<br><br><br> + + +<h2>PART I</h2> +<br> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tbody><tr><td> + +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0001"> +I. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0002"> +II. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0003"> +III. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0004"> +IV. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0005"> +V. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0006"> +VI. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0007"> +VII. +</a></p> +</td></tr> +</tbody></table> +</center> + +<br><br><br> +<h2>PART II</h2> +<br> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tbody><tr><td> + +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0008"> +VIII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0009"> +IX. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0010"> +X. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0011"> +XI. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0012"> +XII. +</a></p> +</td></tr> +</tbody></table> +</center> + + +<br><br><br> +<h2>PART III</h2> +<br> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tbody><tr><td> + +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0013"> +XIII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0014"> +XIV. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0015"> +XV. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0016"> +XVI. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0017"> +XVII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0018"> +XVIII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0019"> +XIX. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0020"> +XX. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0021"> +XXI. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0022"> +XXII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0023"> +XXIII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0024"> +XXIV. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0025"> +XXV. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0026"> +XXVI. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0027"> +XXVII. +</a></p> +</td></tr> +</tbody></table> +</center> + + +<br><br><br> +<h2>PART IV</h2> +<br> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tbody><tr><td> + +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0028"> +XXVIII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0029"> +XXVIX. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0030"> +XXX. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0031"> +XXXI. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0032"> +XXXII. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0033"> +XXXIII. +</a></p> +</td></tr> +</tbody></table> +</center> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + + +<p>Since childhood days he had been haunted by a Wave.</p> + +<p>It appeared with the very dawn of thought, and was his earliest +recollection of any vividness. It was also his first experience of +nightmare: a wave of an odd, dun colour, almost tawny, that rose behind +him, advanced, curled over in the act of toppling, and then stood still. +It threatened, but it did not fall. It paused, hovering in a position +contrary to nature; it waited.</p> + +<p>Something prevented; it was not meant to fall; the right moment had not +yet arrived.</p> + +<p>If only it would fall! It swept across the skyline in a huge, long curve +far overhead, hanging dreadfully suspended. Beneath his feet he felt the +roots of it withdrawing; he shuffled furiously and made violent efforts; +but the suction undermined him where he stood. The ground yielded and +dropped away. He only sank in deeper. His entire weight became that of a +feather against the gigantic tension of the mass that any moment, it +seemed, must lift him in its rising curve, bend, break, and twist him, +then fling him crashing forward to his smothering fate.</p> + +<p>Yet the moment never came. The Wave hung balanced between him and the +sky, poised in mid-air. It did not fall. And the torture of that +infinite pause contained the essence of the nightmare.</p> + +<p>The Wave invariably came up behind him, stealthily, from what seemed +interminable distance. He never met it. It overtook him from the rear. +The horizon hid it till it rose.</p> + +<p>There were stages in its history, moreover, and in the effect it produced +upon his early mind. Usually he woke up the moment he realised it was +there. For it invariably announced its presence. He heard no sound, but +knew that it was coming—there was a feeling in the atmosphere not unlike +the heavy brooding that precedes a thunderstorm, only so different from +anything he had yet known in life that his heart sank into his boots. +He looked up. There, above his head was the huge, curved monster, hanging +in mid-air. The mood had justified itself. He called it the 'wavy +feeling.' He was never wrong about it.</p> + +<p>The second stage was reached when, instead of trying to escape shorewards, +where there were tufts of coarse grass upon a sandy bank, he turned and +faced the thing. He looked straight into the main under-body of the +poised billow. He saw the opaque mass out of which this line rose up and +curved. He stared against the dull, dun-coloured parent body whence it +came—the sea. Terrified yet fascinated, he examined it in detail, as a +man about to be executed might examine the grain of the wooden block close +against his eyes. A little higher, some dozen feet above the level of his +head, it became transparent; sunlight shot through the glassy curve. +He saw what appeared to be streaks and bubbles and transverse lines of +foam that yet did not shine quite as water shines. It moved suddenly; +it curled a little towards the crest; it was about to topple over, to +break—yet did not break.</p> + +<p>About this time he noticed another thing: there was a curious faint +sweetness in the air beneath the bend of it, a delicate and indescribable +odour that was almost perfume. It was sweet; it choked him. He called +it, in his boyish way, a whiff. The 'whiff' and the 'wavy feeling' +impressed themselves so vividly upon his mind that if ever he met them in +his ordinary life—out of dream, that is—he was sure that he would know +them. In another sense he felt he knew them already. They were familiar.</p> + +<p>But another stage went further than all the others put together. +It amounted to a discovery. He was perhaps ten years old at this time, +for he was still addressed as 'Tommy,' and it was not till the age +of fifteen that his solid type of character made 'Tom' seem more +appropriate. He had just told the dream to his mother for the hundredth +time, and she, after listening with sympathy, had made her ever-green +suggestion—'If you dream of water, Tommy, it means you're thirsty in +your sleep,'—when he turned and stared straight into her eyes with such +intentness that she gave an involuntary start.</p> + +<p>'But, mother, it <i>isn't</i> water!'</p> + +<p>'Well, darling, if it isn't water, what is it, then?' She asked the +question quietly enough, but she felt, apparently, something of the queer +dismay that her boy felt too. It seemed the mother-sense was touched. +The instinct to protect her offspring stirred uneasily in her heart. +She repeated the question, interested in the old, familiar dream for the +first time since she heard it several years before: 'If it isn't water, +Tommy, what is it? What can it be?' His eyes, his voice, his manner— +something she could not properly name—had startled her.</p> + +<p>But Tommy noticed her slight perturbation, and knowing that a boy of his +age did not frighten his mother without reason, or even with it, turned +his eyes aside and answered:</p> + +<p>'I couldn't tell. There wasn't time. You see, I woke up then.'</p> + +<p>'How curious, Tommy,' she rejoined. 'A wave is a wave, isn't it?'</p> + +<p>And he answered thoughtfully: 'Yes, mother; but there are lots of things +besides water, aren't there?'</p> + +<p>She assented with a nod, and a searching look at him which he purposely +avoided. The subject dropped; no more was said; yet somehow from that +moment his mother knew that this idea of a wave, whether it was nightmare +or only dream, had to do with her boy's life in a way that touched the +protective thing in her, almost to the point of positive defence. +She could not explain it; she did not like it; instinct warned her—that +was all she knew. And Tommy said no more. The truth was, indeed, that he +did not know himself of what the Wave was composed. He could not have +told his mother even had he considered it permissible. He would have +loved to speculate and talk about it with her, but, having divined her +nervousness, he knew he must not feed it. No boy should do such a thing.</p> + +<p>Moreover, the interest he felt in the Wave was of such a deep, enormous +character—the adjectives were his own—that he could not talk about it +lightly. Unless to some one who showed genuine interest, he could not +even mention it. To his brothers and sister, both older and younger than +himself, he never spoke of it at all. It had to do with something so +fundamental in him that it was sacred. The realisation of it, moreover, +came and went, and often remained buried for weeks together; months passed +without a hint of it; the nightmare disappeared. Then, suddenly, the +feeling would surge over him, perhaps just as he was getting into bed, or +saying his prayers, or thinking of quite other things. In the middle of a +discussion with his brother about their air-guns and the water-rat they +hadn't hit—up would steal the 'wavy' feeling with its dim, familiar +menace. It stole in across his brother's excited words about the size and +speed of the rat; interest in sport entirely vanished; he stared at Tim, +not hearing a word he said; he dived into bed; he had to be alone with the +great mood of wonder and terror that was rising. The approach was +unmistakable; he cuddled beneath the sheets, fighting-angry if Tim tried +to win him back to the original interest. The dream was coming; and, sure +enough, a little later in his sleep, it came.</p> + +<p>For even at this stage of his development he recognised instinctively this +special quality about it—that it could not, was not meant to be avoided. +It was inevitable and right. It hurt, yet he must face it. It was as +necessary to his well-being as having a tooth out. Nor did he ever seek +to dodge it. His character was not the kind that flinched. The one thing +he did ask was—to understand. Some day, he felt, this full understanding +would come.</p> + +<p>There arrived then a new and startling development in this curious +obsession, the very night, Tommy claims, that there had been the fuss +about the gun and water-rat, on the day before the conversation with his +mother. His brother had plagued him to come out from beneath the sheets +and go on with the discussion, and Tommy, furious at being disturbed in +the 'wavy' mood he both loved and dreaded, had felt himself roused +uncommonly. He silenced Tim easily enough with a smashing blow from a +pillow, then, with a more determined effort than usual, buried himself to +face the advent of the Wave. He fell asleep in the attempt, but the +attempt bore fruit. He felt the great thing coming up behind him; he +turned; he saw it with greater distinctness than ever before; almost he +discovered of what it was composed.</p> + +<p>That it was <i>not</i> water established itself finally in his mind; but more— +he got very close to deciding its exact composition. He stared hard into +the threatening mass of it; there was a certain transparency about the +substance, yet this transparency was not clear enough for water: there +were particles, and these particles went drifting by the thousand, by the +million, through the mass of it. They rose and fell, they swept along, +they were very minute indeed, they whirled. They glistened, shimmered, +flashed. He made a guess; he was just on the point of guessing right, in +fact, when he saw another thing that for the moment obliterated all his +faculties. There was both cold and heat in the sensation, fear and +delight. It transfixed him. He saw eyes.</p> + +<p>Steady, behind the millions of minute particles that whirled and drifted, +he distinctly saw a pair of eyes of light-blue colour, and hardly had he +registered this new discovery, when another pair, but of quite different +kind, became visible beyond the first pair—dark, with a fringe of long, +thick lashes. They were—he decided afterwards—what is called Eastern +eyes, and they smiled into his own through half-closed lids. He thinks he +made out a face that was dimly sketched behind them, but the whirling +particles glinted and shimmered in such a confusing way that he could not +swear to this. Of one thing only, or rather of two, did he feel quite +positive: that the dark eyes were those of a woman, and that they were +kind and beautiful and true: but that the pale-blue eyes were false, +unkind, and treacherous, and that the face to which they belonged, +although he could not see it, was a man's. Dimly his boyish heart was +aware of happiness and suffering. The heat and cold he felt, the joy and +terror, were half explained. He stared. The whirling particles drifted +past and hid them. He woke.</p> + +<p>That day, however, the 'wavy' feeling hovered over him more or less +continuously. The impression of the night held sway over all he did and +thought. There was a kind of guidance in it somewhere. He obeyed this +guidance as by an instinct he could not, dared not disregard, and towards +dusk it led him into the quiet room overlooking the small Gardens at the +back of the house, his father's study. The room was empty; he approached +the big mahogany cupboard; he opened one of the deep drawers where he knew +his father kept gold and private things, and birthday or Christmas +presents. But there was no dishonourable intention in him anywhere; +indeed, he hardly knew exactly why he did this thing. The drawer, though +moving easily, was heavy; he pulled hard; it slid out with a rush; and at +that moment a stern voice sounded in the room behind him: 'What are you +doing at my Eastern drawer?'</p> + +<p>Tommy, one hand still on the knob, turned as if he had been struck. +He gazed at his father, but without a trace of guilt upon his face.</p> + +<p>'I wanted to see, Daddy.'</p> + +<p>'I'll show you,' said the stern-faced man, yet with kindness and humour in +the tone. 'It's full of wonderful things. I've nothing secret from you; +but another time you'd better ask first—Tommy.'</p> + +<p>'I wanted to see,' faltered the boy. 'I don't know why I did it. I just +had a feeling. It's the first time—<i>really</i>.'</p> + +<p>The man watched him searchingly a moment, but without appearing to do so. +A look of interest and understanding, wholly missed by the culprit, stole +into his fine grey eyes. He smiled, then drew Tommy towards him, and gave +him a kiss on the top of his curly head. He also smacked him playfully. +'Curiosity,' he said with pretended disapproval, 'is divine, and at your +age it is right that you should feel curiosity about everything in the +world. But another time just ask me—and I'll show you all I possess.' +He lifted his son in his arms, so that for the first time the boy could +overlook the contents of the opened drawer. 'So you just had a feeling, +eh——?' he continued, when Tommy wriggled in his arms, uttered a curious +exclamation, and half collapsed. He seemed upon the verge of tears. +An ordinary father must have held him guilty there and then. The boy +cried out excitedly:</p> + +<p>'The whiff! Oh, Daddy, it's my whiff!'</p> + +<p>The tears, no longer to be denied, came freely then; after them came +confession too, and confused though it was, the man made something +approaching sense out of the jumbled utterance. It was not mere patient +kindness on his part, for an older person would have seen that genuine +interest lay behind the half-playful, half-serious cross-examination. +He watched the boy's eager, excited face out of the corner of his eyes; +he put discerning questions to him, he assisted his faltering replies, and +he obtained in the end the entire story of the dream—the eyes, the wavy +feeling, and the whiff. How much coherent meaning he discovered in it all +is hard to say, or whether the story he managed to disentangle held +together. There was this strange deep feeling in the boy, this strong +emotion, this odd conviction amounting to an obsession; and so far as +could be discovered, it was not traceable to any definite cause that Tommy +could name—a fright, a shock, a vivid impression of one kind or another +upon a sensitive young imagination. It lay so deeply in his being that +its roots were utterly concealed; but it was real.</p> + +<p>Dr. Kelverdon established the existence in his second boy of an +unalterable premonition, and, being a famous nerve specialist, and a +disciple of Freud into the bargain, he believed that a premonition has a +cause, however primitive, however carefully concealed that cause may be. +He put the boy to bed himself and tucked him up, told Tim that if he +teased his brother too much he would smack him with his best Burmese +slipper which had tiny nails in it, and then whispered into Tommy's ear as +he cuddled down, happy and comforted, among the blankets: 'Don't make a +special effort to dream, my boy; but if you do dream, try to remember it +next morning, and tell me exactly what you see and feel.' He used the +Freudian method.</p> + +<p>Then, going down to his study again, he looked at the open drawer and +sniffed the faint perfume of things—chiefly from Egypt—that lay inside +it. But there was nothing of special interest in the drawer; indeed, it +was one he had not touched for years.</p> + +<p>He went over one by one a few of the articles, collected from various +points of travel long ago. There were bead necklaces from Memphis, some +trash from a mummy of doubtful authenticity, including several amulets and +a crumbling fragment of old papyrus, and, among all this, a tiny packet of +incense mixed from a recipe said to have been found in a Theban tomb. +All these, jumbled together in pieces of tissue-paper, had lain +undisturbed since the day he wrapped them up some dozen years before— +indeed he heard the dry rattle of the falling sand as he undid the +tissue-paper. But a strong perfume rose from the parcel to his nostrils. +'That's what Tommy means by his whiff,' he said to himself. 'That's +Tommy's whiff beyond all question. I wonder how he got it first?'</p> + +<p>He remembered, then, that he had made a note of the story connected with +the incense, and after some rummaging he found the envelope and read the +account jotted down at the time. He had meant to hand it over to a +literary friend—the tale was so poignantly human—then had forgotten all +about it. The papyrus, dating over 3000 B.C., had many gaps. +The Egyptologist had admittedly filled in considerable blanks in the +afflicting story:—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> A victorious Theban General, Prince of the blood, brought back a + Syrian youth from one of his foreign conquests and presented him to + his young wife who, first mothering him for his beauty, then made him + her personal slave, and ended by caring deeply for him. The slave, + in return, loved her with passionate adoration he was unable to + conceal. As a Lady of the Court, her quasi-adoption of the youth + caused comment. Her husband ordered his dismissal. But she still + made his welfare her especial object, finding frequent reasons for + their meeting. One day, however, her husband caught them together, + though their meeting was in innocence. He half strangled the youth, + till the blood poured down upon his own hands, then had him flogged + and sent away to On, the City of the Sun.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> The Syrian found his way back again, vengeance in his fiery blood. + The clandestine yet innocent meetings were renewed. Rank was + forgotten. They met among the sand-dunes in the desert behind the + city where a pleasure tent among a grove of palms provided shelter, + and the slave losing his head, urged the Princess to fly with him. + Yet the wife, true to her profligate and brutal husband, refused his + plea, saying she could only give a mother's love, a mother's care. + This he rejected bitterly, accusing her of trifling with him. + He grew bolder and more insistent. To divert her husband's violent + suspicions she became purposely cruel, even ordering him punishments. + But the slave misinterpreted. Finally, warning him that if caught he + would be killed, she devised a plan to convince him of her sincerity. + Hiding him behind the curtains of her tent, she pleaded with her + husband for the youth's recall, swearing that she meant no wrong. + But the soldier, in his fury, abused and struck her, and the slave, + unable to contain himself, rushed out of his hiding-place and stabbed + him, though not mortally. He was condemned to death by torture. + She was to be chief witness against him.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Meanwhile, having extracted a promise from her husband that the + torture should not be carried to the point of death, she conveyed + word to the victim that he should endure bravely, knowing that he + would not die. She now realised that she loved. She promised to fly + with him.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> The sentence was duly carried out, the slave only half believing in + her truth. It was a public holiday in Thebes. She was compelled to + see the punishment inflicted before the crowd. There were a thousand + drums. A sand-storm hid the sun.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Seated beside her husband on a terrace above the Nile, she watched + the torture—then knew she had been tricked. But the Syrian did not + know; he believed her false. As he expired, casting his last glance + of anguish and reproach at her, she rose, leaped the parapet, flung + herself into the river, and was drowned. The husband had their + bodies thrown into the sea, unburied. The same wave took them both. + Later, however, they were recovered by influential friends; + they were embalmed, and secretly laid to rest in his ancestral + Tomb in the Valley of the Kings among the Theban Hills. + In due course the husband, unwittingly, was buried with them.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Nearly five thousand years later all three mummies were discovered + lying side by side, their story inscribed upon a papyrus inside the + great sarcophagus.</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Dr. Kelverdon glanced through the story he had forgotten, +then tore it into little pieces and threw them into the fireplace. +For a moment longer, however, he stood beside the open drawer +reflectingly. Had he ever told the tale to Tommy? No; it was hardly +likely; indeed it was impossible. The boy was not born even when first he +heard it. To his wife, then? Less likely still. He could not remember, +anyhow. The faint suggestion in his mind—a story communicated +pre-natally—was not worth following up. He dismissed the matter from his +thoughts. He closed the drawer and turned away. The little packet of +incense, however, taken from the Tomb, he did not destroy. 'I'll give it +to Tommy,' he decided. 'Its whiff may possibly stimulate him into +explanation!'</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p>As a result of having told everything to his father, Tommy's nightmare, +however, largely ceased to trouble him. He had found the relief of +expression, which is confession, and had laid upon the older mind the +burden of his terror. Once a month, once a week, or even daily if he +wanted to, he could repeat the expression as the need for it accumulated, +and the load which decency forbade being laid upon his mother, the +stern-faced man could carry easily for him.</p> + +<p>The comfortable sensation that forgiveness is the completion of confession +invaded his awakening mind, and had he been older this thin end of a +religious wedge might have persuaded him to join what his mother called +that 'vast conspiracy.' But even at this early stage there was something +stalwart and self-reliant in his cast of character that resisted the +cunning sophistry; vicarious relief woke resentment in him; he meant to +face his troubles alone. So far as he knew, he had not sinned, yet the +Wave, the Whiff, the Eyes were symptoms of some fate that threatened him, +a premonition of something coming that he must meet with his own strength, +something that he could only deal with effectively alone, since it was +deserved and just. One day the Wave would fall; his father could not help +him then. This instinct in him remained unassailable. He even began to +look forward to the time when it should come—to have done with it and get +it over, conquering or conquered.</p> + +<p>The premonition, that is, while remaining an obsession as before, +transferred itself from his inner to his outer life. The nightmare, +therefore, ceased. The menacing interest, however, held unchanged. +Though the name had not hitherto occurred to him, he became a fatalist. +'It's got to come; I've got to meet it. I will.'</p> + +<p>'Well, Tommy,' his father would ask from time to time, 'been dreaming +anything lately?'</p> + +<p>'Nothing, Daddy. It's all stopped.'</p> + +<p>'Wave, eyes, and whiff all forgotten, eh?'</p> + +<p>Tommy shook his head. 'They're still there,' he answered slowly, +'but——' He seemed unable to complete the sentence. His father helped +him at a venture.</p> + +<p>'But they can't catch you—is that it?'</p> + +<p>The boy looked up with a dogged expression in his big grey eyes. +'I'm ready for them,' he replied. And his father laughed and said, +'Of course. That's half the battle.'</p> + +<p>He gave him a present then—one of the packets of tissue-paper—and Tommy +took it in triumph to his room. He opened it in private, but the contents +seemed to him without especial interest. Only the Whiff was, somehow, +sweet and precious; and he kept the packet in a drawer apart where the +fossils and catapult and air-gun ammunition could not interfere with it, +hiding the key so that Tim and the servants could not find it. And on +rare occasions, when the rest of the household was asleep, he performed a +little ritual of his own that, for a boy of his years, was distinctly +singular.</p> + +<p>When the room was dark, lit in winter by the dying fire, or in summer by +the stars, he would creep out of bed, make quite sure that Tim was asleep, +stand on a chair to reach the key from the top of the big cupboard, and +carefully unlock the drawer. He had oiled the wood with butter, so that +it was silent. The tissue-paper gleamed dimly pink; the Whiff came out to +meet him. He lifted the packet, soft and crackling, and set it on the +window-sill; he did not open it; its contents had no interest for him, it +was the perfume he was after. And the moment the perfume reached his +nostrils there came a trembling over him that he could not understand. +He both loved and dreaded it. This manly, wholesome-minded, plucky little +boy, the basis of whose steady character was common sense, became the prey +of a strange, unreasonable fantasy. A faintness stole upon him; he lost +the sense of kneeling on a solid chair; something immense and irresistible +came piling up behind him; there was nothing firm he could push against to +save himself; he began shuffling with his bare feet, struggling to escape +from something that was coming, something that would probably overwhelm +him yet must positively be faced and battled with. The Wave was rising. +It was the wavy feeling.</p> + +<p>He did not turn to look, because he knew quite well there was nothing in +the room but beds, a fender, furniture, vague shadows and his brother Tim. +That kind of childish fear had no place in what he felt. But the Wave was +piled and curving over none the less; it hung between him and the shadowed +ceiling, above the roof of the house; it came from beyond the world, far +overhead against the crowding stars. It would not break, for the time +had not yet come. But it was there. It waited. He knelt beneath its +mighty shadow of advance; it was still arrested, poised above his eager +life, competent to engulf him when the time arrived. The sweep of its +curved mass was mountainous. He knelt inside this curve, small, helpless, +but not too afraid to fight. The perfume stole about him. The Whiff was +in his nostrils. There was a strange, rich pain—oddly remote, yet oddly +poignant.…</p> + +<p>And it was with this perfume that the ritual chiefly had to do. He loved +the extraordinary sensations that came with it, and tried to probe their +meaning in his boyish way. Meaning there was, but it escaped him. The +sweetness clouded something in his brain, and made his muscles weak; it +robbed him of that resistance which is fighting strength. It was this +battle that he loved, this sense of shoving against something that might +so easily crush and finish him. There <i>was</i> a way to beat it, a way to +win—could he but discover it. As yet he could not. Victory, he felt, +lay more in yielding and going-with than in violent resistance.</p> + +<p>And, meanwhile, in an ecstasy of this half yielding, half resisting, he +lent himself fully to the overmastering tide. He was conscious of +attraction and repulsion, something that enticed, yet thrust him +backwards. Some final test of manhood, character, value, lay in the way +he faced it. The strange, rich pain stole marvellously into his blood and +nerves. His heart beat faster. There was this exquisite seduction that +contained delicious danger. It rose upon him out of some inner depth he +could not possibly get at. He trembled with mingled terror and delight. +And it invariably ended with a kind of inexpressible yearning that choked +him, crumpled him inwardly, as he described it, brought the moisture, hot +and smarting, into his burning eyes, and—each time to his bitter shame— +left his cheeks wet with scalding tears.</p> + +<p>He cried silently; there was no heaving, gulping, audible sobbing, just a +relieving gush of heartfelt tears that took away the strange, rich pain +and brought the singular ritual to a finish. He replaced the +tissue-paper, blotted with his tears; locked the drawer carefully; hid the +key on the top of the cupboard again, and tumbled back into bed.</p> + +<p>Downstairs, meanwhile, a conversation was in progress concerning the +welfare of the growing hero.</p> + +<p>'I'm glad that dream has left him anyhow. It used to frighten me rather. +I did <i>not</i> like it,' observed his mother.</p> + +<p>'He doesn't speak to you about it any more?' the father asked.</p> + +<p>For months, she told him, Tommy had not mentioned it. They went on to +discuss his future together. The other children presented fewer problems, +but Tommy, apparently, felt no particular call to any profession.</p> + +<p>'It will come with a jump,' the doctor inclined to think. 'He's been on +the level for some time now. Suddenly he'll grow up and declare his +mighty mind.'</p> + +<p>Father liked humour in the gravest talk; indeed the weightier the subject, +the more he valued a humorous light upon it. The best judgment, he held, +was shaped by humour, sense of proportion lost without it. His wife, +however, thought 'it a pity.' Grave things she liked grave.</p> + +<p>'There's something very deep in Tommy,' she observed, as though he were +developing a hidden malady.</p> + +<p>'Hum,' agreed her husband. 'His subconscious content is unusual, both in +kind and quantity.' His eyes twinkled. 'It's possible he may turn out an +artist, or a preacher. If the former, I'll bet his output will be +original; and, as for the latter,'—he paused a second—'he's too logical +and too fearless to be orthodox. Already he thinks things out for +himself.'</p> + +<p>'I should like to see him in the Church, though,' said Mother. 'He would +do a lot of good. But he <i>is</i> uncompromising, rather.'</p> + +<p>'His honesty certainly is against him,' sighed his father. 'What do you +think he asked me the other day?'</p> + +<p>'I'm sure I don't know, John.' The answer completed itself with the +unspoken 'He never asks <i>me</i> anything now.'</p> + +<p>'He came straight up to me and said, 'Father, is it good to feel pain? +To let it come, I mean, or try to dodge it?''</p> + +<p>'Had he hurt himself?' the woman asked quickly. It seemed she winced.</p> + +<p>'Not physically. He had been feeling something inside. He wanted to know +how 'a man' should meet the case.'</p> + +<p>'And what did you tell him, dear?'</p> + +<p>'That pain was usually a sign of growth, to be understood, accepted, +faced. That most pain was cured in that way——'</p> + +<p>'He didn't tell you what had hurt him?' she interrupted.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I didn't ask him. He'd have shut up like a clam. Tommy likes to +deal with things alone in his own way. He just wanted to know if his way +was—well, <i>my</i> way.'</p> + +<p>There fell a pause between them; then Mother, without looking up, +enquired: 'Have you noticed Lettice lately? She's here a good deal now.'</p> + +<p>But her husband only smiled, making no direct reply. 'Tommy will have a +hard time of it when he falls in love,' he remarked presently. +'He'll know the real thing and won't stand any nonsense—just as I did.' +Whereupon his wife informed him that if he was not careful he would simply +ruin the boy—and the brief conversation died away of its own accord. +As she was leaving the room a little later, unsatisfied but unaggressive, +he asked her: 'Have you left the picture books, my dear?' and she pointed +to an ominous heap upon the table in the window, with the remark that Jane +had 'unearthed every book that Tommy had set eyes upon since he was three. +You'll find everything that's ever interested him,' she added as she went +out, 'every picture, that is—and I suppose it is the pictures that you +want.'</p> + +<p>For an hour and a half the great specialist turned pages without ceasing— +well-thumbed pages; torn, crumpled, blotted, painted pages. It was easy +to discover the boy's favourite pictures; and all were commonplace enough, +the sort that any normal, adventure-loving boy would find delightful. +But nothing of special significance resulted from the search; nothing that +might account for the recurrent nightmare, nothing in the way of eyes or +wave. He had already questioned Jane as to what stories she told him, and +which among them he liked best. 'Hunting or travel or collecting,' Jane +had answered, and it was about 'collecting that he asks most questions. +What kind of collecting, sir? Oh, treasure or rare beetles mostly, and +sometimes—just bones.'</p> + +<p>'Bones! What kind of bones?'</p> + +<p>'The villin's, sir,' explained the frightened Jane. 'He always likes the +villin to get lost, and for the jackals to pick his bones in the +desert——'</p> + +<p>'Any particular desert?'</p> + +<p>'No, sir; just desert.'</p> + +<p>'Ah—just desert! Any old desert, eh?'</p> + +<p>'I think so, sir—as long as it <i>is</i> desert.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Kelverdon put the woman at her ease with the humorous smile that made +all the household love—and respect—him; then asked another question, as +if casually: Had she ever told him a story in which a wave or a pair of +eyes were in any way conspicuous?</p> + +<p>'No, never, sir,' replied the honest Jane, after careful reflection. +'Nor I wouldn't,' she added, 'because my father he was drowned in a tidal +wave; and as for eyes, I know that's wrong for children, and I wouldn't +tell Master Tommy such a thing for all the world——'</p> + +<p>'Because?' enquired the doctor kindly, seeing her hesitation.</p> + +<p>'I'd be frightening myself, sir, and he'd make such fun of me,' she +finally confessed.</p> + +<p>No, it was clear that the nurse was not responsible for the vivid +impression in Tommy's mind which bore fruit in so strange a complex of +emotions. Nor were other lines of enquiry more successful. There was a +cause, of course, but it would remain unascertainable unless some clue +offered itself by chance. Both the doctor and the father in him were +pledged to a persistent search that was prolonged over several months, but +without result. The most perplexing element in the problem seemed to him +the whiff. The association of terror with a wave needed little +explanation; the introduction of the eyes, however, was puzzling, unless +some story of a drowning man was possibly the clue; but the addition of a +definite odour, an Eastern odour, moreover, with which the boy could +hardly have become yet acquainted,—this combination of the three +accounted for the peculiar interest in the doctor's mind.</p> + +<p>Of one thing alone did he feel reasonably certain: the impression had been +printed upon the deepest part of Tommy's being, the very deepest; it arose +from those unplumbed profundities—though a scientist, he considered them +unfathomable—of character and temperament whence emerge the most +primitive of instincts,—the generative and creative instinct, choice of a +mate, natural likes and dislikes,—the bed-rock of the nature. A girl was +in it somewhere, somehow.…</p> + +<p>Midnight had sounded from the stable clock in the mews when he stole up +into the boys' room and cautiously approached the yellow iron bed where +Tommy lay. The reflection of a street electric light just edged his face. +He was sound asleep—with tear-stains marked clearly on the cheek not +pressed into the pillow. Dr. Kelverdon paused a moment, looked round the +room, shading the candle with one hand. He saw no photograph, no pictures +anywhere. Then he sniffed. There was a faint and delicate perfume in the +air. He recognised it. He stood there, thinking deeply.</p> + +<p>'Lettice Aylmer,' he said to himself presently as he went softly out again +to seek his own bed; 'I'll try Lettice. It's just possible.… Next +time I see her I'll have a little talk.' For he suddenly remembered that +Lettice Aylmer, his daughter's friend and playmate, had very large and +beautiful dark eyes.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p>Lettice Aylmer, daughter of the Irish Member of Parliament, did not +provide the little talk that he anticipated, however, because she went +back to her Finishing School abroad. Dr. Kelverdon was sorry when he +heard it. So was Tommy. She was to be away a year at least. +'I must remember to have a word with her when she comes back,' thought the +father, and made a note of it in his diary twelve months ahead. +'Three hundred and sixty-five days,' thought Tommy, and made a private +calendar of his own.</p> + +<p>It seemed an endless, zodiacal kind of period; he counted the days, a +sheet of foolscap paper for each month, and at the bottom of each sheet +two columns showing the balance of days gone and days to come. +Tuesday, when he had first seen her, was underlined, and each Tuesday had +a number attached to it, giving the total number of weeks since that +wonderful occasion. But Saturdays were printed. On Saturday Lettice had +spoken to him; she had smiled, and the words were, 'Don't forget me, +Tommy!' And Tommy, looking straight into her great dark eyes, that seemed +to him more tender even than his mother's, had stammered a reply that he +meant with literal honesty: 'I won't—never…'; and she was gone… +to France… across the sea.</p> + +<p>She took his soul away with her, leaving him behind to pore over his +father's big atlas and learn French sentences by heart. It seemed the +only way. Life had begun, and he must be prepared. Also, his career was +chosen. For Lettice had said another thing—one other thing. +When Mary, his sister, introduced him, 'This is Tommy,' Lettice looked +down and asked: 'Are you going to be an engineer?' adding proudly, +'My brother is.' Before he could answer she was scampering away with Mary, +the dark hair flying in a cloud, the bright bow upon it twinkling like a +star in heaven—and Tommy, hating his ridiculous boyish name with an +intense hatred, stood there trembling, but aware that the die was cast—he +was going to be an engineer.</p> + +<p>Trembling, yes; for he felt dazed and helpless, caught in a mist of fire +and gold, the furniture whirling round him, and something singing wildly +in his heart. Two things, each containing in them the essence of genuine +shock, had fallen upon him: shock, because there was impetus in them as of +a blow. They had been coming; they had reached him. There was no doubt +or question possible. He staggered from the impact. Joy and terror +touched him; at one and the same moment he felt the enticement and the +shrinking of his dream.… He longed to seize her and prevent her ever +going away, yet also he wanted to push her from him as though she somehow +caused him pain.</p> + +<p>For, on the two occasions when speech had taken place between himself and +Lettice, the dream had transferred itself boldly into his objective life— +yet not entirely. Two characteristics only had been thus transferred. +When his sister first came into the hall with 'This is Tommy,' the wavy +feeling had already preceded her by a definite interval that was perhaps a +second by the watch. He was aware of it behind him, curved and risen—not +curving, rising—from the open fireplace, but also from the woods behind +the house, from the whole of the country right back to the coast, from +across the world, it seemed, towering overhead against the wintry sky. +And when Lettice smiled and asked that question of childish admiration +about being an engineer, he was already shuffling furiously with his feet +upon the Indian rug. She was gone again, luckily, he hoped, before the +ridiculous pantomime was noticeable.</p> + +<p>He saw her once or twice. He was invariably speechless when she came into +his presence, and his silence and awkwardness made him appear at great +disadvantage. He seemed intentionally rude. Nervous self-consciousness +caused him to bridle over nothing. Even to answer her was a torture. +He dreaded a snub appallingly, and bridled in anticipation. Furious with +himself for his inability to use each precious opportunity, he pretended +he didn't care. The consequence was that when she once spoke to him +sweetly, he was too overpowered to respond as he might have done. +That she had not even noticed his anguished attitude never occurred to +him.</p> + +<p>'We're always friends, aren't we, Tommy?'</p> + +<p>'Rather,' he blurted, before he could regain his composure for a longer +sentence.</p> + +<p>'And always will be, won't we?'</p> + +<p>'Rather,' he repeated, cursing himself later for thinking of nothing +better to say. Then, just as she flew off in that dancing way of hers, he +found his tongue. Out of the jumbled mass of phrases in his head three +words got loose and offered themselves: 'We'll always be!' he flung at her +retreating figure of intolerable beauty. And she turned her head over her +shoulder, waved her hand without stopping her career, and shouted +'Rather!'</p> + +<p>That was the Tuesday in his calendar. But on Saturday, the printed +Saturday following it, the second characteristic of his dream announced +itself: he recognised the Eyes. Why he had not recognised them on the +Tuesday lay beyond explanation; he only knew it was so. And afterwards, +when he tried to think it over, it struck him that she had scampered out +of the hall with peculiar speed and hurry; had made her escape without the +extra word or two the occasion naturally demanded—almost as though she, +too, felt something that uneasily surprised her.</p> + +<p>Tommy wondered about it till his head spun round. She, too, had received +an impact that was shock. He was as thorough about it as an instinctive +scientist. He also registered this further fact—that the dream-details +had not entirely reproduced themselves in the affair. There was no trace +of the Whiff or of the other pair of Eyes. Some day the three would come +together; but then.…</p> + +<p>The main thing, however, undoubtedly was this: Lettice felt something too: +she was aware of feelings similar to his own. He was too honest to assume +that she felt exactly what he felt; he only knew that her eyes betrayed +familiar intimacy when she said 'Don't forget me, Tommy,' and that when +she rushed out of the hall with that unnecessary abruptness it was +because—well, he could only transfer to her some degree of the 'wavy' +feeling in himself.</p> + +<p>And he fell in love with abandonment and a delicious, infinite yearning. +From that moment he thought of himself as Tom instead of Tommy.</p> + +<p>It was an entire, sweeping love that left no atom or corner of his being +untouched. Lettice was real; she hid below the horizon of distant France, +yet could not, did not, hide from him. She also waited.</p> + +<p>He knew the difference between real and unreal people. The latter wavered +about his life and were uncertain; sometimes he liked them, sometimes he +did not; but the former—remained fixed quantities: he could not alter +towards them. Even at this stage he knew when a person came into his life +to stay, or merely to pass out again. Lettice, though seen but twice, +belonged to this first category. His feeling for her had the Wave in it; +it gathered weight and mass, it was irresistible. From the dim, invisible +foundations of his life it came, out of the foundations of the world, out +of that inexhaustible sea-foundation that lay below everything. It was +real; it was not to be avoided. He knew. He persuaded himself that she +knew too.</p> + +<p>And it was then, realising for the first time the searching pain +of being separated from something that seemed part of his being by natural +right, he spoke to his father and asked if pain should be avoided. +This conversation has been already sufficiently recorded; but he asked +other things as well. From being so long on the level he had made a +sudden jump that his father had foretold; he grew up; his mind began to +think; he had peered into certain books; he analysed. Out of the nonsense +of his speculative reflections the doctor pounced on certain points that +puzzled him completely. Probing for the repressed elements in the boy's +psychic life that caused the triple complex of Wave and Eyes and Whiff, he +only saw the cause receding further and further from his grasp until it +finally lost itself in ultimate obscurity. The disciple of Freud was +baffled hopelessly.…</p> + +<p>Tom, meanwhile, bathed in a sea of new sensations. Distance held meaning +for him, separation was a kind of keen starvation. He made discoveries— +watched the moon rise, heard the wind, and knew the stars shone over the +meadows below the house, things that before had been merely commonplace. +He pictured these details as they might occur in France, and once when he +saw a Swallow Tail butterfly, knowing that the few English specimens were +said to have crossed the Channel, he had a touch of ecstasy, as though the +proud insect brought him a message from the fields below the Finishing +School. Also he read French books and found the language difficult but +exquisite. All sweet and lovely things came from France, and at school he +attempted violent friendships with three French boys and the Foreign +Language masters, friendships that were not appreciated because they were +not understood. But he made progress with the language, and it stood him +in good stead in his examinations. He was aiming now at an Engineering +College. He passed in—eventually—brilliantly enough.</p> + +<p>Before that satisfactory moment, however, he knew difficult times. +His inner life was in a splendid tumult. From the books he purloined he +read a good many facts concerning waves and wave-formation. He learned, +among other things, that all sensory impressions reached the nerves by +impact of force in various wave-lengths; heat, light and sound broke upon +the skin and eyes and ears in vibrations of æther or air that advanced in +steady series of wavy formations which, though not quite similar to his +dream-wave, were akin to it. Sensation, which is life, was thus linked on +to his deepest, earliest memory.</p> + +<p>A wave, however, instantly rejoined the parent stock and formed again. +And perhaps it was the repetition of the wave—its forming again and +breaking again—that impressed him most. For he imagined his impulses, +emotions, tendencies all taking this wave-form, sweeping his moods up to a +certain point, then dropping back into his centre—the Sea, he called it— +which held steady below all temporary fluctuations—only to form once more +and happen all over again.</p> + +<p>With his moral and spiritual life it was similar: a wind came, wind of +desire, wind of yearning, wind of hope, and he felt his strength +accumulating, rising, bending with power upon the object that he had in +view. To take that object exactly at the top of the wave was to achieve +success; to miss that moment was to act with a receding and diminishing +power, to dissipate himself in foam and spray before he could retire for +a second rise. He saw existence as a wave. Life itself was a wave that +rose, swept, curved, and finally—must break.</p> + +<p>He merely visualised these feelings into pictures; he did not think them +out, nor get them into words. The wave became symbolic to him of all +life's energies. It was the way in which all sensation expressed itself. +Lettice was the high-water mark on shore he longed to reach and sweep back +into his own tumultuous being. In that great underneath, the Sea, they +belonged eternally together.…</p> + +<p>One thing, however, troubled him exceedingly: he read that a wave was a +segment of a circle, the perfect form, yet that it never completed itself. +The ground on which it broke prevented the achievement of the circle. +That, he felt, was a pity, and might be serious; there was always that +sinister retirement for another effort that yet never did, and never +could, result in complete achievement. He watched the waves a good deal +on the shore, when occasion offered in the holidays—they came from +France!—and made a discovery on his own account that was not mentioned in +any of the books. And it was this: that the top of the wave, owing to its +curve, was reflected in the under part. Its end, that is, was foretold in +its beginning.</p> + +<p>There was a want of scientific accuracy here, a confusion of time and +space, perhaps, yet he noticed the idea and registered the thrill. At the +moment when the wave was poised to fall its crest shone reflected in the +base from which it rose.</p> + +<p>But the more he watched the waves on the shore, the more puzzled he +became. They seemed merely a movement of the sea itself. They endlessly +repeated themselves. They had no true, separate existence until they— +broke. Nor could he determine whether the crest or the base was the +beginning, for the two ran along together, and what was above one minute +was below the minute after. Which part started first he never could +decide. The head kept chasing the tail in an effort to join up. +Only when a wave broke and fell was it really—a wave. It had to 'happen' +to earn its name.</p> + +<p>There were ripples too. These indicated the direction of the parent wave +upon whose side they happened, but not its purpose. Moods were ripples: +they varied the surface of life but did not influence its general +direction.</p> + +<p>His own life followed a similar behaviour; he was full of ripples that +were for ever trying to complete themselves by happening in acts. +But the main Wave was the thing—end and beginning sweeping along +together, both at the same time somehow. That is, he knew the end and +could foretell it. It rose from the great 'beneath' which was the sea in +him. It must topple over in the end and complete itself. He knew it +would; he knew it would hurt; he knew also that he would not shirk it when +it came. For it was a repetition somehow.</p> + +<p>'I jolly well mean to enjoy the smash,' he felt. 'I know one pair of Eyes +already; there's only the Whiff and the other Eyes to come. The moment I +find them, I'll go bang into it.' He experienced a delicious shiver at +the prospect.</p> + +<p>One thing, however, remained uncertain: the stuff the Wave was made of. +Once he discovered that, he would discover also—<i>where</i> the smash would +come.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p>'Can a chap feel things coming?' he asked his father. He was perhaps +fifteen or sixteen then. 'I mean, when you feel them coming, does that +mean they <i>must</i> come?'</p> + +<p>His father listened warily. There had been many similar questions lately.</p> + +<p>'You can feel ordinary things coming,' he replied; 'things due to +association of ideas.'</p> + +<p>Tom looked up. 'Association?' he queried uncertainly.</p> + +<p>'If you feel hungry,' explained the doctor, 'you know that dinner's +coming; you associate the hunger with the idea of eating. You recognise +them because you've felt them both together before.'</p> + +<p>'They <i>ought</i> to come, then?'</p> + +<p>'Dinner does come—ordinarily speaking. You've learned to expect it from +the hunger. You could, of course, prevent it coming,' he added dryly, +'only that would be bad for you. You need it.'</p> + +<p>Tom reflected a moment with a puckered face. His father waited for him to +ask more, hoping he would. The boy felt the sympathy and invitation.</p> + +<p>'<i>Before</i>,' he repeated, picking out the word with sudden emphasis, his +mind evidently breaking against a problem. 'But if I felt hungry for +something I <i>hadn't</i> had before——?'</p> + +<p>'In that case you wouldn't call it hunger. You wouldn't know what to call +it. You'd feel a longing of some kind and would wonder what it meant.'</p> + +<p>Tom's next words surprised him considerably. They came promptly, but with +slow and thoughtful emphasis.</p> + +<p>'So that if I know what I want, and call it dinner, or pain, or—love, or +something,' he exclaimed, 'it means that I've had it <i>before</i>? And that's +why I know it.' The last five words were not a question but a statement +of fact apparently.</p> + +<p>The doctor pretended not to notice the variants of dinner. At least he +did not draw attention to them.</p> + +<p>'Not necessarily,' he answered. 'The things you feel you want may be the +things that everybody wants—things common to the race. Such wants are +naturally in your blood; you feel them because your parents, your +grandparents, and all humanity in turn behind your own particular family +have always wanted them.'</p> + +<p>'They come out of the sea, you mean?'</p> + +<p>'That's very well expressed, Tom. They come out of the sea of human +nature, which is everywhere the same, yes.'</p> + +<p>The compliment seemed to annoy the boy.</p> + +<p>'Of course,' he said bluntly. 'But—if it hurts?' The words were sharply +emphasised.</p> + +<p>'Association of ideas again. Toothache suggests the pincers. You want to +get rid of the pain, but the pain has to get worse before it can get +better. You know that, so you face it gladly—to get it over.'</p> + +<p>'You face it, yes,' said Tom. 'It makes you better in the end.'</p> + +<p>It suddenly dawned upon him that his learned father knew nothing, nothing +at least that could help him. He knew only what other people knew. +He turned then, and asked the ridiculous question that lay at the back of +his mind all the time. It cost him an effort, for his father would +certainly deem it foolish.</p> + +<p>'Can a thing happen before it really happens?'</p> + +<p>Dr. Kelverdon may or may not have thought the question foolish; his face +was hidden a moment as he bent down to put the Indian rug straight with +his hand. There was no impatience in the movement, nor was there mockery +in his expression, when he resumed his normal position. He had gained an +appreciable interval of time—some fifteen seconds. 'Tom, you've got good +ideas in that head of yours,' he said calmly; 'but what is it that you +mean exactly?'</p> + +<p>Tom was quite ready to amplify. He knew what he meant:</p> + +<p>'If I <i>know</i> something is going to happen, doesn't that mean that it has +already happened—and that I remember it?'</p> + +<p>'You're a psychologist as well as engineer, Tom,' was the approving reply. +'It's like this, you see: In emotion, with desire in it, can predict the +fulfilment of that desire. In great hunger you imagine you're eating all +sorts of good things.'</p> + +<p>'But that's looking forward,'; the boy pounced on the mistake. 'It's not +remembering.'</p> + +<p>'That <i>is</i> the difficulty,' explained his father; 'to decide whether +you're anticipating only—or actually remembering.'</p> + +<p>'I see,' Tom said politely.</p> + +<p>All this analysis concealed merely: it did not reveal. The thing itself +dived deeper out of sight with every phrase. <i>He</i> knew quite well the +difference between anticipating and remembering. With the latter there +was the sensation of having been through it. Each time he remembered +seeing Lettice the sensation was the same, but when he looked forward to +seeing her <i>again</i> the sensation varied with his mood.</p> + +<p>'For instance, Tom—between ourselves this—we're going to send Mary to +that Finishing School in France where Lettice is.' The doctor, it seemed, +spoke carelessly while he gathered his papers together with a view to +going out. He did not look at the boy; he said it walking about the room. +'Mary will look forward to it and think about it so much that when she +gets there it will seem a little familiar to her, as if—almost as if she +remembered it.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, father; I see, yes,' murmured Tom. But in his mind a voice +said so distinctly 'Rot!' that he was half afraid the word was audible.</p> + +<p>'You see the difficulty, eh? And the difference?'</p> + +<p>'Rather,' exclaimed the boy with decision.</p> + +<p>And thereupon, without the slightest warning, he looked out of the window +and asked certain other questions. Evidently they cost him effort; his +will forced them out. Since his back was turned he did not see his +father's understanding smile, but neither did the latter see the lad's +crimson cheeks, though possibly he divined them.</p> + +<p>'Father—is Miss Aylmer older than me?'</p> + +<p>'Ask Mary, Tom. She'll know. Or, stay—I'll ask her for you—if you +like.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that's all right. I just wanted to know,' with an assumed +indifference that barely concealed the tremor in the voice.</p> + +<p>'I suppose,' came a moment later, 'a Member of Parliament is a grander +thing than a doctor, is it?'</p> + +<p>'That depends,' replied his father, 'upon the man himself. Some M.P.'s +vote as they're told, and never open their mouths in the House. +Some doctors, again——'</p> + +<p>But the boy interrupted him. He quite understood the point.</p> + +<p>'It's fine to be an engineer, though, isn't it?' he asked. 'It's a real +profession?'</p> + +<p>'The world couldn't get along without them, or the Government either. +It's a most important profession indeed.'</p> + +<p>Tom, playing idly with the swinging tassel of the window-blind, asked one +more question. His voice and manner were admirably under control, but +there <i>was</i> a gulp, and his father heard and noted it.</p> + +<p>'Shall I have—shall I be rich enough—to marry—some day?'</p> + +<p>Dr. Kelverdon crossed the room and put his hand on his son's shoulder, but +did not try to make him show his face. 'Yes,' he said quietly, 'you will, +my boy—when the time comes.' He paused a moment, then added: 'But money +will not make you a distinguished man, whereas if you become a famous +engineer, you'll have money of your own and—any nice girl would be proud +to have you.'</p> + +<p>'I see,' said Tom, tying the strings of the tassel into knots, then +untying them again with a visible excess of energy—and the conversation +came somewhat abruptly to an end. He was aware of the invitation to talk +further about Lettice Aylmer, but he resisted and declined it. What was +the use? He knew his own mind already about <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p>Yet, strictly speaking, Tom was not imaginative. It was as if an instinct +taught him. More and more, the Wave, with its accompanying details of +Eyes and Whiff, seemed to him the ghost of some dim memory that brought a +forgotten warning in its train—something missed, something to be +repeated, something to be faced and learned and—mastered.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>His father, meanwhile, went forth upon his rounds that day, much +preoccupied about the character of his eldest boy. He felt a particular +interest in the peculiar obsession that he knew overshadowed the young, +growing life. It puzzled him; he found no clue to it; in his thought he +was aware of a faint uneasiness, although he did not give it a definite +name—something akin to what the mother felt. Admitting he was baffled, +he fell back, however, upon such generalities as prenatal influence, +ancestral, racial, and so eventually dismissed it from his active mind.</p> + +<p>Tom, meanwhile, for his part, also went along his steep, predestined path. +The nightmare had entirely deserted him, he now rarely dreamed; and his +outer life shaped bravely, as with a boy of will, honesty, and healthy +ambition might be expected. Neither Wavy feeling, Eyes, nor Whiff +obtruded themselves: they left him alone and waited: he never forgot them, +but he did not seek them out. Things once firmly realised remained in his +consciousness; he knew that his life was rising like a wave, that all his +energies worked in the form of waves, his moods and wishes, his passions, +emotions, yearnings—all expressed themselves by means of this unalterable +formula, yet all contributed finally to the one big important Wave whose +climax would be reached only when it fell. He distinguished between Wave +and Ripples. He, therefore, did not trouble himself with imaginary +details; he did not search; he waited. This steady strength was his. +His firm, square jaw and the fearless eyes of grey beneath the shock of +straight dark hair told plainly enough the kind of stuff behind them. +No one at school took unnecessary liberties with Tom Kelverdon.</p> + +<p>But, having discovered one pair of Eyes, he did not let them go. +In his earnest, dull, inflexible way he loved their owner with a belief in +her truth and loyalty that admitted of no slightest question. +Had his mother divined the strength and value of his passion, she would +surely have asked herself with painful misgiving: 'Is she—<i>can</i> she be— +worthy of my boy?' But his mother guessed it as little as any one else; +even the doctor had forgotten those early signs of its existence; and Tom +was not the kind to make unnecessary confidences, nor to need sympathy in +any matter he was sure about.</p> + +<p>There was down now upon his upper lip, for he was close upon seventeen and +the Entrance Examination was rising to the crest of its particular minor +wave, yet during the two years' interval nothing—no single fact—had +occurred to justify his faith or to confirm its amazing certainty within +his heart. Mary, his sister, had not gone after all to the Finishing +School in France; other girl friends came to spend the holidays with her; +the Irish member of Parliament had either died or sunk into another kind +of oblivion; the paths of the Kelverdons and the Aylmer family had gone +apart; and the name of Lettice no longer thrilled the air across the +tea-table, nor chance reports of her doings filled the London house with +sudden light.</p> + +<p>Yet for Tom she existed more potently than ever. His yearning never +lessened; he was sure she remembered him as he remembered her; he +persuaded himself that she thought about him; she doubtless knew that he +was going to be an engineer. He had cut a thread from the carpet in the +hall—from the exact spot her flying foot had touched that Tuesday when +she scampered off from him—and kept it in the drawer beside the Eastern +packet that enshrined the Whiff. Occasionally he took it out and touched +it, fingered it, even caressed it; the thread and the perfume belonged +together; the ritual of the childish years altered a little—worship +raised it to a higher level.</p> + +<p>He saw her with her hair done up now, long skirts, and a softer expression +in the tender, faithful eyes; the tomboy in her had disappeared; she gazed +at him with admiration. The face was oddly real, it came very close to +his own; once or twice, indeed, their cheeks almost touched: 'almost,' +because he withdrew instantly, uneasily aware that he had gone too far— +not that the intimacy was unwelcome, but that it was somehow premature. +And the instant he drew back, a kind of lightning distance came between +them; he saw her eyes across an immense and curious interval, though +whether of time or space he could not tell. There was strange heat and +radiance in it—as of some blazing atmosphere that was not England.</p> + +<p>The eyes, moreover, held a new expression when this happened—pity. +And with this pity came also pain: the strange, rich pain broke over all +the other happier feelings in him and swamped them utterly.…</p> + +<p>But at that point instinct failed him; he could not understand why she +should pity him, why pain should come to him through her, nor why it was +necessary for him to feel and face it. He only felt sure of one thing— +that it was essential to the formation of the Wave which was his life. +The Wave must 'happen,' or he would miss an important object of his +being—and she would somehow miss it too. The Wave would one day fall, +but when it fell she would be with him, by his side, under the mighty +curve, involved in the crash and tumult—with himself.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p>Then, without any warning, he received a second shock—it fell upon him +from the blue and came direct from Lettice.</p> + +<p>The occasion was a tennis party in the garden by the sea where the family +had come to spend the summer holidays. Tom was already at College, doing +brilliantly, and rapidly growing up. The August afternoon was very hot; +no wind ruffled the quiet blue-green water; there were no waves; the +leaves of the privet hedge upon the side of the cliffs were motionless. +A couple of Chalk-Blues danced round and round each other as though a wire +connected them, and Tom, walking in to tea with his partner after a +victorious game, found himself watching the butterflies and making a +remark about them—a chance observation merely to fill an empty pause. +He felt as little interest in the insects as he did in his partner, +an uncommonly pretty, sunburned girl, whose bare arms and hatless light +hair became her admirably. She, however, approved of the remark and by no +means despised the opportunity to linger a moment by the side of her +companion. They stood together, perhaps a dozen seconds, watching the +capricious scraps of colour rise, float over the privet hedge on balanced +wings, dip abruptly down and vanish on the farther side below the cliff. +The girl said something—an intentional something that was meant to be +heard and answered: but no answer was forthcoming. She repeated the +remark with emphasis; then, as still no answer came, she laughed brightly +to make his silence appear natural.</p> + +<p>But Tom had no word to say. He had not noticed the manœuvre of the girl, +nor the manœuvre of the two Chalk-Blues; neither had he heard the words, +although conscious that she spoke. For in that brief instant when the +insects floated over the hedge, his eyes had wandered beyond them to the +sea, and on the sea, far off against the cloudless horizon, he had seen— +the Wave.</p> + +<p>Thinking it over afterwards, however, he realised that it was not actually +a wave he saw, for the surface of the blue-green sea was smooth as the +tennis lawn itself: it was the sudden appearance of the 'wavy feeling' +that made him <i>think</i> he saw the old, familiar outline of his early dream. +He had objectified his emotion. His father perhaps would have called it +association of ideas.</p> + +<p>Abruptly, out of nothing obvious, the feeling rose and mastered him: and, +after its quiescence—its absence—for so long an interval, this revival +without hint or warning of any kind was disconcerting. The feeling was +vivid and unmistakable. The joy and terror swept him as of old. +He braced himself. Almost—he began shuffling with his feet.…</p> + +<p>'Tea's waiting for you,'; his mother's voice floated to his ears across +the lawn, as he turned with an effort from the sea and made towards the +group about the tables. The Wave, he knew, was coming up behind him, +growing, rising, curving high against the evening sky. Beside him walked +the sunburned girl, wondering doubtless at his silence, but happy enough, +it seemed, in her own interpretation of its cause. Scarcely aware of her +presence, however, Tom was searching almost fiercely in his thoughts, +searching for the clue. He knew there was a clue, he felt sure of it; the +'wavy feeling' had not come with this overwhelming suddenness without a +reason. Something had brought it back. But what? Was there any recent +factor in his life that might explain it? He stole a swift glance at the +girl beside him: had she, perhaps, to do with it? They had played tennis +together for the first time that afternoon: he had never seen her before, +was not even quite sure of her name; to him, so far, she was only 'a very +pretty girl who played a ripping game.' Had this girl to do with it?</p> + +<p>Feeling his questioning look, she glanced up at him and smiled. +'You're very absent-minded,' she observed with mischief in her manner. +'You took so many of my balls, it's tired you out!' She had beautiful +blue eyes, and her voice, he noticed for the first time, was very +pleasant. Her figure was slim, her ankles neat, she had nice, even teeth. +But, even as he registered the charming details, he knew quite well that +he registered them, one and all, as belonging merely to a member of the +sex, and not to this girl in particular. For all he cared, she might +follow the two Chalk-Blues and disappear below the edge of the cliff into +the sea. This 'pretty girl' left him as untroubled as she found him. +The wavy feeling was not brought by her.</p> + +<p>He drank his tea, keeping his back to the sea, and as the talk was lively, +his silence was not noticed. The Wave, meanwhile, he knew, had come up +closer. It towered above him. Its presence would shortly be explained. +Then, suddenly, in the middle of a discussion as to partners for the games +to follow, a further detail presented itself—also apparently out of +nothing. He smelt the Whiff. He knew then that the Wave was poised +immediately above his head, and that he stood underneath its threatening +great curve. The clue, therefore, was at hand.</p> + +<p>And at this moment his father came into view, moving across the lawn +towards them from the French window. No one guessed how Tom welcomed the +slight diversion, for the movement was already in his legs and in another +moment must have set his feet upon that dreadful shuffling. As from a +distance, he heard the formal talk and introductions, his father's +statement that he had won his round of golf with 'the Dean,' praise of the +weather, and something or other about the strange stillness of the sea— +but then, with a sudden, hollow crash against his very ear, the appalling +words: '. . . broke his mashie into splinters, yes. And, by the by, the +Dean knows the Aylmers. They were staying here earlier in the summer, he +told me. Lettice, the girl,—Mary's friend, you remember—is going to be +married this week.…'</p> + +<p>Tom clutched the back of the wicker-chair in front of him. The sun went +out. An icy air passed Up his spine. The blood drained from his face. +The tennis courts, and the group of white figures moving towards them, +swung up into the sky. He gripped the chair till the rods of wicker +pressed through the flesh into the bone. For a moment he felt that the +sensation of actual sickness was more than he could master; his legs bent +like paper beneath his weight.</p> + +<p>'<i>You</i> remember Lettice, Tom, don't you?' his father was saying somewhere +in mid-air above him.</p> + +<p>'Yes, rather.' Apparently he said these words; the air at any rate went +through his teeth and lips, and the same minute, with a superhuman effort +that only just escaped a stagger, he moved away towards the tennis courts. +His feet carried him, that is, across the lawn, where some figures dressed +in white were calling his name loudly; his legs went automatically. +'Hold steady!' he remembers saying somewhere deep inside him. 'Don't make +an ass of yourself,'; whereupon another voice—or was it still his own?— +joined in quickly, 'She's gone from me, Lettice has gone. She's dead.' +And the words, for the first time in his life, had meaning: for the first +time in his life, rather, he realised what their meaning was. The Wave +had fallen. Moreover—this also for the first time in the history of the +Wave—there was something audible. He heard a Sound.</p> + +<p>Shivering in the hot summer sunshine, as though icy water drenched him, he +knew the same instant that he was wrong about the falling: the Wave, +indeed, had curled lower over him than ever before, had even toppled—but +it had not broken. As a whole, it had not broken. It was a smaller wave, +upon the parent side, that had formed and fallen. The sound he heard was +the soft crash of this lesser wave that grew out of the greater mass of +the original monster, broke upon the rising volume of it, and returned +into the greater body. It was a ripple only. The shock and terror he +felt were a foretaste of what the final smothering crash would be. +Yet the Sound he had heard was not the sound of water. There was a sharp, +odd rattling in it that he had never consciously heard before. And it +was—dry.</p> + +<p>He reached the group of figures on the tennis-courts: he played: a violent +energy had replaced the sudden physical weakness. His skill, it seemed, +astonished everybody; he drove and smashed and volleyed with a +recklessness that was always accurate: but when, at the end of the amazing +game, he heard voices praising him, as from a distance, he knew only that +there was a taste of gall and ashes in his mouth, and that he had but one +desire—to get to his room alone and open the drawer. Even to himself he +would not admit that he wished for the relief of tears. He put it, +rather, that he must see and feel the one real thing that still connected +him with Lettice—the thread of carpet she had trodden on. That—and the +'whiff'—alone could comfort him.</p> + +<p>The comedy, that is, of all big events lay in it; no one must see, no one +must know: no one must guess the existence of this sweet, rich pain that +ravaged the heart in him until from very numbness it ceased aching. +He double-locked the bedroom door. He had waited till darkness folded +away the staring day, till the long dinner was over, and the drawn-out +evening afterwards. None, fortunately, had noticed the change in his +demeanour, his silence, his absentmindedness when spoken to, his want of +appetite. 'She is going to be married… this week,' were the only +words he heard; they kept ringing in his brain. To his immense relief the +family had not referred to it again.</p> + +<p>And at last he had said good-night and was in his room—alone. The drawer +was open. The morsel of green thread lay in his hand. The faint eastern +perfume floated on the air. 'I am <i>not</i> a sentimental ass,' he said to +himself aloud, but in a low, steady tone. 'She touched it, therefore it +has part of her life about it still.' Three years and a half ago! +He examined the diary too; lived over in thought every detail of their +so-slight acquaintance together; they were few enough; he remembered every +one.… Prolonging the backward effort, he reviewed the history of the +Wave. His mind stretched back to his earliest recollections of the +nightmare. He faced the situation, tried to force its inner meaning from +it, but without success.</p> + +<p>He did not linger uselessly upon any detail, nor did he return upon his +traces as a sentimental youth might do, prolonging the vanished sweetness +of recollection in order to taste the pain more vividly. He merely 'read +up,' so to speak, the history of the Wave to get a bird's-eye view of it. +And in the end he obtained a certain satisfaction from the process—a +certain strength. That is to say, he did not understand, but he accepted. +'Lettice has gone from me—but she hasn't gone for good.' The deep +reflection of hours condensed itself into this.</p> + +<p>Whatever might happen 'temporarily,' the girl was loyal and true: and she +was—his. It never once occurred to him to blame or chide her. All that +she did sincerely, she had a right to do. They were in the 'underneath' +together for ever and ever. They were in the sea.</p> + +<p>The pain, nevertheless, was acute and agonising; the temporary separation +of 'France' was nothing compared to this temporary separation of her +marrying. There were alternate intervals of numbness and of acute +sensation; for each time thought and feeling collapsed from the long +strain of their own tension, the relief that followed proved false and +vain. Up sprang the aching pain again, the hungry longing, the dull, +sweet yearning—and the whole sensation started afresh as at the first, +yet with a vividness that increased with each new realisation of it. +'Wish I could cry it out,' he thought. 'I wouldn't be a bit ashamed to +cry.' But he had no tears to spill.…</p> + +<p>Midnight passed towards the small hours of the morning, and the small +hours slipped on towards the dawn before he put away the parcel of +tissue-paper, closed the drawer and locked it. And when at length he +dropped exhausted into bed, the eastern sky was already tinged with the +crimson of another summer's day. He dreaded it, and closed his eyes. +It had tennis parties and engagements in its wearisome, long hours of heat +and utter emptiness.…</p> + +<p>Just before actual sleep took him, however, he was aware of one other +singular reflection. It rose of its own accord out of that moment's calm +when thought and feeling sank away and deliberate effort ceased: the fact +namely that, with the arrival of the Sound, all his five senses had been +now affected. His entire being, through the only channels of perception +it possessed, had responded to the existence of the Wave and all it might +portend. Here was no case of a single sense being tricked by some +illusion: all five supported each other, taste being, of course, +a modification of smell.</p> + +<p>And the strange reflection brought to his aching mind and weary body a +measure of relief. The Wave was real: being real, it was also well worth +facing when it—fell.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + + +<p>Between twenty and thirty a man rises through years reckless of power and +spendthrift of easy promises. The wave of life is rising, and every force +tends upwards in a steady rush. At thirty comes a pause upon the level, +but with thirty-five there are signs of the droop downhill. Age is first +realised when, instead of looking forward only, he surprises thought in +the act of looking—behind.</p> + +<p>Of the physical, at any rate, this is true; for the mental and emotional +wave is still ripening towards its higher curve, while the spiritual crest +hangs hiding in the sky far overhead, beckoning beyond towards unvistaed +reaches.</p> + +<p>Tom Kelverdon climbed through these crowded years with the usual scars and +bruises, but steadily, and without the shame of any considerable disaster. +His father's influence having procured him an opening in an engineering +firm of the first importance, his own talent and application maintained +the original momentum bravely. He justified his choice of a profession. +Also, staring eagerly into life's marvellous shop-window, he entered, hand +in pocket, and made the customary purchases of the enchantress behind the +counter. If worthless, well,—everybody bought them; the things had been +consummately advertised; he paid his money, found out their value, threw +them away or kept them accordingly. A certain good taste made his choice +not too foolish: and there was this wholesome soundness in him, that he +rarely repeated a purchase that had furnished him cheap goods. Slowly he +began to find himself.</p> + +<p>From learning what it meant to be well thrashed by a boy he loathed, and +to apply a similar treatment himself—he passed on to the pleasure of +being told he had nice eyes, that his voice was pleasant, his presence +interesting. He fell in love—and out again. But he went straight. +Moreover, beyond a given point in any affair of the heart he seemed unable +to advance: some secret, inner tension held him back. While believing he +loved various adorable girls the years offered him, he found it impossible +to open his lips and tell them so. And the mysterious instinct invariably +justified itself: they faded, one and all, soon after separation. There +was no wave in them; they were ripples only.…</p> + +<p>And, meanwhile, as the years rushed up towards the crest of thirty, he did +well in his profession, worked for the firm in many lands, obtained the +confidence of his principals, and proved his steady judgment if not his +brilliance. He became, too, a good, if generous, judge of other men, +seeing all sorts, both good and bad, and in every kind of situation that +proves character. His nature found excuses too easily, perhaps, for the +unworthy ones. It is not a bad plan, wiser companions hinted, to realise +that a man has dark behaviour in him, while yet believing that he need not +necessarily prove it. The other view has something childlike in it; +Tom Kelverdon kept, possibly, this simpler attitude alive in him, trusting +overmuch, because suspicion was abhorrent to his soul. The man of ideals +had never become the man of the world. Some high, gentle instinct had +preserved him from the infliction that so often results in this +regrettable conversion. Slow to dislike, he saw the best in everybody. +'Not a bad fellow,' he would say of some one quite obviously detestable. +'I admit his face and voice and manner are against him; but that's not his +fault exactly. He didn't make himself, you know.'</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The idea of a tide in the affairs of men is obvious, familiar enough. +Nations rise and fall, equally with the fortunes of a family. History +repeats itself, so does the tree, the rose: and if a man live long enough +he recovers the state of early childhood. There is repetition everywhere. +But while some think evolution moves in a straight line forward, others +speculate fancifully that it has a spiral twist upwards. At any given +moment, that is, the soul looks down upon a passage made before—but from +a point a little higher. Without living through events already +experienced, it literally lives them over; it sees them mapped out below, +and with the bird's-eye view it understands them.</p> + +<p>And in regard to his memory of Lettice Aylmer—the fact that he was still +waiting for her and she for him—this was somewhat the fanciful conception +that lodged itself, subconsciously perhaps, in the mind of Tom Kelverdon, +grown now to man's estate. He was dimly aware of a curious familiarity +with his present situation, a sense of repetition—yet with a difference. +Something he had experienced before was coming to him again. It was +waiting for him. Its wave was rising. When it happened before it had not +happened properly somehow—had left a sense of defeat, of dissatisfaction +behind. He had taken it, perhaps, at the period of receding momentum, and +so had failed towards it. This time he meant to face it. His own phrase, +as has been seen, was simple: 'I'll let it all come.' It was something +his character needed. Deep down within him hid this attitude, and with +the passage of the years it remained—though remained an attitude merely.</p> + +<p>But the attitude, being subconscious in him, developed into a definite +point of view that came, more and more, to influence the way he felt +towards life in general. Life was too active to allow of much +introspection, yet whenever pauses came—pauses in thought and feeling, +still backwaters in which he lay without positive direction—there, banked +up, unchanging in the background, stood the enduring thing: his love for +Lettice Aylmer. And this background was 'the sea' of his boyhood days, +the 'underneath' in which they remained unalterably together. There, too, +hid the four signs that haunted his impressionable youth: the Wave, the +other Eyes, the Whiff, the Sound. In due course, and at their appointed +time, they would combine and 'happen' in his outward life. The Wave +would—fall.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile his sense of humour had long ago persuaded him that, so far as +any claim upon the girl existed, or that she reciprocated his own deep +passion, his love-dream was of questionable security. The man in him that +built bridges and cut tunnels laughed at it; the man that devised these +first in imagination, however, believed in it, and waited. Behind thought +and reason, suspected of none with whom he daily came in contact, and +surprised only by himself when he floated in these silent, tideless +backwaters—it persisted with an amazing conviction that seemed deathless. +In these calm deeps of his being, securely anchored, hid what he called +the 'spiral' attitude. The thing that was coming, a tragedy whereof that +childish nightmare was both a memory and a premonition, clung and haunted +still with its sense of dim familiarity. Something he had known before +would eventually repeat itself. But—with a difference; that he would see +it from above—from a higher curve of the ascending spiral.</p> + +<p>There lay the enticing wonder of the situation. With his present English +temperament, stolid rather, he would meet it differently, treat it +otherwise, learn and understand. He would see it from another—higher— +point of view. He would know great pain, yet some part of him would look +on, compare, accept the pain—and smile. The words that offered +themselves were that he had 'suffered blindly,' but suffered with fierce +and bitter resentment, savagely, even with murder in his heart; suffered, +moreover, somehow or other, at the hands of Lettice Aylmer.</p> + +<p>Lettice, of course,—he clung to it absurdly still—was true and loyal to +him, though married to another. Her name was changed. But Lettice Aylmer +was not changed. And this mad assurance, though he kept it deliberately +from his conscious thoughts, persisted with the rest of the curious +business, for nothing, apparently, could destroy it in him. It was part +of the situation, as he called it, part of the 'sea,' out of which would +rise eventually—the Wave.</p> + +<p>Outwardly, meanwhile, much had happened to him, each experience +contributing its modifying touch to the character as he realised it, +instead of merely knowing that it came to others. His sister married; +Tim, following his father's trade, became a doctor with a provincial +practice, buried in the country. His father died suddenly while he was +away in Canada, busy with a prairie railway across the wheat fields of +Assiniboia. He met the usual disillusions in a series, savoured and +mastered them more or less in turn.</p> + +<p>He was in England when his mother died; and, while his other experiences +were ripples only, her going had the wave in it. The enormous mother-tie +came also out of the 'sea'; its dislocation was a shock of fundamental +kind, and he felt it in the foundations of his life. It was one of the +things he could not quite realise. He still felt her always close and +near. He had just been made a junior partner in the firm; the love and +pride in her eyes, before they faded from the world of partnerships, were +unmistakable: 'Of course,' she murmured, her thin hand clinging to his +own, 'they had to do it… if only your father knew…' and she was +gone. The wave of her life sank back into the sea whence it arose. +And her going somehow strengthened him, added to his own foundations, as +though her wave had merged in his.</p> + +<p>With her departure, he felt vaguely the desire to settle down, to marry. +Unconsciously he caught himself thinking of women in a new light, +appraising them as possible wives. It was a dangerous attitude rather; +for a man then seeks to persuade himself that such and such a woman may +do, instead of awaiting the inevitable draw of love which alone can +justify a life-long union.</p> + +<p>In Tom's case, however, as with the smaller fires of his younger days, he +never came to a decision, much less to a positive confession. His immense +idealism concerning women preserved him from being caught by mere outward +beauty. While aware that Lettice was an impossible dream of boyhood, he +yet clung to an ideal she somehow foreshadowed and typified. He never +relinquished this standard of his dream; a mysterious woman waited for him +somewhere, a woman with all the fairy qualities he had built about her +personality; a woman he could not possibly mistake when at last he met +her. Only he did not meet her. He waited.</p> + +<p>And so it was, as time passed onwards, that he found himself standing upon +the little level platform of his life at a stage nearer to thirty-five +than thirty, conscious that a pause surrounded him. There was a lull. +The rush of the years slowed down. He looked about him. He looked—back.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + + +<p>The particular moment when this happened, suitable, too, in a chance, odd +way, was upon a mountain ridge in winter, a level platform of icy snow to +which he had climbed with some hotel acquaintances on a ski-ing +expedition. It was on the Polish side of the Hohe Tatra.</p> + +<p>Why, at this special moment, pausing for breath and admiring the immense +wintry scene about him, he should have realised that he reached a similar +position in his life, is hard to say. There is always a particular moment +when big changes claim attention. They have been coming slowly; but at a +given moment they announce themselves. Tom associated that icy ridge +above Zakopané with a pause in the rushing of the years: 'I'm getting on +towards middle age; the first swift climb—impetuous youth—lies now +behind me.' The physical parallel doubtless suggested it; he had felt his +legs and wind a trifle less willing, perhaps; there was still a steep, +laborious slope of snow beyond; he discovered that he was no longer +twenty-five.</p> + +<p>He drew breath and watched the rest of the party as they slowly came +nearer in the track he had made through the deep snow below. Each man +made this track in his turn, it was hard work, his share was done. +'Nagorsky will tackle the next bit,' he thought with relief, watching a +young Pole of twenty-three in the ascending line, and glancing at the +summit beyond where the run home was to begin. And then the wonder of the +white silent scene invaded him, the exhilarating thrill of the vast wintry +heights swept over him, he forgot the toil, he regained his wind and felt +his muscles taut and vigorous once more. It was pleasant, standing upon +this level ridge, to inspect the long ascent below, and to know the heavy +yet enjoyable exertion was nearly over.</p> + +<p>But he had felt—older. That ridge remained in his memory as the occasion +of its first realisation; a door opened behind him; he looked back. +He envied the other's twenty-three years. It is curious that, about +thirty, a man feels he is getting old, whereas at forty he feels himself +young again. At thirty he judges by the standard of eighteen, at the +later age by that of sixty. But this particular occasion remained vivid +for another reason—it was accompanied by a strange sensation he had +almost forgotten; and so long an interval had elapsed since its last +manifestation that for a moment a kind of confusion dropped upon him, as +from the cloudless sky. Something was gathering behind him, something was +about to fall. He recognised the familiar feeling that he knew of old, +the subterranean thrill, the rich, sweet pain, the power, the reality. +It was the wavy feeling.</p> + +<p>Balanced on his ski, the sealskin strips gripping the icy ridge securely, +he turned instinctively to seek the reason, if any were visible, of the +abrupt revival. His mind, helped by the stimulating air and sunshine, +worked swiftly. The odd confusion clouded his faculties still, as in a +dream state, but he pierced it in several directions simultaneously.</p> + +<p>Was it that, envying another's youth, he had re-entered imaginatively his +own youthful feelings? He looked down at the rest of the party climbing +towards him. And doing so, he picked out the slim figure of Nagorsky's +sister, a girl whose winter costume became her marvellously, and whom the +happy intimacy of the hotel life had made so desirable that an expedition +without her seemed a lost, blank day. Unless she was of the party there +was no sunshine. He watched her now, looking adorable in her big gauntlet +gloves, her short skirt, her tasselled cap of black and gold, a fairy +figure on the big snowfield, filling the world with sunshine—and knew +abruptly that she meant to him just exactly—nothing. The intensity of +the wavy feeling reduced her to an unreality.</p> + +<p>It was not she who brought the great emotion.</p> + +<p>The confusion in him deepened. Another scale of measurement appeared. +The crowded intervening years now seemed but a pause, a brief delay; he +had run down a side track and returned. <i>He</i> had not grown older. +Seen by the grand scale to which the Wave and 'sea' belonged, he had +scarcely moved from the old starting-point, where, far away in some +unassailable recess of life, still waiting for him, stood—Lettice Aylmer.</p> + +<p>Turning his eyes, then, from the approaching climbers, he glanced at the +steep slope above him, and saw—as once before on the English coast— +something that took his breath away and made his muscles weak. He stared +up at it. It looked down at him.</p> + +<p>Five hundred feet above, outlined against the sky of crystal clearness, +ran a colossal wave of solid snow. At the highest point it was, of +course, a cornice, but towards the east, whence came the prevailing +weather, the wind had so manipulated the mass that it formed a curling +billow, twenty or thirty feet in depth, leaping over in the very act of +breaking, yet arrested just before it fell. It hung waiting in mid-air, +perfectly moulded, a wave—but a wave of snow.</p> + +<p>It swung along the ridge for half a mile and more: it seemed to fill the +sky; it rose out of the sea of eternal snow below it, poised between the +earth and heavens. In the hollow beneath its curve lay purple shadows the +eye could not pierce. And the similarity to the earlier episode struck +him vividly; in each case Nature assisted with a visible wave as by way of +counterpart; each time, too, there was a girl—as though some significance +of sex hid in the 'wavy feeling.' He was profoundly puzzled.</p> + +<p>The same second, in this wintry world where movement, sound, and perfume +have no place, there stole to his nostrils across the desolate ranges +another detail. It was more intimate in its appeal even than the wavy +feeling, yet was part of it. He recognised the Whiff. And the joint +attack, both by its suddenness and by its intensity, overwhelmed him. +Only the Sound was lacking, but that, too, he felt, was on the way. +Already a sharp instinctive movement was running down his legs. He began +to shuffle on his ski.…</p> + +<p>A chorus of voices, as from far away, broke round him, disturbing the +intense stillness; and he knew that the others had reached the ridge. +With a violent effort he mastered the ridiculous movement of his +disobedient legs, but what really saved him from embarrassing notice was +the breathless state of his companions, and the fact that his action +looked after all quite natural—he seemed merely rubbing his ski along the +snow to clean their under-surface.</p> + +<p>Exclamations in French, English, Polish rose on all sides, as the view +into the deep opposing valley caught the eye, and a shower of questions +all delivered at once, drew attention from himself. What scenery, what a +sky, what masses of untrodden snow! Should they lunch on the ridge or +continue to the summit? What were the names of all these peaks, and was +the Danube visible? How lucky there was no wind, and how they pitied the +people who stayed behind in the hotels! Sweaters and woollen waistcoats +emerged from half a dozen knapsacks, cooking apparatus was produced, one +chose a spot to make a fire, while another broke the dead branches from a +stunted pine, and in five minutes had made a blaze behind a little wall of +piled-up snow. The Polish girl came up and asked Tom for his Zeiss +glasses, examined the soaring slope beyond, then obediently put on the +extra sweater he held out for her. He hardly saw her face, and certainly +did not notice the expression in her eyes. All took off their ski and +plunged them upright in the nearest drift. The sun blazed everywhere, the +snow crystals sparkled. They settled down for lunch, a small dark clot of +busy life upon the vast expanse of desolate snow… and anything +unusual about Tom Kelverdon, muffled to the throat against the freezing +cold, his eyes, moreover, concealed by green snow-spectacles, was +certainly not noticed.</p> + +<p>Another party, besides, was discovered climbing upwards along their own +laborious track: in the absorbing business of satisfying big appetites, +tending the fire, and speculating who these other skiers might be, Tom's +silence caused no comment. His self-control, for the rest, was soon +recovered. But his interest in the expedition had oddly waned; he was +still searching furiously in his thoughts for an explanation of the +unexpected 'attack,' waiting for the Sound, but chiefly wondering why his +boyhood's nightmare had never revealed that the Wave was of snow instead +of water—and, at the same time, oddly convinced that he had moved but +<i>one</i> stage nearer to its final elucidation. That it was solid he had +already discovered, but that it was actually of snow left a curious doubt +in him.</p> + +<p>Of all this he was thinking as he devoured his eggs and sandwiches, +something still trembling in him, nerves keenly sensitive, but not <i>quite</i> +persuaded that this wave of snow was the sufficient cause of what he had +just experienced—when at length the other climbers, moving swiftly, came +close enough to be inspected. The customary remarks and criticisms passed +from mouth to mouth, with warnings to lower voices since sound carried too +easily in the rarefied air. One of the party was soon recognised as the +hotel doctor, and the other, first set down as a Norwegian owing to his +light hair, shining hatless in the sunlight, proved on closer approach to +be an Englishman—both men evidently experienced and accomplished +'runners.'</p> + +<p>In any other place the two parties would hardly have spoken, settling down +into opposing camps of hostile silence; but in the lonely winter mountains +human relationship becomes more natural; the time of day was quickly +passed, and details of the route exchanged; the doctor and his friend +mingled easily with the first arrivals; all agreed spontaneously to take +the run home together; and finally, when names were produced with laughing +introductions, the Englishman—by one of those coincidences people pretend +to think strange, but that actually ought to occur more often than they +do—turned out to be known to Tom, and after considerable explanations was +proved to be more than that—a cousin.</p> + +<p>Welcoming the diversion, making the most of it in fact, Kelverdon +presented Anthony Winslowe to his Polish companions with a certain zeal to +which the new arrival responded with equal pleasure. The light-haired +blue-eyed Englishman, young and skilful on his ski, formed a distinct +addition to the party. He was tall, with a slight stoop about the +shoulders that suggested study; he was gay and very easy-going too. +It was 'Tom' and 'Tony' before lunch was over; they recalled their private +school, a fight, an eternal friendship vowed after it, and the twenty +intervening years melted as though they had not been.</p> + +<p>'Of course,' Tom said, proud of his new-found cousin, 'and I've read your +bird books, what's more. By Jove, you're quite an authority on natural +history, aren't you?'</p> + +<p>The other modestly denied any notoriety, but the girls, especially +Nagorsky's sister, piqued by Tom's want of notice, pressed for details in +their pretty broken English. It became a merry and familiar party, as the +way is with easy foreigners, particularly when they meet in such wild and +unconventional surroundings. Winslowe had lantern slides in his trunk: +that night he promised to show them: they chattered and paid compliments +and laughed, Tony explaining that he was on his way to Egypt to study the +bird-life along the Nile. Natural history was his passion; he talked +delightfully; he made the bird and animal life seem real and interesting; +there was imagination, humour, lightness in him. There was a fascination, +too, not due to looks alone. It was in his atmosphere, what is currently, +perhaps, called magnetism.</p> + +<p>'No animals <i>here</i> for you,' said a girl, pointing to the world of white +death about them.</p> + +<p>'There's something better,' he said quickly in quite decent Polish. +'We're all in the animal kingdom, you know.' And he glanced with a bow of +admiration at the speaker, whom the others instantly began to tease. +It was Irena, Nagorsky's sister; she flushed and laughed. 'We thought,' +she said, 'you were Norwegian, because of your light hair, and the way you +moved on your ski.'</p> + +<p>'A great compliment,' he rejoined, 'but I saw <i>you</i> long ago on the ridge, +and I knew at once that you were—Polish.'</p> + +<p>The girl returned his bow. 'The largest compliment,' she answered gaily, +'I had ever in my life.'</p> + +<p>Tom had only arrived two days before, bringing a letter of introduction to +the doctor, and that night he changed his hotel, joining his new friends +and his cousin at the Grand. An obvious flirtation, possibly something +more, sprung up spontaneously between him and the Polish girl, but +Kelverdon welcomed it and felt no jealousy. 'Not trespassing, old chap, +am I?' Tony asked jokingly, having divined on the mountains that the girl +was piqued. 'On the contrary,' was the honest assurance given frankly, +'I'm relieved. A delightful girl, though, isn't she? And fascinatingly +pretty!'</p> + +<p>For the existence of Nagorsky's sister had become suddenly to him of no +importance whatsoever. It was strange enough, but the vivid recurrence of +long-forgotten symbols that afternoon upon the heights had restored to him +something he had curiously forgotten, something he had shamefully +neglected, almost, it seemed, had been in danger of losing altogether. +It came back upon him now. He clung desperately to it as to a real, a +vital, a necessary thing. It was a genuine relief that the relationship +between him and the girl might be ended thus. In any case, he reflected, +it would have 'ended thus' a little later—like all the others. No trace +or sign of envy stayed in him. Irena and Tony, anyhow, seemed admirably +suited to one another; he noticed on the long run home how naturally they +came together. And even his own indifference would not bring her back to +him. He felt quite pleased and satisfied. He had a long talk with Tony +before going to bed. He felt drawn to him. There was a spontaneous +innate sympathy between them.</p> + +<p>They had many other talks together, and Tom liked his interesting, +brilliant cousin. A week passed; dances, ski-ing trips, skating, and the +usual programme of wintry enjoyments filled the time too quickly; +companionship became intimacy; all sat at the same table: Tony became a +general favourite. He had just that combination of reserve and abandon +which—provided something genuine lies behind—attracts the majority of +people who, being dull, have neither. Most are reserved, through +emptiness, or else abandoned—also through emptiness. Tony Winslowe, full +of experience and ideas, vivid experience and original ideas, combined the +two in rarest equipoise. It was spontaneous, and not calculated in him. +There was a stimulating quality in his personality. Like those tiny, +exciting Japanese tales that lead to the edge of a precipice, then end +with unexpected abruptness that is their purpose, he led all who liked him +to the brink of a delightful revelation—then paused, stopped, vanished. +And all did like him. He was light and gay, for all the depth in him. +Something of the child peeped out. He won Tom Kelverdon's confidence +without an effort. He also won the affectionate confidence of the Polish +girl.</p> + +<p>'You're not married, Tony, are you?' Tom asked him.</p> + +<p>'Married!' Tony answered with a flush—he flushed so easily when teased— +'I love my wild life and animals far too much.' He stammered slightly. +Then he looked up quickly into his cousin's eyes with frankness. +Tom, without knowing why, almost felt ashamed of having asked it. 'I—I +never can go beyond a certain point,' he said, 'with girls. Something +always holds me back. Odd—isn't it?' He hesitated. Then this flashed +from him: 'Bees never sip the last, the sweetest drop of honey from the +rose, you know. The sunset always leaves one golden cloud adrift—eh?' +So there was poetry in him too!</p> + +<p>And Tom, simpler, as well as more rigidly moulded, felt a curious touch of +passionate sympathy as he heard it. His heart went out to the other +suddenly with a burst of confidence. Some barrier melted in him and +disappeared. For the first time in his life he knew the inclination, even +the desire, to speak of things hidden deep within his heart. His cousin +would understand.</p> + +<p>And Tony's sudden, wistful silence invited the confession. They had +already been talking of their forgotten youthful days together. +The ground was well prepared. They had even talked of his sister, Mary, +and her marriage. Tony remembered her distinctly. He spoke of it, +leaning forward and putting a hand on his cousin's knee. Tom noticed +vaguely the size of the palm, the wrist, the fingers—they seemed +disproportionate. They were ugly hands. But it was subconscious notice. +His mind was on another thing.</p> + +<p>'I say,' Tom began with a sudden plunge, 'you know a lot about birds and +natural history—biology too, I suppose. Have you ever heard of the +spiral movement?'</p> + +<p>'Spinal, did you say?' queried the other, turning the stem of his glass +and looking up.</p> + +<p>'No—<i>spiral</i>,' Tom repeated, laughing dryly in spite of himself. +'I mean the idea—that evolution, whether individually in men and animals, +or with nations—historically, that is—is not in a straight line ahead, +but moves upwards—in a spiral?'</p> + +<p>'It's in the air,' replied Tony vaguely, yet somehow as if he knew a great +deal more about it. 'The movement of the race, you mean?'</p> + +<p>'And of the individual too. We're here, I mean, for the purpose of +development—whatever one's particular belief may be—and that this +development, instead of going forwards in a straight line, has a kind of— +spiral movement—upwards?'</p> + +<p>Tony looked wonderfully wise. 'I've heard of it,' he said. 'The spiral +movement, as you say, is full of suggestion. It's common among plants. +But I don't think science—biology, at any rate—takes much account of +it.'</p> + +<p>Tom interrupted eagerly, and with a certain grave enthusiasm that +evidently intrigued his companion. 'I mean—a movement that is always +upwards, always getting higher, and always looking down upon what has gone +before. That, if it's true, a soul can look back—look down upon what it +has been through before, but from a higher point—do you see?'</p> + +<p>Tony emptied his glass and then lit a cigarette. 'I see right enough,' he +said at length, quick and facile to appropriate any and every idea he came +across, yet obviously astonished by his companion's sudden seriousness. +'Only the other day I read that humanity, for instance, is just now above +the superstitious period—of the Middle Ages, say—going over it again— +but that the recrudescence everywhere of psychic interests— +fortune-telling, palmistry, magic, and the rest—has become +quasi-scientific. It's going through the same period, but seeks to +explain and understand. It's above it—one stage or so. Is that what you +mean, perhaps?'</p> + +<p>Tom drew in his horns, though for the life of him he could not say why. +Tony appropriated his own idea too easily somehow—had almost read his +thoughts. Vaguely he resented it. Tony had stolen from him—offended +against some schoolboy <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i> standard.</p> + +<p>'That's it—the idea, at any rate,' he said, wondering why confidence had +frozen in him. 'Interesting, rather, isn't it?'</p> + +<p>And then abruptly he found that he was staring at his cousin's hands, +spread on the table palm downwards. He had been staring at them for some +time, but unconsciously. Now he saw them. And there was something about +them that he did not like. Absurd as it seemed, his change of mood had to +do with those big, ungainly hands, tanned a deep brown-black by the sun. +A faint shiver ran through him. He looked away.</p> + +<p>'Extraordinary,' Tony went chattering on. 'It explains these new wild +dances perhaps. Anything more spiral and twisty than these modern +gyrations I never saw!' He turned it off in his light amusing way, yet as +though quite familiar with the deeper aspects of the question—if he +cared. 'And what the body does,' he added, 'the mind has already done a +little time before!'</p> + +<p>He laughed, but whether he was in earnest, or merely playing with the +idea, was uncertain. What had stopped Tom was, perhaps, that they were +not in the same key together; Tom had used a word he rarely cared to use— +soul—it had cost him a certain effort—but his cousin had not responded. +That, and the hands, explained his change of mood. For the first time it +occurred to his honest, simple mind that Tony was of other stuff, perhaps, +than he had thought. That remark about the bees and sunset jarred a +little. The lightness suggested insincerity almost.</p> + +<p>He shook the notion off, for it was disagreeable, ungenerous as well. +This was holiday-time, and serious discussion was out of place. The airy +lightness in his cousin was just suited to the conditions of a +winter-sport hotel; it was what made him so attractive to all and sundry, +so easy to get on with. Yet Tom would have liked to confide in him, to +have told him more, asked further questions and heard the answers; +stranger still, he would have liked to lead from the spiral to the wave, +to his own wavy feeling, and, further even—almost to speak of Lettice and +his boyhood nightmare. He had never met a man in regard to whom he felt +so forthcoming in this way. Tony surely had seriousness and depth in him; +this irresponsibility was on the surface only.… There was a queer +confusion in his mind—several incongruous things trying to combine.…</p> + +<p>'I knew a princess once—the widow of a Russian,' Tony was saying. +He had been talking on, gaily, lightly, for some time, but Tom, busy with +these reflections, had not listened properly. He now looked up sharply, +something suddenly alert in him. 'They're all princes in Russia,' Tony +laughed; 'it means less than Count in France or <i>von</i> in Germany.' +He stopped and drained his glass. 'But you know,' he went on, his +thoughts half elsewhere, it seemed, 'it's bad for a country when titles +are too common, it lowers the aristocratic ideal. In the Caucasus— +Batoum, for instance—every Georgian is a noble, your hotel porter a +prince.' He broke off abruptly as though reminded of something. +'Of course!' he exclaimed, 'I was going to tell you about the Russian +woman I knew who had something of that idea of yours.' He stopped as his +eye caught his cousin's empty glass. 'Let's have another,' he said, +beckoning to the waitress, 'it's very light stuff, this beer. These long +ski-trips give one an endless thirst, don't they?' Tom didn't know +whether he said yes or no. 'What idea?' he asked quickly. 'What do you +mean exactly?' A curious feeling of familiarity stirred in him. +This conversation had happened before.</p> + +<p>'Eh?' Tony glanced up as though he had again forgotten what he was going +to say. 'Oh yes,' he went on, 'the Russian woman, the Princess I met in +Egypt. She talked a bit like that once… I remember now.'</p> + +<p>'Like what?' Tom felt a sudden, breathless curiosity in him: he was +afraid the other would change his mind, or pass to something else, or +forget what he was going to say. It would prove another Japanese tale— +disappear before it satisfied.</p> + +<p>But Tony went on at last, noticing, perhaps, his cousin's interest.</p> + +<p>'I was up at Edfu after birds,' he said, 'and she had a <i>dahabieh</i> on the +river. Some friends took me there to tea, or something. It was nothing +particular. Only it occurred to me just now when you talked of spirals +and things.'</p> + +<p>'<i>You</i> talked about the spiral?' Tom asked. 'Talked with <i>her</i> about it, +I mean?' He was slow, almost stupid compared to the other, who seemed to +flash lightly and quickly over a dozen ideas at once. But there was this +real, natural sympathy between them both again. It seemed he knew exactly +what his cousin was going to say.</p> + +<p>Tony, blowing the foam off his beer glass, proceeded to quench his +wholesome thirst. 'Not exactly,' he said at length, 'but we talked, I +remember, along that line. I was explaining about the flight of birds— +that all wild animal life moves in a spontaneous sort of natural rhythm— +with an unconscious grace, I mean, we've lost because we think too much. +Birds in particular rise and fall with a swoop, the simplest, freest +movement in the world—like a wave——'</p> + +<p>'Yes?' interrupted Tom, leaning over the table a little and nearly +upsetting his untouched glass. 'I like that idea. It's true.'</p> + +<p>'And—oh, that all the forces known to science move in a similar way—by +wave-form, don't you see? Something like that it was.' He took another +draught of the nectar his day's exertions had certainly earned.</p> + +<p>'<i>She</i> said that?' asked Tom, watching his cousin's face buried in the +enormous mug.</p> + +<p>Tony set it down with a sigh of intense satisfaction, '<i>I</i> said it,' he +exclaimed with a frank egoism. 'You're too tired after all your falls +this afternoon to listen properly. <i>I</i> was the teacher on that occasion, +she the adoring listener! But if you want to know what <i>she</i> said too, +I'll tell you.'</p> + +<p>Tom waited; he raised his glass, pretending to drink; if he showed too +much interest, the other might swerve off again to something else. +He knew what was coming, yet could not have actually foretold it. +He recognised it only the instant afterwards.</p> + +<p>'She talked about water,' Tony went on, as though he had difficulty in +recalling what she really had said, 'and I think she had water on the +brain,' he added lightly. 'The Nile had bewitched her probably; it +affects most of 'em out there—the women, that is. She said life moved +in a stream—that she moved down a stream, or something, and that only +things going down the stream with her were real. Anything on the banks— +stationary, that is—was not real. Oh, she said a lot. I've really +forgotten now—it was a year or two ago—but I remember her mentioning +shells and the spiral twist of shells. In fact,' he added, as if there +was no more to tell, 'I suppose that's what made me think of her just +now—your mentioning the spiral movement.'</p> + +<p>The door of the room, half <i>café</i> and half bar, where the peasants sat at +wooden tables about them, opened, and the pretty head of Irena Nagorsky +appeared. A burst of music came in with her. 'We dance,' she said, a +note of reproach as well as invitation in her voice—then vanished. +Tony, leaving his beer unfinished, laughed at his cousin and went after +her. 'My last night,' he said cheerily. 'Must be gay and jolly. I'm off +to Trieste tomorrow for Alexandria. See you later, Tom—unless you're +coming to dance too.'</p> + +<p>But, though they saw each other many a time again that evening, there was +no further conversation. Next day the party broke up, Tom returning to +the Water Works his firm was constructing outside Warsaw, and Tony taking +the train for Budapesth <i>en route</i> for Trieste and Egypt. He urged Tom to +follow him as soon as his work was finished, gave the Turf Club, Cairo, as +his permanent address where letters would always reach him sooner or +later, waved his hat to the assembled group upon the platform, and was +gone. The last detail of him visible was the hand that held the waving +hat. It looked bigger, darker, thought Tom, than ever. It was almost +disfiguring. It stirred a hint of dislike in him. He turned his eyes +away.</p> + +<p>But Tom Kelverdon remembered that last night in the hotel for another +reason too. In the small hours of the morning he woke up, hearing a sound +close beside him in the room. He listened a moment, then turned on the +light above the bed. The sound, of an unusual and peculiar character, +continued faintly. But it was not actually in the room as he first +supposed. It was outside.</p> + +<p>More than ten years had passed since he had heard that sound. He had +expected it that day on the mountains when the wavy feeling and the Whiff +had come to him. Sooner or later he felt positive he would hear it. +He heard it now. It had merely been delayed, postponed. Something +gathering slowly and steadily behind his life was drawing nearer—had come +already very close. He heard the dry, rattling Sound that was associated +with the Wave and with the Whiff. In it, too, was a vague familiarity.</p> + +<p>And then he realised that the wind was rising. A frozen pine-branch, +stiff with little icicles, was rattling and scraping faintly outside the +wooden framework of the double windows. It was the icy branch that made +the dry, rattling sound. He listened intently; the sound was repeated at +certain intervals, then ceased as the wind died down. And he turned over +and fell asleep again, aware that what he had heard was an imitation only, +but an imitation strangely accurate—of a reality. Similarly, the wave of +snow was but an imitation of a reality to come. This reality lay waiting +still beyond him. One day—one day soon—he would know it face to face. +The Wave, he felt, was rising behind his life, and his life was rising +with it towards a climax. On the little level platform where the years +had landed him for a temporary pause, he began to shuffle with his feet in +dream. And something deeper than his mind—looked back.…</p> + +<p>The instinct, or by whatever name he called that positive, interior +affirmation, proved curiously right. Life rose with the sweep and power +of a wave, bearing him with it towards various climaxes. His powers, such +as they were, seemed all in the ascendant. He passed from that level +platform as with an upward rush, all his enterprises, all his energies, +all that he wanted and tried to do, surging forward towards the crest of +successful accomplishment.</p> + +<p>And a dozen times at least he caught himself asking mentally for his +cousin Tony; wishing he had confided in him more, revealed more of this +curious business to him, exchanged sympathies with him about it all. +A kind of yearning rose in him for his vanished friend. Almost he had +missed an opportunity. Tony would have understood and helped to clear +things up; to no other man of his acquaintance could he have felt +similarly. But Tony was now out of reach in Egypt, chasing his birds +among the temples of the haunted Nile, already, doubtless, the centre of a +circle of new friends and acquaintances who found him as attractive and +fascinating as the little Zakopané group had found him. Tony must keep.</p> + +<p>Tom Kelverdon meanwhile, his brief holiday over, returned to his work at +Warsaw, and brought it to a successful conclusion with a rapidity no one +had foreseen, and he himself had least of all expected. The power of the +rising wave was in all he did. He could not fail. Out of the success +grew other contracts highly profitable to his firm. Some energy that +overcame all obstacles, some clarity of judgment that selected unerringly +the best ways and means, some skill and wisdom in him that made all his +powers work in unison till they became irresistible, declared themselves, +yet naturally and without adventitious aid. He seemed to have found +himself anew. He felt pleased and satisfied with himself: always +self-confident, as a man of ability ought to be, he now felt proud; and, +though conceit had never been his failing, this new-born assurance moved +distinctly towards pride. In a moment of impulsive pleasure he wrote to +Tony, at the Turf Club, Cairo, and told him of his success.… +The senior partner, his father's old friend, wrote and asked his advice +upon certain new proposals the firm had in view; it was a question of big +docks to be constructed at Salonica, and something to do with a barrage on +the Nile as well—there were several juicy contracts to choose between, +it seemed,—and Sir William proposed a meeting in Switzerland, on his way +out to the Near East; he would break the journey before crossing the +Simplon for Milan and Trieste. The final telegram said Montreux, and +Kelverdon hurried to Vienna and caught the night express to Lausanne by +way of Bâle.</p> + +<p>And at Montreux further evidence that the wave of life was rising then +declared itself, when Sir William, having discussed the various +propositions with him, listening with attention, even with deference, to +Kelverdon's opinion, told him quietly that his brother's retirement left a +vacancy in the firm which—he and his co-directors hoped confidently— +Kelverdon might fill with benefit to all concerned. A senior partnership +was offered to him before he was thirty-five! Sir William left the same +night for his steamer, and Tom was to wait at Montreux, perhaps a month, +perhaps six weeks, until a personal inspection of the several sites +enabled the final decision to be made; he was then to follow and take +charge of the work itself.</p> + +<p>Tom was immensely pleased. He wrote to his married sister in her Surrey +vicarage, told her the news with a modesty he did not really feel, and +sent her a handsome cheque by way of atonement for his bursting pride.</p> + +<p>For simple natures, devoid of a saving introspection and self-criticism, +upon becoming unexpectedly successful easily develop an honest yet none +the less corroding pride. Tom felt himself rather a desirable person +suddenly; by no means negligible at any rate; pleased and satisfied with +himself, if not yet overweeningly so. His native confidence took this +exaggerated turn and twist. His star was in the ascendant, a man to be +counted with.…</p> + +<p>The hidden weakness rose—as all else in him was rising—with the Wave. +But he did not call it pride, because he did not recognise it. It was +akin, perhaps, to that fatuous complacency of the bigoted religionist who, +thinking he has discovered absolute truth, looks down from his narrow cell +upon the rest of the world with a contemptuous pity that in itself is but +the ignorance of crass self-delusion. Tom felt very sure of himself. +For a rising wave drags up with it the mud and rubbish that have hitherto +lain hidden out of sight in the ground below. Only with the fall do these +undesirable elements return to their proper place again—where they belong +and are of value. Sense of proportion is recovered only with perspective, +and Tom Kelverdon, rising too rapidly, began to see himself in +disproportionate relation to the rest of life. In his solid, perhaps +stolid, way he considered himself a Personality—indispensable to no small +portion of the world about him.</p> + + + +<h2>PART II</h2> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + + +<p>It was towards the end of March, and spring was flowing down almost +visibly from the heights behind the town. April stood on tiptoe in the +woods, finger on lip, ready to dance out between the sunshine and the +rain.</p> + +<p>Above four thousand feet the snows of winter still clung thickly, but the +lower slopes were clear, men and women already working busily among the +dull brown vineyards. The early mist cleared off by ten o'clock, letting +through floods of sunshine that drenched the world, sparkled above the +streets crowded with foreigners from many lands, and lay basking with an +appearance of July upon the still, blue lake. The clear brilliance of the +light had a quality of crystal. Sea-gulls fluttered along the shores, +tame as ducks and eager to be fed. They lent to this inland lake an +atmosphere of the sea, and Kelverdon found himself thinking of some +southern port, Marseilles, Trieste, Toulon.</p> + +<p>In the morning he watched the graceful fishing-boats set forth, and at +night, when only the glitter of the lamps painted the gleaming water for a +little distance, he saw the swans, their heads tucked back impossibly into +the centre of their backs, scarcely moving on the unruffled surface as +they slept into the night. The first sounds he heard soon after dawn +through his wide-opened windows were the whanging strokes of their +powerful wings flying low across the misty water; they flew in twos and +threes, coming from their nests now building in the marshes beyond +Villeneuve. This, and the screaming of the gulls, usually woke him. +The summits of Savoy, on the southern shore, wore pink and gold upon their +heavy snows; the sharp air nipped; far in the west a few stars peeped +before they faded; and in the distance he heard the faint, drum-like +mutter of a paddle-steamer, reminding him that he was in a tourist centre +after all, and that this was busy, little, organised Switzerland.</p> + +<p>But sometimes it was the beating strokes of the invisible paddle-steamer +that woke him, for it seemed somehow a continuation of dreams he could +never properly remember. That he had been dreaming busily every night of +late he knew as surely as that he instantly forgot these dreams. +That muffled, drum-like thud, coming nearer and nearer towards him out of +the quiet distance, had some connection—undecipherable as yet—with the +curious, dry, rattling sound belonging to the Wave. The two were so +dissimilar, however, that he was unable to discover any theory that could +harmonise them. Nor, for that matter, did he seek it. He merely +registered a mental note, as it were, in passing. The beating and the +rattling were associated.</p> + +<p>He chose a small and quiet hotel, as his liking was, and made himself +comfortable, for he might have six weeks to wait for Sir William's +telegram, or even longer, if, as seemed likely, the summons came by post. +And Montreux was a pleasant place in early spring, before the heat and +glare of summer scorched the people out of it towards the heights. +He took long walks towards the snow-line beyond Les Avants and Les +Pléiades, where presently the carpets of narcissus would smother the +fields with white as though winter had returned to fling, instead of +crystal flakes, a hundred showers of white feathers upon the ground. +He discovered paths that led into the whispering woods of pine and +chestnut. The young larches wore feathery green upon their crests, +primroses shone on slopes where the grass was still pale and dead, +snowdrops peeped out beside the wooden fences, and here and there, shining +out of the brown decay of last year's leaves and thick ground-ivy, he +found hepaticas. He had never felt the spring so marvellous before; it +rose in a wave of colour out of the sweet brown earth.</p> + +<p>Though outwardly nothing of moment seemed to fill his days, inwardly he +was aware of big events—maturing. There was this sense of approach, of +preparation, of gathering. How insipid external events were after all, +compared to the mass, the importance of interior changes! A change of +heart, an altered point of view, a decision taken—these were the big +events of life.</p> + +<p>Yet it was a pleasant thing to be a senior partner. Here by the quiet +lake, stroking himself complacently, he felt that life was very active, +very significant, as he wondered what the choice would be. He rather +hoped for Egypt, on the whole. He could look up Tony and the birds. +They could go after duck and snipe together along the Nile. He would, +moreover, be quite an important man out there. Pride and vanity rose in +him, but unobserved. For the Wave was in this too.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, late, he returned from a long scramble among icy rocks +about the Dent de Jaman, changed his clothes, and sat with a cigarette +beside the open window, watching the throng of people underneath. +In a steady stream they moved along the front of the lake, their voices +rising through the air, their feet producing a dull murmur as of water. +The lake was still as glass; gulls asleep on it in patches, and here and +there a swan, looking like a bundle of dry white paper, floated idly. +Off-shore lay several fishing-boats, becalmed; and far beyond them, a +rowing-skiff broke the surface into two lines of widening ripples. +They seemed floating in mid-air against the evening glow. The Savoy Alps +formed a deep blue rampart, and the serrated battlements of the Dent du +Midi, full in the blaze of sunset, blocked the Rhone Valley far away with +its formidable barricade.</p> + +<p>He watched the glow of approaching sunset with keen enjoyment; he sat +back, listening to the people's voices, the gentle lap of the little +waves; and the pleasant lassitude that follows upon hard physical exertion +combined with the even pleasanter stimulus of the tea to produce a state +of absolute contentment with the world.…</p> + +<p>Through the murmur of feet and voices, then, and from far across the +water, stole out another sound that introduced into his peaceful mood an +element of vague disquiet. He moved nearer to the window and looked out. +The steamer, however, was invisible; the sea of shining haze towards +Geneva hid it still; he could not see its outline. But he heard the +echoless mutter of the paddle-wheels, and he knew that it was coming +nearer. Yet at first it did not disturb him so much as that, for a +moment, he heard no other sound: the voices, the tread of feet, the +screaming of the gulls all died away, leaving this single, distant beating +audible alone—as though the entire scenery combined to utter it. +And, though no ordinary echo answered it, there seemed—or did he fancy +it?—a faint, interior response within himself. The blood in his veins +went pulsing in rhythmic unison with this remote hammering upon the water.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward in his chair, watching the people, listening intently, +almost as though he expected something to happen, when immediately below +him chance left a temporary gap in the stream of pedestrians, and in this +gap—for a second merely—a figure stood sharply defined, cut off from the +throng, set by itself, alone. His eyes fixed instantly upon its +appearance, movements, attitude. Before he could think or reason he heard +himself exclaim aloud:</p> + +<p>'Why—it's——'</p> + +<p>He stopped. The rest of the sentence remained unspoken. The words rushed +down again. He swallowed, and with a gulp he ended—as though the other +pedestrians all were men—'——a woman!'</p> + +<p>The next thing he knew was that the cigarette was burning his fingers—had +been burning them for several seconds. The figure melted back into the +crowd. The throng closed round her. His eyes searched uselessly; no +space, no gap was visible; the stream of people was continuous once more. +Almost, it seemed, he had not really seen her—had merely thought her—up +against the background of his mind.</p> + +<p>For ten minutes, longer perhaps, he sat by that open window with eyes +fastened on the moving crowd. His heart was beating oddly; his breath +came rapidly. 'She'll pass by presently again,' he thought; 'she'll come +back!' He looked alternately to the right and to the left, until, +finally, the sinking sun blazed too directly in his eyes for him to see at +all. The glare blurred everybody into a smudged line of golden colour, +and the faces became a series of artificial suns that mocked him.</p> + +<p>He did, then, an unusual thing—out of rhythm with his normal self,—he +acted on impulse. Kicking his slippers off, he quickly put on a pair of +boots, took his hat and stick, and went downstairs. There was no +reflection in him; he did not pause and ask himself a single question; he +ran to join the throng of people, moved up and down with them, in and out, +passing and re-passing the same groups over and over again, but seeing no +sign of the particular figure he sought so eagerly. She was dressed in +black, he knew, with a black fur boa round her neck; she was slim and +rather tall; more than that he could not say. But the poise and attitude, +the way the head sat on the shoulders, the tilt upwards of the chin—he +was as positive of recognising these as if he had seen her close instead +of a hundred yards away.</p> + +<p>The sun was down behind the Jura Mountains before he gave up the search. +Sunset slipped insensibly into dusk. The throng thinned out quickly at +the first sign of chill. A dozen times he experienced the thrill—his +heart suddenly arrested—of seeing her, but on each occasion it proved to +be some one else. Every second woman seemed to be dressed in black that +afternoon, a loose black boa round the neck. His eyes ached with the +strain, the change of focus, the question that burned behind and in them, +the joy—the strange rich pain.</p> + +<p>But half, at least, of these dull people, he renumbered, were birds of +passage only; to-morrow or the next day they would take the train. +He said to himself a dozen times, 'Once more to the end and back again!' +For she, too, might be a bird of passage, leaving to-morrow or the next +day, leaving that very night, perhaps. The thought afflicted, goaded him. +And on getting back to the hotel he searched the <i>Liste des Étrangers</i> as +eagerly as he had searched the crowded front—and as uselessly, since he +did not even know what name he hoped to find.</p> + +<p>But later that evening a change came over him. He surprised some sense of +humour: catching it in the act, he also surprised himself a little— +smiling at himself. The laughter, however, was significant. For it was +just that restless interval after dinner when he knew not what to do with +the hours until bedtime: whether to sit in his room and think and read, or +to visit the principal hotels in the hope of chance discovery. He was +even considering this wild-goose chase to himself, when suddenly he +realised that his course of procedure was entirely the wrong one.</p> + +<p>This thing was going to happen anyhow, it was inevitable; but—it would +happen in its own time and way, and nothing he might do could hurry it. +To hunt in this violent manner was to delay its coming. To behave as +usual was the proper way. It was then he smiled.</p> + +<p>He crossed the hall instead, and put his head in at the door of the little +Lounge. Some Polish people, with whom he had a bowing acquaintance, were +in there smoking. He had seen them enter, and the Lounge was so small +that he could hardly sit in their presence without some effort at +conversation. And, feeling in no mood for this, he put his head past the +edge of the glass door, glanced round carelessly as though looking for +some one—then drew sharply back. For his heart stopped dead an instant, +then beat furiously, like a piston suddenly released. On the sofa, +talking calmly to the Polish people, was—the figure. He recognised her +instantly.</p> + +<p>Her back was turned; he did not see her face. There was a vast excitement +in him that seemed beyond control. He seemed unable to make up his mind. +He walked round and round the little hall examining intently the notices +upon the walls. The excitement grew into tumult, as though the meeting +involved something of immense importance to his inmost self—his soul. +It was difficult to account for. Then a voice behind him said, 'There is +a concert to-night. Radwan is playing Chopin. There are tickets in the +Bureau still—if Monsieur cares to go.' He thanked the speaker without +turning to show his face: while another voice said passionately within +him, 'I was wrong; she is slim, but she is not so tall as I thought.' +And a minute later, without remembering how he got there, he was in his +room upstairs, the door shut safely after him, standing before the mirror +and staring into his own eyes. Apparently the instinct to see what he +looked like operated automatically. For he now remembered—realised— +another thing. Facing the door of the Lounge was a mirror, and their eyes +had met. He had gazed for an instant straight into the kind and beautiful +Eyes he had first seen twenty years ago—in the Wave.</p> + +<p>His behaviour then became more normal. He did the little, obvious things +that any man would do. He took a clothes-brush and brushed his coat; he +pulled his waistcoat down, straightened his black tie, and smoothed his +hair, poked his hanging watch-chain back into its pocket. Then, drawing a +deep breath and compressing his lips, he opened the door and went +downstairs. He even remembered to turn off the electric light according +to hotel instructions. 'It's perfectly all right,' he thought, as he +reached the top of the stairs. 'Why shouldn't I? There's nothing unusual +about it.' He did not take the lift, he preferred action. Reaching the +<i>salon</i> floor, he heard voices in the hall below. She was already leaving +therefore, the brief visit over. He quickened his pace. There was not +the slightest notion in him what he meant to say. It merely struck him +that—idiotically—he had stayed longer in his bedroom than he realised; +too long; he might have missed his chance. The thought urged him forward +more rapidly again.</p> + +<p>In the hall—he seemed to be there without any interval of time—he saw +her going out; the swinging doors were closing just behind her. +The Polish friends, having said good-bye, were already rising past him in +the lift. A minute later he was in the street. He realised that, because +he felt the cool night air upon his cheeks. He was beside her—looking +down into her face.</p> + +<p>'May I see you back—home—to your hotel?' he heard himself saying. +And then the queer voice—it must have been his own—added abruptly, as +though it was all he really had to say: 'You haven't forgotten me really. +I'm Tommy—Tom Kelverdon.'</p> + +<p>Her reply, her gesture, what she did and showed of herself in a word, was +as queer as in a dream, yet so natural that it simply could not have been +otherwise: 'Tom Kelverdon! So it is! Fancy—<i>you</i> being here!' +Then: 'Thank you very much. And suppose we walk; it's only a few +minutes—and quite dry.'</p> + +<p>How trivial and commonplace, yet how wonderful!</p> + +<p>He remembers that she said something to a coachman who immediately drove +off, that she moved beside him on this Montreux pavement, that they went +up-hill a little, and that, very soon, a brilliant door of glass blazed in +front of them, that she had said, 'How strange that we should meet again +like this. Do come and see me—any day—just telephone. I'm staying some +weeks probably,'—and he found himself standing in the middle of the road, +then walking wildly at a rapid pace downhill, he knew not whither, that he +was hot and breathless, that stars were shining, and swans, like bundles +of white newspaper, were asleep on the lake, and—that he had found her.</p> + +<p>He had walked and talked with Lettice. He bumped into more than one +irate pedestrian before he realised it; they knew it better than he did, +apparently. 'It was Lettice Aylmer, Lettice…' he kept saying to +himself. 'I've found her. She shook hands with me. That was her voice, +her touch, her perfume. She's here—here in little Montreux—for several +weeks. After all these years! Can it be true—really true at last? +She said I might telephone—might go and see her. She's glad to see me— +again.'</p> + +<p>How often he paced the entire length of the deserted front beside the lake +he did not count: it must have been many times, for the hotel door, which +closed at midnight, was locked and the night-porter let him in. He went +to bed—if there was rose in the eastern sky and upon the summits of the +Dent du Midi, he did not notice it. He dropped into a half-sleep in which +thought continued but not wearingly. The excitement of his nerves +relaxed, soothed and mothered by something far greater than his senses, +stronger than his rushing blood. This greater Rhythm took charge of him +most comfortably. He fell back into the mighty arms of something that was +rising irresistibly—something inevitable and—half-familiar. It had long +been gathering; there was no need to ask a thousand questions, no need to +fight it anywhere. From the moment when he glanced idly into the Lounge +he had been aware of it. It had driven him downstairs without reflection, +as it had driven him also uphill till the blazing door was reached. +He smelt it, heard it, saw it, touched it. It was the Wave.</p> + +<p>Time certainly proved its unreality that night; the hours seemed both +endless and absurdly brief. His mind flew round and round in a circle, +lingering over every detail of the short interview with a tumultuous +pleasure that hid pain very thinly. He felt afraid, felt himself on the +brink of plunging headlong into a gigantic whirlpool. Yet he wanted to +plunge.… He would.… He had to.… It was irresistible.</p> + +<p>He reviewed the scene, holding each detail forcibly still, until the last +delight had been sucked out of it. At first he remembered next to +nothing—a blur, a haze, the houses flying past him, no feeling of +pavement under his feet, but only her voice saying nothing in particular, +her touch, as he sometimes drew involuntarily against her arm, her eyes +shining up at him. For her eyes remained the chief impression perhaps—so +kind, so true, so very sweet and frank—soft Irish eyes with something +mysterious and semi-eastern in them. The conversation seemed to have +entirely escaped recovery.</p> + +<p>Then, one by one, he remembered things that she had said. Sentences +offered themselves of their own accord. He flung himself upon them, +trying to keep tight hold of their first meaning—before he filled them +with significance of his own. It was a desperate business altogether; +emotion distorted her simple words so quickly. 'I was thinking of you +only to-day. I had the feeling you were here. Curious, wasn't it?' +He distinctly remembered her saying this. And then another sentence: +'I should have known you anywhere; though, of course, you've changed a +lot. But I knew your eyes. Eyes don't change much, do they?' +The meanings he read into these simple phrases filled an hour at least; he +lost entirely their simple first significance. But this last remark +brought up another in its train. As the tram went past them she had +raised her voice a little and looked up into his face—it was just then +they had cannonaded. People who like one another always cannonade, he +reflected. And her remark—'Ah, it comes back to me. You're so very like +your sister Mary. I've seen her several times since the days in Cavendish +Square. There's a strong family likeness.'</p> + +<p>He disliked the last part of the sentence. Mary, besides, had mentioned +nothing; her rare letters made no reference to it. The schooldays' +friendship had evaporated perhaps. This sent his thoughts back upon the +early trail of those distant months when Lettice was at a Finishing School +in France and he had kept that tragic Calendar.…</p> + +<p>Another sentence interrupted them: 'I had, oddly enough, been thinking of +you this very afternoon. I knew you the moment you put your head in at +the door, but, for the life of me, I couldn't get the name. All I got was +'Tommy'!' And only his sense of humour prevented the obvious rejoinder, +'I wish you would always call me that.' It struck him sharply. Such talk +could have no part in a meeting of this kind; the idea of flirtation was +impossible, not even thought of. Yet twice she had said, 'I was thinking +of you only to-day!'</p> + +<p>But other things came back as well. It was strange how much they had +really said to each other in those few brief minutes. Next day he +retraced the way and discovered that, even walking quickly, it took him a +good half hour; yet they had walked slowly, even leisurely. But, try as +he would, he was unable to force deeper meanings into these other remarks +that he recalled. She was evidently pleased to see him, that at least was +certain, for she had asked him to come and see her, and she meant it. +He remembered his reply, 'I'll come to-morrow—may I?' and then abruptly +realised for the first time that the plunge was taken. He felt himself +committed, sink or swim. The Wave already had lifted him off his feet.</p> + +<p>And it was on this his whirling thoughts came down to rest at last, and +sleep crept over him—just as dawn was breaking. He felt himself in the +'sea' with Lettice, there was nothing he could do, no course to choose, no +decision to be made. Though married, she was somehow free—he felt it in +her attitude. That sense of fatalism known in boyhood took charge of him. +The Wave was rising towards the moment when it must invariably break and +fall, and every impulse in him rising in it without a shade of denial or +resistance. It would hurt—the fall and break would cause atrocious pain. +But it was somewhere necessary to him. No atom of him held back or +hesitated. For there was joy beyond it somehow—an intense and lasting +joy, like the joy that belongs to growth and development after accepted +suffering.</p> + +<p>Vaguely—not put into definite words—it was this he felt, when at length +sleep took him. Yet just before he slept he remembered two other little +details, and smiled to himself as they rose before his sleepy mind, yet +not understanding exactly why he smiled: for he did not yet know her +name—and there was, of course, a husband.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + + +<p>This resumption of a childhood's acquaintance that, by one at least, had +been imaginatively coaxed into a relationship of ideal character, at once +took on a standing of its own. It started as from a new beginning.</p> + +<p>Tom Kelverdon did not forget the childhood part, but he neglected it at +first. It was as if he met now for the first time—a woman who charmed +him beyond anything known before; he longed for her; that he had longed +for her subconsciously these twenty years slipped somehow or other out of +memory. With it slipped also those strange corroborative details that +imagination had clung to so tenaciously during the interval. The Whiff, +the Sound, the other pair of Eyes, the shuffling feet, the joy that +cloaked the singular prophecy of pain—all these, if not entirely +forgotten, ceased to intrude themselves. Even when looking into her +clear, dark eyes, he no longer quite realised them as the 'eastern eyes' +of his dim, dim dream; they belonged to a woman, and a married woman, whom +he desired with body, heart and soul. Calm introspection was impossible, +he could only feel, and feel intensely. He could not fuse this girl and +woman into one continuous picture: each was a fragment of some much older, +larger picture. But this larger canvas he could never visualise +successfully. It was coloured, radiant, gorgeous; it blazed as with gold, +a gold of sun and stars. But the strain of effort caused rupture +instantly. The vaster memory escaped him. He was conscious of reserve.</p> + +<p>The comedy of telephoning to a name he did not know was obviated next +morning by the arrival of a note: 'Dear Tom Kelverdon,' it began, and was +signed 'Yours, Lettice Jaretzka.' It invited him to come up for +<i>déjeuner</i> in her hotel. He went. The luncheon led naturally to a walk +together afterwards, and then to other luncheons and other walks, to +evening rows upon the lake, and to excursions into the surrounding +country.… They had tea together in the lower mountain inns, picked +flowers, photographed one another, laughed, talked and sat side by side at +concerts or in the little Montreux cinema theatre. It was all as easy and +natural as any innocent companionship well could be—because it was so +deep. The foundations were of such solid strength that nothing on the +surface trembled.… Madame de Jaretzka was well known in the hotel— +she came annually, it seemed, about this time and made a lengthy stay,— +but no breath of anything untoward could ever be connected with her. +He, too, was accepted by one and all, no glances came their way. +He was her friend: that was apparently enough. And though he desired her, +body, heart and soul, he was quick to realise that the first named in the +trio had no rôle to play. Something in her, something of attitude and +atmosphere, rendered it inconceivable. The reserve he was conscious of +lay very deep in him; it lay in her too. There was a fence, a barrier he +must not, could not pass—both recognised it. Being a man, romance for +him drew some tendril doubtless from the creative physical, but the shade +of passing disappointment, if it existed, was renounced as instantly as +recognised. Yet he was not aware at first of any incompleteness in her. +He felt only a bigger thing. There seemed something in this simple woman +that bore him to the stars.</p> + +<p>For simple she undoubtedly was, not in the way of shallowness, but because +her nature seemed at harmony with itself: uncomplex, natural, frank and +open, and with an unconventional carelessness that did no evil for the +reason that she thought and meant none. She could do things that must +have made an ordinary worldly woman the centre of incessant talk and +scandal. There was, indeed, an extraordinary innocence about her that +perturbed the judgment, somewhat baffling it. Whereas with many women it +might have roused the suspicion of being a pose, an affectation, with her, +Tom felt, it was a genuine innocence, beyond words delightful and +refreshing. And it arose, he soon discovered, from the fact that, being +good and true herself, she thought everybody else was also good and true. +This he realised before two days' intercourse had made it seem as if they +had been together always and were made for one another. Something bigger +and higher than he had ever felt before stirred in him for this woman, +whom he thought of now invariably as Madame de Jaretzka, rather than as +Lettice of his younger dream. If she woke something nobler in him that +had slept, he did not label it as such: nor, if a portion of his younger +dream was fulfilling itself before his eyes, in a finer set of terms, did +he think it out and set it down in definite words. There <i>was</i> this +intense and intimate familiarity between them both, but somehow he did not +call it by these names. He just thought her wonderful—and longed for +her. The reserve began to trouble him.…</p> + +<p>'It's sweet,' she said, 'when real people come together—find each other.'</p> + +<p>'Again,' he added. 'You left that out. For <i>I've</i> never forgotten—all +these years.'</p> + +<p>She laughed. 'Well, I'll tell you the truth,' she confessed frankly. +'I hadn't forgotten either; I often thought of you and wondered——'</p> + +<p>'What I was like now?'</p> + +<p>'What you were doing, where you were,' she said. 'I always knew what you +were like. But I often wondered how far on you had got.'</p> + +<p>'You had no news of me?'</p> + +<p>'None. But I always believed you'd do something big in the world.'</p> + +<p>Something in her voice or manner made it wholly natural for him to tell +her of his boyhood love. He mentioned the Wave and wavy feeling, the +nightmare too, but when he tried to go beyond that, something checked him; +he felt a sudden shyness. It 'sounds so silly,' was his thought. +'But I always know a real person,' he said aloud, 'anybody who's going to +be real in my life; they always arrive on a wave, as it were. My wavy +feeling announces them.' And the interest with which she responded +prevented his regretting having made his confession.</p> + +<p>'It's an instinct, I think,' she agreed, 'and instincts are meant to be +listened to. I've had something similar, though with me it's not a wave.' +Her voice grew slower, she made a pause; when he looked up—her eyes were +gazing across the lake as though in a moment of sudden absent-mindedness. +. . . 'And what's yours?' he asked, wondering why his heart was beating as +though something painful was to be disclosed.</p> + +<p>'I see a stream,' she went on slowly, still gazing away from him across +the expanse of shining water, 'a flowing stream—with faces on it. They +float down with the current. And when I see one I know it's somebody +real—real to me. The unreal faces are always on the bank. I pass them +by.'</p> + +<p>'You've seen mine?' he asked, unable to hide the eagerness. 'My face?'</p> + +<p>'Often, yes,' she told him simply. 'I dream it usually, I think: but it's +quite vivid.'</p> + +<p>'And is that all? You just see the faces floating down with the current?'</p> + +<p>'There's one other thing,' she answered, 'if you'll promise not to laugh.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I won't laugh,' he assured her. 'I'm awfully interested. It's no +funnier than my Wave, anyhow.'</p> + +<p>'They're faces I have to save,' she said. 'Somehow I'm meant to rescue +them.' In what way she did not know. 'Just keep them above water, I +suppose!' And the smile in her face gave place to a graver look. +The stream of faces was real to her in the way his Wave was real. +There was meaning in it. 'Only three weeks ago,' she added, 'I saw <i>you</i> +like that.' He asked where it was, and she told him Warsaw. They +compared notes; they had been in the town together, it turned out. +Their outer paths had been converging for some time, then.</p> + +<p>'Why—did you leave?' he asked suddenly. He wanted to ask why she was +there at all, but something stopped him.</p> + +<p>'I usually come here,' she said quietly, 'about this time. It's restful. +There's peace in these quiet hills above the town, and the lake is +soothing. I get strength and courage here.'</p> + +<p>He glanced at her with astonishment a moment. Behind the simple language +another meaning flashed. There was a look in the eyes, a hint in the +voice that betrayed her.… He waited, but she said no more. Not that +she wished to conceal, but that she did not wish to speak of something. +Warsaw meant pain for her, she came here to rest, to recuperate after a +time of stress and struggle, he felt. And looking at the face he +recognised for the first time that behind its quiet strength there lay +deep pain and sadness, yet accepted pain and sadness conquered, a +suffering she had turned to sweetness. Without a particle of proof, he +yet felt sure of this. And an immense respect woke in him. He saw her +saving, rescuing others, regardless of herself: he felt the floating faces +real; the stream was life—her life.… And, side by side with the +deep respect, the bigger, higher impulse stirred in him again. Name it he +could not: it just came: it stole into him like some rare and exquisite +new fragrance, and it came from her.… He saw her far above him, +stooping down from a higher level to reach him with her little hand.… +He knew a yearning to climb up to her—a sudden and searching yearning in +his soul. 'She's come back to fetch me,' ran across his mind before he +realised it; and suddenly his heart became so light that he thought he had +never felt such happiness before. Then, before he realised it, he heard +himself saying aloud—from his heart:</p> + +<p>'You do me an awful lot of good—really you do. I feel better and happier +when I'm with you. I feel—' He broke off, aware that he was talking +rather foolishly. Yet the boyish utterance was honest; she did not think +it foolish apparently. For she replied at once, and without a sign of +lightness:</p> + +<p>'Do I? Then I mustn't leave you, Tom!'</p> + +<p>'Never!' he exclaimed impetuously.</p> + +<p>'Until I've saved you.' And this time she did not laugh.</p> + +<p>She was still looking away from him across the water, and the tone was +quiet and unaccented. But the words rang like a clarion in his mind. +He turned; she turned too: their eyes met in a brief but penetrating gaze. +And for an instant he caught an expression that frightened him, though he +could not understand its meaning. Her beauty struck him like a sheet of +fire—all over. He saw gold about her like the soft fire of the southern +stars. With any other woman, at any other time, he would—but the thought +utterly denied itself before it was half completed even. It sank back as +though ashamed. There was something in her that made it ugly, out of +rhythm, undesirable, and undesired. She would not respond—she would not +understand.</p> + +<p>In its place another blazed up with that strange, big yearning at the back +of it, and though he gazed at her as a man gazes at a woman he needs and +asks for, her quiet eyes did not lower or turn aside. The cheaper feeling +'I'm not worthy of you,' took in his case a stronger form: 'I'll be +better, bigger, for you.' And then, so gently it might have been a +mother's action, she put her hand on his with firm pressure, and left it +lying there a moment before she withdrew it again. Her long white glove, +still fastened about the wrist, was flung back so that it left the palm +and fingers bare, and the touch of the soft skin upon his own was +marvellous; yet he did not attempt to seize it, he made no movement in +return. He kept control of himself in a way he did not understand. +He just sat and looked into her face. There was an entire absence of +response from her—in one sense. Something poured from her eyes into his +very soul, but something beautiful, uplifting. This new yearning emotion +rose through him like a wave, bearing him upwards.… At the same time +he was vaguely aware of a lack as well… of something incomplete and +unawakened.…</p> + +<p>'Thank you—for saying that,' he was murmuring; 'I shall never forget it,'; +and though the suppressed passion changed the tone and made it tremble +even, he held himself as rigid as a statue. It was she who moved. +She leaned nearer to him. Like a flower the wind bends on its graceful +stalk, her face floated very softly against his own. She kissed him. +It was all very swift and sudden. But, though exquisite, it was not a +woman's kiss.… The same instant she was sitting straight again, +gazing across the blue lake below her.</p> + +<p>'You're still a boy,' she said, with a little innocent laugh, 'still a +wonderful, big boy.'</p> + +<p>'Your boy,' he returned. 'I always have been.'</p> + +<p>There was deep, deep joy in his heart, it lifted him above the world—with +her. Yet with the joy there was this faint touch of disappointment too.</p> + +<p>'But, I say—isn't it awfully strange?' he went on, words failing him +absurdly. 'It's very wonderful, this friendship. It's so natural.' +Then he began to flush and stammer.</p> + +<p>In an even tone of voice she answered: 'It's wonderful, Tom, but it's not +strange.' And again he was vaguely aware that something which might +have made her words yet more convincing was not there.</p> + +<p>'But I've got that curious feeling—I could swear it's all happened +before.' He moved closer as he spoke; her dress was actually against his +coat, but he could not touch her. Something made it impossible, wrong, +a false, even a petty thing. It would have taken away the kiss. +'Have <i>you</i>?' he asked abruptly, with an intensity that seemed to startle +her, 'have <i>you</i> got that feeling of familiarity too?'</p> + +<p>And for a moment in the middle of their talk they both, for some reason, +grew very thoughtful.…</p> + +<p>'It had to be—perhaps,' she answered simply a little later. 'We are both +real, so I suppose—yes, it <i>has</i> to be.'</p> + +<p>There was the definite feeling that both spoke of a bigger thing that +neither quite understood. Their eyes searched, but their hearts searched +too. There was a gap in her that somehow must be filled, Tom felt.… +They stared long at one another. He was close upon the missing thing— +when suddenly she withdrew her eyes. And with that, as though a wave had +swept them together and passed on, the conversation abruptly changed its +key. They fell to talking of other things. The man in him was again +aware of disappointment.</p> + +<p>The change was quite natural, nothing forced or awkward about it. +The significance had gone its way, but the results remained. They were in +the 'sea' together. It 'had to be.' As from the beginning of the world +they belonged to one another, each for the other—real. There was nothing +about it of a text-book 'love affair,' absolutely nothing. Deeper far +than a passional relationship, guiltless of any fruit of mere propinquity, +the foundations of the sudden intimacy were as ancient as immovable. +The inevitable touch lay in it. And Tom knew this partly confirmed, at +any rate, by the emotion in him when she said 'my boy,' for the term woke +no annoyance, conveyed no lightness. Yet there was a flavour of +disappointment in it somewhere—something of necessary value that he +missed in her.… To a man in love it must have sounded superior, +contemptuous: whereas to him it sounded merely true. He was her boy. +This mother-touch was in her. To care, to cherish, somehow even to +rescue, she had come to find him out—again. She had come <i>back</i>.… +It was thus, at first, he felt it. From somewhere above, beyond the place +where he now stood in life, she had 'come back, come down, to fetch him.' +She was further on than he was. He longed to stand beside her. Until he +did so… this gap in her must prevent absolute union. On both sides +it was not entirely natural as yet.… Thought grew confused in him.</p> + +<p>And, though he could not understand, he accepted it as inevitable. +The joy, moreover, was so urgent and uprising, that it smothered a +delicate whisper that yet came with it—that the process involved also— +pain. Though aware, from time to time, of this vague uneasiness, he +easily brushed it aside. It was the merest gossamer-thread of warning +that with each recurrent appearance became more tenuous, until finally it +ceased to make its presence felt at all.…</p> + +<p>In the entire affair of this sudden intercourse he felt the Wave, yet the +Wave, though steadily rising, ceased to make its presence too consciously +known; the Whiff, the Sound, the Eyes seemed equally forgotten: that is, +he did not realise them. He was living now, and introspection was a waste +of time, living too intensely to reflect or analyse. He felt swept +onwards upon a tide that was greater than he could manage, for instead of +swimming consciously, he was borne and carried with it. There was +certainly no attempt to stem. Life was rising. It rushed him forwards +too deliciously to think.…</p> + +<p>He began asking himself the old eternal question: 'Do I love? Am I in +love—at last, then?'… Some time passed, however, before he realised +that he loved, and it was in a sudden, curious way that this realisation +came. Two little words conveyed the truth—some days later, as they were +at tea on the verandah of her hotel, watching the sunset behind the blue +line of the Jura Mountains. He had been talking about himself, his +engineering prospects—rather proudly—his partnership and the letter he +expected daily from Sir William. 'I hope it will be Assouan,' he said, +'I've never been in Egypt. I'm awfully keen to see it.' She said she +hoped so too. She knew Egypt well: it enchanted, even enthralled her: +'familiar as though I'd lived there all my life. A change comes over me, +I become a different person—and a much older one; not physically,' she +explained with a curious shy gaze at him, 'but in the sense that I feel a +longer pedigree behind me.' She gave the little laugh that so often +accompanied her significant remarks. 'I always think of the Nile as the +'stream' where I see the floating faces.'</p> + +<p>They went on chatting for some minutes about it. Tom asked if she had met +his cousin out there; yes, she remembered vaguely a Mr. Winslowe coming to +tea on her <i>dahabieh</i> once, but it was only when he described Tony more +closely that she recalled him positively. 'He interested me,' she said +then: 'he talked wildly, but rather picturesquely, about what he called +the 'spiral movement of life,' or something.' 'He goes after birds,' Tom +mentioned. 'Of course,' she replied, 'I remember distinctly now. It was +something about the flight of birds that introduced the spiral part of it. +He had a good deal in him, that man,' she added, 'but he hid it behind a +lot of nonsense—almost purposely, I felt.'</p> + +<p>'That's Tony all over,' Tom assented, 'but he's a rare good sort and I'm +awfully fond of him. He's 'real' in our sense too, I think.'</p> + +<p>She said then very slowly, as though her thoughts were far away in Egypt +at the moment: 'Yes, I think he is. I've seen <i>his</i> face too.'</p> + +<p>'Floating down, you mean—or on the bank?'</p> + +<p>'Floating,' she answered. 'I'm sure I have.'</p> + +<p>Tom laughed happily. 'Then you've got him to rescue too,' he said. +'But, remember, if we're both drowning, I come first.'</p> + +<p>She looked into his face and smiled her answer, touching his fingers with +her hand. And again it was not a woman's touch.</p> + +<p>'He was in Warsaw, too, a few weeks ago,' Tom went on, 'so we were all +three there together. Rather odd, you know. He was ski-ing with me in +the Carpathians,'; and he described their meeting at Zakopané after the +long interval since boyhood. 'He told me about you in Egypt, too, now I +come to think of it. He mentioned the <i>dahabieh</i>, but called you a +Russian—yes, I remember now,—and a Russian Princess into the bargain. +Evidently you made less impression on Tony than——'</p> + +<p>It was then he stopped as though he had been struck. The idle +conversation changed. He heard her interrupting words from a curious +distance. They fell like particles of ice upon his heart.</p> + +<p>'Polish, of course, not Russian,' she mentioned casually, 'but the rest is +right, though I never use the title. My husband, in his own country, is a +Prince, you see.'</p> + +<p>Something reeled in him, then instantly righted itself. For a moment he +felt as though the freedom of their intercourse had received a shock that +blighted it. The words, 'my husband,' struck chill and ominous into his +heart. The recovery, however,—almost simultaneous—showed him that both +the freedom and the intercourse were right and unashamed. She gave him +nothing that belonged to any other: she was loyal and true to that other +as she was loyal and true to himself. Their relationship was high above +mere passional intrigue; it could exist—in the way she knew it, felt it— +side by side with that other one, before that other one's very eyes, if +need be.… He saw it true: he saw it innocent as daylight.… +For what he felt was somehow this: the woman in her was not his, but more +than that—it was not any one's. It still lay dormant.…</p> + +<p>If there was a momentary confusion in his own mind, there was none, he +felt positive, in hers. The two words that struck him such a blow, she +uttered as lightly, innocently, as the rest of the talk between them. +Indeed, had that other—even in thought Tom preferred the paraphrase—been +present, she would have introduced them to each other then and there. +He heard her saying the little phrases even: 'My husband,' and, 'This is +Tom Kelverdon whom I've loved since childhood.'</p> + +<p>Nothing brought more home to him the high innocence, the purity and +sweetness of this woman than the reflections that flung after one another +in his mind as he realised that his hope of her being a widow was not +justified, and at the same moment that he desired exclusive possession of +her—that he was definitely in love.</p> + +<p>That she was unaware of any discovery, even if she divined the storm in +him at all, was clear from the way she went on speaking. For, while all +this flashed through his mind, she added quietly: 'He is in Warsaw now. +He—lives there. I go to him for part of every year.' To which Tom heard +his voice reply something as natural and commonplace as 'Yes—I see.'</p> + +<p>Of the hundred pregnant questions that presented themselves, he did not +ask a single one: not that he lacked the courage so much as that he felt +the right was—not yet—his. Moreover, behind her quiet words he divined +a tragedy. The suffering that had become sweetness in her face was half +explained, but the full revelation of it belonged to 'that other' and to +herself alone. It had been their secret, he remembered, for at least +fifteen years.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> + + +<p>Yet, knowing himself in love, he was able to set his house in order. +Confusion disappeared. With the method and thoroughness of his character +he looked things in the face and put them where they belonged. +Even to wake up to an untidy room was an affliction. He might arrive in a +hotel at midnight, but he could not sleep until his trunks were empty and +everything in its place. In such outer details the intensity of his +nature showed itself: it was the intensity, indeed, that compelled the +orderliness.</p> + +<p>And the morning after this conversation, he woke up to an ordered mind— +thoughts and emotions in their proper places where he could see and lay +his hand upon them. The strength and weakness of his temperament betrayed +themselves plainly here, for the security that pedantic order brought +precluded the perspective of a larger vision. This careful labelling +enclosed him within somewhat rigid fences. To insist upon this precise +ticketing had its perilous corollary; the entire view—perspective, +proportion, vision—was lost sight of.</p> + +<p>'I'm in love: she's beautiful, body, mind and soul. She's high above me, +but I'll climb up to where she is.' This was his morning thought, and the +thought that accompanied him all day long and every day until the moment +came to separate again.… 'She's a married woman, but her husband has +no claim on her.' Somehow he was positive of that; the husband had +forfeited all claim to her; details he did not know; but she was free; she +did no wrong.</p> + +<p>In imagination he furnished plausible details from sensational experiences +life had shown him. These may have been right or wrong; possibly the +husband had ill-treated, then deserted her; they were separated possibly, +though—she had told him this—there were no children to complicate the +situation. He made his guesses.… There was a duty, however, that +she would not, did not neglect: in fulfilment of its claim she went to +Warsaw every year. What it was, of course, he did not know; but this +thought and the emotions caused by it, he put away into their proper +places; he asked no questions of her; the matter did not concern him +really. The shock experienced the day before was the shock of realising +that—he loved. Those two significant words had suddenly shown it to him. +The order of his life was changed. 'She is essential to me; I am +essential to her.' But 'She's all the world to me,' involved equally +'I'm all the world to her.' The sense of his own importance was +enormously increased. The Wave surged upwards with a sudden leap.…</p> + +<p>There was one thing lacking in this love, perhaps, though he hardly +noticed it—the element of surprise. Ever since childhood he had +suspected this would happen. The love was predestined, and in so far +seemed a deliberate affair, pedestrian, almost calm. This sense of the +inevitable robbed it of that amazing unearthly glamour which steals upon +those who love for the first time, taking them deliciously by surprise. +He saw her beautiful, and probably she was, but her beauty was familiar to +him. He had come up with the childhood dream, and in coming up with it he +recognised it. It seemed thus somewhat.… But her mind and soul were +beautiful too, only these were more beautiful than he had dreamed. +In that lay surprise and wonder too. There was genuine magic here, +discovery and exhilarating novelty. He had not caught up with <i>that</i>. +The love as a whole, however, was expected, natural. It was inevitable. +The familiarity alone remained strange, a flavour of the uncanny about it +almost—yet certainly real.</p> + +<p>And these things also he tried to face and label, though with less +success. To bring order into them was beyond his powers. She had +outstripped him somehow in her soul, but had come back to fetch him—also +to get something for herself she lacked. The rest was oddly familiar: it +had happened before. It was about to happen now again, but on a higher +level; only before it could happen completely he must overtake her. +The spiral idea lay in it somewhere. But the Wave contained and drove +it.… His mind was not supple; analogy, that spiritual solvent, did +not help him. Yet the fact remained that he somehow visualised the thing +in picture form; a rising wave bore them charging up the spiral curve to a +point whence they both looked down upon a passage they had made before. +She was always a little in front of him, beyond him. But when the Wave +finally broke they would rush together—become one… there would be +pain, but joy would follow.</p> + +<p>And during all their subsequent happy days of companionship this one thing +alone marred his supreme contentment—this sense of elusiveness, that +while he held her she yet slipped between his fingers and escaped. +He loved; but whereas to most men love brings a feeling of finality and +rest, as of a search divinely ended, to Tom came the feeling that his +search was merely resumed, or, indeed, had only just begun. He had not +come into full possession of this woman: he had only found her.… +She was deep; her deceptive simplicity hid surprises from him; much—and +it was the greater part—he could not understand. Only when he came up +with that would possession be complete. Not that she said or did a single +thing that suggested this; she was not elusive of set purpose; she was +entirely guiltless of any desire to hold back a fraction of herself, and +to conceal was as foreign to her nature as to play with him; but that +some part of her hung high above his reach, and that he, knowing this, +admitted a subtle pain behind the joy. 'I can't get at her—quite,' he +put it to himself. 'Some part of her is not mine yet—doesn't belong to +me.'</p> + +<p>He thought chiefly, that is, of his own possible disabilities rather than +of hers.</p> + +<p>'I often wonder why we've come together like this,' he said once, as they +lay in the shade of a larch wood above Corvaux and looked towards the +snowy summits of Savoy. 'What brought us together, I mean? There's +something mysterious about it to me——'</p> + +<p>'God,' she said quietly. 'You needed me. You've been lonely. But you'll +never be lonely again.'</p> + +<p>Her introduction of the Deity into a conversation did not displease. +Fate, or any similar word, could have taken its place; she merely conveyed +her sense that their coming together was right and inevitable. +Moreover, now that she said it, he recognised the fact of loneliness—that +he always had been lonely, but that it was no longer possible. He felt +like a boy and spoke like a boy. She had come to look after, care for +him. She asked nothing for herself. The thought gave him a sharp and +sudden pang.</p> + +<p>'But my love means a lot to you, doesn't it?' he asked tenderly. +'I mean, you need me too?'</p> + +<p>'Everything, Tom,' she told him softly. He was conscious of the mother in +her, as though the mother overshadowed the woman. But while he loved it, +the tinge of resentment still remained.</p> + +<p>'You couldn't do without me, could you?' He took the hand she placed upon +his knee and looked up into her quiet eyes. 'You'd be lonely too if—I +went?'</p> + +<p>For a moment she gazed down at him and did not answer; he was aware of +both the pain and sweetness in her face; an interval of thoughtfulness +again descended on them both: then a great tenderness came welling up into +her eyes as she answered slowly: 'You couldn't go, Tom. You couldn't +leave me ever.'</p> + +<p>Her hand was on his shoulder, almost about his neck as she said it, and he +came in closer, and before he knew what he was doing his face was buried +in her lap. Her hand stroked his hair. Twenty-five years dropped from +him—he was a child again, a little boy, and she, in some divine, +half-impersonal sense he could not understand, was mothering him. +No foolish feeling of shame came with it; the mood was too sudden for +analysis, it passed away swiftly too; but he knew, for a brief second, all +the sensations of a restless and dissatisfied boy who needed above all +else—comfort: the comfort that only an inexhaustible mother-love could +give.… And this love poured from her in a flood. Till now he had +never known it, nor known the need of it. And because it had been +curiously lacking he suddenly wondered how he had done without it. +A strange sense of tears rose in his heart. He felt pain and tragedy +somewhere. For there was another thing he wanted from her too.… +Through the sparkle of his joy peeped out that familiar, strange, rich +pain, but so swiftly he hardly recognised it. It withdrew again. +It vanished.</p> + +<p>'But <i>you</i> couldn't leave me either, could you?' he asked, sitting erect +again. He made a movement as though to draw her head down upon his +shoulder in the protective way of a man who loves, but—he could not do +it. It was curious. She did nothing to prevent, only somehow the +position would be a false one. She did not need him in that way. He was +not yet big enough to protect. It was she who protected him. And when +she answered the same second, the familiar sentence flashed across his +mind again: 'She has come back to fetch me.'</p> + +<p>'I shall never, never leave you, Tom. We're together for always. I know +it absolutely.' The girl of seventeen, the unawakened woman who was +desired, the mother who thought not of herself,—all three spoke in those +quiet words; but with them, too, he was aware of this elusive other thing +he could not name. Perhaps her eyes conveyed it, perhaps the pain and +sweetness in the little face so close above his own. She was bending over +him. He looked up. And over his heart rushed again that intolerable +yearning—the yearning to stand where she stood, far, far beyond him, yet +with it the certainty that pain must attend the effort. Until that pain, +that effort were accomplished, she could not entirely belong to him. +He had to win her yet. Yet also he had to teach <i>her</i> something.… +Meanwhile, in the act of protecting, mothering him she must use pain, as +to a learning child. Their love would gain completeness only thus.</p> + +<p>Yet in words he could not approach it; he knew not how to.</p> + +<p>'It's a strange relationship,' he stammered, concealing, as he thought, +the deep emotions that perplexed him. 'The world would misunderstand it +utterly.' She smiled, nodding her head. 'I wish——' he added, 'I mean +it comes to me sometimes—that you don't need me quite as I need you. +You're my whole life, you know—now.'</p> + +<p>'You're growing imaginative, Tom,' she teased him smilingly. +Then, catching the earnest expression in his face, she added: 'My life has +been very full, you see, and I've always had to stand alone. There's been +so much for me to do that I've had no time to feel loneliness perhaps.'</p> + +<p>'Rescuing the other floating faces!'</p> + +<p>A slight tinge of a new emotion slipped through his mind, something he had +never felt before, yet so faint he could not even recapture it, much less +wonder whether it were jealousy or envy. It rose from the depths; it +vanished into him again.… Besides, he saw that she was smiling; the +teasing mood that so often baffled him was upon her; he heard her give +that passing laugh that almost 'kept him guessing,' as the Americans say, +whether she was in play or earnest.</p> + +<p>'It's worth doing, anyhow—rescuing the floating faces,' she said: 'worth +living for.' And she half closed her eyes so that he saw her as a girl +again. He saw her as she had been even before he knew her, as he used to +see her in his dream. It was the dream-eyes that peered at him through +long, thick lashes. They looked down at him. He felt caught away to some +remote, strange place and time. He was aware of gold, of colour, of a +hotter blood, a fiercer sunlight.…</p> + +<p>And the sense of familiarity became suddenly very real; he knew what she +was going to say, how he would answer, why they had come together. It all +flashed near, yet still just beyond his reach. He almost understood. +They had been side by side like this before, not in this actual place, but +somewhere—somewhere that he knew intimately. Her eyes had looked down +into his own precisely so, long, long ago, yet at the same time strangely +near. There was a perfume, a little ghostly perfume—it was the Whiff. +It was gone instantly, but he had tasted it.… A veil drew up.… +He saw, he knew, he remembered—<i>almost</i>.… Another second and he +would capture the meaning of it all. Another moment and it would reveal +itself—then, suddenly, the whole sensation vanished. He had missed it by +the minutest fraction in the world, yet missed it utterly. It left him +confused and baffled.</p> + +<p>The veil was down again, and he was talking with Madame Jaretzka, the +Lettice Aylmer of his boyhood days. Such moments of the <i>déjà-vu</i> leave +bewilderment behind them, like the effect of sudden change of focus in the +eye; and with the bewilderment a sense of insecurity as well.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said half dreamily, 'and you've rescued a lot already, haven't +you?' as though he still followed in speech the direction of the vanished +emotion.</p> + +<p>'You know that, Tom?' she enquired, raising her eyelids, thus finally +restoring the normal.</p> + +<p>He stammered rather: 'I have the feeling—that you're always doing good to +some one somewhere. There's something,'—he searched for a word— +'impersonal about you—almost.' And he knew the word was nearly right, +though found by chance. It included 'un-physical,' the word he did not +like to use. He did not want an angel's love; the spiritual, to him, rose +from the physical, and was not apart from it. He was not in heaven yet, +and had no wish to be. He was on earth; and everything of value—love, +above all—must spring from earth, or else remain incomplete, insecure, +ineffective even.</p> + +<p>And again a tiny dart of pain shot through him. Yet he was glad he said +it, for it was true. He liked to face what hurt him. To face it was to +get it over.…</p> + +<p>But she was laughing again gently to herself, though certainly not at him. +'What were you thinking about so long?' she asked. 'You've been silent +for several minutes and your thoughts were far away.' And as he did not +reply immediately, she went on: 'If you go to Assouan you mustn't fall +into reveries like that or you'll leave holes in the dam, or whatever your +engineering work is—<i>Tom</i>!'</p> + +<p>She spoke the name with a sudden emphasis that startled him. It was a +call.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said, looking up at her. He was emerging from a dream.</p> + +<p>'Come back to me. I don't like your going away in that strange way— +forgetting me.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, I like that. Say it again,' he returned, a deeper note in his voice.</p> + +<p>'You <i>were</i> away—weren't you?'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps,' he said slowly. 'I can't say quite. I was thinking of you, +wherever I was.' He went on, holding her eyes with a steady gaze: +'A curious feeling came over me like—like heat and light. You seemed so +familiar to me all of a sudden that I felt I had known you ages and ages. +I was trying to make out where—it was——'</p> + +<p>She dropped her eyelids again and peered at him, but no longer smiling. +There was a sterner expression in her face. The lips curved a moment in a +new strange way. The air seemed to waver an instant between them. +She peered down at him as through a mist.…</p> + +<p>'There—like that!' he exclaimed passionately. 'Only I wish you wouldn't. +There's something I don't like about it. It hurts,'—and the same minute +felt ashamed, as though he had said a foolish thing. It had come out in +spite of himself.</p> + +<p>'Then I won't, Tom—if you'll promise not to go away again. I was +thinking of Egypt for a second—I don't know why.'</p> + +<p>But he did not laugh with her; his face kept the graver expression still.</p> + +<p>'It changes you—rather oddly,' he said quietly, 'that lowering of the +eyelids. I can't say why exactly, but it makes you look——Eastern.' +Again he had said a foolish thing. A kind of spell seemed over him.</p> + +<p>'Irish eyes!' he heard her saying. 'They sometimes look like that, I'm +told. But you promise, don't you?'</p> + +<p>'Of course I promise,' he answered bluntly enough, because he meant it. +'I can never go away from you because,'—he turned and looked very hard at +her a moment—'because there's something in you I need in my very soul,' +he went on earnestly, 'yet that always escapes me. I can't get hold of— +all of you.'</p> + +<p>And though she refused his very earnest mood, she answered with obvious +sincerity at once. 'That's as it should be, Tom. A man tires of a woman +the moment he gets to the end of her.' She gave her little laugh and +touched his hand. 'Perhaps that's what I'm meant to teach you. When you +know all of me——'</p> + +<p>'I shall never know all of you,' said Tom.</p> + +<p>'You never will,' she replied with meaning, 'for I don't even know it all +myself.' And as she said it, he thought he had never seen anything so +beautiful in all the world before, for the breeze caught her long gauzy +veil of blue and tossed it across her face so that the eyes seemed gazing +at him from a distance, but a distance that had height in it. He felt her +above him, beyond him, on this height, a height he must climb before he +could know complete possession.</p> + +<p>'By Jove!' he thought, 'isn't it rising just!' For the Wave was under +them tremendously.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>April meanwhile had slipped into May, and their daily companionship had +become the most natural thing in the world, when the telegram arrived that +threatened to interrupt the delightful intercourse. But it was not the +telegram Tom expected. Neither Greece nor Egypt claimed his talents yet, +for the contracts both at Assouan and Salonica were postponed until the +autumn, and the routine of a senior partner's life in London was to be his +immediate fate. He brought her the news at once: they discussed it +together in all its details and as intimately as though it affected their +joint lives similarly. His first thought was to run and talk it over with +her; hers, how the change might influence their intercourse, their present +and their future. Their relationship was now established in this solid, +natural way. He told her everything as a son might tell his mother: she +asked questions, counselled, made suggestions as a woman whose loving care +considered his welfare and his happiness before all else.</p> + +<p>However, it brought no threatened interruption after all—involved, +indeed, less of separation than if he had been called away as they +expected: for though he must go to London that same week, she would +shortly follow him. 'And if you go to Egypt in the autumn, Tom,'—she +smiled at the way they influenced the future nearer to the heart's +desire—'I may go with you. I could make my arrangements accordingly— +take my holiday out there earlier instead of here as usual in the spring.'</p> + +<p>The days passed quickly. Her first duty was to return to Warsaw; she +would then follow him to London and help him with his flat. No man could +choose furniture and carpets and curtains properly. They discussed the +details with the enthusiasm of children: she would come up several times a +week from her bungalow in Kent and make sure that his wall-papers did not +clash with the general scheme. Brown was his colour, he told her, and +always had been. It was the dominant shade of her eyes as well. He made +her promise to stand in the rooms with her eyes opened very wide so that +there could be no mistake, and they laughed over the picture happily.</p> + +<p>She came to the train, and although he declared vehemently that he +disliked 'being seen off,' he was secretly delighted. 'One says such +silly things merely because one feels one must say something. And those +silly things remain in the memory out of all proportion to their value.' +But she insisted. 'Good-byes are always serious to me, Tom. One never +knows. I want to see you to the very last minute.' She had this way of +making him feel little things significant with Fate. But another little +thing also was in store for him. As the train moved slowly out he noticed +some letters in her hand; and one of them was addressed to Warsaw. +The name leaped up and stung him—Jaretzka. A spasm of pain shot through +him. She was leaving in the morning, he knew.…</p> + +<p>'Write to me from Warsaw,' he said. 'Take care! We're moving!'</p> + +<p>'I'll write every day, my dearest Tom, my boy. You won't forget me. +I shall see you in a fortnight.'</p> + +<p>He let go the little hand he held till the last possible minute. +The bells drowned her final words. She stood there waving her hand with +the unposted letters in them, till the station pillars intervened and hid +her from him.</p> + +<p>And this time no 'silly last things' had been said that could 'stay in the +memory out of all proportion to their value.' It was something he had +noticed on the envelope that stayed—not the husband's name, but a word in +the address, a peculiar Polish word he happened to know:—'Tworki'—the +name of the principal <i>maison de santé</i> that stood just outside the city +of Warsaw.…</p> + +<p>Half an hour, perhaps an hour, he sat smoking in his narrow sleeping +compartment, thinking with a kind of intense confusion out of which no +order came.… At Pontarlier he had to get out for the Customs +formalities. It was midnight. The stars were bright. The keen spring +air from the wooded Jura Mountains had a curious effect, for he returned +to his carriage feeling sleepy, the throng of pictures drowned into +calmness by one master-thought that reduced their confusion into order. +He looked back over the past weeks and realised their intensity. +He had lived. There was a change in him, the change of growth, +development. He loved. There was now a woman who was his entire world, +essential to him. He was essential to her too. And the importance of +this ousted all lesser things, even the senior partnership. This was the +master-thought—that he now lived for her. He was 'real' even as she was +'real,' each to the other <i>real</i>. The Wave had lifted him to a level +never reached before. And it was rising still.…</p> + +<p>He fell asleep on this, to dream of a mighty stream that swept them +together irresistibly towards some climax that he never could quite see. +She floated near to save him. She floated down. Her little hands were +stretched. It was a gorgeous and stupendous dream—a dream of rising life +itself—rising till it would curve and break and fall, and the inevitable +thing would happen that would bring her finally into his hungry arms, +complete, mother and woman, a spiritual love securely founded on the sweet +and wholesome earth.…</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + + +<p>During the brief separation of a fortnight Tom was too busy in London to +allow himself much reflection. Absence, once the first keen sense of loss +is over, is apt to bring reaction. The self makes an automatic effort to +regain the normal life it led before the new emotion dislocated the +long-accustomed routine. It tries to run back again along the line of +least resistance that habit has made smooth and easy. If the reaction +continues to assert its claim, the new emotion is proved thereby a +delusion. The test lies there.</p> + +<p>In Tom's case, however, the reaction was a feeble reminder merely that he +had once lived—without her. It took the form of regret for all the best +years of his life he had endured—how, he could not think—without this +tender, loving woman at his side. That is, he recognised that his love +was real and had changed his outlook fundamentally. He could never do +without her from this moment onwards. She equally needed him. He would +never leave her.… Further than that, for the present, he did not +allow himself to think. Having divined something of her tragedy, he +accepted the definite limitations. Speculations concerning another he +looked on as beside the point. As far as possible he denied himself the +indulgence in them. But another thing he felt as well—the right to claim +her, whether he exercised that right or not.</p> + +<p>Concerning his relationship with her, however, he did not deny +speculation, though somehow this time the perspective was too vast for him +to manage quite. There was a strange distance in it: he lost himself in +remoteness. In either direction it ran into mists that were interminable, +as though veils and curtains lifted endlessly, melting into shadowy +reaches beyond that baffled all enquiry. The horizons of his life had +grown so huge. This woman had introduced him to a scale of living that he +could only gaze at with wondering amazement and delight, too large as yet +to conform to the order that his nature sought. He could not properly +find himself.</p> + +<p>'It feels almost as if I've loved her before like this—yet somehow not +enough. That's what I've got to learn,' was the kind of thought that came +to him, at odd moments only. The situation seemed so curiously familiar, +yet only half familiar. They were certainly made for one another, and the +tie between them had this deep touch of the inevitable about it that +refused to go. That notion of the soul's advance in a spiral cropped up +in his mind again. He saw her both coming nearer and retreating—as a +moving figure against high light leaves the spectator uncertain whether it +is advancing or retiring. He would have liked to talk to Tony all about +it, for Tony would be sympathetic. He wanted a confidant and turned +instinctively to his cousin.… <i>She</i> already understood more than he +did, though perhaps not consciously, and therein lay the secret of her odd +elusiveness. Yet, in another sense, his possession was incomplete because +a part of her still lay unawakened. 'I must love her more and more and +more,' he told himself. But, at the same time, he took it for granted +that he was indispensable to her, as she was to him.</p> + +<p>These flashes of perception, deeper than anything he had experienced in +life hitherto, came occasionally while he waited in London for her return; +and though puzzled—his straightforward nature disliked all mystery—he +noted them with uncommon interest. Nothing, however, could prevent the +rise upwards of the Wave that bore the situation on its breast. +The affair swept him onwards; it was not to be checked or hindered. +He resigned direction to its elemental tide.</p> + +<p>The faint uneasiness, also, recurred from time to time, especially now +that he was alone again. He attributed it to the unsatisfied desire in +his heart, the knowledge that as yet he had no exclusive possession, and +did not really own her; the sense of insecurity unsettled him, the feeling +that she was open to capture by any one—'who understands and appreciates +her better than I do,' was the way he phrased it sometimes. He was +troubled and uneasy because so much of her lay unresponsive to his touch— +not needing him. While he was climbing up to reach her, another, with a +stronger claim, might step in—step back—and seize her.</p> + +<p>It made him smile a little even while he thought of it, for her truth and +constancy were beyond all question. And then, suddenly, he traced the +uneasiness to its source. There <i>was</i> 'another' who had first claim upon +her—who had it once, at any rate. Though at present some cloud obscured +and negatived that claim, the cloud might lift, the situation change, the +claim become paramount again, as once it surely had been paramount. +And, disquieting though the possibility was, Tom was pleased with +himself—he was so naïve and simple towards life—for having discerned it +clearly. He recognised the risk and thus felt half prepared in +advance.… In another way it satisfied him too. With this dream-like +suggestion that it all had happened before, he had always felt that a +further detail was lacking to complete the scene he half remembered. +Something, as yet, was wanting. And this item needed to make the strange +repetition of the scene fulfil itself seemed, precisely, the presence of +'another.'</p> + +<p>Their intercourse, meanwhile, proved beyond words delightful during the +following weeks, when, after her return from Warsaw, she kept her word and +helped him in the prosaic business of furnishing his flat and settling +down, as in a hundred other details of his daily life as well. All that +they did and said together confirmed their dear relationship and +established it beyond reproach. There was no question of anything false, +illicit, requiring concealment: nothing to hide and no one to evade. +In their own minds their innocence was so sure, indeed, that it was not +once alluded to between them. It was impossible to look at her and doubt: +nor could the most cynical suspect Tom Kelverdon of an undesirable +intrigue with the wife of another man. His acquaintance, moreover, were +not of the kind that harboured the usual 'worldly' thoughts; he went +little into society, whereas the comparatively few Londoners she knew were +almost entirely—he discovered it by degrees—people whose welfare in one +way or another she had earnestly at heart. It was a marvel to him, +indeed, how she never wearied of helping ungrateful folk, for the wish to +be of service seemed ingrained in her. Her first thought on making new +acquaintances was always what she could do for them, not with money +necessarily, but by 'seeing' them in their proper <i>milieu</i> and planning to +bring about the conditions they needed in order to realise themselves +fully. Failure, discontent, unhappiness were due to wrong conditions more +than to radical fault in the people themselves; once they 'found +themselves,' the rest would follow. It amounted to a genius in her.</p> + +<p>It seemed the artist instinct that sought this unselfish end rather than +any religious tendency. She felt it ugly to see people at issue with +their surroundings. Her religion was humanity, and had no dogmas. +Even Tony Winslowe, now in England again, came in for his share of this +sweet fashioning energy in her; much to his own bewilderment and to Tom's +amusement.…</p> + +<p>The summer passed towards early autumn and London emptied, but it made no +difference to them. Tom had urgent work to do and was absorbed in it, +never forgetting for a moment that he was now a Partner in the Firm. +He spent frequent week-ends at Madame Jaretzka's Kentish bungalow, where +she had for companion at the moment an Irish cousin who, as Tom easily +guessed, was also a dependant. This cousin had been invited with her +child, Molly, for the summer holidays, and these summer holidays had run +on into three months at least.</p> + +<p>A tall, thin, angular woman, of uncertain manners and capricious +temperament, Mrs. Haughstone had perhaps lived so long upon another's +bounty that she had come to take her good fortune for granted, and +permitted herself freely two cardinal indulgences—grumbling and +jealousy. Having married unwisely, in order to better herself rather than +because she loved, her shiftless husband had disgraced himself with an +adventuress governess, leaving her with three children and something below +£150 a year. Madame Jaretzka had stepped in to bring them together +again: she provided schooling abroad, holidays, doctors, clothes, and all +she could devise by way of helping them 'find themselves' again, and so +turning their broken lives to good account. With the husband, sly, lazy, +devoid of both pride and honesty, she could do little, and she was quite +aware that he and his wife put their heads together to increase the flow +of 'necessaries' she generously supplied.</p> + +<p>It was a sordid, commonplace story, sordidly treated by the soured and +vindictive wife, whose eventual aims upon her saviour's purse were too +obvious to be mistaken. Even Tom perceived the fact without delay. +He also perceived, behind the flattering tongue, an acid and suspicious +jealousy that regarded new friends with ill-disguised alarm. +Mrs. Haughstone thought of herself and her children before all else. +She mistook the impersonal attitude of her benefactress for credulous +weakness. A new friend was hostile to her shameless ambitions and +disliked accordingly.… Tom scented an enemy the first time he met +her. To him she expressed her disapproval of Tony, and <i>vice versa</i>, +while to her hostess she professed she liked them both—'but': the 'but' +implying that men were selfish and ambitious creatures who thought only of +their own advantage.</p> + +<p>His country visits, therefore, were not made happier by the presence in +the cottage of this woman and her child, but the manner in which the +benefactress met the situation justified the respect he had felt first +months before. It increased his love and admiration. Madame Jaretzka +behaved unusually. That she grasped the position there could be no doubt, +but her manner of dealing with it was unique. For when Mrs. Haughstone +grumbled, Madame Jaretzka gave her more, and when Mrs. Haughstone yielded +to jealousy, Madame Jaretzka smiled and said no word. She won her +victories with further generosity.</p> + +<p>'Another face that has to be rescued?' Tom permitted himself to say once, +after an unfortunate scene in which his hostess had been subtly accused of +favouritism to another child in the house. He could hardly suppress the +annoyance and impatience that he felt.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I never thought about it in that way,' she answered with her little +laugh, quite unruffled by what had happened. 'The best way is to help +them to—see themselves. Then they try to cure themselves.' She laughed +again, as though she had said a childish thing instead of something +distinctly wise. 'I can't <i>cure</i> them,' she added. 'I can only help.'</p> + +<p>Tom looked at her. 'Help others to see themselves—as they are,' +he repeated slowly. 'So that's how you do it, is it?' He reflected a +moment. 'That's being impersonal. You rouse no opposition that way. +It's good.'</p> + +<p>'Is it?' she replied, as though guiltless of any conscious plan. +'It seems the natural thing to do.' Then, as he was evidently preparing +for discussion in his honest and laborious way, she stopped him with a +look, smiling, sighing, and holding up her little finger warningly. +He understood. Analysis and argument she avoided always; they obscured +the essential thing; here was the intuitive method of grasping the +solution the instant the problem was stated. Detailed examination +exhausted her merely. And Tom obeyed that look, that threatening finger. +In little things he invariably yielded, while in big things he remained +firm, even obstinate, though without realising it.</p> + +<p>Her head inclined gracefully, acknowledging her victory. 'That's one +reason I love you, Tom,' she told him as reward; 'you're a boy on the +surface and a man inside.'</p> + +<p>Tom saw beauty flash about her as she said it; emotion rose through him in +a sudden tumult; he would have seized her, kissed her, crumpled her little +self against his heart and held her there, but for the tantalising truth +that the thing he wanted would have escaped him in the very act. +The loveliness he yearned for, craved, was not open to physical attack; it +was a loveliness of the spirit, a bird, a star, a wild flower on some high +pinnacle near the snow: to obtain it he must climb to where it soared +above the earth—rise up to her.</p> + +<p>He laughed and took her little finger in both hands. He felt awkward, big +and clumsy, a giant trying to catch an elusive butterfly. 'You turn us +all round <i>that</i>!' he declared. 'You turn her,' nodding towards the door, +'and me,' kissing the tip quickly, 'and Tony too. Only she and Tony don't +know you twiddle them—and I do.'</p> + +<p>She let him kiss her hand, but when he drew nearer, trying to set his lips +upon the arm her summer dress left bare, she put up her face instead and +kissed him lightly on the cheek. Her free hand made a caressing gesture +across his neck and shoulder, as she stood on tiptoe to reach him. +The mother in her, not the woman, caressed him dearly. It was wonderful; +but the surge of mingled emotions clouded something in his brain, and a +string of words came tumbling out in a fire of joy and pain. 'You're a +queen and a conqueror,' he said, longing to seize her, yet holding himself +back strongly. 'Somewhere I'm your helpless slave, but somewhere I'm your +master.' The protective sense came up in him. 'It's too delicious! +I'm in a dream! Lettice,' he whispered, 'it's my Wave! The Wave is behind +it! It's behind us both!'</p> + +<p>For an instant she half closed her eyelids in the way she knew both +pleased and frightened him. Invariably this gave her the advantage. +He felt her above him when she looked like this, he kneeling with hands +outstretched, yearning to be raised to where she stood. 'You're a baby, a +poet, and a man rolled into a dear big boy,' she said quickly, moving +towards the door away from him. 'And now I must go and get my garden hat, +for it's time to meet Tony and Moyra at the train, and as you have so much +surplus energy to-day we'll walk through the woods instead of going in the +motor.' She waved her hand and vanished behind the door. He heard the +patter of her feet as she ran upstairs.</p> + +<p>He went to the open window, lit his pipe, leaned out with his head among +the climbing roses, and thought of many things. Great joy was in him, but +behind it, far down where he could not reach it quite, hid a gnawing pain +that was obscure uneasiness. Pictures came floating across his mind, +rising and falling, sometimes rushing hurriedly; he saw things and faces +mixed, his own and hers chief among them. Her little finger pointed to a +star. He sighed, he wondered, he half prayed. Would he ever understand, +rise to her level, possess her for his very own? She seemed so far beyond +him. It was only part of her he touched.</p> + +<p>The faces fluttered and looked into his own, one among them an imagined +face—the husband's. It was a face with light blue eyes, moreover. +He saw Tony's too, frank, laughing, irresponsible, and the face of the +Irish girl who was Tony's latest passion. Tony could settle down to no +one for long. Tom remembered suddenly his remark at Zakopané months ago, +that the bee never sipped the last drop of honey from the flower.… +His thoughts tumbled and flew in many directions, yet all at once. +Life seemed very full and marvellous; it had never seemed so intense +before; it bore him onwards, upwards, forwards, with a rush beyond all +possible control and guidance. He acknowledged a rather delicious sense +of helplessness. The Wave was everywhere behind and under him. It was +sweeping him along.</p> + +<p>Then thought returned to Tony and the Irish girl who were coming down for +the Sunday, and he smiled to himself as he recalled his cousin's ardent +admiration at a theatre party a few nights ago in town. Tony had +something that naturally attracted women, dominating them too easily. +Was he heartless a little in the business? Would he never, like Tom, +settle down with one? His thought passed to the latest capture: there +were signs, indeed, that here Tony was caught at last.</p> + +<p>For Tom, Tony, and Madame Jaretzka formed an understanding trio, and there +were few expeditions, town or country, of which the lively bird-enthusiast +did not form an active member. Tony took it all very lightly, unaware of +any serious intention behind the pleasant invitations. Tom was amused by +it. He looked forward to his cousin's visit now. He was feeling the need +of a confidant, and Tony might so admirably fill the rôle. It was +curious, a little: Tom often felt that he wanted to confide in Tony, yet +somehow or other the confidences were never actually made. There was +something in Tony that invited that free, purging confidence which is a +need of every human being. It was so easy to tell things, difficult +things, to this careless, sympathetic being; yet Tom never passed the +frontier into definite revelation. At the last moment he invariably held +back.</p> + +<p>Thought passed to his hostess, already manœuvring to help Tony 'find +himself.' It amused Tom, even while he gave his willing assistance; for +Tony was of evasive, slippery material, like a fluid that, pressed in one +given direction, resists and runs away into several others. 'He scatters +himself too much,' she remarked, 'and it's a pity; there's waste.' +Tom laughed, thinking of his episodic love affairs. 'I didn't mean that,' +she added, smiling with him; 'I meant generally. He's full of talent and +knowledge. His power over women is natural, but it comes of mere +brilliance. If all that were concentrated instead, he would do something +real; he might be extraordinarily effective in life. Yes, Tom, I mean +it.' But Tom, though he smiled, agreed with her, feeling rather flattered +that she liked his cousin.</p> + +<p>'But he breaks too many hearts,' he said lightly, thinking of his last +conquest, and then added, hardly knowing why he said it, 'By the by, did +you ever notice his hands?'</p> + +<p>The way she quickly looked up at him proved that she divined his meaning. +But the glance had a flash of something that escaped him.</p> + +<p>'You're very observant, Tommy,' she said evasively. It seemed impossible +for her to say a disparaging thing of anybody. She invariably picked out +and emphasised the best. 'You don't admire them?'</p> + +<p>'Do <i>you</i>, Lettice?'</p> + +<p>She paused for an imperceptible second, then smiled. 'I rather like big +rough hands in a man—perhaps,' she said without any particular interest, +'though—in a way—they frighten me sometimes. Tony's are ugly, but +there's power in them.' And she placed her own small gloved hand upon his +arm. 'He's rather irresponsible, I know,' she added gently, 'but he'll +grow out of that in time. He's beginning to improve already.'</p> + +<p>'You see, he's got no mother,' Tom observed.</p> + +<p>'No wife either—yet,' she added with a laugh.</p> + +<p>'Or work,' put in Tom, with a touch of self-praise, and thinking of his +own position in the world. Her interest in Tony had the effect of making +himself seem worthier, more important. This fine woman, who judged people +from so high a standpoint, had picked out—himself! He had an absurd yet +delightful feeling as though Tony was their child, and the perfectly +natural way she took him under her mothering wing stirred an admiring pity +in him.</p> + +<p>Then as they walked together through the fragrant pine-woods to the +station, an incident at a recent theatre party rose before his memory. +Tony and his Amanda had been with them. The incident in question had left +a singular impression on his mind, though why it emerged now, as they +wandered through the quiet wood, he could not tell. It had occurred a +week or two ago. He now saw it again—in a tenth of the time it takes to +tell.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The scene was laid in ancient Egypt, and while the play was commonplace, +the elaborate production—scenery, dresses, atmosphere—was good. +But Tom, unable to feel interest in the trivial and badly acted story, had +felt interest in another thing he could not name. There was a subtle +charm, a delicate glamour about it as of immensely old romance, but some +lost romance of very far away. Yet, whether this charm was due to the +stage effects or to themselves, sitting there in the stalls together, +escaped him. For in some singular way the party, his hostess certainly, +seemed to interpenetrate the play itself. She, above all, and Tony +vaguely, seemed inseparable from what he gazed at, heard, and felt.</p> + +<p>Continually he caught himself thinking how delightful it was to know +himself next to Madame Jaretzka, so close that he shared her atmosphere, +her perfume, touched her even; that their minds were engaged intimately +together watching the same scene; and also, that on her other side, sat +Tony, affectionate, whimsical, fascinating Tony, whom they were trying to +help 'find himself'; and that he, again, was next to a girl he liked. +The harmonious feeling of the four was pleasurable to Tom. He felt +himself, moreover, an important and indispensable item in its composition. +It was vague; he did not attempt to analyse it as self-flattery, as +vanity, as pride—he was aware, merely, that he felt very pleased with +himself and so with everybody else. It was gratifying to sit at the head +of the group; everybody could see how beautiful <i>she</i> was; the dream of +exclusive ownership stole over him more definitely than ever before. +'She's chosen <i>me</i>! She needs me—a woman like that!'</p> + +<p>The audience, the lights, the colour, the music influenced him. It seemed +he caught something from the crude human passion that was being ranted on +the stage and transferred it unconsciously into his relations with the +party he belonged to, but, above all, into his relationship with her—and +with another. But he refused to let his mind dwell upon that other. +He found himself thinking instead of the divine tenderness that was in +her, yet at the same time of her elusiveness and the curious pain it +caused him. Whence came, he wondered, the sweet and cruel flavour? +It seemed like a memory of something suffered long ago, the sweetness in +it true and exquisite, the cruelty an error on his own part somehow. +The old hint of uneasiness, the strange, rich pain he had known in +boyhood, stole faintly over him; its first and immediate effect +heightening the sense of dim, old-world romance already present.…</p> + +<p>And he had turned cautiously to look at her. She was leaning forward a +little as though the play absorbed her, and the attitude startled him. +It caused him almost a definite shock. The face had pain in it.</p> + +<p>She was not aware that he stared; her attention was fastened upon the +stage; but the eyes were fixed, the little mouth was fixed as well, the +lips compressed; and all her features wore this expression of curious +pain. There was sternness in them, something almost hard. He watched her +for some minutes, surprised and fascinated. It came over him that he +almost knew what that was in her mind. Another moment and he would +discover it—when, past her profile, he caught his cousin's eyes peering +across at him. Tony had felt the direction of his glance and had looked +round: and Tony—mischievously—winked!</p> + +<p>The spell was broken. In that instant, however, through the heated air of +the crowded stalls already weighted with sickly artificial perfumes, there +reached him faintly, as from very far away, another and a subtler perfume, +something of elusive fragrance in it. It was very poignant, instinct as +with forgotten associations. It was the Whiff. It came, it went; but it +was unmistakable. And he connected it, as by some instantaneous +certitude, with the play—with Egypt.</p> + +<p>'What do you think of it, Lettice?' he had whispered, nodding towards the +stage.</p> + +<p>She turned with a start. She came back. The expression of pain flashed +instantly away. She had evidently not been thinking of the performance. +'It's not much, Tom, is it? But I like the scenery. It makes me feel +strange somewhere—the change that comes over me in Egypt. We'll be there +together—some day.' She leaned over with her lips against his ear.</p> + +<p>And there was significance in the commonplace words, he thought—a +significance her whisper did not realise, and certainly did not intend.</p> + +<p>'All three of us,' he rejoined before he knew what he meant exactly.</p> + +<p>And she nodded hurriedly. Either she agreed, or else she had not heard +him. He did not insist, he did not repeat, he sat there wondering why on +earth he said the thing. A touch of pain pricked him like an insect's +sting, but a pain he could not account for. His blood, at the same time, +leaped as she bent her face so near to his own. He felt his heart swell +as he looked into her eyes. Her beauty astonished him; in this twilight +of the theatre it glowed and burned like a veiled star. He fancied—it +was the trick of the half-light, of course—she had grown darker and that +a dusky flush lay on her cheeks.</p> + +<p>'What were you thinking about?' he whispered lower again, changing the +sentence slightly. And, as he asked it, he saw Tony still watching him, +two seats away. It annoyed him; he drew his head back a little so that +her face concealed him.</p> + +<p>'I don't know,' she whispered back; 'nothing in particular.' She put her +gloved hand stealthily towards him and touched his knee. The gesture, he +felt, was intended to supplement the words. For the first time in his +life he did not quite believe her. The thought was odious, but not to be +denied. It merely flashed across him, however. He forgot it instantly.</p> + +<p>'Seems oddly familiar somehow,' he said, 'doesn't it?'</p> + +<p>Again she nodded, smiling, as she gazed for a moment first into one eye, +then into the other, then turned away to watch the stage. And abruptly, +as she did so, the entire feeling vanished, the mood evaporated, her +expression was normal once more, and he fixed his attention on the stupid +play.</p> + +<p>He turned his interest into other channels; he would take his party on to +supper. He did so. Yet an impression remained—the impression that the +Wave had come nearer, higher, that it was rising and gaining impetus, +accumulating mass, momentum, power. The gay supper could not dissipate +that, nor could the happy ten minutes in a taxi, when he drove her to her +door, decrease or weaken it. She was very tired. They spoke little, he +remembered; she gave him a gentle touch as the cab drew up, and the few +things she said had entirely to do with his comfort in his flat. He felt +in that touch and in those tender questions the mother only. The woman, +it suddenly occurred to him, had gone elsewhere. He had never had it, +never even claimed it. A deep sense of loneliness touched him for a +moment. His heart beat rapidly. He dreamed.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>Why the scene came back to him now as they walked slowly through the +summery pine-wood he knew not. He caught himself thinking vividly of +Egypt suddenly, of being in Egypt with her—and with another. But on that +other he refused to let thought linger. Of set purpose he chose Tony in +that other's place. He saw it in a picture: he and she together helping +Tony, she and Tony equally helping him. It passed before him merely, a +glowing coloured picture set in high light against the heavy background of +these English fir-woods and the Kentish sky. Whether it came towards him +or retreated, he could not say. It was very brief, instantaneous almost. +The memory of the play, with its numerous attendant correlations, rose up, +then vanished.</p> + +<p>'Give me your arm, Tom, you mighty giant: these pine-needles are so +slippery.' He felt her hand creep in and rest upon his muscles, and a +glow of boyish pride came with it. In her summer dress of white, her big +garden hat and flowing violet veil, she looked adorable. He liked the +long white gauntlet gloves. The shadows of the trees became her well: +against the thick dark trunks she seemed slim and dainty as a flower that +the breeze bent over towards him. 'You're so horribly big and strong,' +she said, and her eyes, full of expression, glanced up at him. He watched +her little feet in the neat white shoes peep out in turn as they walked +along; her fingers pressed his arm. He tried to take her parasol, but she +prevented him, saying it was her only weapon of defence against a giant, +'and there <i>is</i> a giant in this forest, though only a baby one perhaps!' +He felt the mother in her pour over him in a flood of tenderness that +blessed and soothed and comforted. It was as if a divine and healing +power streamed from her into him.</p> + +<p>'And what <i>were</i> you thinking about, Tom?' she enquired teasingly. +'You haven't said a word for a whole five minutes!'</p> + +<p>'I was thinking of Egypt,' he answered with truth.</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>'I'm to go out in December,' he went on. 'I told you. It was decided at +our last Board Meeting.'</p> + +<p>She said she remembered. 'But it's funny,' she added, 'because I was +thinking of Egypt too just then—thinking of the Nile, my river with the +floating faces.'</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The week-end visit was typical of many others; Mrs. Haughstone, seeing +safety in numbers possibly, was pleasant on the surface, Molly deflecting +most of her poisoned darts towards herself; while Tom and Tony shared the +society of their unconventional hostess with boyish enjoyment. +Tom modified the air of ownership he indulged when alone with her, and +no one need have noticed that there was anything more between them than a +hearty, understanding friendship. Tony, for instance, may have guessed +the true situation, or, again, he may not; for he said no word, nor showed +the smallest hint by word, by gesture, or by silence—most significant +betrayal of all—that he was aware of any special tie. Though a keen +observer, he gave no sign. 'She's an interesting woman, Tom,' he remarked +lightly yet with enthusiasm once, 'and a rare good hostess—a woman in a +thousand, I declare. We make a famous trio. As you've got that Assouan +job we'll have some fun next winter in Egypt, eh?'</p> + +<p>And Tom, pleased and secretly flattered by the admiration, tried to make +his confidences. Unless Tony had liked her this would have been +impossible. But they formed such a natural, happy trio together, giving +the lie to the hoary proverb, that Tom felt it was permissible to speak of +her to his sympathetic cousin. Already they had laughingly discussed the +half-forgotten acquaintanceship begun in the <i>dahabieh</i> on the Nile, Tony +making a neat apology by declaring to her, 'Beautiful women blind me so, +Madame Jaretzka, that I invariably forget all lesser details. And that's +why I told Tom you were a Russian.'</p> + +<p>On this particular occasion, too, it was made easier because Tony had +asked his cousin's opinion about the Irish girl, invited for his special +benefit. 'I was never so disappointed in my life,' he said in his +convincing yet airy way. 'She looked so wonderful the other night. +It was the evening dress, I suppose. You should always see a girl first +in the daytime; the daylight self is the real self.' And Tom, amused by +the irresponsible attitude towards the sex, replied that the right woman +looked herself in any dress because it was as much a part of her as her +own skin. 'Yes,' said Tony, 'it's the thing inside the skin that counts, +of course; you're right; the rest is only a passing glamour. But +friendship with a woman is the best of all, for friendship grows +insensibly into the best kind of love. It's a delightful feeling,' he +added sympathetically, 'that kind of friendship. Independent of what they +wear!'</p> + +<p>He enjoyed his pun and laughed. 'I say, Tom,' he went on suddenly with a +certain inconsequence, 'have you ever met the Prince—Madame Jaretzka's +husband—by the way? I wonder what he's like.' He looked up carelessly +and raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>'No,' replied Tom in a quiet tone, 'but I—exp—hope to some day.'</p> + +<p>'I think he ran away and left her, or something,' continued the other. +'He's dead, anyhow, to all intents and purposes. But I've been wondering +lately. I'll be bound there was ill-treatment. She looks so sad +sometimes. The other night at the theatre I was watching her——'</p> + +<p>'That Egyptian play?' broke in Tom.</p> + +<p>'Yes; it was bad enough to make any one look sad, wasn't it? But it was +curious all the same——'</p> + +<p>'I didn't mean the badness.'</p> + +<p>'Nor did I. It was odd. There was atmosphere in spite of everything.'</p> + +<p>'I thought you were too occupied to notice the performance,' Tom hinted.</p> + +<p>Tony laughed good-naturedly. 'I was a bit taken up, I admit,' he said. +'But there was something curious all the same. I kept seeing you and our +hostess on the stage——'</p> + +<p>'In Egypt!'</p> + +<p>'In a way, yes.' He hesitated.</p> + +<p>'Odd,' said his cousin briefly.</p> + +<p>'Very. It seemed—there was some one else who ought to have been there as +well as you two. Only he never came on.'</p> + +<p>Tom made no comment. Was this thought-transference, he wondered?</p> + +<p>The natural sympathy between them furnished the requisite conditions +certainly.</p> + +<p>'He never came on,' continued Tony, 'and I had the queer feeling that he +was being kept off on purpose, that he was busy with something else, but +that the moment he came on the play would get good and interesting—real. +Something would happen. And it was then I noticed Madame Jaretzka——'</p> + +<p>'And me, too, I suppose,' Tom put in, half amused, half serious. +There was an excited yet uneasy feeling in him.</p> + +<p>'Chiefly her, I think. And she looked so sad,—it struck me suddenly. +D'you know, Tom,' he went on more earnestly, 'it was really quite curious. +I got the feeling that we three were watching that play together from +above it somewhere, looking down on it—sort of from a height above——'</p> + +<p>'Above,' exclaimed his cousin. There was surprise in him—surprise at +himself. That faint uneasiness increased. He realised that to confide in +Tony was impossible. But why?</p> + +<p>'H'm,' Tony went on in a reflective way as if half to himself. 'I may +have seen it before and forgotten it.' Then he looked up at his cousin. +'And what's more—that we three, as we watched it, knew the same thing +together—knew that we were waiting for another chap to come on, and that +when he came the silly piece would turn suddenly interesting, dramatic in +a true sense, only tragedy instead of comedy. Did <i>you</i>, Tom?' he asked +abruptly, screwing up his eyes and looking quite serious a moment.</p> + +<p>Tom had no answer ready, but his cousin left no time for answering.</p> + +<p>'And the fact is,' he continued, lowering his voice, 'I had the feeling +the other chap we were waiting for was <i>him</i>.'</p> + +<p>Tom was too interested to smile at the grammar. 'You mean—her husband?' +he said quietly. He did not like the turn the talk had taken; it pleased +him to talk of her, but he disliked to bring the absent husband in. +There was trouble in him as he listened.</p> + +<p>'Possibly it was,' he added a trifle stiffly. Then, ashamed of his +feeling towards his imaginative cousin, he changed his manner quickly. +He went up and stood behind him by the open window. 'Tony, old boy, we're +together somehow in this thing,' he began impulsively; 'I'm sure of it.' +Then the words stuck. 'If ever I want your help——'</p> + +<p>'Rather, Tom,' said the other with enthusiasm, yet puzzled, turning with +an earnest expression in his frank blue eyes. In another moment, like two +boys swearing eternal friendship, they would have shaken hands. Tom again +felt the impulse to make the confidences that desire for sympathy +prompted, and again realised that it was difficult, yet that he would +accomplish it. Indeed, he was on the point of doing so, relieving his +mind of the childhood story, the accumulated details of Wave and Whiff and +Sound and Eyes, the singular Montreux meeting, the strange medley of joy +and uneasiness as well, all in fact without reserve—when a voice from the +lawn came floating into the room and broke the spell. It lifted him +sharply to another plane. He felt glad suddenly that he had not spoken— +afterwards, he felt very glad. It was not right in regard to her, he +realised.</p> + +<p>'You're never ready, you boys,' their hostess was saying, 'and Miss +Monnigan declares that men always wait to be fetched. The lunch-baskets +are all in, and the motor's waiting.'</p> + +<p>'We didn't want to be in the way,' cried Tony gaily, ever ready with an +answer first. 'We're both so big and clumsy. But we'll make the fire in +the woods and do the work that requires mere strength without skill all +right.' He leaped out of the window to join them, while Tom went by the +door to fetch his cap and overcoat. Turning an instant he saw the three +figures on the lawn standing in the sunlight, Madame Jaretzka with a +loose, rough motor-coat over her white dress, a rose at her throat and the +long blue veil he loved wound round her hair and face. He saw her eyes +look up at Tony and heard her chiding him. 'You've been talking mischief +in there together,' she was saying laughingly, giving him a searching +glance in play, though the tone had meaning in it. 'We were talking of +you,' swore Tony, 'and you,' he added, turning by way of polite +after-thought to the girl. And one of his big hands he laid for a moment +upon Madame Jaretzka's arm.</p> + +<p>Tom turned sharply and hurried on into the hall. The first thought in his +mind was how tender and gentle Madame Jaretzka looked standing in the +sunshine, her eyes turned up at Tony. His second thought was vaguer: he +felt glad that Tony admired and liked her so. The third was vaguer still: +Tony didn't really care for the girl a bit and was only amusing himself +with her, but Madame Jaretzka would protect her and see that no harm came +of it. She could protect the whole world. That was her genius.</p> + +<p>In a moment these three thoughts flashed through him, but while the last +two vanished as quickly as they came, the first lingered like sunlight in +him. It remained and grew and filled his heart, and all that day it kept +close by him—her love, her comfort, her mothering compassion.</p> + +<p>And Tom felt glad for some reason that his confidences to Tony after all +had been interrupted and prevented. They remained thus interrupted and +prevented until the end, even when the 'other' came upon the scene, and +above all while that 'other' stayed. It all seemed curiously inevitable.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + + +<p>The last few weeks of September they were much alone together, for Mrs. +Haughstone had gone back to her husband's tiny house at Kew, Molly to the +Dresden school, and Tony somewhere into space—northern Russia, he said, +to watch the birds beginning to leave.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, with deepening of friendship, and experiences whose +ordinariness was raised into significance because this woman shared them +with him, Tom saw the summer fade in England and usher in the longer +evenings. Light and heat waned from the sighing year; winds, charged with +the memory of roses, took the paling skies; the swallows whispered +together of the southern tour. New stars swam into their autumnal places, +and the Milky Way came majestically to its own. He watched the curve of +it on moonless nights, pouring its grand river across the heavens. And in +the heart of its soft brilliance he saw Cygnus, cruciform and shining, +immersed in the white foam of the arching wave.</p> + +<p>He noticed these things now, as once long ago in early boyhood, because a +time of separation was at hand. His yearning now was akin to his yearning +then—it left a chasm in his soul that beauty alone could help to fill. +At fifteen he was thirty-five, as now at thirty-five he was fifteen again.</p> + +<p>Lettice was not, indeed, at a Finishing School across the Channel, but she +was shortly going to Warsaw to spend October with her husband, and in +November she was to sail for Egypt from Trieste. Tom was to follow in +December, so a separation of three months was close at hand. 'But a +necessary separation,' she said one evening as they motored home beneath +the stars, 'is always bearable and strengthening; we shall both be +occupied with things that must—I mean, things we ought to do. It's the +needless separations that are hard to bear.' He replied that it would be +wonderful meeting again and pretending they were strangers. He tried to +share her mood, her point of view with honesty. 'Yes,' she answered, +'only that wouldn't be quite true, because you and I can never be +separated—really. The curve of the earth may hide us from each other's +sight like that,'—and she pointed to the sinking moon—'but we feel the +pull just the same.'</p> + +<p>They leaned back among the cushions, sharing the mysterious beauty of the +night-sky in their hearts. They lowered their voices as though the hush +upon the world demanded it. The little things they said seemed suddenly +to possess a significance they could not account for quite and yet +admitted.</p> + +<p>He told her that the Milky Way was at its best these coming months, and +that Cygnus would be always visible on clear nights. 'We'll look at that +and remember,' he said half playfully. 'The astronomers say the Milky Way +is the very ground-plan of the Universe. So we all come out of it. +And you're Cygnus.' She called him sentimental, and he admitted that +perhaps he was. 'I don't like this separation,' he said bluntly. In his +mind he was thinking that the Milky Way had his wave in it, and that its +wondrous arch, like his life and hers, rose out of the 'sea' below the +world. In that sea no separation was possible.</p> + +<p>'But it's not that that makes you suddenly poetic, Tom. It's something +else.'</p> + +<p>'Is it?' he answered. A whisper of pain went past him across the night. +He felt something coming; he was convinced she felt it too. But he could +not name it.</p> + +<p>'The Milky Way is a stream as well as a wave. You say it rises in the +autumn——?' She leaned nearer to him a little.</p> + +<p>'But it's seen at its best a little later—in the winter, I believe.'</p> + +<p>'We shall be in Egypt then,' she mentioned. He could have sworn she would +say those very words.</p> + +<p>'Egypt,' he repeated slowly. 'Yes—in Egypt.'</p> + +<p>And a little shiver came over him, so slight, so quickly gone again, that +he hoped it was imperceptible. Yet she had noticed it.</p> + +<p>'Why, Tom, don't you like the idea?'</p> + +<p>'I wonder—' he began, then changed the sentence—'I wonder what it will +be like. I have a curious desire to see it—I know that.'</p> + +<p>He heard her laugh under her breath a little. What came over them both in +that moment he couldn't say. There was a sense of tumult in him +somewhere, a hint of pain, of menace too. Her laughter, slight as it was, +jarred upon him. She was not feeling quite what he felt—this flashed, +then vanished.</p> + +<p>'You don't sound enthusiastic,' she said calmly.</p> + +<p>'I am, though. Only—I had a feeling——' He broke off. The truth was +he couldn't describe that feeling even to himself.</p> + +<p>'Tom, dear, my dear one—' she began, then stopped. She also stopped an +impulsive movement towards him. She drew back her sentence and her arms. +And Tom, aware of a rising passion in him he might be unable to control, +turned his face away a moment. Something clutched at his heart as with +cruel pincers. A chill followed close upon the shiver. He felt a moment +of keen shame, yet knew not exactly why he felt it.</p> + +<p>'I am a sentimental ass!' he exclaimed abruptly with a natural laugh. +His voice was tender. He turned again to her. 'I believe I've never +properly grown up.' And before he could restrain himself he drew her +towards him, seized her hand and kissed it like a boy. It was that kiss, +combined with her blocked sentence and uncompleted gesture, rather than +any more passionate expression of their love for one another, that he +remembered throughout the empty months to follow.</p> + +<p>But there was another reason, too, why he remembered it. For she wore a +silk dress, and the arm against his ear produced a momentary rustling that +brought back the noise in the Zakopané bedroom when the frozen branch had +scraped the outside wall. And with the Sound, absent now so long, the old +strange uneasiness revived acutely. For that caressing gesture, that +kiss, that phrase of love that blocked its own final utterance brought +back the strange rich pain.</p> + +<p>In the act of giving them, even while he felt her touch and held her +within his arms—she evaded him and went far away into another place where +he could not follow her. And he knew for the first time a singular +emotion that seemed like a faint, distant jealousy that stirred in him, +yet a spiritual jealousy… as of some one he had never even seen.</p> + +<p>They lingered a moment in the garden to enjoy the quiet stars and see the +moon go down below the pine-wood. The tense mood of half an hour ago in +the motor-car had evaporated of its own accord apparently.</p> + +<p>A conversation that followed emphasised this elusive emotion in him, +because it somehow increased the remoteness of the part of her he could +not claim. She mentioned that she was taking Mrs. Haughstone with her to +Egypt in November; it again exasperated him; such unselfishness he could +not understand. The invitation came, moreover, upon what Tom felt was a +climax of shameless behaviour. For Madame Jaretzka had helped the family +with money that, to save their pride, was to be considered lent. +The husband had written gushing letters of thanks and promises that—Tom +had seen these letters—could hardly have deceived a schoolgirl. +Yet a recent legacy, which rendered a part repayment possible, had been +purposely concealed, with the result that yet more money had been 'lent' +to tide them over non-existent or invented difficulties.</p> + +<p>And now, on the top of this, Madame Jaretzka not only refused to divulge +that the legacy was known to her, but even proposed an expensive two +months' holiday to the woman who was tricking her.</p> + +<p>Tom objected strongly for two reasons; he thought it foolish kindness, and +he did not want her.</p> + +<p>'You're too good to the woman, far too good,' he said. But his annoyance +was only increased by the firmness of the attitude that met him. +'No, Tom; you're wrong. They'll find out in time that I know, and see +themselves as they are.'</p> + +<p>'You forgive everything to everybody,' he observed critically. 'It's too +much.'</p> + +<p>She turned round upon him. Her attitude was a rebuke, and feeling rebuked +he did not like it. For though she did not quote 'until seventy times +seven,' she lived it.</p> + +<p>'When she sees herself sly and treacherous like that, she'll understand,' +came the answer, 'she'll get her own forgiveness.'</p> + +<p>'Her own forgiveness!'</p> + +<p>'The only real kind. If I forgive, it doesn't alter her. But if she +understands and feels shame and makes up her mind not to repeat—that's +forgiving herself. She really changes then.'</p> + +<p>Tom gasped inwardly. This was a level of behaviour where he found the air +somewhat rarified. He saw the truth of it, but had no answer ready.</p> + +<p>'Remorse and regret,' she went on, 'only make one ineffective in the +present. It's looking backwards, instead of looking forwards.'</p> + +<p>He felt something very big in her as she said it, holding his eyes firmly +with her own. To have the love of such a woman was, indeed, a joy and +wonder. It was a keen happiness to feel that he, Tom Kelverdon, had +obtained it. His admiration for himself, and his deep, admiring love for +her rose side by side. He did not recognise the flattery of self in this +attitude. The simplicity in her baffled him.</p> + +<p>'I could forgive <i>you</i> anything, Lettice!' he cried.</p> + +<p>'Could you?' she said gently. 'If so, you really love me.'</p> + +<p>It was not the doubt in her voice that overwhelmed him then; she never +indulged in hints. It was a doubt in himself, not that he loved her, but +that his love was not yet big enough, unselfish enough, sufficiently large +and deep to be worthy of this exquisite soul beside him. Perhaps it was +realising he could not yet possess her spirit that made him seize the +precious little body that contained it. Nothing could stop him. He took +her in his arms and held her till she became breathless. The passionate +moment expressed real spiritual yearning. And she knew it. She did not +struggle, yet neither did she respond. They stood upon different levels +somehow.</p> + +<p>'There'll be nothing left to love,' she gasped, 'if you do that often!' +She released herself quietly, tidying her hair and putting her hat +straight while she smiled at him. Her dark veil had caught in his +tie-pin. She disentangled it, her hands touching his mouth as she did so. +He kissed them gently, bending his head down with an air of repentance.</p> + +<p>'My God, Lettice—you're precious to me!' he stammered.</p> + +<p>But even as he said it, even while he still felt her soft cheeks against +his lips, her frail unresisting figure within his arms, there came this +pang of sudden pain that was so acute it frightened him. There was +something impersonal in her attitude that alarmed him. What was it? +He was helpless to understand it. The excitement in his blood obscured +inner perception.… Such tempestuous moments were rare enough between +them, and when they came he felt that she endured them rather than +responded. He was aware of a touch of shame in himself. But this +pain——? Even while he held her it seemed again that she escaped him +because of the heights she lived on, yet partly, too, because of the +innocence which had not yet eaten of the tree of knowledge.… Was +that, then, the lack in her? Had she yet to learn that the spiritual dare +not be divorced wholly from the physical and that the divine blending of +the two in purity of heart alone brings safety?</p> + +<p>She slipped from his encircling arms and—rose. He struggled after her. +But that air he could not breathe. She was too far above him. She had to +stoop to meet the passionate man in him that sought to seize and hold her. +She had—the earlier phrase returned—come back to fetch him. He did not +really love yet as he ought to love. He loved himself—in her; selfishly +somehow, somewhere. But this thought he did not capture wholly. It cast +a shadow merely and was gone.</p> + +<p>Somewhere, too, there was jealous resentment in him. He could not feel +himself indispensable to a woman who occupied a pinnacle.</p> + +<p>His cocksureness wavered a little before the sharp attack. Pang after +pang stung him shrewdly, stung his pride, his confidence, his vanity, +shaking the platform on which he stood till each separate plank trembled +and the sense of security grew less.</p> + +<p>But the confusion in his heart and mind bewildered him. It was all so +strange and incomprehensible; he could not understand it. He knew she was +true and loyal, her purity beyond reproach, her elusiveness not calculated +or intended, yet that somewhere, somehow she could do without him, and +that if he left her she—almost—would have neither remorse nor regret. +She would just accept it and—forgive.…</p> + +<p>And he thought suddenly with an intense bitterness that amazed him—of the +husband. The thought of that 'other' who had yet to come afflicted him +desperately. When he met those light-blue eyes of the Wave he would +surely know them…! He felt again the desire to seek counsel and +advice from another, some one of his own sex, a sympathetic and +understanding soul like Tony.</p> + +<p>The turmoil in him was beyond elucidation: thoughts and emotions of +nameless kind combined to produce a fluid state of insecurity he could not +explain. As usual, however, there emerged finally the solid fact which +seemed now the keynote of his character; at least, he invariably fell back +upon it for support against these occasional storms: 'She has singled me +out; she can't really do without me; we're necessary to each other; I'm +safe.' The rest he dismissed as half realised only and therefore not +quite real. His position with her was unique, of course, something the +world could not possibly understand, and, while resenting what he called +the 'impersonal' attitude in her, he yet knew that it was precisely this +impersonal attitude that justified their love. Their love, in fine, was +proved spiritual thereby. They were in the 'sea' together. Invariably in +the end he blamed himself.</p> + +<p>The rising Wave, it seemed, was bringing up from day to day new, +unexpected qualities from the depths within him, just as it brings up mud +and gravel from the ground-bed of the shore. He felt it driving him +forward with increasing speed and power. With an irresistible momentum +that left him helpless, it was hurrying him along towards the moment when +it would lower its crest again towards the earth—and break.</p> + +<p>He knew now where the smothering crash would come, where he would finally +meet the singular details of his boyhood's premonition face to face,—the +Sound, the Whiff, the other pair of Eyes. They awaited him—in Egypt. +In Egypt, at last, he would find the entire series, recognise each item. +He would also discover the nature of the wave that was neither of water +nor of snow.…</p> + +<p>Yet, strange to say, when he actually met the pair of light-blue eyes, he +did not recognise them. He encountered the face to which they belonged, +but was not warned. While fulfilling its prophecy, the premonition +failed, of course, to operate.</p> + +<p>For premonitions are a delicate matter, losing their power in the act of +justifying themselves. To prevent their fulfilment were to stultify their +existence. Between a spiritual warning and its material consummation +there is but a friable and gossamer alliance. Had he recognised, he might +possibly have prevented; whereas the deeper part of him unconsciously +invited and said, Come.</p> + +<p>And so, not recognising the arrival of the other pair of eyes, Tom, when +he met them, knew himself attracted instead of repelled. Far from being +warned, he knew himself drawn towards their owner by natural sympathy, as +towards some one whose deep intrusion into his inner life was necessary to +its fuller realisation—the tumultuous breaking of the rapidly +accumulating Wave.</p> + + + +<h2>PART III</h2> + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + + + +<p>The weeks that followed seemed both brief and long to Tom. The separation +he felt keenly, though as a breathing spell the interval was even welcome +in a measure. Since the days at Montreux he had been living intensely, +swept along by a movement he could not control: now he could pause and +think a moment. He tried to get the bird's-eye view in which alone +details are seen in their accurate relations and proportions. +There was much that perplexed his plain, straightforward nature. But the +more he thought, the more puzzled he became, and in the end he resigned +himself happily to the great flow of life that was sweeping him along. +He was distinctly conscious of being 'swept along.' What was going to +happen would happen. He wondered, watched and waited. The idea of Egypt, +meanwhile, thrilled him with a curious anticipation each time he thought +of it. And he thought of it a good deal.</p> + +<p>He received letters from Warsaw, but they told nothing of her life there: +she referred vaguely to duties whose afflicting nature he half guessed +now; and the rest was filled with loving solicitude for his welfare. +Even through the post she mothered him absurdly. He felt his life now +based upon her. Her love was indispensable to him.</p> + +<p>The last letters—from Vienna and Trieste—were full of a tenderness most +comforting, and he felt relief that she had 'finished with Warsaw,' as he +put it. His own last letter was timed to catch her steamer. 'You have +all my love,' he wrote, 'but you can give what you can spare to Tony, as +he's in Egypt by now, and tell him I shall be out a month from to-day. +Everything goes well here. I'm to have full charge of the work at +Assouan. The Firm has put everything in my hands, but there won't be much +to do at first, and I shall be with you at Luxor a great deal. +I'm looking forward to Egypt too—immensely. I believe all sorts of +wonderful things are going to happen to us there.'</p> + +<p>He was very pleased with himself, and very pleased with her, and very +pleased with everything. The wave of his life was rising still +triumphantly.</p> + +<p>He kept her Warsaw letters and reread them frequently. She wrote +admirably. Mrs. Haughstone, it seemed, complained about everything, from +the cabin and hotel room 'which, she declares, are never so good as my +own,' to her position as an invited guest, 'which she accepts as though +she favoured me by coming, thinking herself both chaperone and +indispensable companion. How little some people realise that no one is +ever really indispensable!' And the first letter from Egypt told him to +come out quickly and 'help me keep her in her place, as only a man can do. +Tony wonders why you're so long about it.' It pleased him very much, and +as the time approached for leaving, his spirits rose; indeed, he reached +Marseilles much in the mood of a happy, confident boy who has passed all +exams, and is off upon a holiday most thoroughly deserved.</p> + +<p>There had been time for three or four letters from Luxor, and he read them +in the train as he hurried along from Geneva towards the south, leaving +the snowy Jura hills behind him. 'Those are the blue mountains we watched +from Montreux together in the spring,' he said to himself, looking out of +the window. 'Soon, in Egypt, we shall watch the Desert and the Nile +instead.' And, remembering that dream-like, happy time of their earliest +acquaintance, his heart beat in delighted anticipation. He could think of +nothing else but her. Those Montreux days seemed years ago instead of a +brief six months. What a lot he had to tell her, how much they would have +to talk about. Life, indeed, was rich and full. He was a lucky man; +yet—he deserved it all. Belief and confidence in himself increased. +He gazed out of the window, thinking happily as the scenery rushed +by.… Then he came back to the letters and read them over yet once +again; he almost knew them now by heart; he opened his bag and read the +Warsaw letters too. Then, putting them all away, he lay back in his +corner and tried to sleep. The express train seemed so slow, but the +steamer would seem slower still.… Thoughts and memories passed idly +through his brain, grew mingled and confused; his eyes were closed; he +fell into a doze: he almost slept—when something rose into his drowsy +mind and made him suddenly wakeful.</p> + +<p>What was it? He didn't know. It had vanished as soon as it appeared. +But the drowsy mood had passed, the desire to sleep was gone. There was +impatience in him, the keen wish to be in Egypt—immediately. He cursed +the slow means of travel, longed to be out there, on the spot, with her +and Tony. Her last letters had been full of descriptions of the place and +people, of Tony and his numerous friends, his kindness in introducing her +to the most interesting among them, their picnics together on the Nile and +in the Desert, visits to the famous sites of tomb and temple, in +particular of an all-night bivouac somewhere and the sunrise over the +Theban hills.… Tom, as he read it all, felt this keen impatience to +be sharing it with them; he was out of it; oh, how he would enjoy it all +when he got there! The words 'Theban hills' called up a vivid and +stimulating picture in particular.</p> + +<p>But it was not this that chased the drowsy mood and made him wakeful. +It was the letters themselves, something he had not noticed hitherto, +something that had escaped him as he first read them one by one. +Indefinable, it hid between the lines. Only on reading the series as a +whole was it noticeable at all. He wondered. He asked himself vague +questions.</p> + +<p>Opening his bag again, he went through the letters in the order of their +arrival; then put them back inside the elastic ring with a sensation of +relief and a happy sigh. He had discovered the faint, elusive impression +that had made him wakeful, but in discovering it had satisfied himself +that it was imagination—caused by the increasing impatience of his +impetuous heart. For it had seemed to him that he was aware of a change, +though so slight as to be scarcely perceptible, and certainly not +traceable to actual words or sentences. It struck him that the Warsaw +letters felt the separation more keenly, more poignantly, than the +Egyptian letters. This seemed due rather to omissions in the latter than +to anything else that he could name, for while the Warsaw letters spoke +frequently of the separation, of her longing to see him close, those from +Luxor omitted all such phrases. There were pleas in plenty for his +health, his comfort, his welfare and success—the Mother found full +scope—but no direct expression of her need for him. This, briefly, was +the notion he had caught faintly from 'between the lines.'</p> + +<p>But, having run it to earth, he easily explained it too. At Warsaw she +was unhappy; whereas now, in Egypt, their reunion was almost within sight: +she felt happier, too, her unpleasant duties over. It was all natural +enough. 'What a sentimental donkey a man is when he's in love!' he +exclaimed with a self-indulgent smile of pleased forgiveness; 'but the +fact is—when she's not by me to explain—I could imagine anything!' +And he fell at length into the doze his excited fancy had postponed.</p> + +<p>After leaving Marseilles his impatience grew with the slowness of the +steamer. The voyage of four days seemed interminable. The sea and sky +took on a deeper blue, the air turned softer, the sweetness of the south +became more marked. His exhilaration increased with every hour, the +desire to reach his destination increasing with it. There was an +intensity about his feelings he could not entirely account for. +The longing to see Egypt merged with the longing to see Lettice. +But the two were separate. The latter was impatient happiness, while the +former struck a slower note—respect and wonder that contained a hint of +awe.</p> + +<p>Somewhere in this anticipatory excitement, too, hid drama. And his first +glimpse of the marvellous old land did prove dramatic in a sense. +For when a passenger drew his attention to the white Alexandrian harbour +floating on the shining blue, he caught his breath a moment and his heart +gave a sudden unexpected leap. He saw the low-lying coast, a palm, a +mosque, a minaret; he saw the sandy lip of—Africa.</p> + +<p>That shimmering line of blue and gold was Egypt.… He had known it +would look exactly thus, as he now saw it. The same instant his heart +contracted a little.… He leaned motionless upon the rail and watched +the coast-line coming nearer, ever nearer. It rose out of the burning +haze of blue and gold that hung motionless between the water and the air. +Bathed in the drenching sunlight, the fringe of the great thirsty Desert +seemed to drink the sea.…</p> + +<p>His entry was accompanied by mingled emotions and sensations. +That Lettice stood waiting for him somewhere behind the blaze of light +contributed much; yet the thrill owned a more complex origin, it seemed. +To any one not entirely callous to the stab of strange romance and +stranger beauty, the first sight of Egypt must always be an event, and +Tom, by no means thus insensitive, felt it vividly. He was aware of +something not wholly unfamiliar. The invitation was so strong, it seemed +to entice as with an attraction that was almost summons. As the ship drew +nearer, and thoughts of landing filled his mind, he felt no opposition, no +resistance, no difficulty, as with other countries. There was no hint of +friction anywhere. He seemed instantly at home. Egypt not merely +enticed—she pulled him in.</p> + +<p>'Here I am at last!' whispered a voice, as he watched the noisy throng of +Arabs, Nubians, Soudanese upon the crowded wharf. He delighted in the +colour, the gleaming eyes, bronze skins, the white caftans with their red +and yellow sashes. The phantasmal amber light that filled the huge, still +heavens lit something similar in his mind and thoughts. Only the train, +with its luxurious restaurant car, its shutters to keep out the dust and +heat, appeared incongruous. He lost the power to think this or that. +He could only feel, and feel intensely. His feet touched Egypt, and a +deep glow of inner happiness possessed him. He was not disappointed +anywhere, though as yet he had seen nothing but a steamer quay. Then he +sent a telegram to Lettice: 'Arrived safely. Reach Luxor eight o'clock +to-morrow morning.'; and, having slid through the Delta country with the +flaming sunset, he had his first glimpse of the lordly Pyramids as the +train drew into Cairo. Dim and immense he saw them across the +swift-falling dusk, shadowy as forgotten centuries that cannot die. +Though too distant to feel their menace, he yet knew them towering over +him, mysterious, colossal, unintelligible, the sentinels of a gateway he +had passed.</p> + +<p>Such was the first touch of Egypt on his soul. It was as big and magical +as he had known it would be. The magnificence and the glamour both were +there. Europe already lay forgotten far behind him, non-existent. +Some one tapped him on the shoulder, whispered a password, he was— +in.…</p> + +<p>He dined in Cairo and took the night train on to Luxor, the white, +luxurious <i>wagon lit</i> again striking an incongruous note. For he had +stepped from a platform into space, a space that floated suns and +constellations. About him was that sense of the illimitable which broods +everywhere in Egypt, in sand and sky, in sun and stars; it absorbed him +easily, small human speck in a toy train with electric lights and modern +comforts! An emotion difficult to seize gripped his heart, as he slid +deeper and deeper into the land towards Lettice.… For Lettice also +was involved in this. With happiness, yet somehow, too, with tears, he +thought of her waiting for him now, expecting him, perhaps reading his +telegram for the twentieth time. Through a mist of blue and gold she +seemed to beckon to him across the shimmer of the endless yellow sands. +He saw the little finger he had kissed. The dear face smiled. But there +was a change upon it somewhere, though a change too subtle to be precisely +named. The eyelids were half closed, and in the smile was power; the +beckoning finger conveyed a gesture that was new—command. It seemed to +point; it had a motion downwards; about her aspect was some flavour of +authority almost royal, borrowed, doubtless, from the regal gold and +purple of the sky's magnificence.</p> + +<p>Oddly, again, his heart contracted as this changed aspect of her, due to +heightened imagination, rose before the inner eye. A sensation of +uncertainty and question slipped in with it, though whence he knew not. +A hint of insecurity assailed his soul—almost a sense of inferiority in +himself. It even flashed across him that he was under orders. It was +inexplicable.… A restlessness in his blood prevented sleep.… +He drew the blind up and looked out.</p> + +<p>There was no moon. The night was drowned in stars. The train rushed +south towards Thebes along the green thread of the Nile; the Lybian desert +keeping pace with it, immense and desolate, death gnawing eternally at the +narrow strip of life.… And again he knew the feeling that he had +stepped from a platform into space. Egypt lay spread <i>below</i> him. +He fell towards it, plunging, and as he fell, looked down—upon something +vaguely familiar and half known.… An underlying sadness, +inexplicable but significant, crept in upon his thoughts.</p> + +<p>They rushed past Bedrashein, a straggling Arab village where once great +Memphis owned eighteen miles of frontage on the stately river; he saw the +low mud huts, the groves of date-palms that now marked the vanished +splendour. They slid by in their hundreds, the spectral desert gleaming +like snow between the openings. The huge pyramids of Sakkhâra loomed +against the faint western afterglow. He saw the shaft of strange green +light they call zodiacal.</p> + +<p>And the sadness in him deepened inexplicably—that strange Egyptian +sadness which ever underlies the brilliance.… The watchful stars +looked down with sixty listening centuries between them and a forgotten +glory that dreamed now among a thousand sandy tombs. For the silent +landscape flying past him like a dream woke emotions both sweet and +painful that he could not understand—sweet to poignancy, exquisitely +painful.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was natural enough, natural, too, that he should transfer these +in some dim measure to the woman now waiting for him among the ruins of +many-gated Thebes. The ancient city, dreaming still beside the storied +river, assumed an appearance half fabulous in his thoughts. Egypt had +wakened imagination in his soul. The change he fancied in Lettice was +due, doubtless, to the transforming magic that mingled an actual present +with a haunted past. Possibly this was some portion of the truth.… +And yet, while the mood possessed him, some joy, some inner sheath, as it +were, of anticipated happiness slipped off him into the encroaching yellow +sand—as though he surrendered, not so much the actual happiness, as his +right to it. A second's helplessness crept over him; another Self that +was inferior peeped up and sighed and whispered.… He was aware of +hidden touches that stabbed him into uneasiness, disquiet, almost +pain.… Some outer tissue was stripped from his normal being, leaving +him naked to the tang of extremely delicate shafts, buried so long that +interpretation failed him.</p> + +<p>The curious sensation, luckily, did not last; but this hint of a +familiarity that seemed both sweet and dangerous, made it astonishingly +convincing at the time. Some aspect of vanity, of confidence in himself +distinctly weakened.…</p> + +<p>It passed with the spectral palm trees as the train sped farther south. +He finally dismissed it as the result of fatigue, excitement and +anticipation too prolonged.… Yes, he dismissed it. At any rate it +passed. It sank out of sight and was forgotten. It had become, perhaps, +an integral portion of his being. Possibly, it had always been so, and +had been merely waiting to emerge.…</p> + +<p>But such intangible and elusive emotions were so new to him that he could +not pretend to deal with them. There is a stimulus as of ether about the +Egyptian climate that gets into the mind, it is said, and stirs unwonted +dreams and fantasies. The climate becomes mental. His stolid temperament +was, perhaps, pricked thus half unintelligibly. He could not understand +it. He drew the blind down. But before turning out the light, he read +over once again the note of welcome Lettice had sent to meet him at the +steamer. It was brief, but infinitely precious. The thought of her love +sponged all lesser feelings completely from his mind, and he fell asleep +thinking only of their approaching meeting, and of his marvellous deep +joy.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + + +<p>On reaching Luxor at eight o'clock in the morning, to his keen delight an +Arab servant met him with an unexpected invitation. He had meant to go +first to his hotel, but Lettice willed otherwise, everything thought out +beforehand in her loving way. He drove accordingly to her house on the +outskirts of the town towards Karnak, changed and bathed in a room where +he recognised with supreme joy a hundred familiar touches that seemed +transplanted from the Brown Flat at home—and found her at nine o'clock +waiting for him on the verandah. Breakfast was laid in the shady garden +just beyond.</p> + +<p>It was ideal as a dream. She stood there dressed in white, wearing a big +sun-hat with little roses, sparkling, radiant, a graceful fairy figure +from the heart of spring. 'Here's the inevitable fly-whisk, Tom,' was the +first thing she said, and as naturally as though they had parted a few +hours before, 'it's to keep the flies away, and to keep you at your +distance too!' And his first remark, escaping him impulsively in place of +a hundred other things he had meant to say, was, 'You look different; +you've changed. Lettice, you're far more lovely than I knew. I've never +seen you look like that before!' He felt his entire being go out to her +in a consuming flame. 'You look perfectly divine.' Sheer admiration took +his breath away. 'I believe you're Isis herself,' he laughed in his +delight, 'come back into her own!'</p> + +<p>'Then you must be Osiris, Tom!' her happy voice responded, 'new risen from +his sandy tomb!'</p> + +<p>There was no time for private conversation, for Mrs. Haughstone appeared +just then and enquired politely after his health and journey. +'The flies are awful,' she mentioned, 'but Lettice always insists on +having breakfast out of doors. I hope you'll be able to stand it.' +And she continued to flutter her horse-hair whisk as though she would have +liked to sweep Egypt itself from the face of the map. 'No wonder the +Israelites were glad to leave. There's sand in everything you eat and +flies on everything you see.' Yet she said it with what passed in her +case for good nature; she, too, was evidently enjoying herself in Egypt.</p> + +<p>Tom said that flies and sand would not trouble him with such gorgeous +sunlight to compensate, and that anyhow they were better than soot and +fogs in London.</p> + +<p>'You'll be tired of the sun before a week is over,' she replied, +'and long to see a cloud or feel a drop of rain.' She followed his eyes +which seemed unable to leave the face and figure of his hostess. +'But it all agrees wonderfully with my cousin. Don't you find her looking +well? She's quite changed into another person, <i>I</i> think,' the tone +suggesting that it was not altogether a change that she herself approved +of. 'We're all different here, a little. Even Mr. Winslowe's improved +enormously. He's steadier and wiser than he used to be.' And Tom, +laughing, said he hoped he would improve, too, himself.</p> + +<p>The comforting hot coffee, the delicious rolls, the cool iced fruit, and, +above all, Lettice beside him at last in the pleasant shade, gave Tom such +high spirits that the woman's disagreeable personality produced no effect. +Through the gate in the stone wall at the end of the garden, beneath +masses of drooping bougainvillæa, the Nile dreamed past in a sheet of +golden haze; the Theban hills, dipped in the crystal azure of the sky, +rose stern and desolate upon the horizon; the air, at this early hour, was +fresh and keen. He felt himself in some enchanted garden of the ancient +world with a radiant goddess for companion.… There was a sound of +singing from the river below—the song of the Nile boatman that has not +changed these thousand years; a quaint piping melody floated in from the +street outside; from the farther shore came the dull beating of a native +tom-tom; and the still, burning atmosphere held the mystery of wonder in +suspension. Her beauty, at last, had found its perfect setting.</p> + +<p>'I never saw your eyes so wonderful—so soft and brilliant,' he whispered +as soon as they were alone. 'You're very happy.' He paused, looking at +her. 'That's me, isn't it? Lettice, say it is at once.' He was very +playful in his joy; but he longed eagerly to hear her admit that his +coming meant as much to her as it meant to him.</p> + +<p>'I suppose it must be,' she replied, 'but it's the climate too. This keen +dry air and the sunshine bring all one's power out. There's something +magical in it. You forget the years and feel young—against the +background of this old land a lifetime seems like an afternoon, merely. +And the nights—oh, Tom, the stars are too, too marvellous.' She spoke +with a kind of exuberance that seemed new in her.</p> + +<p>'They must be,' he rejoined, as he gazed exultantly, 'for they're all in +you, sun, air, and stars. You're a perfect revelation to me of what a +woman——'</p> + +<p>'Am I?' she interrupted, fluttering her whisk between her chair and his. +'But now, dear Tom, my headstrong boy, tell me how you are and all about +yourself, your plans, and everything else in the world besides.' He told +her what he could, answered all her questions, declared he and she were +going to have the time of their lives, and behaved generally, as she told +him, like a boy out of school. He admitted it. 'But I'm hungry, Lettice, +awfully hungry.' He kept reminding her that he had been starving for two +long months; surely she was starving too. He longed to hear her confess +it with a sigh of happy relief. 'My arms and lips are hungry,' he went on +incorrigibly, 'but I'm tired, too, from travelling. I feel like putting +my head on your breast and going sound asleep.' 'My boy,' she said +tenderly, 'you shall.' She responded instantly to that. 'You always were +a baby and I'm here to take care of you.' He seized her hand and kissed +it before she could draw it away. 'You must be careful, Tom. Everything +has eyes in Egypt; the Arabs move like ghosts.' She glanced towards the +windows. 'And the gossip is unbelievable.' She was quiet again now, and +very gentle; it struck him how calm and sweet she was towards him, yet +that there was a delightful happy excitement underneath that she only just +controlled. He was aware of something wild in her just out of sight—a +kind of mental effervescence, almost intoxication she deliberately +suppressed.</p> + +<p>'And so are you—unbelievable,' he exclaimed impetuously; 'unbelievably +beautiful. This is your country with a vengeance, Lettice. You're like +an Egyptian queen—a princess of the sun!'</p> + +<p>He gazed critically at her till she lowered her eyes. He realised that, +actually, they were not visible from the house and that the garden trees +were thick about them; but he also received a faint impression that she +did not want, did not intend, to allow quite the same intimacy as before. +It just flashed across him with a hint of disappointment, then was gone. +His boyish admiration, perhaps, annoyed her. He had felt for a second +that her excuse of the windows and the gossip was not the entire truth. +The merest shadow of a thought it was. He noticed her eyes fixed intently +upon him. The same minute, then, she rose quietly and rustled over to his +chair, kissed him on the cheek quickly, and sat down again. 'There!' she +said playfully as though she had guessed his thoughts, 'I've done the +awful thing; now you'll be reasonable, perhaps!' And whether or not she +had divined his mood, she instantly dispelled it—for the moment.…</p> + +<p>They talked about a hundred things, moving their chairs as the blazing +sunshine found them out, till finally they sat with cushions on the steps +of stone that led down to the river beneath the flaming bougainvillæa. +He felt the strange touch of Egypt all about them, that touch of eternity +that floats in the very air, a hint of something deathless and sublime +that whispers in the sunshine. Already he was aware of the long fading +stretch of years behind. He thought of Egypt as two vast hands that held +him, one of tawny gold and one of turquoise blue—the desert and the sky. +In the hollow of those great hands, he lay with Lettice—two tiny atoms of +sand.…</p> + +<p>He watched her every movement, every gesture, noted the slightest +inflection of her voice, was aware that five years at least had dropped +from her, that her complexion had grown softer, a shade darker, too, from +the sun; but, above all, that there was a new expression, a new light +certainly, soft and brilliant, in her eyes. It seemed, briefly put, that +she had blossomed somehow into a fuller expression of herself. +An overflowing vitality, masked behind her calmness, betrayed itself in +every word and glance and gesture. There was an exuberance he called joy, +but it was, somehow, a new, an unexpected joy.</p> + +<p>She was, of course, aware of his untiring scrutiny; and presently, in a +lull, keeping her eyes on the river below them, she spoke of it. +'You find me a little changed, Tom, don't you? I warned you that Egypt +had a certain effect on me. It enflames the heart and——'</p> + +<p>'But a very wonderful effect,' he broke in with admiration. 'You're +different in a way—yes—but <i>you</i> haven't changed—not towards me, I +mean.' He wanted to say a great deal more, but could not find the words; +he divined that something had happened to her, in Warsaw probably, and he +longed to question her about the 'other' who was her husband, but he could +not, of course, allow himself to do so. An intuitive feeling came to him +that the claim upon her of this other was more remote than formerly. +His dread had certainly lessened. The claims upon her of this 'other' +seemed no longer—dangerous.… He wondered.… There was a certain +confusion in his mind.</p> + +<p>'You got my letter at Alexandria?' she interrupted his reflections. +He thanked her with enthusiasm, trying to remember what it said—but +without success. It struck him suddenly that there was very little in it +after all, and he mentioned this with a reproachful smile. 'That's my +restraint,' she replied. 'You always liked restraint. Besides, I wasn't +sure it would reach you.' She laughed and blew a kiss towards him. +She made a curious gesture he had never seen her make before. It seemed +unlike her. More and more he registered a difference in her, as if side +by side with the increase of spontaneous vitality there ran another mood, +another aspect, almost another point of view. It was not towards him, yet +it affected him. There seemed a certain new lightness, even +irresponsibility in her; she was more worldly, more human, not more +ordinary by any means, but less 'impersonal.' He remembered her singular +words: 'It enflames the heart.' He wondered—a little uneasily. +There seemed a new touch of wonder about her that made him aware of +something commonplace, almost inferior, in himself.…</p> + +<p>At the same time he felt another thing—a breath of coldness touched him +somewhere, though he could not trace its origin to anything she did or +said. Was it perhaps in what she left unsaid, undone? He longed to hear +her confess how she had missed him, how thrilled she was that he had come: +but she did not say these passionately desired things, and when he teased +her about it, she showed a slight impatience almost: 'Tom, you know I +never talk like that. Anything sentimental I abhor. But I live it. +Can't you see?' His ungenerous fancies vanished then at once; at a word, +a smile, a glance of the expressive eyes, he instantly forgot all else.</p> + +<p>'But I <i>am</i> different in Egypt,' she warned him playfully again, half +closing her eyelids as she said it. 'I wonder if you'll like me—quite as +well.'</p> + +<p>'More,' he replied ardently, 'a thousand times more. I feel it already. +There's mischief in you,' he went on watching the half-closed eyes, +'a touch of magic too, but very human magic. I love it.' And then he +whispered, 'I think you're more within my reach.'</p> + +<p>'Am I?' She looked bewitching, a being of light and air.</p> + +<p>'Everybody will fall in love with you at sight.' He laughed happily, +aware of an enchantment that fascinated him more and more, but when he +suddenly went over to her chair, she stopped him with decision. +'Don't, Tom, please don't. Tony'll be here any minute now. It would be +unpleasant if he saw you behaving wildly like this! He wouldn't +understand.'</p> + +<p>He drew back. 'Oh, Tony's coming—then I must be careful!' He laughed, +but he was disappointed and he showed it: it was their first day together, +and eager though he was to see his cousin, he felt it might well have been +postponed a little. He said so.</p> + +<p>'One must be natural, Tom,' she told him in reply; 'it's always the best +way. This isn't London or Montreux, you see, and——'</p> + +<p>'Lettice, I understand,' he interrupted, a trifle ashamed of himself. +'You're quite right.' He tried to look pleased and satisfied, but the +truth was he felt suddenly—stupid. 'And we've got lots of time—three +months or more ahead of us, haven't we?' She gave him an expressive, +tender look with which he had to be contented for the moment.</p> + +<p>'And by the by, how is old Tony, and who is his latest?' he enquired +carelessly.</p> + +<p>'Very excited at your coming, Tom. You'll think him improved, I hope. +I believe <i>I</i>'m his latest,' she added, tilting her chin with a delicious +pretence at mischief. And the gesture again surprised him. It was new. +He thought it foreign to her. There seemed a flavour of impatience, of +audacity, almost of challenge in it.</p> + +<p>'Finding himself at last. That's good. Then you've been fishing to some +purpose.'</p> + +<p>'Fishing?'</p> + +<p>'Rescuing floating faces.'</p> + +<p>She pouted at him. 'I'm not a saint, Tom. You know I never was. +Saints are very inspiring to read about, but you couldn't live with one— +or love one. Could you, now?'</p> + +<p>He gave an inward start she did not notice. The same instant he was aware +that it was her happy excitement that made her talk in this exaggerated +way. That was why it sounded so unnatural. He forgot it instantly.</p> + +<p>They laughed and chatted as happily as two children—Tom felt a boy +again—until Mrs. Haughstone appeared, marching down the river bank with +an enormous white umbrella over her head, and the talk became general. +Tom said he would go to his hotel and return for lunch; he wanted to +telephone to Assouan. He asked where Tony was staying. 'But he knew I +was at the Winter Palace,' he exclaimed when she mentioned the Savoy. +'He found some people there he wanted to avoid,' she explained, 'so moved +down to the Savoy.'</p> + +<p>Tom said he would do the same; it was much nearer to her house, for one +thing: 'You'll keep him for lunch, won't you?' he said as he went off. +'I'll try,' she promised, 'but he's so busy with his numerous friends as +usual that I can't be sure of him. He has more engagements here than in +London,'—whereupon Mrs. Haughstone added, 'Oh, he'll stay, Mr. Kelverdon. +I'm sure he'll stay. We lunch at one o'clock, remember.'</p> + +<p>And in his room at the hotel Tom found a dozen signs of tenderness and +care that increased his happiness; there were touches everywhere of her +loving thought for his comfort and well-being—flowers, his favourite +soap, some cigarettes, one of her own deck-chairs, books, and even a big +box of crystallised dates as though he was a baby or a little boy. +It all touched him deeply; no other woman in the world could possibly have +thought out such dear reminders, much less have carried them into effect. +There was even a writing-pad and a penholder with the special nib he +liked. He laughed. But her care for him in such trivial things was +exquisite because it showed she claimed the right to do them.</p> + +<p>His heart brimmed over as he saw them. It was impossible to give up any +room, even a hotel room, into which she had put her sweet and mothering +personality. He could do without Tony's presence and companionship, +rather than resign a room she had thus prepared for him. He engaged it +permanently therefore. Then, telephoning to Assouan, he decided to take +the night train and see what had to be done there. It all sounded most +satisfactory; he foresaw much free time ahead of him; occasional trips to +the work would meet the case at present.…</p> + +<p>Happier than ever, he returned to a lunch in the open air with her and +Tony, and it was the gayest, merriest meal he had ever known. +Mrs. Haughstone retired to sleep through the hotter hours of the +afternoon, leaving the trio to amuse themselves in freedom. And though +they never left the shady garden by the Nile, they amused themselves so +well that tea was over and it was time for Tom to get ready for his train +before he realised it. Tony and Madame Jaretzka drove him to his hotel, +and afterwards to the station, sitting in the compartment with him until +the train was actually moving. He watched them standing on the platform +together, waving their hands. He waved his own. 'I'll be back to-morrow +or the next day,' he cried. Emotions and sensations were somewhat tangled +in him, but happiness certainly was uppermost.</p> + +<p>'Don't forget,' he heard Tony shout.… And her eyes were on his own +until the trees on the platform hid her from his sight behind their long +deep shadows.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0015"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> + + +<p>The first excitement of arrival over, he drew breath, as it were, and +looked about him. Egypt delighted and amazed him, surpassing his +expectations. Its effect upon him was instantaneous and profound. +The decisive note sounded at Alexandria continued in his ears. Egypt drew +him in with golden, powerful arms. In every detail it was strange, yet +with the strangeness of a predetermined welcome. It was not strange to +<i>him</i>. The thrill of welcome made him feel at home. He had come +back.…</p> + +<p>Here, at Assouan, he was aware of Africa, mystic, half-monstrous +continent, lying with its heat and wonder just beyond the horizon. +He saw the Southern Cross, pitched low above the sandy rim.… +Yet Africa had no call for him. It left him without a thrill, an +uninviting, undesirable land. It was Egypt that made the intimate and +personal appeal, as of a deeply loved and half-familiar place. It seemed +to gather him in against its mighty heart. He lay in some niche of +comforting warm sand against the ancient mass that claimed him, tucked in +by the wonder and the mystery, protected, even mothered. It was an oddly +stimulated imagination that supplied the picture—and made him smile. +He snuggled down deeper and deeper into this figurative warm bed of sand +the ages had pre-ordained. He felt secure and sheltered—as though the +wonder and the mystery veiled something that menaced joy in him, something +that concealed a notion of attack. Almost there seemed a whisper in the +wind, a watchful and unclosing eye behind the dazzling sunshine: +'Surrender yourself to me, and I will care for you. I will protect you +against… yourself.… Beware!'</p> + +<p>This peculiar excitement in his blood was somehow precisely what he had +expected; the wonder and the thrill were natural and right. He had known +that Egypt would mesmerise his soul exactly in this way. He had, it +seemed, anticipated both the exhilaration and the terror. He thought much +about it all, and each time Egypt looked him in the face, he saw Lettice +too. They were inseparably connected, as it were. He saw her brilliant +eyes peering through the great tawny visage. Together they bade him pause +and listen.… The wind brought up its faint, elusive whisper: +'Wait.… We have not done with you.… Wait and listen! +Watch…!'</p> + +<p>Before his mind's eye the mighty land lay like a map, a blazing garden of +intenser life that the desolation ill concealed. Europe seemed infinitely +remote, the life he had been accustomed to unreal, of tepid interest, +while the intimate appeal that Egypt made grew more insistent every hour +of the day. It was Luxor, however, that called him peremptorily—Luxor +where all that was dearest to him in life now awaited his return. +He yearned for Luxor; Thebes drew him like a living magnet. Lettice was +in Thebes, and Thebes also seemed the heart of ancient Egypt, its centre +and its climax. 'Come back to us,' whispered the sweet desert wind; +'we are waiting.…' In Thebes seemed the focus of the strange +Egyptian spell.</p> + +<p>At all hours of the day and night, here in Assouan, it caught him, asking +forever the great unanswerable questions. In the pauses of his strenuous +work, in the watches of the night, when he heard the little owls and the +weird barking of the prowling jackals; in the noontide heat, and in the +cold glimmer of the quiet stars, he was never unconscious of its haunting +presence, he was never beyond its influence. He was never quite +alone.…</p> + +<p>What did it mean? And why did this hint of danger, of pain, of loneliness +lurk behind the exhilaration and the peace? Wherein lay the essence of +the enchantment this singular Egyptian glamour laid upon his very soul?</p> + +<p>In his laborious way, Tom worked at the disentanglement, but without much +success. One curious thought, however, persisted with a strange enough +significance. It rose, in a sense, unbidden. It was not his brain that +discovered it. It just 'came.'</p> + +<p>For he was thinking of other wonderful countries he had known. +He remembered Japan and India, both surpassing Egypt in colour, sunshine, +gorgeous pageantry, and certainly equalling it in historical association +and the rest. Yet, for him, these old lands had no spell, no glamour +comparable to what he now experienced. The mind contains them, +understands them easily. They are continuous with their past. +The traveller drops in and sees them as they always have been. They are +still, so to speak, going on comfortably as before. There is no shock of +dislocation. They have not died.</p> + +<p>Whereas Egypt has left the world; Egypt is dead; there is no link with +present things. Both heart and mind are aware of this deep vacuum they +vainly strive to fill. That ancient civilisation, both marvellous and +somewhere monstrous, breaking with beauty, burning with aspiration, +mysterious and vital—all has vanished as completely as though it had not +been. The prodigious ruins hint, but cannot utter. No reconstruction +from tomb or temple can recall a great dream the world has lost. +It is forgotten, swept away, there is no clue. Egypt has left the +world.…</p> + +<p>Yet, as he thought about it in his uninspired way, it seemed that some +part of him still beat in sympathy with the pulse of the forgotten dream. +Egypt indeed was dead, yet sometimes—she came back.… She came to +revisit her soft stars and moon, her great temples and her mighty tombs. +She stole back into the sunshine and the sand; her broken, ruined heart at +Thebes received her. He saw her as a spirit, a persistent, living +presence, a stupendous Ghost.… And the idea, having offered itself, +remained. Both he and Lettice somehow were associated with it, and with +this elusive notion of return. They, too, were entangled in the glamour +and the spell. They, too, had stolen back as from some immemorial lost +dream to revisit the scenes of an intenser yet forgotten life. +And Thebes was its centre; the secretive and forbidding Theban Hills, with +their desolate myriad sepulchres, its focus and its climax.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>Assouan detained him only a couple of days. He had capable lieutenants; +there was delay, moreover, in the arrival of certain material; he could +always be summoned quickly by telephone. He sent home his report and took +the express train back to Luxor and to—her.</p> + +<p>He had been too occupied, too tired at night, to do more than write a +fond, short letter, then go to sleep; the heat was considerable; he +realised that he was in Africa; the scenery fascinated him, the enormous +tawny desert, the cataracts of golden yellow sand, the magical old river. +The wonder of Philae, with its Osirian shrine and island sanctuary, caught +him as it has caught most other humans. After the sheer bulk of the +pyramids and temples, Philae bursts into the heart with almost lyrical +sweetness. But his heart was fast in Thebes, and not all the enchantment +of this desert paradise could seduce him. Moreover, one detail he +disliked: the ubiquitous earthenware tom-tom that sounded day and +night… he heard its sullen beating in his dreams.</p> + +<p>Yet of one thing he was ever chiefly conscious—that he was impatient to +be with Lettice, that his heart hungered without ceasing, that she meant +more to him than ever. Her new beauty astonished him, there was a subtle +charm in her presence he had not felt in London, her fresh spontaneous +gaiety filled him with keen delight. And all this was his. His arrival +gave her such joy that she could not even speak of it; yet he was the +cause of it. It made him feel almost shy.</p> + +<p>He received one characteristic letter from her. 'Come back as quickly as +you can,' she wrote. 'Tony has gone down the river after his birds, and I +feel lonely. Telegraph, and come to dinner or breakfast according to your +train. I'll meet you if possible. You must come here for all your meals, +as I'm sure the hotel food is poor and the drinking water unsafe. +This is open house, remember, for you both.' And there was a delicious +P.S. 'Mind you only drink filtered water, and avoid the hotel salads +because the water hasn't been boiled.' He kissed the letter. He laughed. +Her tender thought for him almost brought the tears into his eyes. It was +the tenderness of his own mother who was dead.</p> + +<p>He reached Luxor in the evening, and to his delight she was on the +platform; long before the train stopped he recognised her figure, the wide +sun-hat with the little roses, the white serge skirt and jacket of knitted +yellow silk to keep the evening chill away. They drove straight to her +house; the sun was down behind the rocky hills and the Nile lay in a dream +of burnished gold; the little owls were calling; there was singing among +the native boatmen on the water; they saw the fields of brilliant green +with the sands beyond, and the keen air from the desert wafted down the +street of what once was great hundred-gated Thebes. A strangely delicate +perfume hung about the ancient city. Tom turned to look at the woman +beside him in the narrow-seated carriage, and felt as if he were driving +through a dream.</p> + +<p>'I can stay a week or ten days at least,' he said at last. 'Is old Tony +back?'</p> + +<p>Yes, he had just arrived and telephoned to ask if he might come to dinner. +'And look, Tom, you can just see the heads of the Colossi rising out of +the haze,'—she pointed quickly—'I thought we would go and show them you +to-morrow. We might all take our tea and eat it in the clover. +You've seen nothing of Egypt yet.' She spoke rapidly, eagerly, full of +her little plan.</p> + +<p>'All?' he repeated doubtfully.</p> + +<p>'Yes, wouldn't you like it?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, rather,' he said, wondering why he did not say another thing that +rose for a moment in his mind.</p> + +<p>'You must see everything,' she went on spontaneously, 'and a dragoman's a +bore. Tony's a far better guide. He knows old Egypt as well as he knows +his old birds.' She laughed. 'It's too ridiculous—his enthusiasm; he's +been dying to explain it all to you as he did to me, and he does it +exactly like a museum guide who is a scholar and a poet too. And he is a +poet, you know. I'd never noticed it before.'</p> + +<p>'Splendid,' said Tom. He was thinking several things at once, among them +that the perfumed air reminded him of something he could not quite recall. +It seemed far away and yet familiar. 'I'm a rare listener too,' he added.</p> + +<p>'The King's Valley you really must do alone together,' she went on; +'I can't face it a second time—the heat, the gloom of it—it oppressed +and frightened me a little. Those terrible grim hills—they're full of +death, those Theban hills.'</p> + +<p>'Tony took you?' he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded. 'We did the whole thing,' she added, 'every single Tomb. +I was exhausted. I think we all were—except Tony.' The eager look in +her face had gone. Her voice betrayed a certain effort. A darkness +floated over it, like the shadow of a passing cloud.</p> + +<p>'All of you!' he exclaimed, as though it were important. 'No bird-man +ever feels tired.' He seemed to think a moment. There was a tiny pause. +The carriage was close to the house now, driving up with a flourish, and +Tony and Mrs. Haughstone, an incongruous couple, were visible standing +against the luminous orange sky beside the river. Tom pointed to them +with a chuckle. 'All right,' he exclaimed, with a gesture as though he +came to a decision suddenly, 'it shall be the Colossi to-morrow. +There are two of them, aren't there—only two?'</p> + +<p>'Two, yes, the Twin Colossi they call them,' she replied, joining in his +chuckle at the silhouetted figures in the sunset.</p> + +<p>'Two,' he repeated with emphasis, 'not three.' But either she did not +notice or else she did not hear. She was leaning forward waving her hand +to her other guests upon the bank.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>There followed then the happiest week that Tom had ever known, for there +was no incident to mar it, nor a single word or act that cast the +slightest shadow. His dread of the 'other' who was to come apparently had +left him, the faint uneasiness he had felt so often seemed gone. +He even forgot to think about it. Lettice he had never seen so gay, so +full of enterprise, so radiant. She sparkled as though she had recovered +her girlhood suddenly. With Tony in particular she had incessant battles, +and Tom listened to their conversations with amusement, for on no single +subject were they able to agree, yet neither seemed to get the best of it. +Tom felt unable to keep pace with their more nimble minds.…</p> + +<p>Tony was certainly improved in many ways, more serious than he had showed +himself before, and extraordinarily full of entertaining knowledge into +the bargain. Birds and the lore of ancient Egypt, it appeared, were +merely two of his pet hobbies; and he talked in such amusing fashion that +he kept Tom in roars of laughter, while stimulating Madame Jaretzka to +vehement contradictions. They were much alone, and profited by it. +The numerous engagements Lettice had mentioned gave no sign. +Tony certainly was a brilliant companion as well as an instructive +cicerone. There was more in him than Tom had divined before. His clever +humour was a great asset in the longer expeditions. 'Tony, I'm tired and +hot; please come and talk to me: I want refreshing,' was never addressed to +Tom, for instance, whose good nature could not take the place of wit. +Each of the three, as it were, supplied what the other lacked; it was not +surprising they got on well together. Tom, however, though always happy +provided Lettice was of the party, envied his cousin's fluid temperament +and facile gifts—even in the smallest things. Tony, for instance, would +mimic Mrs. Haughstone's attitude of having done her hostess a kindness in +coming out to Egypt: 'I couldn't do it <i>again</i>, dear Lettice, even for +<i>you</i>'—the way Tony said and acted it had a touch of inspiration.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haughstone herself, meanwhile, within the limits of her angular +personality, Tom found also considerably improved. Egypt had changed her +too. He forgave her much because she was afraid of the sun, so left them +often alone. She showed unselfishness, too, even kindness, on more than +one occasion. Tom was aware of a nicer side in her; in spite of her +jealousy and criticism, she was genuinely careful of her hostess's +reputation amid the scandal-loving atmosphere of Egyptian hotel life. +It amused him to see how she arrogated to herself the place of chaperone, +yet Tom saw true solicitude in it, the attitude of a woman who knew the +world towards one who was too trustful. He figured her always holding up +a warning finger, and Lettice always laughingly disregarding her advice.</p> + +<p>Her warnings to Lettice to be more circumspect were, at any rate, by no +means always wrong. Though not particularly observant as a rule, he +caught more than once the tail-end of conversations between them in which +advice, evidently, had been proffered and laughed aside. But, since it +did not concern him, he paid little attention, merely aware that there +existed this difference of view. One such occasion, however, Tom had good +cause to remember, because it gave him a piece of knowledge he had long +desired to possess, yet had never felt within his rights to ask for. +It merely gave details, however, of something he already knew.</p> + +<p>He entered the room, coming straight from a morning's work at his own +hotel, and found them engaged hammer and tongs upon some dispute regarding +'conduct.' Tony, who had been rowing Madame Jaretzka down the river, had +made his escape. Madame Jaretzka effected hers as Tom came in, throwing +him a look of comical relief across her shoulder. He was alone with the +Irish cousin. 'After all, she <i>is</i> a married woman,' remarked Mrs. +Haughstone, still somewhat indignant from the little battle.</p> + +<p>She addressed the words to him as he was the only person within earshot. +It seemed natural enough, he thought.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said Tom politely. 'I suppose she is.'</p> + +<p>And it was then, quite unexpectedly, that the woman spoke to him as though +he knew as much as she did. He ought, perhaps, to have stopped her, but +the temptation was too great. He learned the facts concerning Warsaw and +the—husband. That the Prince had ill-treated her consistently during the +first five years of their married life could certainly not justify her +freedom, but that he had lost his reason incurably, no longer even +recognised her, that her presence was discouraged by the doctors since it +increased the violence of his attacks, and that his malady was hopeless +and could end only in his death—all this, while adding to the wonder of +her faithful pilgrimages, did assuredly at the same time set her +free.… The effect upon his mind may be imagined; it deepened his +love, increased his admiration, for it explained the suffering in the face +she had turned to sweetness, while also justifying her conduct towards +himself. With a single blow, moreover, it killed the dread Tom had been +haunted by so long—that this was that 'other' who must one day take her +from him, obedient to a bigger claim.</p> + +<p>This knowledge, as though surreptitiously obtained, Tom locked within his +breast until the day when she herself should choose to share it with him.</p> + +<p>He remembered another little conversation too when, similarly, he +disturbed them in discussion: this time it was Mrs. Haughstone who was +called away.</p> + +<p>'Behaving badly, Lettice, is she? Scolding you again?'</p> + +<p>'Not at all. Only she sees the bad in every one and I see the good. +She disapproves of Tony rather.'</p> + +<p>'Then she will be less often deceived than you,' he replied laughingly. +The reference to Tony had escaped him; his slow mind was on the general +proposition.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps. But you can only make people better by believing that they +<i>are</i> better,' she went on with conviction—when Mrs. Haughstone joined +them and took up her parable again:</p> + +<p>'My cousin behaves like a child,' she said with amusing severity. +'She doesn't understand the world. But the world is hard upon grown-ups +who behave like children. Lettice thinks everybody good. Her innocence +gets her misjudged. And it's a pity.'</p> + +<p>'I'll keep an eye on her,' Tom said solemnly, 'and we'll begin this very +afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'Do, Mr. Kelverdon, I'm glad to hear it.' And as she said it, he noticed +another expression on her face as she glanced down the drive where Tony, +dressed in grey flannels and singing to himself, was seen sauntering +towards them. She wore an enigmatic smile by no means pleasant. It gave +him a moment's twinge. He turned from her to Lettice by way of relief. +She was waving her white-gloved hand, her eyes were shining, her little +face was radiant—and Tom's happiness came back upon him in a rising flood +again as he watched her beauty.… He thought that Egypt was the most +marvellous place he had ever known. Even Tony looked enchanted—almost +handsome. But Lettice looked divine. He felt more and more that the +woman in her blossomed into life before his very eyes. His content was +absolute.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0016"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + + +<p>With Tony as guide they took their fill of wonder. The principal +expeditions were made alone, introducing Tom to the marvels of +ancient Egypt which they already knew. On the sturdiest donkey +Thebes could furnish, he raced his cousin across the burning sands, +Madame Jaretzka following in a sand-cart, her blue veil streaming in +the cool north wind. They played like children, defying the tide of +mystery that this haunted land pours against the modern human soul, +while yet the wonder and the mystery added to their enjoyment, +deepening their happiness by contrast.</p> + +<p>They ate their <i>al fresco</i> luncheons gaily, seated by hoary tombs +that opened into the desolate hills; kings, priests, princesses, dead +six thousand years, listening in caverns underground to their +careless talk. Yet their gaiety had a hush in it, a significance +behind the sentences; for even their lightest moments touched ever +upon the borders of an awfulness that was sublime, and all that they +said or did gained this hint of deeper value—that it was set against +a background of the infinite, the deathless.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to forget that this was Egypt, the deposit of +immemorial secrets, the store-house of stupendous vanished dreams.</p> + +<p>'There was a majesty, after all, about their strange old gods,' said +Tony one afternoon as they emerged from the stifling darkness of a +forgotten kingly tomb into the sunlight. 'They seem to thunder +still—below the ground—subconsciously.' He was ever ready with the +latest modern catchword. He flung himself down upon the sand, shaded +from the glare by a recumbent column of granite exquisitely carved, +then abandoned of the ages. 'They touch something in one even +to-day—something superb. Human worship hasn't changed so +fundamentally after all.'</p> + +<p>'A sort of ghostly deathlessness,' agreed Lettice, making a bed of +sand beside him. 'I think that's what one feels.'</p> + +<p>Tony looked up. He glanced alertly at her. A question flashed a +moment in his eyes, then passed unspoken.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps,' Tony went on in a more flippant tone, 'even the dullest +has to acknowledge the sublime in their conceptions. Isis! Why, the +very name is a poem in a single word. Anubis, Nepthys, Horus— +there's poetry in them all. They seem to sing themselves into the +heart, as Petrie might have said—but didn't.'</p> + +<p>'The names <i>are</i> rather splendid,' Tom put in, as he unpacked the +kettle and spirit-lamp for tea. 'One can't forget them either.'</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, then Tony spoke again. He had lost his +flippant tone. He addressed his remark to Lettice. Tom was aware +that she was somehow waiting for it.</p> + +<p>'Their deathlessness! Yes, you're right.' He turned an instant to +look at the colossal structure behind them, whence the imposing +figures of a broken Pharaoh and his Queen stared to the east cross +the shoulder of some granite Deity that had refused to crumble for +three thousand years. 'Their deathlessness,' he repeated, lowering +his voice, 'it's really startling.'</p> + +<p>He looked about him. It was amazing how his little words, his +gesture, his very atmosphere created a spontaneous expectancy—as +though Thoth might stride sublimely up across the sand, or even Ra +himself come blazing with extended wings and awful disk of fire.</p> + +<p>Tom felt the touch of the unearthly as he watched and listened. +Lettice—he was certain of it—shivered. He moved nearer and spread +a rug across her feet.</p> + +<p>'Don't, Tom, please! I'm hot enough already.' Her tone had a +childish exasperation in it—as though he interrupted some mood that +gave her pleasure. She turned her eyes to Tony, but Tony was busily +opening sandwich packets with hands that—Tom thought—shared one +quality at least of the stone effigies they had been discussing— +size. And he laughed. The spell was broken. They fell hungrily +upon their desert meal.…</p> + +<p>Yet, it was odd how Tony had expressed precisely what Tom had himself +been vaguely feeling, though unable to find the language for his +fancy—odd, too, that apparently all three of them had felt the same +dim thing. No one among them was 'religious,' nor, strictly +speaking, imaginative; poetical least of all in the regenerative, +creative sense. Not one of the trio, that is, could have seized +imaginatively the conception of an alien deity and made it live. +Yet Tony's idle mood or idler words had done this very thing—and all +three acknowledged it in their various ways. The flavour of a remote +familiarity was manifest in each one of them—collectively as well.</p> + +<p>Another time they sat by night in ruined Karnak, watching the silver +moonlight bring out another world among the mighty pylons. +It painted the empty and enormous aisles with crowding processions of +lost ages. Speaking in whispers, they saw the stars peep down +between the soaring forest of old stone; the cold desert wind brought +with it a sadness, a mournful retrospect too vast to realise, the +tragedy that such splendour left but a lifeless skeleton behind, a +gigantic, soulless ruin. That such great prophecies remained +unfulfilled was somewhere both terrible and melancholy. The immortal +strength of these Egyptian stones conveyed a grandeur almost +sinister. The huge dumb beauty seemed menacing, even ominous; they +sat closer; they felt dwarfed uncomfortably, their selves reduced to +insignificance, almost threatened. Even Tony sobered as they talked +in lowered voices, seated in the shadow of the towering columns, +their feet resting on the sand.</p> + +<p>'I'm sure we've sat here before just like this, the three of us,' he +said in a lowered voice; 'it all seems like a dream to me.'</p> + +<p>Madame Jaretzka, who was between them, made no answer, and Tom, +leaning forward, caught his cousin's eye beyond her.… The scene +in the London theatre flashed across his mind. He felt very happy, +very close to them both, extraordinarily at one with them, the woman +he loved best in all the world, the man who was his greatest friend. +He felt truth, not foolishness, in Tony's otherwise commonplace +remarks that followed: 'I could swear I'd known you both before—here +in Egypt.'</p> + +<p>Madame Jaretzka moved a little, shuffling farther back so that she +could lean against the great curved pillar. It brought them closer +together still. She said no word, however.</p> + +<p>'There's certainly a curious sympathy between the three of us,' +murmured Tom, who usually felt out of his depth in similar talks, +leaving his companions to carry it further while he listened merely. +'It's hard to believe that we meet for the first time now.'</p> + +<p>He sat close to her, fingering her gauzy veil that brushed his face. +There was a pause, and then Madame Jaretzka said, turning to Tony: +'<i>We</i> met here first anyhow, didn't we? Two winters ago, before I met +Tom——'</p> + +<p>But Tony said he meant something far older than that, much longer +ago. 'You and Tom knew each other as children, you told me once. +Tom and I were boys together too… but…'</p> + +<p>His voice died away in Tom's ears; her answers also were inaudible as +she kept her head turned towards Tony: his thoughts, besides, were +caught away a moment to the days in Montreux and in London.… +He fell into a reverie that lasted possibly a minute, possibly +several minutes. The conversation between them left him somehow out +of it; he had little to contribute; they had an understanding, as it +were, on certain subjects that neglected him. His mind accordingly +left them. He followed his own thoughts dreamily… far away +… past the deep black shadows and out into the soft blaze of +moonlight that showered upon the distant Theban hills.… He +remembered the curious emotions that had marked his entry into Egypt. +He thought of a change in Lettice, at present still undefined. +He wondered what it was about her now that lent to her gentle spirit +a touch of authority, of worldly authority almost, that he dared not +fail to recognise—as though she had the right to it. The flavour of +uneasiness stole back. It occurred to him suddenly that he felt no +longer quite at home with her <i>alone</i> as of old. Some one watched +him: some one watched them both.…</p> + +<p>It was as though for the first time he realised distance—a new +distance creeping in upon their relationship somewhere.…</p> + +<p>A slight shiver brought him back. The wind came moaning down the +monstrous, yawning aisles against them. The overpowering effect of +so much grandeur had become intolerable. 'Ugh! I'm cold,' he +exclaimed abruptly. 'I vote we move a bit. I think—<i>I</i>'ll move +anyhow.'</p> + +<p>Madame Jaretzka turned to him with a definite start; she straightened +herself against the huge sandstone column. The moonlight touched +her; it clothed her in gold and silver, the gold of the sand, the +silver of the moon. She looked ethereal, ghostly, a figure of air +and distance. She seemed to belong to her surroundings—another +person somehow—faintly Egyptian almost.</p> + +<p>'I thought you were asleep, Tom,' she said softly. She had been in +the middle of an animated, though whispered, talk with Tony. +She peered at him with a little smile that lifted her lip oddly.</p> + +<p>'I was far away somewhere,' he returned, peering at her closely. +'I forgot all about you both. I thought, for a moment, I was quite— +alone.'</p> + +<p>He saw her start again. A significance he hardly intended had crept +into his tone. Her face moved back into the shadow quickly beside +Tony.</p> + +<p>She teased Tom for his want of manners, then fell to caring for his +comfort. 'It's icy,' she said, 'and you're in flannels. The sudden +chill of these Egyptian nights is really treacherous,' and she took +the rug from her lap and put it round his shoulders. As she did so, +the strange appearance he had noted increased about her.</p> + +<p>And Tom got up abruptly. 'No, Lettice dear, thank you; I think I'll +move a bit.' He had said 'Lettice dear' without realising it, and +before his cousin too. 'I'll take a turn and then come back for you. +You stay here with Tony,' and he moved off somewhat briskly.</p> + +<p>Then, instantly, the other two rose up like one person, following him +to where the carriage waited.…</p> + +<p>'They're frightening rather, don't you think—these ancient places?' +she said presently, as they drove along past palms and the +flat-topped houses of the felaheen. 'There's something watching and +listening all the time.'</p> + +<p>Tom made no answer. He felt suddenly unsure of something—almost +unsure of himself, it seemed.</p> + +<p>'One feels a bit lost,' he said slowly after a bit, 'and lonely. +It's the size, I think.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps,' she rejoined, peering at him with half-lowered eyelids, +'and the silence.' She broke off, then added, 'You can hear your +thoughts too clearly.'</p> + +<p>Tom was sitting back amid a bundle of rugs she had wrapped him in; +Tony, beside her, on the front seat, seemed in a gentle doze. +They drove the rest of the way in silence, dropping Tony first at the +Savoy, then going on to Tom's hotel. She insisted, although her own +house was in the opposite direction. 'And you're to take a hot +whisky when you get into bed, remember, and don't get up to-morrow if +you feel a chill.' She gave him orders for his health and comfort as +though he were her son. Tom noticed it, told her she was divinely +precious to him, and promised faithfully to obey.</p> + +<p>'What do you think about Tony?' he asked suddenly, when they had +driven alone for several minutes. 'I mean, what impression does he +make on you? How do you <i>feel</i> him?'</p> + +<p>'He's enjoying himself immensely with his numerous friends,' she +replied at once. 'He grows on one rather. He's a dear, I think.' +She looked at him, then turned away again. 'Don't you, Tom?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, rather. I've always thought so. I told you first long ago, +didn't I?' He made no reference to the exaggeration about the +friends. 'And I think it's wonderful how well we—what a perfect +trio we are.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, isn't it?'</p> + +<p>They both became thoughtful then. There fell a pause between them, +when Tom broke in abruptly once again:</p> + +<p>'But—what do <i>you</i> feel? Because <i>I</i> think he's half in love with +you, if you want to know.' He leaned over and whispered in her ear. +The words tumbled out as though they were in a hurry. 'It pleases me +immensely, Lettice; it makes me feel so proud of you and happy. +It'll do him a world of good, too, if he loves a woman like you. +You'll teach him something.' She smiled shyly and said, 'I wonder, +Tom. Do you really think so? He certainly seems fond of me, but I +hadn't thought quite that. You think everybody must fall in love +with me.' She pushed him away with a gentle yet impatient pressure +of her arm, indicating the Arab coachman with a nod of her head. +'Take care of him, Lettice: he's a dear fellow; don't let him break +his heart.'</p> + +<p>Tom began to flirt outrageously; his arm crept round her, he leaned +over and stole a kiss—and to his amazement she did not try to stop +him. She did not seem to notice it. She sat very still—a stone +statue in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, he realised that she had not replied to his question. +He promptly repeated it therefore. 'You put me off with what <i>he</i> +feels, but I want to know what <i>you</i> feel,' he said with emphasis.</p> + +<p>'But, Tom, I'm not putting you off, as you call it—with anything,' +and there was a touch of annoyance in her tone and manner.</p> + +<p>'Tell me, Lettice; it interests me. You're such a puzzle, d'you +know, out here.' His tone unconsciously grew more earnest as he +spoke.</p> + +<p>Madame Jaretzka broke into a little laugh. 'You boy!' she exclaimed +teasingly, 'you're trying to heighten his value so as to increase +your own by contrast. The more people you can find in love with me, +the more you'll be able to flatter yourself.'</p> + +<p>Tom laughed with her, though he did not quite understand. He had +never heard her say such a thing before. He accepted the cleverness +she gave him credit for, however. 'Of course, and why shouldn't I?' +And he was just going to put his original question in another form— +had already begun it, in fact—when she interrupted him, putting her +hand playfully over his mouth for a second: 'I do think Tony's a +happy entertaining sort of man,' she told him, 'even fascinating in a +certain kind of way. He's very stimulating to me. And I feel—don't +you, Tom?'—a slight change—was it softness?—crept into her tone— +'a sort of beauty in him somewhere?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, p'raps I do,' he assented briefly; 'but, I say, Lettice +darling, you mischievous Egyptian princess.'</p> + +<p>'Be quiet, Tom, and take your arm away. Here's the hotel in sight.' +And yet, somehow, he fancied that she preferred his action to the +talk.</p> + +<p>'Tell me this first,' he went on, obeying her peremptory tone: +'do you think it's true that we three have been together before like +that—as Tony said, I mean? It's a funny thing, but I swear it +sounded true when he said it.' His tone was earnest again. +'It gave me the creeps a bit, and, d'you know, you looked so queer, +so wonderful in the moonlight—you looked un-English, foreign—like +one of those Egyptian figures come to life. That's what made me +cold, I think.' His laughter died away. He was grave suddenly. +He sighed a little and moved closer to her. 'That's—what made me +get up and leave you,' he added abruptly.</p> + +<p>'Oh, he's always saying that kind of thing,' she answered quickly, +moving the rugs for him to get out as the carriage slowed up before +the brilliantly lit hotel. She made no reference to his other words. +'There's a lot of poetry in Tony too—out here.'</p> + +<p>'Said it before, has he?' exclaimed Tom with genuine astonishment. +'All three of us or—or just you and him? Am <i>I</i> in the business +too?' He was now bubbling over with laughter again for some reason; +it all seemed comical, almost. Yet it was a sudden, an emotional +laughter. His emotion—his excitement surprised him even at the +time.</p> + +<p>'All three of us—I think,' she said, as he held her hand a moment, +saying good-bye. 'Yes, all three of us, of course. Now good-night, +you inquisitive and impertinent boy, and if you have to stay in bed +to-morrow we'll come over and nurse you all day long.' He answered +that he would certainly stay in bed in that case—and watched her +waving her hand over the back of the carriage as she drove away into +the moonlight like a fading dream of stars and mystery and beauty. +Then he took his telegrams and letters from the Arab porter with the +face of expressionless bronze, and went up to bed.</p> + +<p>'What a strange and wonderful woman!' he thought as the lift rushed +him up: 'out here she seems another being, and a thousand times more +fascinating.' He felt almost that he would like to win her all over +again from the beginning. 'She's different to what she was in +England. Tony's different too. And so am I, I do believe!' he +exclaimed in his bedroom, looking at his sunburned face in the glass +a moment. 'We're all different!' He felt singularly happy, +hilarious, stimulated—a deep and curious excitement was in him. +Above all there was high pride that she belonged to him so +absolutely. But the analysis he had indulged in England vanished +here. He forgot it all.… He was in Egypt with her… now.</p> + +<p>He read his letters and telegrams, only half realising at first that +they called him back to Assouan. 'What a bore,' he thought; +'I simply shan't go. A week's delay won't matter. I can telephone.'</p> + +<p>He laid them down upon the table beside him and walked out on to his +balcony. Responsibility seemed less in him. He felt a little +reckless. His position was quite secure. He was his own master. +He meant to enjoy himself.… But another, deeper voice was +sounding in him too. He heard it, but at first refused to recognise +it. It whispered. One word it whispered: 'Stay…!'</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>There was no sleep in him; with an overcoat thrown across his +shoulders he watched the calm Egyptian night, the soft army of the +stars, the river gleaming in a broad band of silver. Hitherto +Lettice had monopolised his energies; he had neglected Egypt, whose +indecipherable meaning now came floating in upon him with a strange +insistence. Lettice came with it too. The two beauties were +indistinguishable.…</p> + +<p>A flock of boats lay motionless, their black masts hanging in +mid-air; all was still and silent, no voices, no footsteps, no +movements anywhere. In the distance the desolate rocky hills rolled +like a solid wave along the horizon. Gaunt and mysterious, they +loomed upon the night. They were pierced by myriad tombs, those +solemn hills; the stately dead lay there in hundreds—he imagined +them looking forth a moment like himself across the peace and silence +of the moonlit desert. They focussed upon Thebes, upon the white +hotel, upon a modern world they could not recognise—upon his very +windows. It seemed to him for a moment that their ancient eyes met +his own across the sand, across the silvery river, and, as they met, +a shadowy gleam of recognition passed between them and himself. +At the same time he also saw the eyes he loved. They gazed through +half-closed eyelids… the Eastern eyes of his early boyhood's +dream. He remembered again the strange emotion of the day he first +arrived in Egypt, weeks ago.…</p> + +<p>And then he suddenly thought of Tony, and of Tony's careless remark +as they sat in ruined Karnak together: 'I feel as if we three had all +been here before.'</p> + +<p>Why it returned to him just now he did not know: for some reason +unexplained the phrase revived in him. Perhaps he felt an +instinctive sympathy towards the poet's idea that he and <i>she</i> were +lovers of such long standing, of such ancient lineage. It flattered +his pride, while at the same time it disturbed him. A sense of vague +disquiet grew stronger in him. In any case, he did not dismiss it +and forget—his natural way of treating fancies. 'Perhaps,' he +murmured, 'the bodies she and I once occupied lie there now—lie +under the very stars their eyes—<i>our</i> own—once looked upon.'</p> + +<p>It was strange the fancy took such root in him.… He stood a +long time gazing at the vast, lonely necropolis among the mountains. +There was an extraordinary stillness over that western bank, where +the dead lay in their ancient tombs. The silence was eloquent, but +the whole sky whispered to his soul. And again he felt that Egypt +welcomed him; he was curiously at home here. It moved the deeps in +him, brought him out; it changed him; it brought out Lettice too— +brought out a certain power in her. She was more of a woman here, a +woman of the world. She was more wilful, and more human. Values had +subtly altered. Tony himself was altered.… Egypt affected them +all three.…</p> + +<p>The vague uneasiness persisted. His mood changed a little, the +excitement gradually subsided; thought shifted to a minor key, +subdued by the beauty of the southern night. The world lay in a +mysterious glow, the hush was exquisite. Yet there was expectancy: +that glow, that hush were ready to burst into flame and language. +They covered secrets. Something was watching him. He was dimly +aware of a thousand old forgotten things.…</p> + +<p>He no longer thought, but felt. The calm, the peace, the silence +laid soothing fingers against the running of his blood; the turbulent +condition settled down. Then, through the quieting surface of his +reverie, stole up a yet deeper mood that seemed evoked partly by the +mysterious glamour of the scene, yet partly by his will to let it +come. It had been a long time in him; he now let it up to breathe. +It came, moreover, with ease, and quickly.</p> + +<p>For a gentle sadness rose upon him, a sadness deeply hidden that he +suddenly laid bare as of set deliberation. The recent play and +laughter, above all his own excitement, had purposely concealed it— +from others possibly, but certainly from himself. The excitement had +been a mask assumed by something deeper in him he had wished—and +tried—to hide. Gently it came at first, this sadness, then with +increasing authority and speed. It rose about him like a cloud that +hid the stars and dimmed the sinking moon. It spread a veil between +him and the rocky cemetery on those mournful hills beyond the Nile. +In a sense it seemed, indeed, to issue thence. It emanated from +their silence and their ancient tombs. It sank into him. It was +penetrating—it was familiar—it was deathless.</p> + +<p>But it was no mood of common sadness; there lay no physical tinge in +it, but rather a deep, unfathomable sadness of the spirit: an inner +loneliness. From his inmost soul it issued outwards, meeting +half-way some sense of similar loneliness that breathed towards him +from these tragic Theban hills.…</p> + +<p>And Tom, not understanding it, tried to shake himself free again; +he called up cheerful things to balance it; he thought of his firm +position in the world, of his proud partnership, of his security with +her he loved, of his zest in life, of the happy prospect immediately +in front of him. But, in spite of all, the mood crept upwards like a +rising wave, swamping his best resistance, drowning all appeal to joy +and confidence. He recognised an unwelcome revival of that earlier +nightmare dread connected with his boyhood, things he had decided to +forget, and had forgotten as he thought. The mood took him gravely, +with the deepest melancholy he had ever known. It had begun so +delicately; it became in a little while so determined, it threatened +to overmaster him. He turned then and faced it, so to speak. +He looked hard at it and asked of himself its meaning. Thought and +emotion in him shuffled with their shadowy feet.</p> + +<p>And then he realised that, in germ at any rate, the mood had lain +actually a long time in him, deeply concealed—the surface excitement +merely froth. He had hidden it from himself. It had been +accumulating, gaining strength and impetus, pausing upon direction +only. All the hours just spent at Karnak it had been there, drawing +nearer to the surface; this very night, but a little while ago, +during the drive home as well; before that even—during all the talks +and out-door meals and expeditions; he traced its existence suddenly, +and with tiny darts of piercing, unintelligible pain, as far back as +Alexandria and the day of his arrival. It seemed to justify the +vivid emotions that had marked his entry into Egypt. It became +sharply clear now—this had been in him subconsciously since the +moment when he read the little letter of welcome Lettice sent to meet +him at the steamer, a letter he discovered afterwards was curiously +empty. This disappointment, this underlying sadness he had kept +hidden from himself: he now laid it bare and recognised it. He faced +it. With a further flash he traced it finally to the journey in the +Geneva train when he had read over the Warsaw and the Egyptian +letters.</p> + +<p>And he felt startled: something at the roots of his life was +trembling. He tried to think. But Tom was slow; he could feel, but +he could not dissect and analyse. Introspection with him invariably +darkened vision, led to distortion and bewilderment. The effort to +examine closely confused him. Instead of dissipating the emotion he +intensified it. The sense of loneliness grew inexplicably—a great, +deep loneliness, a loneliness of the spirit, a loneliness, moreover, +that it seemed to him he had experienced before, though when, under +what conditions, he could not anywhere remember.</p> + +<p>His former happiness was gone, the false excitement with it. +This freezing loneliness stole in and took their places. +Its explanation lay hopelessly beyond him, though he felt sure it had +to do with this haunted and mysterious land where he now found +himself, and in a measure with her, even with Tony too.…</p> + +<p>The hint Egypt dropped into him upon his arrival was a true one—he +had slipped over an edge, slipped into something underneath, below +him—something past. But slipped <i>with her</i>. She had come back to +fetch him. They had come back to fetch—each other… through +pain.…</p> + +<p>And a shadow from those sombre Theban mountains crept, as it were, +upon his life. He knew a sinking of the heart, a solemn, dark +presentiment that murmured in his blood the syllables of 'tragedy.' +To his complete amazement—at first he refused to believe it indeed— +there came a lump into his throat, as though tears must follow to +relieve the strain; and a moment later there was moisture, a +perceptible moisture, in his eyes. The sadness had so swiftly passed +into foreboding, with a sense of menacing tragedy that oppressed him +without cause or explanation. Joy and confidence collapsed before it +like a paper platform beneath the pressure of a wind. His feet and +hands were cold. He shivered.…</p> + +<p>Then gradually, as he stood there watching the calm procession of the +stars, he felt the ominous emotion draw down again, retreat. +Deep down inside him whence it came, it retired into a kind of +interior remoteness that lay beyond his reach. It was incredible and +strange. The intensity had made it seem so real.… For, while +it lasted, he had felt himself bereft, lonely beyond all telling, +outcast, lost, forgotten, wrapped in a cold and desolate misery that +frightened him past all belief. The hand that lit his pipe still +trembled. But the mood had passed as mysteriously as it came. +It left him curiously shaken in his heart. 'Perhaps this too,'— +thought murmured from some depth in him he could neither control nor +understand—'perhaps this too is—Egypt.'</p> + +<p>He went to bed, emotion all smoothed out again, yet wondering a good +deal at himself. For the odd upheaval was a new experience. Such an +attack had never come to him before; he laughed at it, called it +hysteria, and decided that its cause was physical; he persuaded +himself that it had a very banal cause—a chill, even a violent +chill, incipient fever and over-fatigue at the back of it. He smiled +at himself, while obeying the loving orders he had received, and +brewing the comforting hot mixture with his spirit-lamp.</p> + +<p>Then drinking it, he looked round the room with satisfaction at the +various evidences of precious motherly care. This mother-love +restored his happiness by degrees. His more normal, stolid, +unimaginative self climbed back into its place again—yet with a +touch of awkwardness and difficulty. Something in him was changed, +or changing; he had surprised it in the act.</p> + +<p>The nature of the change escaped him, however. It seemed, perhaps— +this was the nearest he could get to it—that something in him had +weakened, some sense of security, of confidence, of self-complacency +given way a little. Only it was not his certainty of the mother-love +in her: that remained safe from all possible attack. A tinge of +uneasiness still lay like a shadow on his mind—until the fiery +spirit chased it away, and a heavy sleep came over him that lasted +without a break until he woke two hours after sunrise.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0017"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + + +<p>He sprang from his bed, went to the open window and thrust his head out +into the crystal atmosphere. It was impossible to credit the afflicting +nightmare of a few hours ago. Gold lay upon the world, and the face of +Egypt wore her great Osirian look.</p> + +<p>In the air was that tang of mountain-tops that stimulated like wine. +Everything sparkled, the river blazed, the desert was a sheet of burnished +bronze. Light, heat, and radiance pervaded the whole glad morning, +bathing even his bare feet on the warm, soft carpet. It was good to be +alive. How could he not feel happy and unafraid?</p> + +<p>The change, perhaps, was sudden; it certainly was complete.… +These vivid alternations seemed characteristic of his whole Egyptian +winter. Another self thrust up, sank out of sight, then rose again. +The confusion seemed almost due to a pair of competing selves, each +gaining the upper hand in turn—sometimes he lived both at once.… +The uneasy mood, at any rate, had vanished with the darkness, for nothing +sad or heavy-footed could endure amid this dancing exhilaration of the +morning. Born of the brooding night and mournful hills, his recent pain +was forgotten.</p> + +<p>He dressed in flannels, and went his way to the house upon the Nile soon +after nine o'clock; he certainly had no chill, there was only singing in +his heart. The curious change in Lettice, it seemed, no longer troubled +him. And, finding Tony already in the garden, they sat in the shade and +smoked together while waiting for their hostess. Light-hearted as +himself, Tony outlined various projects, to which the other readily +assented. He persuaded himself easily, if recklessly; the work could +wait. 'We simply must see it all together,' Tony urged. 'You can go back +to Assouan next week. You'll find everything all right. Why hurry off?' +… How his cousin had improved, Tom was thinking; his tact was +perfect; he asked no awkward questions, showed no inquisitiveness. +He just assumed that his companions had a right to be fond of each other, +while taking his own inclusion in the collective friendship for granted as +natural too.</p> + +<p>And when Lettice came out to join them, radiant in white, with her broad +sun-hat and long blue veil and pretty gauntlet gloves, Tony explained with +enthusiasm at the beauty of the picture: 'She's come into her own out here +with a vengeance,' he declared. 'She ought to live in Egypt always. +It suits her down to the ground.' Whereupon Tom, pleased by the +spontaneous admiration, whispered proudly to himself, 'And she is mine— +all mine!' Tony's praise seemed to double her value in his eyes at once. +So Tony, too, was aware that she had changed; had noted the subtle +alteration, the enhancement of her beauty, the soft Egyptian +transformation!</p> + +<p>'You'd hardly take her for European, I swear—at a distance—now, would +you?'</p> + +<p>'N-no,' Tom agreed, 'perhaps you wouldn't——' at which moment precisely +the subject of their remarks came up and threw her long blue veil across +them both with the command that it was time to start.</p> + +<p>The following days were one long dream of happiness and wonder spent +between the sunlight and the stars. They were never weary of the beauty, +the marvel, and the mystery of all they saw. The appeal of temple, tomb, +and desert was so intimate—it seemed instinctive. The burning sun, the +scented winds, great sunsets and great dawns, these with the palms, the +river, and the sand seemed a perfect frame about a perfect picture. +They knew a kind of secret pleasure that was satisfying. Egypt harmonised +all three of them. And if Tom did not notice the change increasing upon +one of them, it was doubtless because he was too much involved in the +general happiness to see it separate.</p> + +<p>There came a temporary interruption, however, in due course—his +conscience pricked him. 'I really must take a run up to Assouan,' he +decided. 'I've been rather neglecting things perhaps. A week at most +will do it—and then for another ten days' holiday again!'</p> + +<p>The rhythm broke, as it were, with a certain suddenness. A rift came in +the collective dream. He saw details again—saw them separate. And the +day before he left a trifling thing occurred that forced him to notice the +growth of the change in Lettice. He focussed it. It startled him a +little.</p> + +<p>The others had not sought to change his judgment. But they planned an +all-night bivouac in the desert for his return; they would sleep with +blankets on the sand, cook their supper upon an open fire, and see the +dawn. 'It's an exquisite experience,' said Tony. 'The stars fade +quickly, there's a puff of warmer wind, and the sun comes up with a rush. +It's marvellous. I'll get de Lorne and his sister to join us; he can tell +stories round the fire, and perhaps she will get inspiration at last for +her awful pictures.' Madame Jaretzka laughed. 'Then we must have Lady +Sybil too,' she added; 'de Lorne may find courage to propose to her +fortune at last.' Tom looked up at her with a momentary surprise. +'I declare, Lettice, you've grown quite worldly; that's a very cynical +remark and point of view.'</p> + +<p>He said it teasingly, but it was this innocent remark that served to focus +the change in her he had been aware of vaguely for a long time. She was +more worldly here, the ordinary 'woman' in her was more in evidence: and +while he rather liked it—it brought her more within his reach, as it +were, yet without lowering her—he felt also puzzled. Several times of +late he had surprised this wholesome sign of sex in things she said and +did, as though the woman-side, as he called it, was touched into activity +at last. It added to her charm; at the same time it increased his burning +desire to possess her absolutely for himself. What he felt as the +impersonal—almost spiritually elusive—aspect of her he had first known, +was certainly less in evidence. Another part of her was rising into view, +if not already in the ascendant. The burning sun, the sensuous colour and +beauty of the Egyptian climate, he had heard, could have this +physiological effect. He wondered.</p> + +<p>'Sybil has been waiting for him to ask her ever since I came out,' he +heard her saying with a gesture almost of impatience. 'Only he thinks he +oughtn't to speak because he's poor. The result is she's getting bolder +in proportion as he gets more shy.'</p> + +<p>They all laughingly agreed to help matters to a climax when Tom, looking +up suddenly, saw Madame Jaretzka smiling at his cousin with her eyelids +half closed in the way he once disliked but now adored. He wondered +suddenly how much Tony liked her; the improvement in him was assuredly due +to her, he felt; Tony had less and less time now for his other friends. +It occurred to him for a second that the change in her was greater than he +quite knew, perhaps. He watched them together for some moments. It gave +him a proud sense of pleasure to feel that her influence was making a man +out of the medley of talent and irresponsibility that was Tony. Tony was +learning at last to 'find himself.' It must be quite a new experience for +him to know and like a woman of her sort, almost a discovery. But with a +flash—too swift and fleeting to be a definite thought—Tom was conscious +of another thing as well—and for the first time: 'How she would put him +in his place if he attempted any liberties with her!'</p> + +<p>The same second he was ashamed that such a notion could ever have occurred +to him: it was mean towards Tony, ungenerous towards her; and yet—he was +aware of a distinct emotion, a touch of personal triumph in it +somewhere.…</p> + +<p>His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden tumult. There was a scurry; +Tony flung a stone; Madame Jaretzka leaped upon a boulder, gathering her +skirts together hurriedly, with a little scream. 'Kill it, Tony! Quick!' +he heard her cry. And he saw then a very large and hairy spider crawling +swiftly across the white paper that had wrapped their fruit and +sandwiches, an ugly and distressing sight. 'It's a tarantula,' she +screamed, half laughing, half alarmed, showing neat ankles as she balanced +precariously upon her boulder, 'and it's coming at me. Quick, Tony, +another stone,' as he missed it for the second time, 'it's making for me! +Oh, kill it, kill it!' Tony, still aiming badly, assured her it was not a +tarantula, nor poisonous even; he knew the species well. 'It's quite +harmless,' he cried, 'there's no need to kill it. It's not in a +house——' And he flung another useless stone at it.</p> + +<p>What followed happened very quickly, in a second or two at most. +Tom saw it with sharp surprise, a curious distaste, almost with a shudder. +It certainly astonished him, and in another sense it shocked him. +He had done nothing himself because Lettice, he thought, was half in fun, +making a diversion out of nothing. Only much later did it occur to him +that she had turned instinctively to Tony for protection, rather than to +himself. What caused him the unpleasant sensation, however, was that she +deliberately stepped down from her perch of safety and kicked at the +advancing horror. Probably her intention was merely to drive it away—she +was certainly excited—but the result was that she set her foot upon the +creature and crushed its life out with an instant's pressure of her dainty +boot. 'There!' she cried. 'Oh, but I didn't mean to kill it! +How frightful of me!'</p> + +<p>He heard Tony say, 'Bravo, you <i>are</i> a brave woman! Such creatures have +no right to live!' as he hid the disfigured piece of paper beneath some +stones… and, after a few minutes' chatter, the donkey-boys had packed +up the luncheon things and they were all on their way towards the next +object of their expedition, as though nothing had happened. The entire +incident had occupied a moment and a half at most. Madame Jaretzka was +laughing and talking as before, gay as a child and pretty as a dream.</p> + +<p>In Tom's mind, however, it went on happening—over and over again. +He could not at once clean his mind of a disagreeable impression that +remained. Another woman, any woman for that matter, might have done what +she did without leaving a trace in him of anything but a certain +admiration. It was a perfectly natural thing. The creature probably was +poisonous as well as hideous; Tony merely said the contrary to calm her; +moreover, he gave no help, and the insect was certainly making hurriedly +towards her—she had to save and protect herself. There was nothing in +the incident beyond an ugliness, a passing second of distress; and yet— +this was what remained with him—it was not a natural thing for 'Lettice' +to have done. Her intention, no doubt, was otherwise; there was +miscalculation as well. She had only meant to frighten the scurrying +creature. Yet at the same time the instinctive act issued, he felt, from +another aspect, another part of her, a part that in London, in Montreux, +lay unexpressed and unawakened. And it issued deliberately too. +The exquisite tenderness that could not have put a fly to death was less +in her. Egypt had changed her oddly. He was aware of something that made +him shrink, though he did not use the phrase even to himself in thought; +of something hard and almost cruel, though both adjectives lay far from +clothing the faint sensation in his mind with definite words.</p> + +<p>Tom watched her instinctively from that moment, unconsciously, that is; +less with his eyes than with a little pair of glasses in his heart. +There was certainly a change in her that he could not quite account for; +the notion came to him once or twice that some influence was upon her, +some power that was outside herself, modifying the sharp outlines of her +first peculiar tenderness. These dear outlines blurred a trifle in the +fierce sunlight of this desert air. He knew not how to express it even to +himself, for it was too tenuous to seize in actual words.</p> + +<p>He arrived at this partial conclusion anyhow: that he was aware of what he +called the 'woman' in her, but a very human woman—a certain wilfulness +that was half wildness in it. There was a hint of the earthly, too, as +opposed to spiritual, though in a sense that was wholesome, good, entirely +right. Yet it was rather, perhaps, primitive than earthly in any vulgar +meaning.… It had been absent or dormant hitherto. She needed it; +something—was it Egypt? was it sex?—had stirred it into life. And its +first expression—surprising herself as much as it surprised him—had an +aspect of exaggeration almost.</p> + +<p>The way she raced their donkeys in her sand-cart on the way home, by no +means sparing the whip, was extremely human, but unless he had witnessed +it he could never have pictured it as possible—so utterly unlike the +gentle, gracious, almost fastidious being he had known first. There was a +hint of a darker, stronger colour in the pattern of her being now, partly +of careless and abundant spirits, partly of this new primitive savagery. +He noticed it more and more, it was both repellant and curiously +attractive; yet, while he adored it in her, he also shrank. He detected a +touch even of barbaric vanity, and this singular touch of the barbaric +veiled the tenderness. He almost felt in her the power to inflict pain +without flinching—upon another.…</p> + +<p>The following day their time of gaiety was to end, awaiting only his +return later from Assouan. Tony was going down to Cairo with some other +friends. Tom would be away at least a week, and tried hard to persuade +his cousin to come with him instead; but Tony had given his word, and +could not change. Moreover, he was dining with his friends that very +night, and must hurry off at once. He said his good-byes and went.</p> + +<p>'We're very rarely alone now, are we, Lettice?' Tom began abruptly the +instant they were together. At the back of his mind rose something he did +not understand that forced more significance into his tone than he +intended. He felt very full—an accumulation that must have expression. +He blurted it out without reflection. 'Hardly once since I arrived two +weeks ago, now I come to think of it.' He looked at her half playfully, +half reproachfully. 'We're always three,' he added with the frank pathos +of a boy. And while one part of him felt ashamed, another part urged him +onward and was glad.</p> + +<p>But the way she answered startled him.</p> + +<p>'Tom dear, don't scold me now. I <i>am</i> so tired.' It was the tone that +took his breath away. For the first time in their acquaintance he noticed +something like exasperation. 'I've been doing too much,' she went on more +gently, smiling up into his face: 'I feel it. And that dreadful thing— +that insect,'—she shuddered a little—'I never meant to hurt it. +It's upset me. All this daily excitement, and the sun, and the jolting of +that rickety sand-cart—There, Tom, come and sit beside me a moment and +let's talk before you go. I'm really too done up to drive you to the +station to-night. You'll understand and forgive me, won't you?' +Her voice was very soft. She was excited, too, talking at random rather. +Her being seemed confused.</p> + +<p>He took his place on a sturdy cushion at her feet, full of an exaggerated +remorse. She looked pale, though her eyes were very sparkling. His heart +condemned him. He said nothing about the 'dreadful incident.'</p> + +<p>'Lettice, dearest girl, I didn't mean anything. You have been doing far +too much, and it's my fault; you've done it all for me—to give me +pleasure. It's been too wonderful.' He took her hand, while her other +stroked his head. 'You must rest while I'm away.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she murmured, 'so as to be quite fresh when you come back. +You won't be <i>very</i> long, will you?' He said he would risk his whole +career to get back within the week. 'But, you know, I have neglected +things rather—up there.' He smiled fondly as he said 'up there.' +She looked down tenderly into his eyes. 'And I have neglected you—down +here,' she said. 'That's what you mean, boy, isn't it?' And for the +first time he did not like the old mode of address he once thought +perfect. There seemed a flavour of pity in it. 'It <i>would</i> be nice to be +alone sometimes, wouldn't it, Lettice? Quite alone, I mean,' he said with +meaning.</p> + +<p>'We shall be, we will be—later, Tom,' she whispered; '<i>quite</i> alone +together.' She paused, then added louder: 'The truth is, Egypt—the air +and climate—stimulates me too much; it makes me restless. It excites me +in a way I can't quite understand. I can't sit still and talk and be idle +as one does in sleepy, solemn England.'</p> + +<p>He was explaining with laborious logic that it was the dryness of the air +that exhausted the nerves a bit, when she straightened herself up and took +her hand away. 'Oh yes, Tom, I know, I know. That's perfectly true, and +everybody says that—I mean, everybody feels it, don't they?' She said it +quickly, almost impatiently.</p> + +<p>The old uneasiness flashed through him at that moment: it occurred to him, +'I'm dull, I'm boring her.' She was over-tired, he remembered then, her +nerves on edge a trifle; it was natural enough; he would just kiss her and +leave her to rest quietly. Yet a tiny sense of resentment, even of chill, +crept over him. This impatience in her was new to him. He wondered an +instant, then crushed back the words that tried to rise. He said goodbye, +taking her in his arms for a moment with an overmastering impulse he could +not check. Deep love and tenderness were in his heart and eyes. +He yearned to protect and guide her—keep her safe from harm. He felt his +older years, his steadier strength; he was a man, she but a little gentle +woman. And the elemental powers of life were very strong. With a sudden +impulsive gesture, then, that surprised him, she returned the embrace with +a kind of vehemence, pressing him closely to her heart and kissing him +repeatedly on the cheeks and eyes.</p> + +<p>Tom had expected her to resist and chide him. He was bewildered and +delighted; he was also puzzled—for the first second only. 'You darling +woman,' he cried, forgetting utterly the suspicion, the uneasiness, the +passing cold of a moment before. He marvelled that his heart could have +let such fancies come to birth. Surely he had changed for such a thing to +be possible at all!… Various impulses and emotions that clamoured in +him he kept back with an effort. He was aware of clashing contradictions. +Confidence was less in him. He felt curiously unsure of himself—also, in +a cruel, subtle way—of her. There was a new thing in her—rising. +Was it against himself somewhere? The tangle in his heart and mind seemed +inextricable: he wanted to seize her and carry her away, struggling but +captured, and at the same time—singular contradiction—to entreat her +humbly, though passionately, to love him more, and to <i>show</i> more that she +loved him. Surely there were two selves in him.</p> + +<p>He moved over to the door. 'Cataract Hotel, remember, finds me.' +He stood still, looking back at her.</p> + +<p>She smiled, repeating the words after him. 'And Lettice, you <i>will</i> +write?' She blew a kiss to him by way of answer. Then, charged to the +brim with a thousand things he ached to say, yet would not, almost dared +not say, he added playfully—a child must have noticed that his voice was +too deep for banter and his breath came oddly:</p> + +<p>'And mind you don't let Tony lose his head <i>too</i> much. He's pretty far +gone, you know, already.'</p> + +<p>The same instant he could have bitten his tongue off to recall the words. +Somewhere he had been untrue to himself, almost betrayed himself.</p> + +<p>She rose suddenly from her sofa and came quickly towards him across the +floor; he felt his heart sink a moment, then start hammering irregularly +against his ribs. Something frightened him. For he caught in her face +an expression he could not understand—the struggle of many strong +emotions—anxiety and passion, fear and love; the eyes were shining, +though the lids remained half closed; she made a curious gesture: she +moved swiftly. He braced himself as against attack. He shrank. +Her power over him was greater than he knew.</p> + +<p>For he saw her in that instant as another person, another woman, foreign— +almost Eastern; the barbaric primitive thing flamed out of her, but with +something regal, queenly, added to it; she looked Egyptian; the Princess, +as he called her sometimes, had come to life. And the same moment in +himself this curious sense of helplessness appeared—he raged against it +inwardly—as though he were in her power somehow, as though her little +foot could crush him—too—into the yellow sand.…</p> + +<p>A spasm of acute and aching pain shot through him; he winced; he wanted to +turn and fly, yet was held rooted to the floor. He could not escape. It +had to be. For oddly, mysteriously, he felt pain in her quick approach: +she was coming to do him injury and hurt. The incident of the afternoon +flashed again upon his mind—with the idea of cruelty in it somewhere, +but a deep surge of strange emotion that flung wild sentences into his +mind at the same instant. He tightly shut his lips, lest a hundred +thoughts that had lain in him of late might burst into words he would +later regret intensely. He must not avoid, delay, an inevitable thing. +To resist was somehow to be untrue to the deepest in him—to something +painful he deserved, and, paradoxically, desired too. What could it all +mean?… He shivered as he waited—watching her come nearer.</p> + +<p>She reached his side and her arms were stretched towards him. To his +amazement she folded him in closely against her breast and held him as +though she never could let him go again. He stood there helpless; the +revulsion of feeling took his strength away. He heard her breathless, +yearning whisper as she kissed him: 'My Tom, my precious boy, I couldn't +see a hair of your dear head injured—I couldn't see you hurt! Take care +of yourself and come back quickly—do, <i>do</i> take care of yourself. +I shall count the days——' she broke off, held his face between her +hands, gazed into his astonished eyes, and kissed him with the utmost +tenderness again, the tenderness of a mother who is forced to be separated +from the boy she loves better than herself.</p> + +<p>Tom stood there trembling before her, and no speech came to help him. +The thing passed like a dream; the dread, the emotion left him; the +nightmare touch was gone. Her self-betrayal his simple nature did not at +once discern. He felt only her divine tenderness pour over him. A spring +of joy rose bubbling in him that no words could tell. Also he felt +afraid. But the fear was no longer for himself. In some perplexing, +singular way, he felt afraid for her.</p> + +<p>Then, as a sentence came struggling to his lips, a step was heard upon the +landing. There was time to resume conventional attitudes of good-bye when +Mrs. Haughstone appeared on the staircase leading to the hall. Tom said +his farewells hurriedly to both of them, making his escape as naturally as +possible. 'I've just time to pack and catch the train,' he shouted, and +was gone.</p> + +<p>And what remained with him afterwards of the curious little scene was the +absolute joy and confidence those last tender embraces had restored to +him, side by side with another thing that he was equally sure about, yet +refused to dwell upon because he dared not—yet. For, as she came across +the floor of the sunny room towards him, he realised two things in her, +two persons almost. Another influence, he was convinced, worked in her +strangely—some older, long-buried presentment of her interpenetrating, +even piercing through, the modern self. She was divided against herself +in some extraordinary fashion, one half struggling fiercely, yet +struggling bravely, honestly, against the other. And the relationship +between himself and her, though the evidence was so negligibly slight as +yet, he knew had definitely changed.…</p> + +<p>It came to him as the Mother and the Woman in her. The Mother belonged +unchangeably to him: the Woman, he felt, was troubled, tempted, and +afraid.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0018"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + + +<p>Afterwards, months, years afterwards, looking back upon these strange +weeks of his brief Egyptian winter, Tom marvelled at himself; he looked +back, as it were, upon the thoughts and emotions of another man he could +not recognise. This illusion involved his two companions also, Madame +Jaretzka supremely, Tony slightly less, all three, however, together +affected, all three changed.</p> + +<p>As regards himself, however, there was always a part, it seemed, that +remained unaffected. It looked on, it compared, it judged. He called it +the Onlooker.…</p> + +<p>Explanation lay beyond his reach; he termed it enchantment: and there he +left it. Insight seemed only to operate with regard to himself: of +<i>their</i> feelings, thoughts, or point of view he was uninformed. +They offered no explanations, and he sought none.… The man honest +with himself is more rare than a January swallow. He alone is honest who +can state a case without that bias of exaggeration favourable to himself +which is almost lying. Try as he may, his statement leans one way or the +other. The spirit-level of absolute honesty is hard to find, and, of +course, Tom was no exception.… Occasionally he recalled the +'spiral theory,' which once, at least, had been in the minds of all +three—the notion that their three souls lived over a former episode +together, but from a higher point, and with the bird's-eye view which +brought in understanding. But if this offered a hint of that winter's +inner spiritual structure, Tom certainly did not claim it as a true +solution. The whole thing began so stealthily, and progressed so slowly +yet so surely.…</p> + +<p>He could only marvel at himself: he was so singularly changed—imagination +so active, judgment alternately so positive and so faltering, every +emotion so amazingly intensified. All the weakest and least admirable in +him, the very dregs, seemed dragged up side by side with what was noblest, +highest, and flung together in the rush and smother of the breaking Wave.</p> + +<p>Events, in the dramatic meaning of the word, and outwardly, there were few +perhaps, and those few meagre and unsensational. No one was shot or +drowned, no one was hanged and quartered; the police were not called in; +to outsiders there seemed no air or attitude of drama anywhere; but in +three human hearts, thrown together as by chance currents of normal life, +there came to pass changes of a spiritual kind, conflict between +essential, primitive forces of the soul, battlings, temptings, +aspirations, sacrifice, that are the truest drama always, because the +inmost being, whether glorified or degraded, is thereby—changed.</p> + +<p>In this fierce intensification of his own being, and in the events +experienced, Tom recognised the rising of his childhood Wave towards the +breaking point. The early premonition that had seemed causeless to his +learned father, that stirred in his mother the deep instinct to protect, +and that ever, more or less, hung poised above the horizon of his passing +years, had its origin in the bed-rock of his nature. It was associated +with memory and instinct; the native tendencies and forces of his being +had dramatised their inevitable fulfilment in a dream. He recognised +intuitively what was coming—and he welcomed it. The body shrank from +pain; the soul held out her hands to it.…</p> + +<p>Thus, looking back, he saw it mapped below him from a higher curve in +life's ascending spiral. In the glare of a drenching sunshine that seemed +hauntingly familiar, in the stupendous blaze of Egypt that knew and +favoured it, the action lay spread out: but in darkness, too, an +oppressive, suffocating darkness as of the grave, as of the bottom of the +sea. The map was streaked with this alternate light and gloom of +elemental kind. It passed swiftly, he went swiftly with it. A few short +crowded weeks of the intensest pain and happiness he had ever known,—and +the Wave, its crest reflected in its origin, fell with a drowning crash. +He merged into his background, yet he did not drown: in due course he +again—emerged.</p> + +<p>The sense of rushing that accompanied it all was in himself apparently: +heightened by the contrast of the divine stillness which is Egypt—the +golden, hanging days, the nights of cool, soft moonlight, the sighing +winds with perfume in their breath, the mournful palms that fringed the +peaceful river, the calm of multitudinous stars. The grim Theban hills +looked on; the ruined Temples watched and knew; there were listening ears +within a thousand tombs.… And there was the Desert—the endless +emptiness where everything had already happened, the place where, +therefore, everything could happen again without affronting time and +space—the Desert seemed the infinite background whence the Wave tossed up +three little specks of passionate human action and reaction. It was the +'sea,' a sea of dust. Yet out of the dust wild roses blossomed eventually +with a sweetness of beauty unknown to any cultivated gardens.…</p> + +<p>And while he and his two companions made their moves upon this ancient +chessboard of half-forgotten, half-remembered life, all natural things as +well seemed raised to their most significant expression, sharing the joy +and sadness, the beauty and the terror of his own experience. For the +very scenery borrowed of his intensity, the familiar details urged a +fraction beyond the normal, as though any moment they must break down into +their elemental and essential nakedness. The pungent odour of the +universal sand, the dust, the minute golden particles suspended in the +flaming air, the marvellous dawns and sunsets, the mighty, awful pylons, +and the heat—all these contributed their quota of wonder and mystery to +what happened. Egypt inspired it, and was satisfied.</p> + +<p>The sediment of his nature was drawn up, the rubbish floated before his +eyes, he saw himself through the curtains of suspended dust—until the +flood, retiring, left him high upon the shore, no longer shuffling with +his earthly, physical feet.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>In the train to Assouan, Tom still felt the clinging arms about his neck, +still heard the loving voice, eager with tenderness for his welfare and +his quick return. She needed him: he was everything to her. He knew it, +oh he was sure of it. He thought of his work, and knew some slight +anxiety that he had neglected it. He would devote all his energies to the +interests of his firm: there should be no shirking anywhere; his ten +days' holiday was over. His mind fixed itself deliberately, though not +too easily, on this alone.</p> + +<p>He knew his own capacity, however, and that by concentration he could +accomplish in a short time what other men might ask weeks to complete. +Provided all was going well, he saw no reason why he could not be free +again in a week at most. He knew quite well his value to the firm, but he +knew also that he must continue to justify it. He was complacent, but, he +hoped, not carelessly complacent. Tom felt very sure of himself again.</p> + +<p>To his great relief he found things running smoothly. He examined every +detail, interviewed all and sundry, supervised, decided, gave +instructions. There was a letter from the London office conveying the +formal satisfaction of the Board with results so far, praising especially +certain reductions in cost he had judiciously effected; another private +letter from the older partner referred confidently to greater profits than +they had dared to anticipate; also there was a brief note from Sir +William, the Chairman, now at Salonica, saying he might run over a little +later and see for himself how the work was getting along.</p> + +<p>Tom was supremely happy with it all. There was really very little for him +to do; his engineers were highly competent; they could summon him at a +day's notice from Luxor if anything went wrong. 'But there's no sign of +difficulty, sir,' was their verdict; 'everything's going like clockwork; +the men working splendidly; it's only a matter of time.'</p> + +<p>It was the evening of the second day that Tom decided to go back to Luxor. +He was eager for the promised bivouac they had arranged together. +He had written once to say that all was well, but no word had yet come +from her; she was resting, he was glad to think: Tony was away at Cairo +with his friends; there might be a letter for him in the morning, but that +could be sent after him. Joy and impatience urged him. He chuckled +happily over his boyish plan; he would not announce himself; he would +surprise her. He caught a train that would get him in for dinner.</p> + +<p>And during his journey of six hours he rehearsed this pleasure of +surprising her. She was lonely without him. He visualised her delight +and happiness. He would creep up to the window, to the edge of the +verandah where she sat reading, Mrs. Haughstone knitting in a chair +opposite. He would call her name 'Lettice.…' Her eyes would +lighten, her manner change. That new spontaneous joy would show +itself.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The sun was setting when the train got in, but by the time he had changed +into flannels at his hotel the short dusk was falling. The entire western +sky was gold and crimson, the air was sharp, the light dry desert wind +blew shrewdly down the street. Behind the eastern hills rose a huge full +moon, still pale with daylight, peering wisely over the enormous spread of +luminous desert.… He drove to her house, leaving the <i>arabyieh</i> at +the gates. He walked quickly up the drive. The heavy foliage covered him +with shadows, and he easily reached the verandah unobserved; no one seemed +about; there was no sound of voices; the thick creepers up the wooden +pillars screened him admirably. There was a movement of a chair, his +heart began to thump, he climbed up softly, and at the other end of the +verandah saw—Mrs. Haughstone knitting. But there was no sign of +Lettice—and the blood rushed from his heart.</p> + +<p>He had not been noticed, but his game was spoilt. He came round to the +front steps and wished her politely a good-evening. Her surprise once +over and explanations made, she asked him, cordially enough, to stay to +dinner. 'Lettice, I know, would like it. You must be tired out. She did +not expect you back so soon; but she would never forgive me if I let you +go after them.'</p> + +<p>Tom heard the words as in a dream, and answered also in a dream—a dream +of astonishment, vexation, disappointment, none of them concealed. +His uneasiness returned in an acute, intensified form. For he learned +that they were bivouacking on the Nile to see the sunrise. Tony had, +after all, not gone to Cairo; de Lorne and Lady Sybil accompanied them. +It was the picnic they had planned together against his return. +'Lettice wrote,' Mrs. Haughstone mentioned, 'but the letter must have +missed you. I warned her you'd be disappointed—if you knew.'</p> + +<p>'So Tony didn't go to Cairo after all?' Tom asked again. His voice +sounded thin, less volume in it than usual. That 'if you knew' dropped +something of sudden anguish in his heart.</p> + +<p>'His friends put him off at the last moment—illness, he said, or +something.' Mrs. Haughstone repeated the invitation to dine and make +himself at home. 'I'm positive my cousin would like you to,' she added +with a certain emphasis.</p> + +<p>Tom thanked her. He had the impression there was something on her mind. +'I think I'll go after them,' he repeated, 'if you'll tell me exactly +where they've gone.' He stammered a little. 'It would be rather a lark, +I thought, to surprise them.' What foolish, what inadequate words!</p> + +<p>'Just as you like, of course. But I'm sure she's quite safe,' was the +bland reply. 'Mr. Winslowe will look after her.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, rather,' replied Tom; 'but it would be good fun—rather a joke, you +know—to creep upon them unawares,'—and then was surprised and sorry that +he said it. 'Have they gone very far?' he asked, fumbling for his +cigarettes.</p> + +<p>He learned that they had left after luncheon, taking with them all +necessary paraphernalia for the night. There were feelings in him that he +could not understand quite as he heard it. But only one thing was clear +to him—he wished to be quickly, instantly, where Lettice was. +It was comprehensible. Mrs. Haughstone understood and helped him. +'I'll send Mohammed to get you a boatman, as you seem quite determined,' +she said, ringing the bell: 'you can get there in an hour's ride. +I couldn't go,' she added, 'I really felt too tired. Mr. Winslowe was +here for lunch, and he exhausted us all with laughing so that I felt I'd +had enough. Besides, the sun——'</p> + +<p>'They all lunched here too?' asked Tom.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Winslowe only,' she mentioned, 'but he was a host in himself. +It quite exhausted me——'</p> + +<p>'Tony can be frightfully amusing, can't he, when he likes?' said Tom. +Her repetition of 'exhausted' annoyed him furiously for some reason.</p> + +<p>He saw her hesitate then: she began to speak, but stopped herself; there +was a curious expression in her face, almost of anxiety, he fancied. +He felt the kindness in her. She was distressed. And an impulse, whence +he knew not, rose in him to make her talk, but before he could find a +suitable way of beginning, she said with a kind of relief in her tone and +manner: 'I'm glad you're back again, Mr. Kelverdon.' She looked +significantly at him. 'Your influence is so steadying, if you don't mind +my saying so.' She gave an awkward little laugh, half of apology, half of +shyness, or of what passed with her for shyness. 'This climate—upsets +some of us. It does something to the blood, I'm sure——'</p> + +<p>'You feel anxious about—anything in particular?' Tom asked, with a +sinking heart. At any other time he would have laughed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haughstone shrugged her shoulders and sighed. She spoke with an +effort apparently, as though doubtful how much she ought to say. +'My cousin, after all, is—in a sense, at least—a married woman,' was the +reply, while Tom remembered that she had said the same thing once before. +'And all men are not as careful for her reputation, perhaps, as you are.' +She mentioned the names of various people in Luxor, and left the +impression that there was considerable gossip in the air. Tom disliked +exceedingly the things she said and the way she said them, but felt unable +to prevent her. He was angry with himself for listening, yet felt it +beyond him to change the conversation. He both longed to hear every word, +and at the same time dreaded it unspeakably. If only the boat would give +him quickly an excuse.… He therefore heard her to the end concerning +the unwisdom of Madame Jaretzka in her careless refusal to be more +circumspect, even—Mrs. Haughstone feared—to the point of compromising +herself. With whom? Why, with Mr. Winslowe, of course. Hadn't he +noticed it? No! Well, of course there was no harm in it, but it was a +mistake, she felt, to be seen about always with the same man. He called, +too, at such unusual hours.…</p> + +<p>And each word she uttered seemed to Tom exactly what he had expected her +to utter, entering his mind as a keenly poisoned shaft. Something already +prepared in him leaped swiftly to understanding; only too well he grasped +her meaning. The excitement in him passed into a feverishness that was +painful.</p> + +<p>For a long time he merely stood and listened, gazing across the river but +seeing nothing. He said no word. His impatience was difficult to +conceal, yet he concealed it.</p> + +<p>'Couldn't you give her a hint perhaps?' continued the other, as they +waited on the steps together, watching the preparations for the boat +below. She spoke with an assumed carelessness that was really a disguised +emphasis. 'She would take it from <i>you</i>, I'm sure. She means no harm; +there is no harm. We all know that. She told me herself it was only a +boy and girl affair. Still——'</p> + +<p>'<i>She</i> said that?' asked Tom. His tone was calm, even to indifference, +but his eyes, had she looked round, must certainly have betrayed him. +Luckily she kept her gaze upon the moon-lit river. She drew her knitted +shawl more closely round her. The cold air from the desert touched them +both. Tom shivered.</p> + +<p>'Oh, before you came out, that was,' she mentioned; and each word was a +separate stab in the centre of his heart. After a pause she went on: +'So you might say a little word to be more careful, if you saw your way. +Mr. Winslowe, you see, is a poor guide just now: he has so completely lost +his head. He's very impressionable—and very selfish—<i>I</i> think.'</p> + +<p>Tom was aware that he braced himself. Various emotions clashed within +him. He knew a dozen different pains, all equally piercing. It angered +him, besides, to hear Lettice spoken of in this slighting manner, for the +inference was unavoidable. But there hid below his anger a deep, dull +bitterness that tried angrily to raise its head. Something very ugly, +very fierce moved with it. He crushed it back.… A feeling of hot +shame flamed to his cheeks.</p> + +<p>'I should feel it an impertinence, Mrs. Haughstone,' he stammered at +length, yet confident that he concealed his inner turmoil. 'Your cousin— +I mean, all that she does is quite beyond reproach.'</p> + +<p>Her answer staggered him like a blow between the eyes.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Kelverdon—on the contrary. My cousin doesn't realise quite, I'm +sure—that she may cause <i>him</i> suffering. She won't listen to me, but you +could do it. <i>You</i> touch the mother in her.'</p> + +<p>It was a merciless, keen shaft—these last six words. The sudden truth of +them turned him into ice. He touched only the mother in her: the woman— +but the thought plunged out of sight, smothered instantly as by a granite +slab he set upon it. The actual thought was smothered, yes, but the +feeling struggled horribly for breath; and another inference, more deadly +than the first, stole with a freezing touch upon his soul.</p> + +<p>He turned round quietly and looked at his companion. 'By Jove,' he said, +with a laugh he believed was admirably natural, 'I believe you're right. +I'll give her a little hint—for Tony's sake.' He moved down the steps. +'Tony is so—I mean he so easily loses his head. It's quite absurd.'</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Haughstone did not laugh. 'Think it over,' she rejoined. +'You have excellent judgment. You may prevent a little disaster.' +She smiled and shook a warning finger. And Tom, feigning amusement as +best he might, murmured something in agreement and raised his helmet with +a playful flourish.</p> + +<p>Mohammed, soft of voice and moving like a shadow, called that the boat was +ready, and Tom prepared to go. Mrs. Haughstone accompanied him half-way +down the steps.</p> + +<p>'You won't startle them, will you, Mr. Kelverdon?' she said. 'Lettice, +you know, is rather easily frightened.' And she laughed a little. +'It's Egypt—the dry air—one's nerves——'</p> + +<p>Tom was already in the boat, where the Arab stood waiting in the moonlight +like a ghost.</p> + +<p>'Of course not,' he called up to her through the still air. But, none the +less, he meant to surprise her if he could. Only in his thought the +pronoun insisted, somehow, on the plural form.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0019"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> + + +<p>The boat swung out into mid-stream. Behind him the figure of Mrs. +Haughstone faded away against the bougainvillæa on the wall; in front, +Mohammed's head and shoulders merged with the opposite bank; beyond, the +spectral palms and the shadowy fields of clover slipped into the great +body of the moon-fed desert. The desert itself sank down into a hollow +that seemed to fling those dark Theban hills upwards—towards the stars.</p> + +<p>Everything, as it were, went into its background. Everything, animate and +inanimate, rose out of a common ultimate—the Sea. Yet for a moment only. +There was this sense of preliminary withdrawal backwards, as for a leap +that was to come.…</p> + +<p>He, too, felt merged with his own background. In his soul he knew the +trouble and tumult of the Wave—gathering for a surging rise to +follow.…</p> + +<p>For some minutes the sense of his own identity passed from him, and he +wondered who he was. 'Who am I?' would have been a quite natural +question. 'Let me see; I'm Kelverdon, Tom Kelverdon.' Of course! Yet he +felt that he was another person too. He lost his grip upon his normal +modern self a moment, lost hold of the steady, confident personality that +was familiar.… The voice of Mohammed broke the singular spell. +'Shicago, vair' good donkey. Yis, bes' donkey in Luxor—' and Tom +remembered that he had a ride of an hour or so before he could reach the +Temple of Deir El-Bahri where his friends were bivouacking. He tipped +Mohammed as he landed, mounted 'Chicago,' and started off impatiently, +then ran against little Mohammed coming back for a forgotten—kettle! +He laughed. Every third Arab seemed called Mohammed. But he learned +exactly where the party was. He sent his own donkey-boy home, and rode on +alone across the moon-lit plain.</p> + +<p>The wonder of the exquisite night took hold of him, searching his heart +beyond all power of language—the strange Egyptian beauty. The ancient +wilderness, so calm beneath the stars; the mournful hills that leaped to +touch the smoking moon; the perfumed air, the deep old river—each, and +all together, exhaled their innermost, essential magic. Over every +separate boulder spilt the flood of silver. There were troops of shadows. +Among these shadows, beyond the boulders, Isis herself, it seemed, went by +with audible footfall on the sand, secretly guiding his advance; Horus, +dignified and solemn, with hawk-wings hovering, and fierce, deathless +eyes—Horus, too, watched him lest he stumble.…</p> + +<p>On all sides he seemed aware of the powerful Egyptian gods, their +protective help, their familiar guidance. The deeps within him opened. +He had done this thing before.… Even the little details brought the +same lost message back to him, as the hoofs of his donkey shuffled through +the sand or struck a loose stone aside with metallic clatter. He heard +the lizards whistling.…</p> + +<p>There were other vaster emblems too, quite close. To the south, a little, +the shoulders of the Colossi domed awfully above the flat expanse, and +soon he passed the Ramesseum, the moon just entering the stupendous +aisles. He saw the silvery shafts beneath the huge square pylons. +On all sides lay the welter of prodigious ruins, steeped in a power and +beauty that seemed borrowed from the scale of the immeasurable heavens. +Egypt laid a great hand upon him, her cold wind brushed his cheeks. +He was aware of awfulness, of splendour, of all the immensities. +He was in Eternity; life was continuous throughout the ages; there was no +death.…</p> + +<p>He felt huge wings, and a hawk, disturbed by his passing, flapped silently +away to another broken pillar just beyond. He seemed swept forward, the +plaything of greater forces than he knew. There was no question of +direction, of resistance: the Wave rushed on and he rushed with it. +His normal simplicity disappeared in a complexity that bewildered him. +Very clear, however, was one thing—courage; that courage due to +abandonment of self. He would face whatever came. He needed it. +It was inevitable. Yes—this time he would face it without shuffling or +disaster.… For he recognised disaster—and was aware of blood.…</p> + +<p>Questions asked themselves in long, long whispers, but found no answers. +They emerged from that mothering background and returned into it +again.… Sometimes he rode alone, but sometimes Lettice rode beside +him: Tony joined them.… He felt them driven forward, all three +together, obedient to the lift of the same rising wave, urged onwards +towards a climax that was lost to sight, and yet familiar. He knew both +joy and shrinking, a delicious welcome that it was going to happen, yet a +dread of searing pain involved. A great fact lay everywhere about him in +the night, but a fact he could not seize completely. All his faculties +settled on it, but in vain—they settled on a fragment, while the rest lay +free, beyond his reach. Pain, which was a pain at nothing, filled his +heart; joy, which was joy without a reason, sang in him. The Wave rose +higher, higher… the breath came with difficulty… the wind was +icy… there was choking in his throat.…</p> + +<p>He noticed the same high excitement in him he had experienced a few nights +ago beneath the Karnak pylons—it ended later, he remembered, in the +menace of an unutterable loneliness. This excitement was wild with an +irresponsible hilarity that had no justification. He felt <i>exalté</i>. +The wave, he swinging in the crest of it, was going to break, and he knew +the awful thrill upon him before the dizzy, smothering plunge.</p> + +<p>The complex of emotions made clear thought impossible. To put two and two +together was beyond him. He felt the power that bore him along immensely +greater than himself. And one of the smaller, self-asking questions +issued from it: 'Was this what <i>she</i> felt? Was Tony also feeling this? +Were all three of them being swept along towards an inevitable climax?' +… This singular notion that none of them could help themselves +passed into him.…</p> + +<p>And then he realised from the slower pace of the animal beneath him that +the path was going uphill. He collected his thoughts and looked about +him. The forbidding cliffs that guard the grim Valley of the Kings, the +haunted Theban hills, stood up pale yellow against the stars. The big +moon, no longer smoking in the earthbound haze, had risen into the clear +dominion of the upper sky. And he saw the terraces and columns of the +Deir El-Bahri Temple facing him at the level of his eyes.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>Nothing bore clearer testimony to the half-unconscious method by which the +drama developed itself, to the deliberate yet uncalculated attitude of the +actors towards some inevitable fulfilment, than the little scene which +Tom's surprise arrival then discovered. According to the mood of the +beholder it could mean much or little, everything or nothing. It was so +nicely contrived between concealment and disclosure, and, like much else +that happened, seemed balanced exquisitely, if painfully, between guilt +and innocence. The point of view of the onlooker could alone decide. +At the same time it provided a perfect frame for another picture that +later took the stage. The stage seemed set for it exactly. The later +picture broke in and used it too. That is to say, two separate pictures, +distinct yet interfused, occupied the stage at once.</p> + +<p>For Tom, dismounting, and leaving his animal with the donkey-boys some +hundred yards away, approached stealthily over the sand and came upon the +picnic group before he knew it. He watched them a moment before he +announced himself. The scene was some feet below him. He looked down.</p> + +<p>Two minutes sooner, he might conceivably have found the party quite +differently grouped. Instead, however, his moment of arrival was exactly +timed as though to witness a scene set cleverly by the invisible Stage +Manager to frame two similar and yet different incidents.</p> + +<p>Tom leaned against a broken column, staring.</p> + +<p>Young de Lorne and Lady Sybil, he saw, were carefully admiring the +moonlight on the yellow cliffs. Miss de Lorne stooped busily over rugs +and basket packages. Her back was turned to Tony and Madame Jaretzka, who +were intimately engaged, their faces very close together, in the +half-prosaic, half-poetic act of blowing up a gipsy fire of scanty sticks +and crumpled paper. The entire picture seemed arranged as though intended +to convey a 'situation.' And to Tom a situation most certainly was +conveyed successfully, though a situation of which the two chief actors— +who shall say otherwise?—were possibly unconscious. For in that first +moment as he leaned against the column, gazing fixedly, the smoking sticks +between them burst into a flare of sudden flame, setting the two faces in +a frame of bright red light, and Tom, gazing upon them from a distance of +perhaps some twenty yards saw them clearly, yet somehow did not—recognise +them. Another picture thrust itself between: he watched a scene that lay +deep below him. Through the soft blaze of that Egyptian moonlight, across +the silence of that pale Egyptian desert, beneath those old Egyptian +stars, there stole upon him some magic which is deathless, though its +outer covenants have vanished from the world.… Down, down he sank +into the forgotten scenes whence it arose. Smothered in sand, it seemed, +he heard the centuries roar past him.…</p> + +<p>He saw two other persons kneeling above that fire on the desert floor, two +persons familiar to him, yet whom he could not wholly recognise. In that +amazing second, while his heart stopped beating, it seemed as if thought +in anguish cried aloud: 'So, there you are! I have the proof!' while yet +all verification of the tragic 'you' remained just out of reach and +undisclosed.</p> + +<p>He did not recognise two persons whom he knew, while yet some portion of +him keenly, fiercely searching, dived back into the limbo of unremembered +time.… A thin blue smoke rose before his face, and to his nostrils +stole a delicate perfume as of ambra. It was a picnic fire no longer. +It was an Eastern woman he saw lean forward across the gleam of a golden +brazier and yield a kiss to the lips of a man who claimed it passionately. +He saw her small hands folded and clinging about his neck. The face of +the man he could not see, the head and shoulders being turned away, but +hers he saw clearly—the dark, lustrous eyes that shone between +half-closed eyelids. They were highly placed in life, these two, for +their aspect as their garments told it; the man, indeed, had gold about +him somewhere and the woman, in her mien, wore royalty. Yet, though he +but saw their hands and heads alone, he knew instinctively that, if not +regal, they were semi-regal, and set beyond his reach in power natural to +them both. They were high-born, the favoured of the world. Inferiority +was his who watched them, the helpless inferiority of subordinate +position. That, too, he knew… for a gasp of terror, though quickly +smothered terror, rose vividly behind an anger that could gladly—kill.</p> + +<p>There was a flash of fiery and intolerable pain within him.…</p> + +<p>The next second he saw merely—Lettice!—blowing the smoke from her face +and eyes, with an impatient little gesture of both hands, while in front +of her knelt Tony—fanning a reluctant fire of sticks and paper with his +old felt hat.</p> + +<p>He had been gazing at a coloured bubble, the bubble had burst into air and +vanished, the entire mood and picture vanished with it—so swiftly, so +instantaneously, moreover, that Tom was ready to deny the entire +experience.</p> + +<p>Indeed, he did deny it. He refused to credit it. It had been, surely, a +feeling rather than a sight. But the feeling having utterly vanished, he +discredited the sight as well. The fiery pain had vanished too. He found +himself watching the semi-comical picture of de Lorne and Lady Sybil +flirting in dumb action, and Tony and Lettice trying to make a fire +without the instinct or ability to succeed. And, incontinently, he burst +out laughing audibly.</p> + +<p>Yet, apparently, his laughter was not heard; he had made no actual sound. +There was, instead, a little scream, a sudden movement, a scurrying of +feet among the sand and stones, and Lettice and Tony rose upon one single +impulse, as once before he had seen them rise in Karnak weeks ago. +They stood up like one person. They looked about them into the +surrounding shadows, disturbed, afflicted, yet as though they were not +certain they had heard… and then, abruptly, the figure of Tony went +out… it disappeared. How, precisely, was not clear, but it was gone +into the darkness.…</p> + +<p>And another picture—or another aspect of the first—dropped into place. +There was an outline of a shadowy tent. The flap was stirring lightly, as +though behind it some one hid—and watched. He could not tell. A deep +confusion, as of two pictures interfused, was in him. For somehow he +transferred his own self—was it physical desire? was it spiritual +yearning? was it love?—projected his own self into the figure that had +kissed her, taking her own passionate kiss in return. He actually +experienced it. He did this thing. He had done it—once before! +Knowing himself beside her, he both did it and saw himself doing it. +He was both actor and onlooker.…</p> + +<p>There poured back upon him then, sweet and poignant, his love of an +Egyptian woman, the fragrance of remembered tresses, the perfume of fair +limbs that clung and of arms that lingered round his neck—yet that in the +last moment slipped from his full possession. He was on his knees before +her; he gazed up into her ardent eyes, set in a glowing face above his +own; the face bent lower; he raised two slender hands, the fingers +henna-stained, and pressed them to his lips. He felt their silken +texture, the fragile pressure, her breath upon his face—yet all sharply +withdrawn again before he captured them completely. There was the odour +of long-forgotten unguents, sweet with a tang that sharpened them towards +desire in days that knew a fiercer sunlight.… His brain went +reeling. The effort to keep one picture separate from the other broke +them both. He could not disentangle, could not distinguish. +They intermingled. He was both the figure hidden behind the tent and the +figure who held the woman in his arms. What his heart desired became, it +seemed, that which happened.…</p> + +<p>And then the flap of the tent flung open, and out rushed a violent, +leaping outline—the figure of a man. Another—it seemed himself—rushed +to meet him. There was a gleam, a long deep cry.… A woman, with +arms outstretched, knelt close beside the struggling figures on the sand. +He saw two huge, dark, muscular hands about a bent and yielding neck, +blood oozing thickly between the gripping fingers, staining them… +then sudden darkness that blacked out the entire scene, and a choking +effort to find breath.… But it was his own breath that failed, +choked as by blood and fire that broke into his own throat.… +Smothered in sand, the centuries roared past him, died away into the +distance, sank back into the interminable desert.… He found his +voice this time. He shouted.</p> + +<p>He saw again—Lettice, blowing the smoke from her face and eyes with an +impatient little gesture of both hands, while Tony knelt in front of her +and fanned a reluctant fire with his old felt hat. The picture—the +second picture—had been instantaneous. It had not lasted a fraction of a +second even.</p> + +<p>He shouted. And this time his voice was audible. Lettice and Tony stood +up, as though a single person rose. Both turned in the direction of the +sound. Then Tony moved off quickly. Tom's vision had interpenetrated +this very action even while it was actually taking place—the first time.</p> + +<p>'Why—I do declare—if it isn't—Tom!' he heard in a startled woman's +voice.</p> + +<p>He came down towards her slowly. Something of the 'pictures' still swam +in between what was next said and done. It seemed in the atmosphere, +pervading the three of them. But it was weakening, passing away quickly. +For one moment, however, before it passed, it became overpowering again.</p> + +<p>'But, Tom—is this a joke, or what? You frightened me,'—she gave a horrid +gasp—'nearly to death! You've come back——!'</p> + +<p>'It's a surprise,' he cried, trying to laugh, though his lips were dry and +refused the effort. 'I have surprised you. I've come back!'</p> + +<p>He heard the gasp prolonged. Breathing seemed difficult. Some deep +distress was in her. Yet, in place of pity, exultation caught him oddly. +The next instant he felt suddenly afraid. There was confusion in his +soul. For it was <i>he and she</i>, it seemed, who had been 'surprised and +caught.' And her voice called shrilly:</p> + +<p>'Tony! Tony…!'</p> + +<p>There was amazement in the sound of it—terror, relief, and passion too. +The thin note of fear and anguish broke through the natural call. +Then, as Tony came running up, a few sticks in his big hands—she +screamed, yet with failing breath:</p> + +<p>'Oh, oh…! Who <i>are</i> you…?'</p> + +<p>For the man she summoned came, but came too swiftly. Moving with +uncertain gait, he yet came rapidly—terribly, somehow, and with +violence. Instantaneously, it seemed, he covered the intervening space. +In the calm, sweet moonlight, beneath the blaze of the steady stars, he +suddenly was—there, upon that patch of ancient desert sand. He looked +half unearthly. The big hands he held outspread before him glistened a +little in the shimmer of the moon. Yet they were dark, and they seemed +menacing. They threatened—as with some power he meant to use, because it +was his right. But the gleam upon them was not of swarthy skin alone. +The gleam, the darkness, were of blood.… There was a cry again—a +sound of anguish almost intolerable.…</p> + +<p>And the same instant Tom felt the clasp of his cousin's hand upon his own, +and heard his jolly voice with easy, natural laughter in it: 'But, Tom, +old chap, how ripping! You're really back! This <i>is</i> a grand surprise! +It's splendid!'</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>There was nothing that called upon either his courage or control. +They were overjoyed to see him, the surprise he provided proved indeed the +success of the evening.</p> + +<p>'I thought at first you were Mohammed with the kettle,' exclaimed Madame +Jaretzka, coming close to make quite sure, and murmuring quickly— +nervously as well, he thought—'Oh, Tom, I <i>am</i> so glad,' beneath her +breath. 'You're just in time—we all wanted you so.'</p> + +<p>Explanations followed; Tony's friends had postponed the Cairo trip at the +last moment; the picnic had been planned as a rehearsal for the real one +that was to follow later. Tom's adroitness in finding them was praised; +he became the unwilling hero of the piece, and as such had to make the +fire a success and prove himself generally the <i>clou</i> of the party that +hitherto was missing. He became at once the life and centre of the little +group, gay and in the highest spirits, the emotion accumulated in him +discharging itself in the entirely unexpected direction of hilarious fun +and gaiety.</p> + +<p>The sense of tragedy he had gathered on his journey, if it muttered at +all, muttered out of sight. He looked back upon his feelings of an hour +before with amazement, dismay, distress—then utterly forgot them. +The picture itself—the vision—was as though it had not been at all. +What, in the name of common sense, had possessed him that he could ever +have admitted such preposterous uneasiness? He thought of Mrs. +Haughstone's absurd warnings with a sharp contempt, and felt his spirits +only rise higher than before. She was meanly suspicious about nothing. +Of course he would give Lettice a hint: why not, indeed? He would give it +then and there before them all and hear them laugh about it till they +cried. And he would have done so, doubtless, but that he realised the +woman's jealousy was a sordid topic to introduce into so gay a party.</p> + +<p>'You arrived in the nick of time, Tom,' Lettice told him. 'We were +beginning to feel the solemnity of these surroundings, the awful Tombs of +the Kings and Priests and people. Those cliffs are too oppressive for a +picnic.'</p> + +<p>'A fact,' cried Tony. 'It feels like sacrilege. They resent us being +here.' He glanced at Madame Jaretzka as he said it. 'If you hadn't come, +Tom, I'm sure there'd have been a disaster somewhere. Anyhow, one must +feel superstitious to enjoy a place like this. It's the proper +atmosphere!'</p> + +<p>Lettice looked up at Tom, and added, 'You've really saved us. The least +we can do is to worship the sun the moment he gets up. We'll adore old +Amon-Ra. It's obvious. We must!'</p> + +<p>They made themselves merry over a rather sandy meal. She arranged a place +for him close beside her, and her genuine pleasure at his unexpected +return filled him with a joy that crowded out even the memory of other +emotions. The mixture called Tom Kelverdon asserted itself: he felt +ashamed; he heartily despised his moods, wondering whence they came so +strangely. Tony himself was quiet and affectionate. If anything was +lacking, Tom's high spirits carried him too boisterously to notice it. +Otherwise he might possibly have thought that she spoke a little sharply +once or twice to Tony, neglecting him in a way that was not quite her +normal way, and that to himself, even before the others, she was +unusually—almost too emphatically—dear and tender. Indeed, she seemed +so pleased he had come that a cynical observer, cursed with an acute, +experienced mind, might almost have thought she showed something not far +from positive relief. But Tom, too happy to be sensitive to shades of +feminine conduct, was aware chiefly, if not solely, of his own joy and +welcome.</p> + +<p>'You didn't get my letter, then, before you left?' she asked him once; and +he replied, 'The answer, as in Parliament, is in the negative. But it +will be forwarded all right.' He would get it the following night. +'Ah, but you mustn't read it <i>now</i>,' she said. 'You must tear it up +unread,' and made him promise faithfully he would obey. '<i>I</i> wrote to you +too,' mentioned Tony, as though determined to be left out of nothing. +'You'll get it at the same time. But you mustn't tear mine up, remember. +It's full of advice and wisdom you badly need.' And Tom promised that +faithfully as well. The reply was in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>The bivouac was a complete success; all looked back upon it as an +unforgettable experience. They declared, of course, they had not slept a +wink, yet all had snored quite audibly beneath the wheeling stars. +They were fresh and lively enough, certainly, when the sun poured his +delicious warmth across the cloudless sky, while Tom and Tony made the +fire and set the coffee on for breakfast.</p> + +<p>Of the marvellous beauty that preceded the actual sunrise no one spoke; it +left them breathless rather; they watched the sky beyond the hills +change colour; great shafts of gold transfixed the violet heavens; the +Nile shone faintly; then, with a sudden drive, the stars rushed backwards +in a shower, and the amazing sun came up as with a shout. Perfumes that +have no name rose from the desert and the fields along the distant river +banks. The silence deepened, for no birds sang. Light took the world— +and it was morning.</p> + +<p>And when the donkey-boys arrived at eight o'clock, the party were slow in +starting: it was so pleasant to lie and bask in the sumptuous bath of heat +and light that drenched them. The night had been chilly enough. +They were a tired party. Once home again, all retired with one accord to +sleep, remaining invisible until the sun was slanting over Persia and the +Indian Ocean, gilding the horizon probably above the starry skies of far +Cathay.</p> + +<p>But as Tom dozed off behind the shuttered windows in the hotel towards +eleven o'clock, having bathed and breakfasted a second time, he thought +vaguely of what Mrs. Haughstone had said to him a few hours before. +It seemed days ago already. He was too drowsy to hold the thought more +than a moment in his mind, much less to reflect upon it. 'It may be just +as well to give a hint,' occurred to him. 'Tony <i>is</i> a bit too fond of +her—too fond for his happiness, perhaps.' Nothing had happened at the +picnic to revive the notion; it just struck him as he fell asleep, then +vanished; it was a moment's instinct. The vision—it had been an +instantaneous flash after all and nothing more—had left his mind +completely for the time.</p> + +<p>But Tom looked back afterwards upon the all-night bivouac as an occasion +marked specially in memory's calendar, yet for a reason that was unlike +the reasons his companions knew. He remembered it with mingled joy and +pain, also with a wonder that he could have been so blind—the last night +of happiness in his brief Egyptian winter.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0020"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> + + +<p>He slept through the hot hours of the afternoon. In the cool of the +evening, as he strolled along the river bank, he read the few lines +Lettice had written to him at Assouan. For the porter had handed him +half-a-dozen letters as he left the hotel. Tony's he put for the moment +aside; the one from Lettice was all he cared about, quite forgetting he +had promised to tear it up unread. It was short but tender—anxious about +his comfort and well-being in a strange hotel 'when I am not there to take +care of you.' It ended on a complaint that she was 'tired rather and +spending my time at full length on a deck-chair in the garden.' +She promised to write 'at greater length to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'Instead of which,' thought Tom with a boy's delight, 'I surprised her and +we talked face to face.' But for the Arab touts who ran beside him, +offering glass beads made in Birmingham, he could have kissed the letter +there and then.</p> + +<p>The resplendent gold on the river blinded him, he was glad to enter the +darker street and shake off the children who pestered him for bakshish. +Passing the Savoy Hotel, he hesitated a moment, then went on. 'No, I won't +call in for Tony; I'll find her alone, and we'll have a cosy little talk +together before the others come.' He quickened his pace, entered the +shady garden, discovered her instantly, and threw himself down upon the +cushions beside her deck-chair. 'Just what I hoped,' he said, with +pleasure and admiration in his eyes, 'alone at last. That is good luck— +isn't it, Lettice?'</p> + +<p>'Of course,' she agreed, and smiled lazily, though some might have thought +indifferently, as she watched him arranging the cushions. +He flung himself back and gazed at her. She wore a dress of palest yellow, +and the broad-brimmed hat with the little roses. She seemed part of the +flaming sunset and the tawny desert.</p> + +<p>'Well,' he grumbled playfully, 'it is true, isn't it? Our not being alone +often, I mean?' He watched her without knowing that he did so.</p> + +<p>'In a way—yes,' she said. 'But we can't have everything at once, can we, +Tom?' Her voice was colourless perhaps. A tiny frown settled for an +instant between her eyes, then vanished. Tom did not notice it. +She sighed. 'You baby, Tom. I spoil you dreadfully, and you know I do.'</p> + +<p>He liked her in this quiet, teasing mood; it was often the prelude to +more delightful spoiling. He was in high spirits. 'You look as fresh as +a girl of sixteen, Lettice,' he declared. 'I believe you're only this +instant out of your bath and bed. D'you know, I slept like a baby too— +the whole afternoon——'</p> + +<p>He interrupted himself, for at that moment a cigarette-case on the sand +beside him caught his eye. He picked it up—he recognised it. 'Yes—I +wish you'd smoke,' she said the same instant, brushing a fly quickly from +her cheek.</p> + +<p>'Tony's,' he exclaimed, examining the case.</p> + +<p>He noticed at the same time several burnt matches between his cushions and +her chair.</p> + +<p>'But he'd love you to smoke them: I'll take the responsibility.' +She laughed quietly. 'I'm sure they're good—better than yours; he's +wickedly extravagant.' She watched him as he took one out, examining the +label critically, then lighting it slowly and inhaling the smoke to taste +it. There was a faint perfume that clung to the case and its contents. +'Ambra,' said Lettice, a kind of watchful amusement in her eyes. +'You don't like it!'</p> + +<p>Tom looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>'Is that it? I didn't know.'</p> + +<p>She nodded. 'It's Tony's smell; haven't you noticed it? He always has +it about him. No, no,' she laughed, noticing his expression of +disapproval, 'he doesn't use it. It's just in his atmosphere, I mean.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, is it?' said Tom.</p> + +<p>'I rather like it,' she went on idly, 'but I never can make out where it +comes from. We call it ambra—the fragrance that hangs about the bazaars: +I believe they used it for the mummies; but the desert perfume is in it +too. It's rather wonderful—it suits him—don't you think? Penetrating, +and so delicate.'</p> + +<p>What a lot she had to say about it! He made no reply. He was looking +down to see what caused him that sudden, inexplicable pain—and discovered +that the lighted match had burned his fingers. The next minute he looked +up again—straight into her eyes.</p> + +<p>But, somehow, he did not say exactly what he meant to say. He said, in +fact, something that occurred to him on the spur of the moment. His mind +was simple, possibly, yet imps occasionally made use of it. An imp just +then reminded him: 'Her letter made no mention of the picnic, of Tony's +sudden change of plan, yet it was written yesterday morning when both were +being arranged.'</p> + +<p>So Tom did not refer to the ambra perfume, nor to the fact that Tony had +spent the afternoon with her. He said quite another thing—said it rather +bluntly too: 'I've just got your letter from Assouan, Lettice, and I clean +forgot my promise that I wouldn't read it.' He paused a second. +'You said nothing about the picnic in it.'</p> + +<p>'I thought you'd be disappointed if you knew,' she replied at once. +'That's why I didn't want you to read it.' And she fell to scolding him +in the way he usually loved,—but at the moment found less stimulating for +some reason. He smoked his stolen cigarette with energy for a measurable +period.</p> + +<p>'You're the spoilt child, not I,' he said at length, still looking at her. +'You said you were tired and meant to rest, and then you go for an +exhausting expedition instead.'</p> + +<p>The tiny frown reappeared between her eyes, lingered a trifle longer than +before, and vanished. She made a quick gesture. 'You're in a very nagging +mood, Tom; bivouacs don't agree with you.' She spoke lightly, easily, in +excellent good temper really. 'It was Tony persuaded me, if you want to +know the truth. He found himself free unexpectedly; he was so persistent; +it's impossible to resist him when he's like that—the only thing is to +give in and go.'</p> + +<p>'Of course.' Tom's face was like a mask. He thought so, at least, as he +laughed and agreed with her, saying Tony was an unscrupulous rascal at the +best of times. Apparently there was a struggle in him; he seemed in two +minds. 'Was he here this afternoon?' he asked. He learned that Tony had +come at four o'clock and had tea with her alone. 'We didn't telephone +because he said it would only spoil your sleep, and that a man who works +as well as plays must sleep—longer than a younger man.' Then, as Tom +said nothing, she added, 'Tony <i>is</i> such a boy, isn't he?'</p> + +<p>There were several emotions in Tom just then. He hardly knew which was +the true, or at least, the dominant one. He was thinking of several +things at once too: of her letter, of that faint peculiar odour, of Tony's +coming to tea, but chiefly, perhaps, of the fact that Lettice had not +mentioned it,—but that he had found it out.… His heart sank. +It struck him suddenly that the mother in her sought to protect him from +the pain the woman gave.</p> + +<p>'Is he—yes,' he said absent-mindedly. And she repeated quietly, +'Oh, I think so.'</p> + +<p>The brief eastern twilight had meanwhile fallen, and the rapidly cooling +air sighed through the foliage. It grew darker in their shady corner. +The western sky was still a blaze of riotous colour, however, that +filtered through the trees and shed a luminous glow upon their faces. +It was a bewitching light—there was something bewitching about Lettice as +she lay there. Tom himself felt a touch of that deep Egyptian +enchantment. It stole in among his thoughts and feelings, colouring +motives, lifting into view, as from far away, moods that he hardly +understood and yet obeyed because they were familiar.</p> + +<p>This evasive sense of familiarity, both welcome and unwelcome, swept in, +dropped a fleeting whisper, and was gone again. He felt himself for an +instant—some one else: one Tom felt and spoke, while another Tom looked +on and watched, a calm, outside spectator. And upon his heart came a +touch of that strange, rich pain that was never very far away in Egypt.</p> + +<p>'I say, Lettice,' he began suddenly, as though he came to an abrupt +decision. 'This is an awful place for talk—these Luxor hotels——' +He stuck. 'Isn't it? You know what I mean.' His laborious manner +betrayed intensity, yet he meant to speak lightly, easily, and thought his +voice was merely natural. He stared hard at the glowing tip of his +cigarette.</p> + +<p>Lettice looked across at him without speaking for a moment. Her eyelids +were half closed. He felt her gaze and raised his own. He saw the smile +steal down towards her lips.</p> + +<p>'Tom, why are you glaring at me?'</p> + +<p>He started. He tried to smile, but there was no smile in him.</p> + +<p>'Was I, Lettice? Forgive me.' The talk that was coming would hurt him, +yet somehow he desired it. He would give his little warning and take the +consequences. 'I was devouring your beauty, as the <i>Family Herald</i> says.' +He heard himself utter a dry and unconvincing laugh. Something was rising +through him; it was beyond control; it had to come. He felt stupid, +awkward, and was angry with himself for being so. For, somehow, at the +same time he felt powerless too.</p> + +<p>She came to the point with a directness that disconcerted him. +'Who has been talking about me?' she enquired, her voice hardening a +little; 'and what does it matter if they have?'</p> + +<p>Tom swallowed. There was something about her beauty in that moment that +set him on fire from head to foot. He knew a fierce desire to seize her +in his arms, hold her for ever and ever—lest she should escape him.</p> + +<p>But he was unable to give expression in any way to what was in him. +All he did was to shift his cushions slightly farther from her side.</p> + +<p>'It's always wiser—safer—not to be seen about too much with the same +man—alone,' he fumbled, recalling Mrs. Haughstone's words, 'in a place +like this, I mean,' he qualified it. It sounded foolish, but he could +evolve no cleverer way of phrasing it. He went on quicker, a touch of +nervousness in his voice he tried to smother: 'No one can mistake <i>our</i> +relationship, or think there's anything wrong in it.' He stopped a +second, as she gazed at him in silence, waiting for him to finish. +'But Tony,' he concluded, with a gulp he prayed she did not notice, 'Tony +is a little——'</p> + +<p>'Well?' she helped him, 'a little what?'</p> + +<p>'A little different, isn't he?'</p> + +<p>Tom realised that he was producing the reverse of what he intended. +Somehow the choice of words seemed forced upon him. He was aware of his +own helplessness; he felt almost like a boy scolding his own wise, +affectionate mother. The thought stung him into pain, and with the pain +rose, too, a first distant hint of anger. The turmoil of feeling confused +him. He was aware—by her silence chiefly—of the new distance between +them, a distance the mention of Tony had emphasised. Instinctively he +tried to hide both pain and anger—it could only increase this distance +that was already there. At the same time he saw red.… Her answer, +then, so gently given, baffled him absurdly. He felt out of his depth.</p> + +<p>'I'll be more careful, Tom, dear—you wise, experienced chaperone.'</p> + +<p>The words, the manner, stung him. Another emotion, wounded vanity, came +into play. To laugh at himself was natural and right, but to be laughed +at by a woman, a woman whom he loved, whom he regarded as exclusively his +own, against whom, moreover, he had an accumulating grievance—it hurt him +acutely, although he seemed powerless to prevent it. He felt his own +stupidity increase.</p> + +<p>'It's just as well, I think, Lettice.' It was the wrong, the hopeless +thing to say, but the words seemed, in a sense, pushed quickly out of his +mouth lest he should find better ones. He anticipated, too, her +exasperation before her answer proved it: 'But, really, Tom, you know, I +can look after myself rather well as a rule—don't you think?'</p> + +<p>He interrupted her then, a mixture of several feelings in him—shame, the +pain of frustrate yearning, perversity too. For, in spite of himself, he +wanted to hear how she would speak of Tony. He meant to punish himself by +hearing her praise him. He, too, meant to speak well of his cousin.</p> + +<p>'He's a bit careless, though,' he blurted, 'irresponsible, in a way—where +women are concerned. I'm sure he means no harm, of course, but——' +He paused in confusion, he was no longer afraid that harm might come to +Tony; he was afraid for her, but now also for himself as well.</p> + +<p>'Tom, I do believe you're jealous!'</p> + +<p>He laughed boisterously when he heard it. It was really comical, absurdly +comical, of course. It sounded, too, the way she said it—ugly, mean, +contemptible. The touch of shame came back.</p> + +<p>'Lettice! But what an idea!' He gasped, turning round upon his other +elbow, closer to her. But the sinking of his heart increased; he felt an +inner cold. And a moment of deep silence followed the empty laughter. +The rustle of the foliage alone was audible.</p> + +<p>Lettice looked down sideways at him through half-closed eyelids; propped +on his cushions beside her, this was natural: yet he felt it mental as +well as physical. There was pity in her attitude, a concealed +exasperation, almost contempt. At the same time he realised that she had +never seemed so adorably lovely, so exquisite, so out of his reach. +He had never felt her so seductively desirable. He made an impetuous +gesture towards her before he knew it.</p> + +<p>'Don't, Tom; you'll upset my papers and everything,' she said calmly, yet +with the merest suspicion of annoyance in her tone. She was very gentle, +she was also very cold—cold as ice, he felt her, while he was burning as +with fire. He was aware of this unbridgeable distance between his passion +and her indifference; and a dreadful thought leaped up in him with +stabbing pain: 'Her answer to Tony would have been quite otherwise.'</p> + +<p>'I'm sorry, Lettice—so sorry,' he said brusquely, to hide his +mortification. 'I'm awfully clumsy.' She was putting her papers tidy +again with calm fingers, while his own were almost cramped with the energy +of suppressed desire. 'But, seriously,' he went on, refusing the rebuff +by pretending it was play on his part, 'it isn't very wise to be seen +about so much alone with Tony. Believe me, it isn't.' For the first +time, he noticed, it was difficult to use the familiar and affectionate +name. But for a sense of humour he could have said 'Anthony.'</p> + +<p>'I do believe you, Tom. I'll be more careful.' Her eyes were very soft, +her manner quiet, her gentle tone untinged with any emotion. Yet Tom +detected, he felt sure, a certain eagerness behind the show of apparent +indifference. She liked to talk—to go on talking—about Tony. 'Do you +<i>really</i> think so, really mean it?' he heard her asking, and thus knew his +thought confirmed. She invited more. And, with open eyes, with a curious +welcome even to the pain involved, Tom deliberately stepped into the cruel +little trap. But he almost felt that something pushed him in. He talked +exactly like a boy: 'He—he's got a peculiar power with women,' he said. +'I can't make it out quite. He's not good-looking—exactly—is he?' +It was impossible to conceal his eagerness to know exactly what she did +feel.</p> + +<p>'There's a touch of genius in him,' she answered. 'I don't think looks +matter so much—I mean, with women.' She spoke with a certain restraint, +not deliberately saying less than she thought, but yet keeping back the +entire truth. He suddenly realised a relationship between her and Tony +into which he was not admitted. The distance between them increased +visibly before his very eyes.</p> + +<p>And again, out of a hundred things he wanted to say, he said—as though +compelled to—another thing.</p> + +<p>'Rather!' he burst out honestly. 'I should hate it if—you hadn't liked +him.' But a week ago he would have phrased this differently—'If <i>he</i> had +not liked you.'</p> + +<p>There were perceptible pauses between their sentences now, pauses that for +him seemed breaking with a suspense that was painful, almost cruel. +He knew worse was coming. He both longed for it yet dreaded it. He felt +at her mercy, in her power somehow.</p> + +<p>'It's odd,' she went on slowly, 'but in England I thought him stupid +rather, whereas out here he's changed into another person.'</p> + +<p>'I think we've all changed—somehow,' Tom filled the pause, and was going +to say more when she interrupted.</p> + +<p>She kept the conversation upon Tony. 'I shall never forget the day he +walked in here first. It was the week I arrived. You'll laugh, Tom, when +I tell you——' She hesitated—almost it seemed on purpose.</p> + +<p>'How was it? How did he look?' The forced indifference of the tone +betrayed his anxiety.</p> + +<p>'Well, he's not impressive exactly—is he?—as a rule. That little +stoop—and so on. But I saw his figure coming up the path before I +recognised who it was, and I thought suddenly of an Egyptian, almost an +old Pharaoh, walking.'</p> + +<p>She broke off with that little significant laugh Tom knew so well. +But, comical though the picture might have been—Tony walking like a +king,—Tom did not laugh. It was not ludicrous, for it was somewhere +true. He remembered the singular inner mental picture he had seen above +the desert fire, and the pain within him seemed the forerunner of some +tragedy that watched too close upon his life. But, for another and more +obvious reason, he could not laugh; for he heard the admiration in her +voice, and it was upon that his mind fastened instantly. His observation +was so mercilessly sharp. He hated it. Where was his usual slowness +gone? Why was his blood so quickly apprehensive?</p> + +<p>She kept her eyes fixed steadily on his, saying what followed gently, +calmly, yet as though another woman spoke the words. She stabbed him, +noting the effect upon him with a detached interest that seemed +indifferent to his pain. Something remote and ancient stirred in her, +something that was not of herself To-day, something half primitive, half +barbaric.</p> + +<p>'It may have been the blazing light,' she went on, 'the half-savage effect +of these amazing sunsets—I cannot say,—but I saw him in a sheet of gold. +There was gold about him, I mean, as though he wore it—and when he came +close there was that odd, faint perfume, half of the open desert and half +of ambra, as we call it——' Again she broke off and hesitated, leaving +the impression there was more to tell, but that she could not say it. +She kept back much. Into the distance now established between them Tom +felt a creeping sense of cold, as of the chill desert wind that follows +hard upon the sunset. Her eyes still held him steadily. He seemed more +and more aware of something merciless in her.</p> + +<p>He sat and gazed at her—at a woman he loved, a woman who loved him, but a +woman who now caused him pain deliberately because something beyond +herself compelled. Her tenderness lay inactive, though surely not +forgotten. She, too, felt the pain. Yet with her it was in some odd +way—impersonal.… Tom, hopelessly out of his depth, swept onward by +this mighty wave behind all three of them, sat still and watched her— +fascinated, even terrified. Her eyelids were half closed again. +Another look stole up into her face, driving away the modern beauty, +replacing its softness, tenderness with another expression he could not +fathom. Yet this new expression was somehow, too, half recognisable. +It was difficult to describe—a little sterner, a little wilder, a faint +emphasis of the barbaric peering through it. It was darker. She looked +eastern. Almost, he saw her visibly change—here in the twilight of the +little Luxor garden by his side. Distance increased remorselessly between +them. She was far away, yet ever close at the same time. He could not +tell whether she was going away from him or coming nearer. The shadow of +tragedy fell on him from the empty sky.…</p> + +<p>In his bewilderment he tried to hold steady and watch, but the soul in him +rushed backwards. He felt, but could not think. The wave surged under +him. Various impulses urged him into a pouring flood of words; yet he +gave expression to none of them. He laughed a little dry, short laugh. +He heard himself saying lightly, though with apparent lack of interest: +'How curious, Lettice, how very odd! What made him look like that?'</p> + +<p>But he knew her answer would mean pain. It came just as he expected:</p> + +<p>'He <i>is</i> wonderful—out here—quite different——' Another minute and she +would have added 'I'm different, too.' But Tom interrupted hurriedly:</p> + +<p>'Do you always see him—like that—now? In a sheet of gold—with beauty?' +His tongue was so hot and dry against his lips that he almost stammered.</p> + +<p>She nodded, her eyelids still half closed. She lay very quiet, peering +down at him. 'It lasts?' he insisted, turning the knife himself.</p> + +<p>'You'll laugh when I tell you something more,' she went on, making a +slight gesture of assent, 'but I felt such joy in myself—so wild and +reckless—that when I got to my room that night I danced—danced alone +with all my clothes off.'</p> + +<p>'Lettice!'</p> + +<p>'The spontaneous happiness was like a child's—a sort of freedom feeling. +I <i>had</i> to shake my clothes off simply. I wanted to shake off the walls +and ceiling too, and get out into the open desert. Tom—I felt out of +myself in a way—as though I'd escaped—into—into quite different +conditions——'</p> + +<p>She gave details of the singular mood that had come upon her with the +arrival of Tony, but Tom hardly heard her. Only too well he knew the +explanation. The touch of ecstasy was no new thing, although its +manifestation may have been peculiar. He had known it himself in his own +lesser love affairs. But that she could calmly tell him about it, that +she could deliberately describe this effect upon her of another man—! +It baffled him beyond all thoughts or words.… Was the self-revelation +an unconscious one? Did she realise the meaning of what she told him? +The Lettice he had known could surely not say this thing. In her he felt +again, more distinctly than before, another person—division, conflict. +Her hesitations, her face, her gestures, her very language proved it. +He shrank, as from some one who inflicted pain as a child, unwittingly, to +see what the effect would be.… He remembered the incident of the +insect in the sand.…</p> + +<p>'And I feel—even now—I could do it again,' her voice pierced in across +his moment of hidden anguish. The knife she had thrust again into his +breast was twisted then.</p> + +<p>It was time that he said something, and a sentence offered itself in time +to save him. The desire to hide his pain from her was too strong to be +disobeyed. He wanted to know, yet not, somehow, to prevent. He seized +upon the sentence, keeping his voice steady with an effort that cut his +very flesh: 'There's nothing impersonal exactly in <i>that</i>, Lettice!' he +exclaimed with an exaggerated lightness.</p> + +<p>'Oh no,' she agreed. 'But it's only in England, perhaps, that I'm +impersonal, as you call it. I suppose, out here, I've changed. +The beauty, the mystery,—this fierce sunshine or something—stir——' +She hesitated for a fraction of a second.</p> + +<p>'The woman in you,' he put in, turning the knife this time with his own +fingers deliberately. The words seemed driven out by their own impetus; +he did not choose them. A faint ghastly hope was in him—that she would +shake her head and contradict him.</p> + +<p>She waited a moment, then turned her eyes aside. 'Perhaps, Tom. +I wonder.…!'</p> + +<p>And as she said it, Tom knew suddenly another thing as well. It stood out +clearly, as with big printed letters that violent advertisements use upon +the hoardings. Her new joy and excitement, her gaiety and zest for life— +all had been caused, not by himself, but by another. Heavens! how blind +he had been! He understood at last, and a flood of freezing water +drenched him. His heart stopped beating for a moment. He gasped. +He could not get his breath. His accumulating doubts hitherto +unexpressed, almost unacknowledged even, were now confirmed.</p> + +<p>He got up stiffly, awkwardly, from his cushions, and moved a few steps +towards the house, for there stole upon her altered face just then the +very expression of excitement, of radiant and spontaneous joy, he had +believed until this moment were caused by himself. Tony was coming up the +darkened drive. He was exactly in her line of sight. And a severe, +embittered struggle then took place in a heart that seemed strangely +divided against itself. He felt as though a second Tom, yet still +himself, battled against the first, exchanging thrusts of indescribable +torture. The complexity of emotions in his heart was devastating beyond +anything he had ever known in his thirty-five years of satisfied, +self-centred life. Two voices spoke in clear, sharp sentences, one +against the other:</p> + +<p>'Your suspicions are unworthy, shameful. Trust her. She's as loyal and +true and faithful as yourself!' cried the first.</p> + +<p>And the second:</p> + +<p>'Blind! Can't you see what's going on between them? It has happened to +other men, why not to you? She is playing with you; she has outgrown your +love.' It was the older voice that used the words.</p> + +<p>'Impossible, ridiculous!' the first voice cried. 'There's something wrong +with me that I can have such wretched thoughts. It's merely innocence and +joy of life. No one can take <i>my</i> place.'</p> + +<p>To which, again, the second Tom made bitter answer. 'You are too old for +her, too dull, too ordinary! You hold the loving mother still, but a +younger man has waked the woman in her. And you must let it come. +You dare not blame. Nor have you the right to interfere.'</p> + +<p>So acute, so violent was the perplexity in him that he knew not what to +say or do at first. Unable to come to a decision, he stood there, waving +his hand to Tony with a cry of welcome. His first vehement desire to be +alone, to make an excuse, to get to his room and think, had passed: +a second, a maturer attitude, conquered it: to take whatever came, to face +it, in a word to know the worst.… And the extraordinary pain he hid +by an exuberance of high spirits that surprised himself. It was, of +course, the suppressed emotional energy finding another outlet. A similar +state had occurred that 'Karnak night' of a long ten days ago, though he +had not understood it then. Behind it lay the misery of loneliness that +he knew in his very bones was coming.</p> + +<p>'Tony! So it is. I was afraid he'd change his mind and leave us in the +lurch.'</p> + +<p>Tom heard the laugh of happiness as she said it; he heard the voice +distinctly—the change of tone in it, the softness, the half-caressing +tenderness that crept unconsciously in, the faint thrill of womanly +passion. Unconsciously, yes! he was sure, at least, of that. She did not +know quite yet, she did not realise what had happened. Honest to the +core, he felt her. His love surged up tumultuously. He could face pain, +loss, death—or, as he put it, 'almost anything,' if it meant happiness to +her. The thought, at any rate, came to him thus.… And Tom believed +it.</p> + +<p>At the same moment he heard her voice, close behind him this time. +She had left her chair, meaning to go indoors and prepare for supper +before Tony actually arrived. 'Tom, dear boy,' her hand upon his shoulder +a moment as she passed, 'you're tired or something. I can see it. +I believe you're worrying. There's something you haven't told me—isn't +there now?' She gave him a loving glance that was of purest gold. +'You shall tell me all about it when we're alone. You must tell me +everything.'</p> + +<p>The pain and joy in him were equal then. He was a boy of eighteen, aching +over his first love affair; and she was divinely mothering him. It was +extraordinary; it was past belief; another minute, had they been alone, he +could almost have laid his head upon her breast, complaining in anguish to +the mother in her that the woman he loved was gone: 'I feel you're +slipping from me! I'm losing you…!'</p> + +<p>Instead he stammered some commonplace unreality about his work at Assouan +and heard her agree with him that he certainly must not neglect it—and +she was gone into the house. The swinging curtains of dried grasses hid +her a few feet beyond, but between them, he felt, stretched five thousand +years and half a dozen continents as well.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>'Tom, old chap, did you get my letter? You promised to read it. Is it +all right, I mean? I wouldn't for all the world let anything——'</p> + +<p>Tom stopped him abruptly. He wished to read the letter for himself without +foreknowledge of its contents.</p> + +<p>'Eh? No—that is, I got it,' he said confusedly, 'but I haven't read it +yet. I slept all the afternoon.'</p> + +<p>An expression of anxiety in Tony's face came and vanished. 'You can tell +me to-morrow—frank as you like, mind,' he replied, to which Tom said +quite eagerly, 'Rather, Tony: of course. I'll read your old letter the +moment I get back to-night.' And Tony, merry as a sandboy, changed the +subject, declaring that he had only one desire in life just then, and that +was—food.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0021"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> + + +<p>The conflict in Tom's puzzled heart sharpened that evening into dreadful +edges that cut him mercilessly whichever way he turned. One minute he +felt sure of Lettice, the next the opposite was clear. Between these two +certainties he balanced in secret torture, one factor alone constant—that +his sense of security was shaken to the foundations.</p> + +<p>Belief in his own value had never been thus assailed before; that he was +indispensable had been an ultimate assurance. His vanity and self-esteem +now toppled ominously. A sense of inferiority crept over him, as on the +first day of his arrival at Alexandria. There seemed the flavour of some +strange authority in her that baffled all approach to the former intimacy. +He hardly recognised himself, for, the foundations being shaken, all that +was built upon them trembled too.</p> + +<p>The insecurity showed in the smallest trifles—he expressed himself +hesitatingly; he felt awkward, clumsy, ineffective; his conversation +became stupid for all the false high spirits that inflated it, his very +manners gauche; he said and did the wrong things; he was boring. Being +ill at ease and out of harmony with himself, he found it impossible to +play his part in the trio as of old; the trio, indeed, had now divided +itself—one against two.</p> + +<p>That is, keenly, and in spite of himself, he watched the other two; he +watched them as a detective does, for evidence. He became uncannily +observant. And since Tony was especially amusing that evening, Lettice, +moreover, apparently absorbed in his stimulating talk, Tom's alternate +gaucheries and silence passed unnoticed, certainly uncommented. +In schoolboy phraseology, Tom felt out of it. His presence was +tolerated—as by favour. The two enjoyed a mutual understanding from +which he was excluded, a private intimacy that was spiritual, mental,— +physical.</p> + +<p>He even found it in him for the first time to marvel that Lettice had ever +cared for him at all. Beside Tony's brilliance he felt himself cheaper, +almost insignificant. He felt old.… His pain, moreover, was +twofold: his own selfish sense of personal loss produced one kind of +anguish, but the possibility that <i>she</i> was playing false produced +another. The first was manageable: the second beyond words appalling.</p> + +<p>Against this background of emotional disturbance he watched the evening +pass. It developed as the hours moved. Tony, he noticed, though so full +of life, betrayed a certain malaise towards himself and avoided that +direct meeting of the eye that was his characteristic. More and more, +especially when Mrs. Haughstone had betaken herself to bed, and the trio +sat in the cooler garden alone, Tom became aware of a subtle intimacy +between his companions that resented all his efforts to include him too. +It was, moreover—his heart warned him now,—an affectionate, a natural +intimacy, built upon many an hour of intercourse while he was yet in +England, and, worst of all, that it was secret. But more—he realised +that the missing part of her was now astir, touched into life by another, +and a younger, man. It was ardent and untamed. It had awakened from its +slumber. He even fancied that something of challenge flashed from her, +though without definite words or gesture.</p> + +<p>With a degree of acute perception wholly new to him, he watched the +evidence of inner proximity, yet watched it automatically and certainly +not meanly nor with slyness. The evidence that was sheer anguish thrust +itself upon him. His eyes had opened; he could not help himself.</p> + +<p>But he watched himself as well. Only at moments was he aware of this—a +kind of higher Self, detached from shifting moods, looked on calmly and +took note. This Self, placed high above the stage, looked down. +It was a Self that never acted, never wept or suffered, never changed. +It was secure, superb, it was divine. Its very existence in him hitherto +had been unknown. He was now vividly aware of it. It was the Onlooker.</p> + +<p>The explanation of his mysterious earlier moods offered itself with a +clarity that was ghastly. Watching the happiness of these two, he +recalled a hundred subconscious hints he had disregarded: the empty letter +at Alexandria, her dislike of being alone with him, the increasing +admiration for his cousin, a thousand things she had left unsaid, above +all, the exuberance and radiant joy that Tony's presence woke in her. +The gradual but significant change, the singular vision in the desert, his +own foretaste of misery as he watched the Theban Hills from the balcony of +his bedroom—all, all returned upon him, arranged in a phalanx of +neglected proofs that the new Tom offered cruelly to the old. But it was +her slight exasperation, her evasion when he questioned her, that capped +the damning list. And her silence was the culminating proof.</p> + +<p>Then, inexplicably, he shifted to the other side that the old, the normal +Tom presented generously to the new. While this reaction lasted he +laughed away the evidence, and honestly believed he was exaggerating +trifles. The new zest that Egypt woke in her—God bless her sweetness and +simplicity!—was only natural; if Tony stimulated the intellectual side of +her, he could feel only pleasure that her happiness was thus increased. +She was innocent. He could not possibly doubt or question, and shame +flooded him till he felt himself the meanest man alive. Suspicion was no +normal part of him. He crushed it out of sight, scotched as he thought to +death. To lose belief in her would mean to lose belief in everybody. +It was inconceivable. Every instinct in him repelled the vile suggestion. +And while this reaction lasted his security returned.</p> + +<p>Only it did <i>not</i> last; it merged invariably into its opposite again; and +the alternating confidence and doubt produced a state of confused emotion +that contained the nightmare touch in its most essential form. The Wave +hung, poised above him—but would not fall—quite yet.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>It was later in the evening that the singular intensity introduced itself +into all they said and did, hanging above them like a cloud. It came +curiously, was suddenly there—without hint or warning. Tom had the +feeling that they moved amid invisible dangers, almost as though +explosives lay hidden near them, ready any moment to bring destruction +with a sudden crash—final destruction of the happy pre-existing +conditions. The menace of a thunder-cloud approached as in his +childhood's dream; disaster lurked behind the quiet outer show. +The Wave was rising almost audibly.</p> + +<p>For upon their earlier mood of lighter kind that had preceded Mrs. +Haughstone's exit, and then upon the more serious talk that followed in +the garden, there descended abruptly this uncanny quiet that one and all +obeyed. The contrast was most marked. Tom remembered how their voices +hushed upon a given moment, how they looked about them during the brief +silence following, peering into the luminous darkness as though some one +watched them—and how Madame Jaretzka, remarking on the chilly air, then +rose suddenly and led the way into the house. Both she and Tony, he +remembered, had been restless for some little time. 'It's chilly. We +shall be cosier indoors,' she said lightly, and moved away, followed by +his cousin.</p> + +<p>Tom lingered a few minutes, watching them pass along the verandah to the +room beyond. He did not like the change. In the open air, the intimacy +he dreaded was less suggested than in the friendly familiarity of a room, +her room; out of doors it was more diffused; he preferred the remoteness +that the garden lent. At the same time he was glad of a moment by +himself—though a moment only. He wanted to collect his thoughts and face +things as they were. There should be no 'shuffling' if he possibly could +prevent it.</p> + +<p>He lingered with his cigarette behind the others. A red moon hung above +the mournful hills, and the stars shone in their myriads. Both lay +reflected in the quiet river. The night was very peaceful. No wind +stirred.… And he strove to force the exquisite Egyptian silence upon +the turmoil that was in his soul—to gain that inner silence through which +the voice of truth might whisper clearly to him. The poise he craved lay +all about him in the solemn stillness, in stars and moon and desert; the +temple columns had it, the steadfast, huge Colossi waiting for the sun, +the bleak stone hills, the very Nile herself. Something of their +immemorial resolution and resistance he might even borrow for his little +tortured self… before he followed his companions. For it came to him +that within the four walls of her room all that he dreaded must reveal +itself in such concentrated, visible form that he no longer would be able +to deny it: the established intimacy, the sweetness, the desire, and—the +love.</p> + +<p>He made this effort, be it recorded in his favour, and made it bravely; +while every minute that he left his companions undisturbed was a +long-drawn torment in his heart. For he plainly recognised now a danger +he knew not how he might adequately meet. Here was the strangeness of it: +that he did <i>not</i> distrust Lettice, nor felt resentment against Tony. +Why this was so, or what the meaning was, he could not fathom. He felt +vaguely that Lettice, like himself, was the plaything of greater forces +than she knew, and that her perplexing conduct was based upon disharmony +in herself beyond her possible control. Some part of her, long hidden, +had emerged in Egypt, brought out by the deep mystery and passion of the +climate, by its burning, sensuous splendour: its magic drove her along +unconsciously. There were two persons in her.</p> + +<p>It may have been absurd to divide the woman and the mother as he did; +probably it was false psychology as well; where love is, mother and woman +blend divinely into one. He did not know: it seemed, as yet, they had not +blended. He was positive only that while part of her was going from him, +if not already gone, the rest, and the major part, was true and loyal, +loving and marvellously tender. The conflict of these certainties left +hopeless disorder in every corner of his being.…</p> + +<p>Tossing away his cigarette, he moved slowly up the verandah steps. +The Wave was never more sensibly behind, beneath him, than in that moment. +He rose upon it, it was under him, he felt its lift and irresistible +momentum; almost it bore him up the steps. For he meant to face whatever +came; deliberately he welcomed the hurt; it had to come; beyond the +suffering beckoned some marvellous joy, pure as the dawn beyond the cruel +desert. There was in him that rich, sweet pain he knew of old. +It beckoned and allured him even while he shrank. Alone the supreme Self +in him looked calmly on, seeming to lessen the part that trembled and knew +fear.</p> + +<p>Then, as he neared the room, a sound of music floated out to meet him— +Tony was singing to his own accompaniment. Lettice, upon a sofa in the +corner, looked up and placed a finger on her lips, then closed her eyes +again, listening to the song. And Tom was glad she closed her eyes, glad +also that Tony's back was towards him, for as he crossed the threshold a +singular impulse took possession of his legs and he was only just able to +stop a ridiculous movement of shuffling with his feet upon the matting. +Quickly he gained a sofa by the window and dropped down upon it, watching, +listening. Tony was singing softly, yet with deep expression half +suppressed:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> And the door stood open at our feast,</span><br> + When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> And a man with his back to the East.</span><br></p> + +<p class = "noindent"> O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> The loudest voice was still.</span><br> + The jest died away on our lips as they passed,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> And the rays of July struck chill.</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>He sang the words with an odd, emphatic slowness, turning to look at +Lettice between the phrases. He was not yet aware that Tom had entered. +The tune held all the pathos and tragedy of the world in it. 'Both going +the same way together,' he said in a suggestive undertone, his hands +playing a soft running chord; 'the man and the woman.' He again leaned in +her direction. 'It's a pregnant opening, don't you think? The music I +found in the very depths of me somewhere. Lettice, I believe you're +asleep!' he whispered tenderly after a second's pause.</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes then and looked meaningly at him. Tom made no sound, +no movement. He saw only her eyes fixed steadily on Tony, whose last +sentence, using the Christian name so softly, rang on inside him like the +clanging of a prison bell.</p> + +<p>'Sing another verse first,' said Madame Jaretzka quietly, 'and we'll pass +judgment afterwards. But I wasn't asleep, was I, Tom?' And, following +the direction of her eyes, Tony started, and turned round. 'I shut my +eyes to listen better,' she added, almost impatiently. 'Now, please go +on; we want to hear the rest.'</p> + +<p>'Of course,' said Tom, in as natural a tone as possible. 'Of course we +do. What is it?' he asked.</p> + +<p>'Mary Coleridge—the words,' replied Tony, turning to the piano again. +'In a moment of aberration I thought I could write the music for it——' +The softness and passion had left his voice completely.</p> + +<p>'Oh, the tune is yours?'</p> + +<p>His cousin nodded. There was a little frown between the watching eyes +upon the sofa. 'Tom, you mustn't interrupt; it spoils the mood—the +rhythm,' and she again asked Tony to go on. The difference in the two +tones she used was too obvious to be missed by any man who heard them—the +veiled exasperation and—the tenderness.</p> + +<p>Tony obeyed at once. Striking a preliminary chord as the stool swung +round, he said for Tom's benefit, 'To me there's tragedy in the words, +real tragedy, so I tried to make the music fit it. Madame Jaretzka +doesn't agree.' He glanced towards her; her eyes were closed again; her +face, Tom thought, was like a mask. Tony did not this time use the little +name.</p> + +<p>The next verse began, then suddenly broke off. The voice seemed to fail +the singer. 'I don't like this one,' he exclaimed, a suspicion of +trembling in his tone. 'It's rather too awful. Death comes in, the bread +at the feast turns black, the hound falls down—and so on. There's +general disaster. It's too tragic, rather. I'll sing the last verse +instead.'</p> + +<p>'I want to hear it, Tony. I insist,' came the command from the sofa. +'I want the tragic part.'</p> + +<p>To Tom it seemed precisely as though the voice had said, 'I want to see +Tom suffer. He knows the meaning of it. It's right, it's good, it's +necessary for him.'</p> + +<p>Tony obeyed. He sang both verses:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> The white bread black as soot.</span><br> + The hound forgot the hand of his lord,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> She fell down at his foot.</span><br></p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> Ere I sit me down again at a feast,</span><br> + When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> And a man with his back to the East.</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The song stopped abruptly, the music died away, there was an interval of +silence no one broke. Tom had listened spellbound, haunted. He was no +judge of poetry or music; he did not understand the meaning of the words +exactly; he knew only that both words and music expressed the shadow of +tragedy in the air as though they focussed it into a tangible presence. +A woman and a man were going in the same direction; there was an +onlooker.… A spontaneous quality in the words, moreover, proved that +they came burning from the writer's heart, and in Tony's music, whether +good or bad, there was this same proof of genuine feeling. Judge or no +judge, Tom was positive of that. He felt himself the looker-on, an +intruder, almost a trespasser.</p> + +<p>This sense of exclusion grew upon him as he listened; it passed without +warning into the consciousness of a mournful, freezing isolation. +These two, sitting in the room, and separated from him by a few feet of +coloured Persian rug, were actually separated from him by unbridgeable +distance, wrapped in an intimacy that kept him inexorably outside—because +he did not understand. He almost knew an objective hallucination—that +the sofa and the piano drew slightly nearer to one another, whereas his +own chair remained fixed to the floor, immovable—outside.</p> + +<p>The intensity of his sensations seemed inexplicable, unless some reality, +some truth, lay behind them. The bread at the feast turned black before +his very eyes. But another line rang on with a sound of ominous and +poignant defeat in his heart, now lonely and bereft: 'Low let me lie, +where the dead dog lies…' To the onlooker the passing of the pair +meant death.…</p> + +<p>Then, through his confusion, flashed clearly this bitter certitude: Tom +suddenly realised that after all he knew nothing of her real, her inner +life; he knew her only through himself and in himself—knew himself in +her. Tony, less self-centred, less rigidly contained, had penetrated her +by an understanding sympathy greater than his own. She was unintelligible +to him, but not to Tony. Tony had the key.… He had touched in her +what hitherto had slept.</p> + +<p>As the music wailed its dying cadences into this fateful silence, Tom met +her eyes across the room. They were strong, and dark with beauty. He met +them with no outer quailing, though with a sense of drenching tears +within. They seemed to him the eyes of the angel gazing through the gate. +He was outside.…</p> + +<p>He was the first to break a silence that had grown unnatural, oppressive.</p> + +<p>'What was it?' he asked again abruptly. 'Has it got a name, I mean?' +His voice had the cry of a wounded creature in it.</p> + +<p>Tony struck an idle chord from the piano as he turned on his stool, +'Oh, yes, it's got a name. It's called "Unwelcome." And Tom, aware that +he winced, was also aware that something in his life congealed and stopped +its normal flow.</p> + +<p>'Tony, you <i>are</i> a genius,' broke in quickly the voice from the other side +of the room; 'I always said so. Do you know, that's the most perfect +accompaniment I ever heard.' She spoke with feeling, her tone full of +admiration.</p> + +<p>Tony made no reply. He strummed softly, swaying to the rhythm of what he +played.</p> + +<p>'I meant the setting,' explained Lettice, 'the music. It expresses the +emotion of the words too, <i>too</i> exactly. It's wonderful!'</p> + +<p>'I didn't know you composed,' put in Tom stupidly. He had to say +something. He saw them exchange a glance. She smiled. 'When did you do +it?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, the other day in a sudden fit,' said Tony, without turning. +'While you were at Assouan, I think.'</p> + +<p>'And the words, Tom; don't you think they're wonderful, too, and strange?' +asked Lettice. 'I find them really haunting.'</p> + +<p>'Y-es,' he agreed, without looking at her. He realised that the lyric, +though new to him, was not new to them; they had discussed it together +already; they felt the same emotion about it; it had moved and stirred +them before, moved Tony so deeply that he had found the music for it in +the depths of himself. It was an enigmatical poem, it now became +symbolic. It embodied the present situation somehow for him. Tom did not +understand its meaning as they did; to him it was a foreign language. +But they knew the language easily. It betrayed their deep emotional +intimacy.</p> + +<p>'You didn't hear the first part?' said Tony.</p> + +<p>'Not quite. You had just started—when I came in.' Tom easily read the +meaning in the question. And in his heart the name of the poem repeated +itself with significant insistence: <i>Unwelcome</i>! It had come like a blow +in the face when Tony mentioned it, bruising him internally. He was +bleeding.… He watched the big, dark hands upon the keys as they +moved up and down. It suddenly seemed they moved towards himself. +There was power, menace in them—there was death. He felt as if they +seized—choked him.… They grew stained.…</p> + +<p>The voices of his companions came to him across great distance; there was +a gulf between them, they on that side, he on this: he was aware of +antagonism between himself and Tony, and between himself and Lettice. +It was very dreadful; his feet and hands were cold; he shivered. But he +gave no outer sign that he was suffering, and a desperate pride—though he +knew it was but a sham, a temporary pride—came to his assistance. Yet at +the same time—he saw red. He felt like a boy at school again.</p> + +<p>In imagination, then, he visualised swiftly a definite scene:</p> + +<p>'Tony,' he heard himself say, 'you're coming between us. It means all the +world to me, to you it means only a passing game. If it means more, it's +time for you to say so plainly—and let <i>her</i> decide.'</p> + +<p>The situation seemed all cleared up; the clouds of tragedy dissipated, the +dreadful accumulation of emotion, suspense, and hidden pain, too long +suppressed, too intense to be borne another minute, discharged itself in +an immense relief. Lettice at last spoke freely and explained: Tony +expressed regret, laughing it all away with his accustomed brilliance and +irresponsibility.</p> + +<p>Then, horribly, he heard Tony give a different answer that was far more +possible and likely:</p> + +<p>'I knew you were great friends, but I did not guess there was anything +more between you. You never told me. I'm afraid I—I <i>am</i> desperately +fond of her, and she of me. We must leave it—yes, to her. There is no +other way.'</p> + +<p>He was lounging on his sofa by the window, his eyes closed, while these +thoughts flashed through him. He had never known such insecurity before; +he felt sure of nothing; the foundations of his being seemed sliding into +space.… For it came to him suddenly that he was a slave and that she +was set upon a throne far, far beyond his reach.…</p> + +<p>Across the room, lit only by a single lamp upon the piano, the voices of +his companions floated to him, low pitched, a ceaseless murmuring stream. +He had been listening even while busy with his own reflections, intently +listening. They were still talking of the poem and the music, exchanging +intimate thoughts in the language he could not understand. They had +passed on to music and poetry at large—dangerous subjects by whose means +innocent words, donning an easy mask, may reveal passionate states of +mental and physical kind—and so to personal revelations and confessions +the apparently innocent words interpreted. He heard and understood, yet +could not wholly follow because the key was missing. He could not take +part, much less object. It was all too subtle for his mind. +He listened.…</p> + +<p>The moonlight fell upon his stretched-out figure, but left his face in +shadow; opening his eyes, he could see the others clearly; the intent +expression upon <i>her</i> face fascinated him as he watched. Yet before his +eyes had opened, the feeling again came to him that they had changed their +positions somehow, and the verification of this feeling was the first +detail he then noticed. Tony's stool was nearer to the bass keys of the +piano, while the sofa Lettice lay upon had certainly been drawn up towards +him. And Tony leaned over as he talked, bringing their lips within +whispering distance. It was all done with that open innocence which +increased the cruelty of it. Tom saw and heard and felt all over his +body. He lay very still. He half closed his eyes again.</p> + +<p>'I do believe Tom's dropped asleep,' said Lettice presently. 'No, don't +wake him,' as Tony half turned round, 'he's tired, poor boy!'</p> + +<p>But Tom could not willingly listen to a private conversation.</p> + +<p>'I'm not asleep,' he exclaimed, 'not a bit of it,' and noticed that they +both were startled by the suddenness and volume of his voice. 'But I +<i>am</i> tired rather,' and he got up, lit a cigarette, wandered about the +room a minute, and then leaned out of the open window. 'I think I shall +slip off to bed soon—if you'll forgive me, Lettice.'</p> + +<p>He said it on impulse; he did not really mean to go; to leave them alone +together was beyond his strength. She merely nodded. The woman he had +felt so proudly would put Tony in his place—nodded consent!</p> + +<p>'I must be going too in a moment,' Tony murmured. He meant it even less +than Tom did. He shifted his stool towards the middle of the piano and +began to strum again.</p> + +<p>'Sing something more first, Tony; I love your ridiculous voice.'</p> + +<p>Tom heard it behind his back; it was said half in banter, half in earnest; +yet the tone pierced him. She used the private language she and Tony +understood. The little sentence was a paraphrase that, being interpreted, +said plainly: 'He'll go off presently; then we can talk again of the +things we love together—the things he doesn't understand.'</p> + +<p>With his face thrust into the cold night air Tom felt the blood go +throbbing in his temples. He watched the moonlight on the sandy garden +paths. The leaves were motionless, the river crept past without a murmur, +the dark hills rose out of the distant desert like a wave. There was +faint fragrance as of wild flowers, very tiny, very soft. But he kept his +eyes upon the gliding river rather than on those dark hills crowded with +their ancient dead. For he felt as if some one watched him from their dim +recesses. It almost seemed that from those bleak, lonely uplands, silent +amid the stream of hurrying life to-day, came his pain, his agony. +He could not understand it; the strange, sinister mood he had known +already once before stole out from the desolate Theban hills and mastered +him again. Any moment, if he looked up, he would meet eyes—eyes that +gazed with dim yet definite recognition into his own across the night. +They would gaze up at him, for somehow he was placed above them.… +He had known all this before, this very situation, these very actors—he +now looked down upon it all, a scene mapped out below him. There were two +pictures that yet were one.</p> + +<p>'What shall it be?' the voice of Tony floated past him through the open +window.</p> + +<p>'The gold and ambra one—I like best of all,' her voice followed like a +sigh across the air. 'But only once—it makes me cry.'</p> + +<p>To Tom, as he heard it, came the shattering conviction that the words were +not in English, and that it was neither Lettice nor his cousin who had +used them. Reality melted; he felt himself—brain, heart, and body— +dropping down through empty space as though towards the speakers. +This was another language that they spoke together. <i>He</i> had forgotten +it.… They were themselves, yet different. Amazement seized him. +A familiarity, intense with breaking pain, came with it. +Where, O where…?</p> + +<p>He heard the music steal past him towards these Theban hills.</p> + +<p>His heart was no longer beating; it was still. Life paused, as it were, +to let the voice insert itself into another setting, out of due place, yet +at the same time true and natural. An intolerable sweetness in the music +swept him. But there was anguish too. The pain and pleasure were but one +sensation.… All the melancholy blue and gold of Egypt's beauty +passed in that singing before his soul, and something of transcendant +value he had lost, something ancient it seemed as those mournful Theban +hills, rose with it. It was offered to him again. He saw it rise within +his reach—once more. Upon this tide of blue and of gold it floated to +his hand, could he but seize it.… Emotion then blocked itself +through sheer excess; the tide receded, the vision dimmed, the gold turned +dull and faded, the music and the singing ceased. Yet an instant, above +the pain, Tom had caught a flush of inexplicable happiness. Beyond the +anguish he felt joy breaking upon him like the dawn.…</p> + +<p>'Joy cometh in the morning,' he remembered, with a feeling as of some +modern self and sanity returning. He had been some one else; he now was +Tom again. The pain belonged to that 'some one else.' It must be faced, +for the final outcome would be joy.… He turned round into the room +now filled with tense silence only.</p> + +<p>'Tony,' he asked, 'what on earth was it?' His voice was low but did not +tremble. The atmosphere seemed drawn taut before him as though it must +any instant split open upon a sound of crying. He saw Lettice on her +sofa, the lamplight in her wide-open eyes that shone with moisture. +She looked at Tony, not at him. There was no decipherable expression on +her face. That elusive Eastern touch hung mysteriously about her. It was +all half fabulous.</p> + +<p>Without turning Tony answered shortly: 'Oh, just a little native Egyptian +song—very old—dug up somewhere, I believe,' and he strummed softly to +himself as though he did not wish to talk more about it.</p> + +<p>Lettice watched him for several minutes, then fixed her eyes on Tom; +they stared at each other across the room; her expression was enigmatical, +yet he read resolution into it, a desire and a purpose. He returned her +gaze with a baffled yearning, thinking how mysteriously beautiful she +looked, frail, elusive, infinitely desirable, yet hopelessly beyond his +reach.… And then he saw the eyelids lower slightly, and a shadowy +darkness like a veil fall over her. A smile stole down towards the lips. +Terror and fascination caught him; he turned away lest she should reach +his secret and communicate her own. She looked right through him. +Words, too, were spoken, ordinary modern words, though he did not hear +them properly: 'You're tired out… you know. There's no need to be +formal where I'm concerned…' or something similar. He listened, but +he did not hear; they were remote, unreal, not audible quite; they were +far away in space. He was only aware that the voice was tender and the +tone was very soft.…</p> + +<p>He made no answer. The pain in her leaped forth to clasp his own, it +seemed. For in that instant he knew that the joy divined a little while +before was <i>her</i>, but also that he must wade through intolerable pain to +reach it.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The spell was broken. The balance of the evening, a short half-hour at +the most, was uninspired, even awkward. There was strain in the +atmosphere, cross-purposes, these purposes unfulfilled, each word and +action charged with emotion that was unable to express itself. +A desultory talk between Tony and his hostess seemed to struggle through +clipped sentences that hung in the air as though afraid to complete +themselves. The unfinished phrases floated, but dared not come to earth; +they gathered but remained undelivered. Tom had divined the deep, +essential intimacy at last, and his companions knew it.</p> + +<p>He lay silent on his sofa by the window, or nearly silent. The moonlight +had left him, he lay in shadow. Occasionally he threw in words, asked a +question, ventured upon a criticism; but Lettice either did not hear or +did not feel sufficient interest to respond. She ignored his very +presence, though readily, eagerly forthcoming to the smallest sign from +Tony. She hid herself with Tony behind the shadowy screen of words and +phrases.</p> + +<p>Tony himself was different too, however. There was acute disharmony in +the room, where a little time before there had been at least an outward +show of harmony. A heaviness as of unguessed tragedy lay upon all three, +not only upon Tom. Spontaneous gaiety was gone out of his cousin, whose +attempts to be his normal self became forced and unsuccessful. He sought +relief by hiding himself behind his music, and his choice, though natural +enough, seemed half audacious and half challenging—the choice of a +devious soul that shirked fair open fight and felt at home in subterfuge. +From Grieg's <i>Ich liebe Dich</i> he passed to other tender, passionate +fragments Tom did not recognise by name yet understood too well, realising +that sense of ghastly comedy, and almost of the ludicrous, which ever +mocks the tragic.</p> + +<p>For Tony certainly acknowledged by his attitude the same threatening sense +of doom that lay so heavy upon his cousin's heart. There was presentiment +and menace in every minute of that brief half-hour. Never had Tom seen +his gay and careless cousin in such guise: he was restless, silent, +intense and inarticulate. 'He gives her what I cannot give,' Tom faced +the situation. 'They understand one another.… It's not <i>her</i> +fault.… I'm old, I'm dull. She's found a stronger interest.… +The bigger claim at last has come!'</p> + +<p>They brewed their cocoa on the spirit-lamp, they munched their biscuits, +they said good-night at length, and Tom walked on a few paces ahead, +impatient to be gone. He did not want to go home with Tony, while yet he +could not leave him there. He longed to be alone and think. Tony's hotel +was but a hundred yards away. He turned and called to him. He saw them +saying goodnight at the foot of the verandah steps. Lettice was looking +up into his cousin's face.…</p> + +<p>They went off together. 'Night, night,' cried Tony, as he presently +turned up the path to his own hotel. 'See you in the morning.'</p> + +<p>And Tom walked down the silent street alone. On his skin he still felt +her fingers he had clasped two minutes before. But his eyes saw only—her +face and figure as she stood beside his cousin on the steps. For he saw +her looking up into his eyes as once before on the lawn of her English +bungalow four months ago. And Tony's two great hands were laid upon her +arm.</p> + +<p>'Lettice, poor child…!' he murmured strangely to himself. For he +knew that her suffering and her deep perplexity were somewhere, somehow +almost equal to his own.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0022"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> + + +<p>He walked down the silent street alone.… How like a theatre scene it +was! Supers dressed as Arabs passed him without a word or sign; the Nile +was a painted back-cloth; the columns of the Luxor Temple hung on canvas. +The memory of a London theatre flitted through his mind.… He was +playing a part upon the stage, but for the second time, and this second +performance was better than the first, different too, a finer +interpretation as it were. He could not manage it quite, but he must play +it out in order to know joy and triumph at the other end.</p> + +<p>This sense of the theatre was over everything. How still and calm the +night was, the very stars were painted on the sky, the lights were low, +there lay a hush upon the audience. In his heart, like a weight of metal, +there was sadness, deep misgiving, sense of loss. His life was fading +visibly; it threatened to go out in darkness. Yet, like Ra, great deity +of this ancient land, it would suffer only a temporary eclipse, then rise +again triumphant and rejuvenated as Osiris.…</p> + +<p>He walked up the sweep of sandy drive to the hotel and went through the +big glass doors. The huge brilliant building swallowed him. Crowds of +people moved to and fro, chattering and laughing, the women gaily, +fashionably dressed; the band played with that extravagant abandon hotels +demanded. The contrast between the dark, quiet street and this busy +modern scene made him feel it was early in the evening, instead of close +on midnight.</p> + +<p>He was whirled up to his lofty room above the world. He flung himself +upon his bed; no definite thought was in him; he was utterly exhausted. +There was a vicious aching in his nerves, his muscles were flaccid and +unstrung; a numbness was in his brain as well. But in the heart there was +vital energy. For his heart seemed alternately full and empty; all the +life he had was centred there.</p> + +<p>And, lying on his bed in the darkened room, he sighed, as though he +struggled for breath. The recent strain had been even more tense than he +had guessed—the suppressed emotion, the prolonged and difficult effort at +self-control, the passionate yearning that was denied relief in words and +action. His entire being now relaxed itself; and his physical system +found relief in long, deep sighs.</p> + +<p>For a long time he lay motionless, trying vainly not to feel. He would +have welcomed instantaneous sleep—ten hours of refreshing, dreamless +sleep. If only he could prevent himself thinking, he might drop into +blissful unconsciousness. It was chiefly forgetfulness he craved. +A few minutes, and he would perhaps have slipped across the border—when +something startled him into sudden life again. He became acutely wakeful. +His nerves tingled, the blood rushed back into the brain. He remembered +Tony's letter—returned from Assouan. A moment later he had turned the +light on and was reading it. It was, of course, several days old +already:—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p> Savoy Hotel, + Luxor.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Dear old Tom—What I am going to say may annoy you, but I think it best + that it should be said, and if I am all wrong you must tell me. I have + seldom liked any one as much as I like you, and I want to preserve our + affection to the end.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> The trouble is this:—I can't help feeling—I felt it at the Bungalow, + in London too, and even heard it <i>said</i> by some one—whom, possibly, + you may guess—that you were very fond of her, and that she was of you. + Various little things said, and various small signs, have strengthened + this feeling. Now, instinctively, I have a feeling also that she and I + have certain things in common, and I think it quite possible that I + might have a bad effect on her.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> I do not suppose for one moment that she would ever care for me, but, + from one or two signs in her, I do see possibilities of a sort of + playing with fire between us. One <i>feels</i> these things without + apparent cause; and all I can say is that, absurd as it may sound, + I scent danger. To put it quite frankly, I can imagine myself becoming + sufficiently excited by her to lose my head a little, and to introduce + an element of sex into our friendship which might have some slight + effect on us both. I don't mean anything serious, but, given the + circumstances, I can imagine myself playing the fool; and the only + serious thing is that I can picture myself growing so fond of her that + I would not think it playing the fool at the time.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Now, if I am right in thinking that you love her, it is obvious that I + must put the matter before you, Tom, as I am here doing. I would + rather have your friendship than her possible excitement—and I repeat + that, absurd as it may seem, I do scent the danger of my getting worked + up, and, to some extent, infecting her. You see, I know myself and + know the wildness of my nature. I don't fool about with women at all, + but I have had affairs in my life and can judge of the utter madness of + which I am capable, madness which, to my mind, <i>must</i> affect and + stimulate the person towards whom it is directed.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> On my word of honour, Tom, I am not in love with her now at all, and it + will not be a bit hard for me to clear out if you want me to. So tell + me quite straight: shall I make an excuse, as, for example, that I want + to avoid her for fear of growing too fond of her, and go? Or can we + meet as friends? What I want you to do is to be with us if we are + together, so that we may try to make a real trinity of our friendship. + I enjoy talking to her; and I prefer you to be with me when I am with + her—really, believe me, I do.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Words make things sound so absurd, but I am writing like this because I + feel the presence of clouds, almost of tragedy, and I can't for the + life of me think why. I want her friendship and 'motherly' care + badly. I want your affection and friendship exceedingly. But I feel + as though I were unconsciously about to trouble your life and hers; and + I can only suppose it is that hard-working subconsciousness of mine + which sees the possibility of my suddenly becoming attracted to her, + suddenly losing control, and suddenly being a false friend to you both.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Now, Tom, old chap, you must prevent that—either by asking me to keep + away, or else by making yourself a definite part of my friendship with + her.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> I want you to say no word to her about this letter, and to keep it + absolutely between ourselves; and I am very hopeful—I feel sure, in + fact—that we shall make the jolliest trio in the world.—Yours ever, + Tony.</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Tom, having read it through without a single stop, laid it down upon his +table and walked round the room. In doing so, he passed the door. He +locked it, then paused for a moment, listening. 'Why did I lock it? +What am I listening for?' he asked himself. He hesitated. 'Oh, I know,' +he went on, 'I don't want to be disturbed. Tony knows I shall read this +letter to-night. He might possibly come up—' He walked back to the +table again slowly. 'I couldn't <i>see</i> him,' he realised; 'it would be +impossible!' If any one knocked, he would pretend to be asleep. +His face, had he seen it in the glass, was white and set, but there was a +curious shining in his eyes, and a smile was on the lips, though a smile +his stolid features had never known before. '<i>I</i> knew it,' said the +Smile, '<i>I</i> knew it long ago.'</p> + +<p>His hand stretched out and picked the letter up again. But at first he +did not look at it; he looked round the room instead, as though he felt +that he was being watched, as though somebody were hiding. And then he +said aloud, but very quietly:</p> + +<p>'Light-blue eyes, by God! <i>The</i> light-blue eyes!'</p> + +<p>The sound startled him a little. He repeated the sentence in a whisper, +varying the words. The voice sounded like a phonograph.</p> + +<p>'Tony's got light-blue eyes!'</p> + +<p>He sat down, then got up again.</p> + +<p>'I never, never thought of it! I never noticed. God! I'm as blind as a +bat!'</p> + +<p>For some minutes he stood motionless, then turned and read the letter +through a second time, lingering on certain phrases, and making curious +unregulated gestures as he did so. He clenched his fists, he bit his +lower lip. The feeling that he was acting on a stage had left him now. +This was reality.</p> + +<p>He walked over to the balcony and drew the cold night air into his lungs. +He remembered standing once before on this very spot, that foreboding of +coming loneliness so strangely in his heart. 'It's come,' he said dully +to himself. 'It's justified. I understand at last.' And then he +repeated with a deep, deep sigh: 'God—how blind I've been! He's taken +her from me! It's all confirmed. He's wakened the woman in her!'</p> + +<p>It seemed, then, he sought a mitigation, an excuse—for the man who wrote +it, his pal, his cousin, Tony. He wanted to exonerate, if it were +possible. But the generous impulse remained frustrate. The plea escaped +him—because it was not there. The falseness and insincerity were too +obvious to admit of any explanation in the world but one. He dropped into +a chair, shocked into temporary numbness.</p> + +<p>Gradually, then, isolated phrases blazed into prominence in his mind, +clearest of all—that what Tony pretended might happen in the future had +already happened long ago. 'I can picture myself growing too fond of +her,' meant 'I am already too fond of her.' That he might lose his head +and 'introduce an element of sex' was conscience confessing that it had +been already introduced. He 'scented danger… tragedy' because both +were in the present—now.</p> + +<p>Tony hedged like any other coward. He had already gone too far, he felt +shamed and awkward, he had to put himself right, as far as might be, with +his trusting, stupid cousin, so he warned him that what had already taken +place in the past <i>might</i> take place—he was careful to mention that he +had no self-control—in the future. He begged the man he had injured to +assist him; and the method he proposed was that old, well-proved one of +assuring the love of a hesitating woman—'I'll tell her I'm too fond of +her, and go!'</p> + +<p>The letter was a sham and a pretence. Its assurance, too, was +unmistakable: Tony felt certain of his own position. 'I'm sorry, old +chap, but we love each other. Though I've sometimes wondered, you never +definitely told me that <i>you</i> did.'</p> + +<p>He read once again the cruellest phrase of all: 'From one or two signs in +her, I do see possibilities of a sort of playing with fire between us.' +It was cleverly put, yet also vilely; he laid half the burden of his +treachery on her. The 'introduction of sex' was gently mentioned three +lines lower down. Tony already had an understanding with her—which meant +that she had encouraged him. The thought rubbed like a jagged file +against his heart. Yet Tom neither thought this, nor definitely said it +to himself. He felt it; but it was only later that he <i>knew</i> he felt it.</p> + +<p>And his mind, so heavily bruised, limped badly. The same thoughts rose +again and again. He had no notion what he meant to do. There was an odd, +half-boyish astonishment in him that the accumulated warnings of these +recent days had not shown him the truth before. How could he have known +the Eyes of his Dream for months, have lived with them daily for three +weeks—the light-blue eyes—yet have failed to recognise them? It passed +understanding. Even the wavy feeling that had accompanied Tony's arrival +in the Carpathians—the Sound heard in his bedroom the same night—had +left him unseeing and unaware. It seemed as if the recognition had been +hidden purposely; for, had he recognised it, he would have been prepared, +he might even have prevented. It now dawned upon him slowly that the +inevitable may not be prevented. And the cunning of it baffled him +afresh: it was all planned consummately.</p> + +<p>Tom sat for a long time before the open window in a state of half stupor, +staring at the pictures his mind offered automatically. A deep, vicious +aching gnawed without ceasing at his heart: each time a new picture rose a +fiery pang rose with it, as though a nerve were bared.…</p> + +<p>He drew his chair closer into the comforting darkness of the night. +All was silent as the grave. The stars wheeled overhead with their +accustomed majesty; he could just distinguish the dim river in its ancient +bed; the desert lay watchful for the sun, the air was sharp with perfume. +Countless human emotions had these witnessed in the vanished ages, +countless pains and innumerable aching terrors; the emotions had passed +away, yet the witnesses remained, steadfast, unchanged, indifferent. +Moreover, his particular emotion <i>now</i> seemed known to them—known to +these very stars, this desert, this immemorial river; they witnessed now +its singular repetition. He was to experience it unto the bitter end +again—yet somehow otherwise. He must face it all. Only in this way +could the joy at the end of it be reached.… He must somehow accept +and understand.… This confused, unjustifiable assurance strengthened +in him.</p> + +<p>Yet this last feeling was so delicate that he scarcely recognised its +intense vitality. The cruder sensations blinded him as with thick, bitter +smoke. He was certain of one thing only—that the fire of jealousy burned +him with its atrocious anguish… an anguish he had somewhere known +before.</p> + +<p>Then presently there was a change. This change had begun soon after he +drew his chair to the balcony, but he had not noticed it. The effect upon +him, nevertheless, had been gradually increasing.</p> + +<p>The psychological effects of sound, it would seem, are singular. +Even when heard unconsciously, the result continues; and Tom, hearing this +sound unconsciously, did not realise at first that another mood was +stealing over him. Then hearing became conscious hearing—listening. +The sound rose to his ears from just below his balcony. He listened. +He rose, leaned over the rail, and stared. The crests of three tall palms +immediately below him waved slightly in the rising wind. But the fronds +of a palm-tree in the wind produce a noise that is unlike the rustle of +any other foliage in the world. It was a curious, sharp rattling that he +heard. It was <i>the</i> Sound.</p> + +<p>His entire being was at last involved—the Self that used the separate +senses. His thoughts swooped in another direction—he suddenly fixed his +attention upon Lettice. But it was an inner attention of a wholesale +kind, not of the separate mind alone. And this entire Self included +regions he did not understand. Mind was the least part of it. +The 'whole' of him that now dealt with Lettice was far above all minor and +partial means of knowing. For it did not judge, it only saw. It was, +perhaps, the soul.</p> + +<p>For it seemed the pain bore him upwards to an unaccustomed height. +He stood for a moment upon that level where she dwelt, even as now he +stood on this balcony looking down upon the dim Egyptian scene. She was +beside him; he gazed into her eyes, even as now he gazed across to the +dark necropolis among the Theban hills. But also, in some odd way, he +stood outside himself. He swam with her upon the summit of the breaking +Wave, lifted upon its crest, swept onward irresistibly.… No halt was +possible… the inevitable crash must come. Yet she was with him. +They were involved together.… The sea!…</p> + +<p>The first bitterness passed a little, the sullen aching with it. He was +aware of high excitement, of a new reckless courage; a touch of the +impersonal came with it all, one Tom playing the part of a spectator to +another Tom—an onlooker at his own discomfiture, at his own suffering, at +his own defeat.</p> + +<p>This new exalted state was very marvellous; for while it lasted he +welcomed all that was to come. 'It's right and necessary for me,' he +recognised; 'I need it, and I'll face it. If I refuse it I prove myself a +failure—again. Besides… <i>she needs it too</i>!'</p> + +<p>For the entire matter then turned over in his mind, so that he saw it from +a new angle suddenly. He looked at it through a keyhole, as it were—the +extent was large yet detailed, the picture distant yet very clearly +focussed. It lay framed within his thoughts, isolated from the rest of +life, isolated somehow even from the immediate present. There was +perspective in it. This keyhole was, perhaps, his deep, unalterable love, +but cleansed and purified.…</p> + +<p>It came to him that she, and even Tony, too, in lesser fashion, were, like +himself, the playthings of great spiritual forces that made alone for +good. The Wave swept all three along. The attitude of his youth +returned; the pain was necessary, yet would bring inevitable joy as its +result. There had been cruel misunderstanding on his part somewhere; that +misunderstanding must be burned away. He saw Lettice and his cousin +helping towards this exquisite deliverance somehow. It was like a moment +of clear vision from a pinnacle. He looked down upon it.…</p> + +<p>Lettice smiled into his eyes through half-closed eyelids. Her smile was +strangely distant, strangely precious: she was love and tenderness +incarnate; her little hands held both of his.… Through these very +eyes, this smile, these little hands, his pain would come; she would +herself inflict it—because she could not help herself; she played her +inevitable rôle as he did. Yet he kissed the eyes, the hands, with an +absolute self-surrender he did not understand, willing and glad that +they should do their worst. He had somewhere dreadfully misjudged her; +he must, he would atone. This passion burned within him, a passion of +sacrifice, of resignation, of free, big acceptance. He felt joy at +the end of it all—the joy of perfect understanding… and forgiveness +. . . on both sides.…</p> + +<p>And the moment of clear vision left its visible traces in him even after +it had passed. If he felt contempt for his cousin, he felt for Lettice a +deep and searching pity—she was divided against herself, she was playing +a part she had to play. The usual human emotions were used, of course, to +convey the situation, yet in some way he was unable to explain she was— +<i>being</i> driven. In spite of herself she must inflict this pain.… +It was a mystery he could not solve.…</p> + +<p>His exaltation, naturally, was of brief duration. The inevitable reaction +followed it. He saw the situation again as an ordinary man of the world +must see it.… The fires of jealousy were alight and spreading. +Already they were eating away the foundations of every generous feeling he +had ever known.… It was not, he argued, that he did not trust her. +He did. But he feared the insidious power of infatuation, he feared the +burning glamour of this land of passionate mirages, he feared the deluding +forces of sex which his cousin had deliberately awakened in her blood—and +other nameless things he feared as well, though he knew not exactly what +they were. For it seemed to him that they were old as dreams, old as the +river and the menace of these solemn hills.… From childhood up, his +own trust in her truth and loyalty had remained unalterably fixed, +ingrained in the very essence of his being. It was more than his relations +with a woman he loved that were in danger: it was his belief and trust in +Woman, focussed in her self symbolically, that were threatened.… +It was his belief in Life.</p> + +<p>With Lettice, however, he felt himself in some way powerless to deal; he +could watch her, but he could not judge… least of all, did he dare +prevent.… <i>Her</i> attitude he could not know nor understand.…</p> + +<p>There was a pink glow upon the desert before he realised that a reply to +Tony's letter was necessary; and that pink was a burning gold when he +knew his answer must be of such a kind that Tony felt free to pursue his +course unchecked. Tom held to his strange belief to 'Let it all come,' he +would not try to prevent; he would neither shirk nor dodge. He doubted +whether it lay in his power now to hinder anything, but in any case he +would not seek to do so. Rather than block coming events, he must +encourage their swift development. It was the best, the only way; it was +the right way too. He belonged to his destination. He went into his own +background.…</p> + +<p>The sky was alight from zenith to horizon, the Nile aflame with sunrise, +by the time the letter was written. He read it over, then hurriedly +undressed and plunged into bed. A long, dreamless sleep took instant +charge of him, for he was exhausted to a state of utter depletion.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> Dear Tony—I have read your letter with the greatest sympathy—it was + forwarded from Assouan. It cost you a good deal, I know, to say what + you did, and I'm sure you mean it for the best. I feel it like that + too—for the best.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> But it is easier for you to write than for me to answer. + Her position, of course, is an awfully delicate one; and I feel— + no doubt you feel too—that her standard of conduct is higher than + that of ordinary women, and that any issue between us—if there is + an issue at all!—should be left to her to decide.</p> + +<p class = "noindent"> Nothing can touch my friendship with her; you needn't worry about + <i>that</i>. But if you can bring any added happiness into her life, it can + only be welcomed by all three of us. So go ahead, Tony, and make her + as happy as you can. The important things are not in our hands to + decide in any case; and, whatever happens, we both agree on one + thing—that her happiness is the important thing.—Yours ever, + Tom.</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0023"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> + + +<p>He was wakened by the white-robed Arab housemaid with his breakfast. +He felt hungry, but still tired; sleep had not rested him. On the tray an +envelope caught his eye—sent by hand evidently, since it bore no stamp. +The familiar writing made the blood race in his veins, and the instant the +man was gone he tore it open. There was burning in his eyes as he read +the pencilled words. He devoured it whole with a kind of visual gulp—a +flash; the entire meaning first, then lines, then separate words.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> Come for lunch, or earlier. My cousin is invited out, and Tony has + suddenly left for Cairo with his friends. I shall be lonely. + How beautiful and precious you were last night. I long for you to + comfort me. But don't efface yourself again—it gave me a horrid, + strange presentiment—as if I were losing you—almost as if you no + longer trusted me. And don't forget that I love you with all my heart + and soul. I had such queer, long dreams last night—terrible rather. + I must tell you. <i>Do</i> come.—Yours, L.<br></p> + +<p class = "noindent"><span class = "ind3"> P.S. Telephone if you can't.</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Sweetness and pain rose in him, then numbness. For his mind flung itself +with violence upon two sentences: he was 'beautiful and precious'; she +longed for him to 'comfort' her. Why, he asked himself, was his conduct +beautiful and precious? And why did she need his comfort? The words were +like vitriol in the eyes.</p> + +<p>Long before reason found the answer, instinct—swift, merciless +interpreter—told him plainly. While the brain fumbled, the heart already +understood. He was stabbed before he knew what stabbed him.</p> + +<p>And hope sank extinguished. The last faint doubt was taken from him. +It was not possible to deceive himself an instant longer, for the naked +truth lay staring into his eyes.</p> + +<p>He swallowed his breakfast without appetite… and went downstairs. +He sighed, but something wept inaudibly. A wall blocked every step he +took. The devastating commonplace was upon him—it was so ordinary. +Other men… oh, how often he had heard the familiar tale! He tried to +grip himself. 'Others… of course… but <i>me</i>!' It seemed +impossible.</p> + +<p>In a dream he crossed the crowded hall, avoiding various acquaintances +with unconscious cunning. He found the letter-box and—posted his letter +to Tony. 'That's gone, at any rate!' he realised. He told the porter to +telephone that he would come to lunch. 'That's settled too!' +Then, hardly knowing what blind instinct prompted, he ordered a +carriage… and presently found himself driving down the hot, familiar +road to—Karnak. For some faultless impulse guided him. He turned to the +gigantic temple, with its towering, immense proportions—as though its +grandeur might somehow protect and mother him.</p> + +<p>In those dim aisles and mighty halls brooded a Presence that he knew could +soothe and comfort. The immensities hung still about the fabulous ruin. +He would lose his tortured self in something bigger—that beauty and +majesty which are Karnak. Before he faced Lettice, he must forget a +moment—forget his fears, his hopes, his ceaseless torment of belief and +doubt. It was, in the last resort, religious—a cry for help, a prayer. +But also it was an inarticulate yearning to find that state of safety +where he and she dwelt secure from separation—in the 'sea.' For Karnak +is a spiritual experience, or it is nothing. There, amid the deep silence +of the listening centuries, he would find peace; forgetting himself a +moment, he might find—strength.</p> + +<p>Then reason parsed the sentences that instinct already understood +complete. For Lettice—the tender woman of his first acquaintance—had +obviously experienced a moment of reaction. She realised he was wounded +at her hands. She felt shame and pity. She craved comfort and +forgiveness—his comfort, his forgiveness. Conscience whispered. +As against the pain she inflicted, he had been generous, long-suffering— +therefore his conduct was 'beautiful and precious.' Tony, moreover, had +hidden himself until his letter should be answered—and she was 'lonely.'</p> + +<p>With difficulty Tom suppressed the rising bitterness of contempt and anger +in him. His cousin's obliquity was a sordid touch. He forgot a moment +the loftier point of view; but for a short time only. The contempt merged +again in something infinitely greater. The anger disappeared. <i>Her</i> +attitude occupied him exclusively. The two phrases rang on with insistent +meaning in his heart, as with the clang of a fateful sentence of exile, +execution—death:</p> + +<p>'How beautiful you were last night, and precious… I long for you to +comfort me.…'</p> + +<p>While the carriage crawled along the sun-baked sand, he watched the Arab +children with their blue-black hair, who ran beside it, screaming for +bakshish. The little faces shone like polished bronze; they held their +hands out, their bare feet pattered in the sand. He tossed small coins +among them. And their cries and movements fell into the rhythm of the +song, whose haunting refrain pulsed ever in his blood: 'We were young, we +were merry, we were very very wise.…'</p> + +<p>They were soon out-distanced, the palm-trees fell away, the soaring temple +loomed against the blazing sky. He left the <i>arabyieh</i> at the western +entrance and went on foot down the avenue of headless rams. The huge +Khonsu gateway dropped its shadow over him. Passing through the Court +with its graceful colonnades, and the Chapel, flanked by cool, dark +chambers, where the Sacred Boat floated on its tideless sea beyond the +world, he moved on across the sandy waste of broken stone again, and +reached in a few minutes the towering grey and reddish sandstone that was +Amon's Temple.</p> + +<p>This was the goal of his little pilgrimage. Sublimity closed round him. +The gigantic pylon, its shoulders breaking the sky four-square far +overhead, seemed the prodigious portal of another world. Slowly he passed +within, crossed the Great Court where the figures of ancient Theban +deities peered at him between the forest of broken monoliths and lovely +Osiris pillars, then, moving softly beneath the second enormous pylon, +found himself on the threshold of the Great Hypostyle Hall itself.</p> + +<p>He caught his breath, he paused, then stepped within on tiptoe, and the +hush of four thousand years closed after him. Awe stole upon him; he +felt himself included in the great ideal of this older day. +The stupendous aisles lent him their vast shelter; the fierce sunlight +could not burn his flesh; the air was cool and sweet in these dim recesses +of unremembered time. He passed his hand with reverence over the +drum-shaped blocks that built up the majestic columns, as they reared +towards the massive, threatening roof. The countless inscriptions and +reliefs showered upon his sight bewilderingly.</p> + +<p>And he forgot his lesser self in this crowded atmosphere of ancient +divinities and old-world splendour. He was aware of kings and queens, of +princes and princesses, of stately priests, of hosts and conquests; +forgotten gods and goddesses trooped past his listening soul; his heart +remembered olden wars, and the royalty of golden days came back to him. +He steeped himself in the long, long silence in which an earlier day lay +listening with ears of stone. There was colour; there was spendthrift +grandeur, half savage, half divine. His imagination, wakened by Egypt, +plunged backwards with a sense of strange familiarity. Tom easily found +the mightier scale his aching heart so hungrily desired. It soothed his +personal anguish with a sense of individual insignificance which was +comfort.…</p> + +<p>The peace was marvellous, an unearthly peace; the strength unwearied, +inexhaustible. The power that was Amon lingered still behind the tossed +and fabulous ruin. Those soaring columns held up the very sky, and their +foundations made the earth itself swing true. The silence, profound, +unalterable, was the silence in the soul that lies behind all passion and +distress. And these steadfast qualities Tom absorbed unconsciously +through his very skin.… The Wave might fall indeed, but it would +fall into the mothering sea where levels must be restored again, secure +upon unshakable foundations.… And as he paced these solemn aisles, +his soul drank in their peace and stillness, their strength of calm +resistance. Though built upon the sand, they still endured, and would +continue to endure. They pointed to the stars.</p> + +<p>And the effect produced upon him, though the adjective was not his, seemed +spiritual. There was a power in the mighty ruin that lifted him to an +unaccustomed level from which he looked down upon the inner drama being +played. He reached a height; the bird's-eye view was his; he saw and +realised, yet he did not judge. The vast structure, by its harmony, its +power, its overmastering beauty, made him feel ashamed and mortified. +A sense of humiliation crept into him, melting certain stubborn elements +of self that, grown out of proportion, blocked his soul's clear vision. +That he must stand aside had never occurred to him before with such stern +authority; it occurred to him now. The idea of sacrifice stole over him +with a sweetness that was deep and marvellous. It seemed that Isis +touched him. He looked into the eyes of great Osiris,… and that part +of him that ever watched—the great Onlooker—smiled.</p> + +<p>His being, as a whole, remained inarticulate as usual; no words came to +his assistance. It was rather that he attained—as once before, in +another moment of deeper insight—that attitude towards himself which is +best described as impersonal. Who was <i>he</i>, indeed, that he should claim +the right to thwart another's happiness, hinder another's best +self-realisation? By what right, in virtue of what exceptional personal +value, could he, Tom Kelverdon, lay down the law to this other, and say, +'Me only shall you love… because I happen to love you…?'</p> + +<p>And, as though to test what of strength and honesty might lie in this +sudden exaltation of resolve, he recognised just then the very pylon +against whose vast bulk <i>they</i> had rested together that moonlit night a +few short weeks before… when he saw two rise up like one +person… as he left them and stole away into the shadows.</p> + +<p>'So I knew it even then—subconsciously,' he realised. 'The truth was in +me even then, a few days after my arrival.… And they knew it too. +She was already going from me, if not already gone…!'</p> + +<p>He leaned against that same stone column, thinking, searching in his mind, +feeling acutely. Reactions caught at him in quick succession. Doubt, +suspicion, anger clouded vision; pain routed the impersonal conception. +Loneliness came over him with the cool wind that stirred the sand between +the columns; the patches of glaring sunshine took on a ghastly whiteness; +he shivered.… But it was not that he lost belief in his moment of +clear vision, nor that the impersonal attitude became untrue. It was +another thing he realised: that the power of attainment was not yet in +him… quite. He could renounce, but not with complete +acceptance.…</p> + +<p>As he drove back along the sandy lanes of blazing heat a little later, it +seemed to him that he had been through some strenuous battle that had +taxed his final source of strength. If his position was somewhat vague, +this was due to his inability to analyse such deep interior turmoil. +He was sure, at least, of one thing—that, before he could know this final +joy awaiting him, he must first find in himself the strength for what +seemed just then an impossible, an ultimate sacrifice. He must forget +himself—if such forgetfulness involved the happiness of another. +He must slip out. The strength to do it would come presently. And his +heart was full of this indeterminate, half-formed resolve as he entered +the shady garden and saw Lettice lying in her deck-chair beneath the +trees, awaiting him.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0024"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> + + +<p>Events, however slight, which involve the soul are drama; for once the +soul takes a hand in them their effects are permanent and reproductive. +Not alone the relationship between individuals are determined this way or +that, but the relationships of these individuals towards the universe are +changed upon a scale of geometrical progression. The results are of the +eternal order. Since that which persists—the soul—is radically +affected, they are of ultimate importance.</p> + +<p>Had the strange tie between Tom and Lettice been due to physical causes +only, to mental affinity, or to mere sympathetic admiration of each +other's outward strength and beauty, a rupture between them could have +been of a passing character merely. A pang, a bitterness that lasted for +a day or for a year—and the gap would be filled again by some one else. +They had idealised; they would get over it; they were not indispensable to +one another; there were other fish in the sea, and so forth.</p> + +<p>But with Tom, at any rate, there was something transcendental in their +intimate union. Loss, where she was concerned, involved a permanent and +irremediable bereavement—no substitute was conceivable. With him, this +relationship seemed foreordained, almost prenatal—it had come to him at +the very dawn of life; it had lasted through years of lonely waiting; no +other woman had ever threatened its fixed security, and the sudden meeting +in Switzerland had seemed to him reunion rather than discovery. Moreover, +he had transferred his own sense of security to her; had always credited +her with similar feelings; and the suspicion now that he had deceived +himself in this made life tremble to the foundations. It was a terrible +thought that robbed him of every atom of self-confidence. It affected his +attitude to the entire universe.</p> + +<p>The intensity of this drama, however, being interior, caused little +outward disturbance that casual onlookers need have noticed. He waved his +hat as he walked towards the corner where she lay, greeting her with a +smile and careless word, as though no shadow stood between them. +A barrier, nevertheless, was there he knew. He <i>felt</i> it almost sensibly. +Also—it had grown higher. And at once he was aware that the Lettice who +returned his smile with a colourless 'Good morning, Tom, I'm so glad you +could come,' was not the Lettice who had known a moment's reaction a +little while before. He told by her very attitude that now there was +lassitude, even weariness in her. Her eyes betrayed none of the +excitement and delight that another could wake in her. His own presence +certainly no longer brought the thrill, the interest that once it did. +She was both bored and lonely.</p> + +<p>And, while an exquisite pain ran through him, he made a prodigious effort +to draw upon the strength he had felt in Karnak a short half-hour ago. +He struggled bravely to forget himself. 'So Tony's gone!' he said +lightly, 'run off and left us without so much as a word of warning or +good-bye. A rascally proceeding, I call it! Rather sudden, too, wasn't +it?'</p> + +<p>He sat down beside her and began to smoke. She need not answer unless she +wanted to. She did answer, however, and at once. She did not look at +him; her eyes were on the golden distance. It had to be said; she said +it. 'He's only gone for two or three days. His friends suddenly changed +their minds, and he couldn't get out of it. He said he didn't want to +go—a bit.'</p> + +<p>How did she know it, Tom wondered, glancing up over his cigarette? +And how had she read his mind so easily?</p> + +<p>'He just popped in to tell me,' she added, 'and to say good-bye. He asked +me to tell you.' She spoke without a tremor, as if Tom had no right to +disapprove.</p> + +<p>'Pretty early, wasn't it?' It was not the first time either. 'He comes +at such unusual hours'—he remembered Mrs. Haughstone's words.</p> + +<p>'I was only just up. But there was time to give him coffee before the +train.'</p> + +<p>She offered no further comment; Tom made none; he sat smoking there beside +her, outwardly calm and peaceful as though no feeling of any kind was in +him. He felt numb perhaps. In his mind he saw the picture of the +breakfast-table beneath the trees. The plan had been arranged, of course, +beforehand.</p> + +<p>'Miss de Lorne's coming to lunch,' she mentioned presently. 'She's to +bring her pictures—the Deir-el-Bahri ones. You must help me criticise +them.'</p> + +<p>So they were not to be alone even, was Tom's instant thought. Aloud he +said merely, 'I hope they're good.' She flicked the flies away with her +horse-hair whisk, and sighed. He caught the sigh. The day felt empty, +uninspired, the boredom of cruel disillusion in it somewhere. But it was +the sigh that made him realise it. Avoiding the subject of Tony's abrupt +departure, he asked what she would like to do that afternoon. He made +various proposals; she listened without interest. 'D'you know, Tom, I +don't feel inclined to do anything much, but just lie and rest.'</p> + +<p>There was no energy in her, no zest for life; expeditions had lost their +interest; she was listless, tired. He felt impatience in him, sharp +disappointment too; but there was an alert receptiveness in his mind that +noted trifles done or left undone. She made no reference, for instance, +to the fact that they might be frequently alone together now. A faint +hope that had been in him vanished quickly.… He wondered when she +was going to speak of her letter, of his conduct the night before that was +'beautiful and precious,' of the 'comfort' she had needed, or even of the +dreams that she had mentioned. But, though he waited, giving various +openings, nothing was forthcoming. That side of her, once intimately +precious and familiar, seemed buried, hidden away, perhaps forgotten. +This was not Lettice—it was some one else.</p> + +<p>'You had dreams that frightened you?' he enquired at length. 'You said +you'd tell them to me.' He moved nearer so that he could watch her face.</p> + +<p>She looked puzzled for a second. 'Did I?' she replied. She thought a +moment. 'Oh yes, of course I did. But they weren't much really. +I'd forgotten. It was about water or something. Ah, I remember now—we +were drowning, and you saved us.' She gave a little unmeaning laugh as +she said it.</p> + +<p>'Who were drowning?'</p> + +<p>'All of us—me and you, I think it was—and Tony——'</p> + +<p>'Oh, of course.'</p> + +<p>She looked up. 'Tom, why do you say "of course" like that?'</p> + +<p>'It was your old idea of the river and the floating faces, I meant,' he +answered. 'I had the feeling.'</p> + +<p>'You said it so sharply.'</p> + +<p>'Did I!' He shrugged his shoulders slightly. 'I didn't mean to.' +He noticed the beauty of her ear, the delicate line of the nostrils, the +long eyelashes. The graceful neck, with the firm, slim line of the breast +below, were exquisite. The fairy curve of her ankle was just visible. +He could have knelt and covered it with kisses. Her coolness, the touch +of contempt in her voice made him wild.… But he understood his rôle; +and—he remembered Karnak.</p> + +<p>A little pause followed. Lettice made one of her curious gestures, half +impatience, half weariness. She stretched; the other ankle appeared. +Tom, as he saw it, felt something in him burst into flame. He came +perilously near to saying impetuously a hundred things he had determined +that he must not say. He felt the indifference in her, the coolness, +almost the cruelty. Her negative attitude towards him goaded, tantalised. +He was full of burning love, from head to foot, while she lay there within +two feet of him, calm, listless, unresponsive, passionless. The bitter +pain of promises unfulfilled assailed him acutely, poignantly. Yet in +ordinary life the situation was so commonplace. The 'strong man' would +face her with it, have it out plainly; he would be masterful, forcing a +climax of one kind or another, behaving as men do in novels or on the +stage.</p> + +<p>Yet Tom remained tongue-tied and restrained; he seemed unable to take the +lead; an inner voice cried sternly No to all such natural promptings. +It would be a gross mistake. He must let things take their course. +He must not force a premature disclosure. With a tremendous effort, he +controlled himself and smothered the rising fires that struggled towards +speech and action. He would not even ask a single question. Somehow, in +any case, it was impossible.</p> + +<p>The subject dropped; Lettice made no further reference to the letter.</p> + +<p>'When you feel like going anywhere, or doing anything, you'll let me +know,' he suggested presently. 'We've been too energetic lately. +It's best for you to rest. You're tired.' The words hurt and stung him +as though he were telling lies. He felt untrue to himself. The blood +boiled in his veins.</p> + +<p>She answered him with a touch of impatience again, almost of exasperation. +He noticed the emphasis she used so needlessly.</p> + +<p>'Tom, I'm <i>not</i> tired—not in the way <i>you</i> mean. It's just that I feel +like being quiet for a bit. <i>Really</i> it's not so remarkable! Can't you +understand?'</p> + +<p>'Perfectly,' he rejoined calmly, lighting another cigarette. 'We'll have +a programme ready for later—when Tony gets back.' The blood rushed from +his heart as he said it.</p> + +<p>Her face brightened instantly, as he had expected—dreaded; there was no +attempt at concealment anywhere; she showed interest as frankly as a +child. 'It was stupid of him to go, just when we were enjoying everything +so,' she said again. 'I wonder how long he'll stay——'</p> + +<p>'I'll write and tell him to hurry up,' suggested Tom. He twirled his +fly-whisk energetically.</p> + +<p>'Tell him we can't get on without our <i>dragoman</i>,' she added eagerly with +her first attempt at gaiety; and then went on to mention other things he +was to say, till her pleasure in talking about Tony was so obvious that +Tom yielded to temptation suddenly. It was more than he could bear. +'I strongly suspect a pretty girl in the party somewhere,' he observed +carelessly.</p> + +<p>'There is,' came the puzzling reply, 'but he doesn't care for her a bit. +He told me all about her. It's curious, isn't it, how he fascinates them +all? There's something very remarkable about Tony—I can't quite make it +out.'</p> + +<p>Tom leaned forward, bringing his face in front of her own, and closer to +it. He looked hard into her eyes a moment. In the depths of her steady +gaze he saw shadows, far away, behind the open expression. There was +trouble in her, but it was deep, deep down and out of sight. The eyes of +some one else, it seemed, looked through her into his. An older world +came whispering across the sunlight and the sand.</p> + +<p>'Lettice,' he said quietly, 'there's something new come into your life +these last few weeks—isn't there?' His voice grated—like machinery +started with violent effort against resistance. 'Some new, big force, I +mean? You seem so changed, so different.' He had not meant to speak like +this. It was forced out. He expressed himself badly too. He raged +inwardly.</p> + +<p>She smiled, but only with her lips. The shadows from behind her eyes drew +nearer to the surface. But the eyes themselves held steady. That other +look peered out of them. He was aware of power, of something strangely +bewitching, yet at the same time fierce, inflexible in her… and a +kind of helplessness came over him, as though he was suddenly out of his +depth, without sure footing. The Wave roared in his ears and blood.</p> + +<p>'Egypt probably—old Egypt,' she said gently, making a slow gesture with +one hand towards the river and the sky. 'It must be that.' The gesture, +it seemed to him, had royalty in it somewhere. There was stateliness and +dignity—an air of authority about her. It was magnificent. He felt +worship in him. The slave that lies in worship stirred. He could yield +his life, suffer torture for days to give her a moment's happiness.</p> + +<p>'I meant something personal, rather,' he prevaricated.</p> + +<p>'You meant Tony. I know it. Didn't you, Tom?'</p> + +<p>His breath caught inwardly. In spite of himself, and in spite of his +decision, she drew his secret out. Enchantment touched him deliciously, +an actual torture in it.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said honestly, 'perhaps I did.' He said it shamefacedly rather, +to his keen vexation. 'For it <i>has</i> to do with Tony somehow.'</p> + +<p>He got up abruptly, tossed his cigarette over the wall into the river, +then sat down again. 'There's something about it—strange and big. +I can't make it out a bit.' He faltered, stammered over the words. +'It's a long way off—then all at once it's close.' He had the feeling +that he had put a match to something. 'I've done it now,' he said to +himself like a boy, as though he expected that something dramatic must +happen instantly.</p> + +<p>But nothing happened. The river flowed on silently, the heat blazed down, +the leaves hung motionless as before, and far away the lime-stone hills +lay sweltering in the glare. But those hills had glided nearer. He was +aware of them,—the Valley of the Kings,—the desolate Theban Hills with +their myriad secrets and their deathless tombs.</p> + +<p>Lettice gave her low, significant little laugh. 'It's odd you should say +that, Tom—very odd. Because I've felt it too. It's awfully remote and +quite near at the same time——'</p> + +<p>'And Tony's brought it,' he interrupted eagerly, half passionately. +'It's got to do with him, I mean.'</p> + +<p>It seemed to him that the barrier between them had lowered a little. +The Lettice he knew first peered over it at him.</p> + +<p>'No,' she corrected, 'I don't feel that he's brought it. He's <i>in</i> it +somehow, I admit, but he has not brought it exactly.' She hesitated a +moment. 'I think the truth is he can't help himself—any more than we— +you or I—can.'</p> + +<p>There was a caressing tenderness in her voice as she said it, but whether +for himself or for another he could not tell. In his heart rose a frantic +impulse just then to ask—to blurt it out: 'Do you love Tony? Has he +taken you from me? Tell me the truth and I can bear it. Only, for +heaven's sake, don't hide it!' But, instead of saying this absurd, +theatrical thing, he looked at her through the drifting cigarette smoke a +moment without speaking, trying to read the expression in her face. +'Last night, for instance,' he exclaimed abruptly; 'in the music room, I +mean. Did you feel <i>that</i>?—the intensity—a kind of ominous feeling?'</p> + +<p>Her expression was enigmatical; there were signs of struggle in it, he +thought. It was as if two persons fought within her which should answer. +Apparently the dear Lettice of his first acquaintance won—for the moment.</p> + +<p>'You noticed it too!' she exclaimed with astonishment. 'I thought I was +the only one.'</p> + +<p>'We all—all three of us—felt it,' he said in a lower tone. +'Tony certainly did——'</p> + +<p>Lettice raised herself suddenly on her elbow and looked down at him with +earnestness. Something of the old eagerness was in her. The barrier +between them lowered perceptibly again, and Tom felt a momentary return of +the confidence he had lost. His heart beat quickly. He made a +half-impetuous gesture towards her—'What is it? What does it all mean, +Lettice?' he exclaimed. 'D'you feel what <i>I</i> feel in it—danger +somewhere—danger for <i>us</i>?' There was a yearning, almost a cry for mercy +in his voice.</p> + +<p>She drew back again. 'You amaze me, Tom,' she said, as she lay among her +cushions. 'I had no idea you were so observant.' She paused, putting her +hand across her eyes a moment. 'N-no—I don't feel danger exactly,' she +went on in a lower tone, speaking half to herself and half to him; +'I feel—' She broke off with a little sigh; her hand still covered her +eyes. 'I feel,' she went on slowly, with pauses between the words, +'a deep, deep something—from very far away—that comes over me at times— +only at times, yes. It's remote, enormously remote—but it has to be. +I've never given you all that I ought to give. We have to go through with +it——'</p> + +<p>'You and I?' he whispered. He was listening intently. The beats of his +heart were most audible.</p> + +<p>She sighed. 'All three of us—somehow,' she replied equally low, and +speaking again more to herself than to him. 'Ah! Now my dream comes back +a little. It was <i>the</i> river—my river with the floating faces. And the +thing I feel comes—from its source, far, far away—its tiny source among +the hills——' She sighed again, more deeply than before. Her breast +heaved slightly. 'We must go through it—yes. It's necessary for us— +necessary for you—and me——'</p> + +<p>'Lettice, my precious, my wonderful!' Tom whispered as though the breath +choked and strangled him. 'But we stay together through it? We stay +together <i>afterwards</i>? You love me still?' He leaned across and took her +other hand. It lay unresistingly in his. It was very cold—without a +sign of response.</p> + +<p>Her faint reply half staggered him: 'We are always, always together, you +and I. Even if you married, I should still be yours. He will go out——'</p> + +<p>Fear clashed with hope in his heart as he heard these words he could not +understand. He groped and plunged after their meaning. He was bewildered +by the reference to marriage—his marriage! Was she, then, already aware +that she might lose him?… But there was confession in them too, the +confession that she <i>had</i> been away from him. That he felt clearly. +Now that the dividing influence was removed, she was coming back perhaps! +If Tony stayed away she would come back entirely; only then the thing that +had to happen would be prevented—which was not to be thought of for a +moment.… 'Poor Lettice.…' He felt pity, love, protection that +he burned to give; he felt a savage pain and anger as well. In the depths +of him love and murder sat side by side.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Lettice, tell me everything. Do share with me—share it and we'll +meet it together.' He drew her cold hand towards him, putting it inside +his coat. 'Don't hide it from me. You're my whole world. <i>My</i> love can +never change.… Only don't hide anything!' The words poured out of +him with passionate entreaty. The barrier had melted, vanished. He had +found her again, the Lettice of his childhood, of his dream, the true and +faithful woman he had known first. His inexpressible love rose like a +wave upon him. Regardless of where they were he bent over to take her in +his arms—when she suddenly withdrew her hand from his. She removed the +other from her eyes. He saw her face. And he realised in an instant that +his words had been all wrong. He had said precisely again what he ought +not to have said. The moment in her had passed.</p> + +<p>The sudden change had a freezing effect upon him.</p> + +<p>'Tom, I don't understand quite,' she said coldly, her eyes fixed on his +almost with resentment in them. 'I'm not <i>hiding</i> anything from you. +Why do you say such things? I'm true—true to myself.'</p> + +<p>The barrier was up again in an instant, of granite this time, with jagged +edges of cut glass upon it, so that he could not approach it even. +It was not Lettice that spoke then:</p> + +<p>'I don't know what's come over you out here,' she went on, each word she +uttered increasing the distance between them; 'you misunderstand +everything I say and criticise all I do. You suspect my tenderest +instincts. Even a friendship that brings me happiness you object to and— +and exaggerate.'</p> + +<p>He listened till she ceased; it was as if he had received a blow in the +face; he felt disconcerted, keenly aware of his own stupidity, helpless. +Something froze in him. He had seen her for a second, then lost her +utterly.</p> + +<p>'No, no, Lettice,' he stammered, 'you read all that into me—really, you +do. I only want your happiness.'</p> + +<p>Her eyes softened a little. She sighed wearily and turned her face away.</p> + +<p>'We were only talking of this curious, big feeling that's come——' he +went on.</p> + +<p>'You were speaking of Tony—that's what you really meant, Tom,' she +interrupted. 'You know it perfectly well. It only makes it harder—for +<i>me</i>?'</p> + +<p>He felt suddenly she was masquerading, playing with him again, playing +with his very heart and soul. The devil tempted him. All the things he +had decided he would not say rose to the tip of his tongue. The worst of +them—those that hurt him most—he managed to force down. But even the +one he did suffer to escape gave him atrocious pain:</p> + +<p>'Well, Lettice, to tell the truth, I do think Tony has a bad—a curious +influence on you. I do feel he has come between us rather. And I do +think that if you would only share with me——'</p> + +<p>The sudden way she turned upon him, rising from her chair and standing +over him, was so startling that he got up too. They faced each other, he +in the blazing sunshine, she in the shade. She looked so different that +he was utterly taken aback. She wore that singular Eastern appearance he +now knew so well. Expression, attitude, gesture, all betrayed it. +That inflexible, cruel thing shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Tom, dear,' she said, but with a touch of frigid exasperation that for a +moment paralysed thought and utterance in him, 'whatever happens, you must +realise this—that I am myself and that I can never allow my freedom to be +taken from me. If you're determined to misjudge, the fault is yours, and +if our love, our friendship, cannot understand <i>that</i>, there's something +wrong with it.'</p> + +<p>The word 'friendship' was like a sword thrust. It went right through him. +'I trust you,' he faltered, 'I trust you wholly. I know you're true.' +But the words, it seemed, gave expression to an intense desire, a fading +hope. He did not say it with conviction. She gazed at him for a moment +through half-closed eyelids.</p> + +<p>'<i>Do</i> you, Tom?' she whispered.</p> + +<p>'Lettice…!'</p> + +<p>'Then believe at least—' her voice wavered suddenly, there came a little +break in it—'that I am true to you, Tom, as I am to myself. Believe in +that… and—Oh! for the love of heaven—help me!'</p> + +<p>Before he could respond, before he could act upon the hope and passion her +last unexpected words set loose in him—she turned away to go into the +house. Voices were audible behind them, and Miss de Lorne was coming up +the sandy drive with Mrs. Haughstone. Tom watched her go. She moved with +a certain gliding, swaying walk as she passed along the verandah and +disappeared behind the curtains of dried grass. It almost seemed—though +this must certainly have been a trick of light and shadow—that she was +swathed from head to foot in a clinging garment not of modern kind, and +that he caught the gleam of gold upon the flesh of dusky arms that were +bare above the elbow. Two persons were visible in her very physical +appearance, as two persons had just been audible in her words. Thence +came the conflict and the contradictions.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0025"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> + + +<p>A few minutes later Lettice was presiding over her luncheon table as +though life were simple as the sunlight in the street outside, and no +clouds could ever fleck the procession of the years. She was quiet and +yet betrayed excitement. Tom, at the opposite end of the table, watched +her girlish figure, her graceful gestures. Her eyes were very bright, no +shadows in their depths; she returned his gaze with untroubled frankness. +Yet the set of her little mouth had self-mastery in it somewhere; +there was no wavering or uncertainty; her self-possession was complete. +But above his head the sword of Damocles hung. He saw the thread, taut +and gleaming in the glare of the Egyptian sunlight.… He waited upon +his cousin's return as men once waited for the sign thumbs up, thumbs +down.…</p> + +<p>'Molly has sent me her album,' mentioned Mrs. Haughstone when the four of +them were lounging in the garden chairs; 'she wonders if you would write +your name in it. It's her passion—to fill it with distinguished names.' +And when the page was found, she pointed to the quotation against his +birthday date with the remark, in a lowered voice: 'It's quite +appropriate, isn't it? For a man, I mean,' she added, 'because when a +man's unhappy he's more easily tempted to suspicion than a woman is.'</p> + +<p>'What is the quotation?' asked Lettice, glancing up from her deck chair.</p> + +<p>Tom was carefully inscribing his 'distinguished' name in the child's +album, as Mrs. Haughstone read the words aloud over his shoulder:</p> + +<p>'"Whatever the circumstances, there is no man so miserable that he need +not be true." It's anonymous,' she added, 'but it's by some one very +wise.'</p> + +<p>'A woman, probably,' Miss de Lorne put in with a laugh.</p> + +<p>They discussed it, while Tom laboriously wrote his name against it with a +fountain pen. His writing was a little shaky, for his sight was blurred +and ice was in his veins.</p> + +<p>'There's no need for you to hurry, is there?' said Lettice presently. +'Won't you stay and read to me a bit? Or would you rather look in—after +dinner—and smoke?' The two selves spoke in that. It was as if the +earlier, loving Lettice tried to assert itself, but was instantly driven +back again. How differently she would have said it a few months +ago.… He made excuses, saying he would drop in after dinner if he +might. She did not press him further.</p> + +<p>'I <i>am</i> tired a little,' she said gently. 'I'll sleep and rest and write +letters too, then.'</p> + +<p>She was invariably tired now, Tom soon discovered—until Tony returned +from Cairo.…</p> + +<p>And that evening he escaped the invitations to play bridge, and made his +way back, as in a dream, to the little house upon the Nile. He found her +bending over the table so that the lamp shone on her abundant coils of +hair, and as he entered softly he saw the address on the envelope beside +her writing pad, several pages of which were already covered with her +small, fine writing. He read the name before he could turn his eyes away.</p> + +<p>'I was writing to Tony,' she said, looking up with an untroubled smile, +'but I can finish later. And you've come just in time to take my part. +Ettie's been scolding me severely again.'</p> + +<p>She blotted the lines and put the paper on one side, then turned with a +challenging expression at her cousin who was knitting by the open window. +The little name sounded so incongruous; it did not suit the big gaunt +woman who had almost a touch of the monstrous in her. Tom stared a moment +without speaking. The playful challenge had reality in it. Lettice +intended to define her position openly. She meant that Tom should support +her too.</p> + +<p>He smiled as he watched them. But no words came to him. Then, +remembering all at once that he had not kept his promise, he said quietly: +'I must send a line as well. I quite forgot.'</p> + +<p>'You can write it now,' suggested Lettice, 'and I'll enclose it in mine.' +And she pointed to the envelopes and paper before him on the table.</p> + +<p>There was a moment of acute and painful struggle in him; pride and love +fought the old pitched battle, but on a field of her own bold choosing! +Tom knew murder in his heart, but he knew also that strange rich pain of +sacrifice. It was theatrical: he stood upon the stage, an audience +watching him with intent expectancy, wondering upon his decision. +Mrs. Haughstone, Lettice and another part of himself that was Onlooker +were the audience; Mrs. Haughstone had ceased knitting, Lettice leaned +back in her chair, a smile in the eyes, but the lips set very firmly +together. The man in him, with scorn and anger, seemed to clench his +fists, while that other self—as with a spirit's voice from very far +away—whispered behind his pain: 'Obey. You must. It has to be, so why +not help it forward!'</p> + +<p>To play the game, but to play it better than before, flashed through +him.… Half amazed at himself, yet half contented, he sat down +mechanically and scribbled a few lines of urgent entreaty to his cousin to +come back soon.… 'We want you here, it's dull, we can't get on +without you…' knowing that he traced the sentences of his own +death-warrant. He folded it and passed it across to Lettice, who slipped +it unread into her envelope. 'That ought to bring him, you think?' she +observed, a happy light in her eyes, yet with a faint sigh half +suppressed, as though she did a thing which hurt her too.</p> + +<p>'I hope so,' replied Tom. 'I think so.'</p> + +<p>He knew not what she had written to Tony; but whatever it was, his own +note would appear to endorse it. He had perhaps placed in her hand the +weapon that should hasten his own defeat, stretch him bleeding on the +sand. And yet he trusted her; she was loyal and true throughout. +The quicker the climax came, the sooner would he know the marvellous joy +that lay beyond the pain. In some way, moreover, she knew this too. +Actually they were working together, hand in hand, to hasten its +inevitable arrival. They merely used such instruments as fate offered, +however trivial, however clumsy. They were <i>being</i> driven. They could +neither choose nor resist. He found a germ of subtle comfort in the +thought. The Wave was under them. Upon its tumultuous volume they swept +forward, side by side… striking out wildly.</p> + +<p>'And will you also post it for me when you go?' he heard. 'I'll just add +a line to finish up with.' Tom watched her open the writing-block again +and trace a hurried sentence or two; she did it openly; he saw the neat, +small words flow from the nib; he saw the signature: 'Lettice.'</p> + +<p>'Fasten it down for me, Tom, will you? It's such an ugly thing for a +woman to do. It's absurd that science can't invent a better way of +closing an envelope, isn't it?' He was oddly helpless; she forced him to +obey out of some greater knowledge. And while he did the ungraceful act, +their eyes met across the table. It was the other person in her—the +remote, barbaric, eastern woman, set somehow in power over him—who +watched him seal his own discomfiture, and smiled to know his obedience +had to be. It was, indeed, as though she tortured him deliberately, yet +for some reason undivined.</p> + +<p>For a passing second Tom felt this—then the strange exaggeration +vanished. They played a game together. All this had been before. +They looked back upon it, looked down from a point above it.… Tom +could not read her heart, but he could read his own.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes at most all this happened. He put the letter in his +pocket, and Lettice turned to her cousin, challenge in her manner, an air +of victory as well. And Tom felt he shared that victory somehow too. +It was a curious moment, charged with a subtle perplexity of emotions none +of them quite understood. It held such singular contradictions.</p> + +<p>'There, Ettie!' she exclaimed, as much as to say 'Now you can't scold me +any more. You see how little Mr. Kelverdon minds!'</p> + +<p>While she flitted into the next room to fetch a stamp, Mrs. Haughstone, +her needles arrested in mid-air, looked steadily at Tom. Her face was +white. She had watched the little scene intently.</p> + +<p>'The only thing I cannot understand, Mr. Kelverdon,' she said in a low +tone, her voice both indignant and sympathetic, 'is how my cousin can give +pain to a man like <i>you</i>. It's the most heartless thing I've ever seen.'</p> + +<p>'Me!' gasped Tom. 'But I don't understand you!'</p> + +<p>'And for a creature like that!' she went on quickly, as Lettice was heard +in the passage; 'a libertine,'—she almost hissed the word out—'who thinks +every pretty woman is made for his amusement—and false into the +bargain——'</p> + +<p>Tom put the stamp on. A few minutes later he was again walking along the +narrow little Luxor street, the sentences just heard still filling the +silent air about him, emotions charging wildly, each detail of the +familiar little journey associated already with present pain and with +prophecies of pain to come. The bewilderment and confusion in him were +beyond all quieting. One moment he saw the picture of a slender foot that +deliberately crushed life into the dust, the next he gazed into gentle, +loving eyes that would brim with tears if a single hair of his head were +injured.</p> + +<p>A cold and mournful wind blew down the street, ruffling the darkened +river. The black line of hills he could not see. Mystery, enchantment +hung in the very air. The long dry fingers of the palm trees rattled +overhead, and looking up, he saw the divine light of the starry +heavens.… Surely among those comforting stars he saw her radiant +eyes as well.…</p> + +<p>A voice, asking in ridiculous English the direction to a certain house, +broke his reverie, and, turning round, he saw the sheeted figure of an +Arab boy, the bright eyes gleaming in the mischievous little face of +bronze. He pointed out the gateway, and the boy slipped off into the +darkness, his bare feet soundless and mysterious on the sand. +He disappeared up the driveway to the house—her house. Tom knew quite +well from whom the telegram came. Tony had telegraphed to let her know of +his safe arrival. So even that was necessary! 'And to-morrow morning,' +he thought, 'he'll get my letter too. He'll come posting back again the +very next day.' He clenched his teeth a moment; he shuddered. Then he +added: 'So much the better!' and walked on quickly up the street. +He posted <i>her</i> letter at the corner.</p> + +<p>He went up to his bedroom. His sleepless nights had begun now.…</p> + +<p>What was the use of thinking, he asked himself as the hours passed? +What good did it do to put the same questions over and over again, to pass +from doubt to certainty, only to be flung back again from certainty to +doubt? Was there no discoverable centre where the pendulum ceased from +swinging? How could she be at the same time both cruel and tender, both +true and false, frank and secretive, spiritual and sensual? Each of these +pairs, he realised, was really a single state of which the adjectives +represented the extremes at either end. They were ripples. The central +personality travelled in one or other direction according to +circumstances, according to the pull or push of forces—the main momentum +of the parent wave. But there was a point where the heart felt neither +one nor other, neither cruel nor tender, false nor true. Where, on the +thermometer, did heat begin and cold come to an end? Love and hate, +similarly, were extremes of one and the same emotion. Love, he well knew, +could turn to virulent hatred—if something checked and forced it back +upon the line of natural advance. Could, then, <i>her</i> tenderness be thus +reversed, turning into cruelty.… Or was this cruelty but the +awakening in her of another thing?…</p> + +<p>Possibly. Yet at the centre, that undiscovered centre at present beyond +his reach, Lettice, he knew, remained unalterably steadfast. There he +felt the absolute assurance she was his exclusively. His centre, +moreover, coincided with her own. They were in the 'sea' together. +But to get back into the sea, the Wave now rolling under them must first +break and fall.…</p> + +<p>The sooner, then, the better! They would swing back with it together +eventually.</p> + +<p>He chose, that is—without knowing it—a higher way of moulding destiny. +It was the spiritual way, whose method and secret lie in that subtle +paradox: Yield to conquer.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0026"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> + + +<p>Yes, she was always 'tired' now, though the 'always' meant but three days +at most. It was the starving sense of loneliness, the aching sense of +loss, the yearning and the vain desire that made it seem so long. +Lettice evaded him with laughter in her eyes, or with a tired smile. +But the laughter was for another. It was merciless and terrible—so +slightly, faintly indicated, yet so overwhelmingly convincing.</p> + +<p>The talk between them rarely touched reality, as though a barrier deadened +their very voices. Even her mothering became exasperating; it was so +unforced and natural; it seemed still so right that she should show +solicitude for his physical welfare. And therein lay the anguish and the +poignancy. Yet, while he resented fiercely, knowing this was all she had +to offer now, he struggled at the same time to accept. One moment he +resisted, the next accepted. One hour he believed in her, the next he +disbelieved. Hope and fear alternately made tragic sport of him.</p> + +<p>Two personalities fought for possession of his soul, and he could not +always keep back the lower of the two. They interpenetrated—as, +at Dehr-el-Bahri, two scenes had interpenetrated, something very, very old +projected upon a modern screen.</p> + +<p>Lettice too—he was convinced of it—was undergoing a similar experience +in herself. Only in her case just now it was the lower, the primitive, +the physical aspect that was uppermost. She clung to Tony, yet struggled +to keep Tom. She could not help herself. And he himself, knowing he must +shortly go, still clung and hesitated, hoping against hope. More and more +now, until the end, he was aware that he stood outside his present-day +self, and above it. He looked back—looked down—upon former emotions and +activities; and hence the confusing alternating of jealousy and +forgiveness.</p> + +<p>There were revealing little incidents from time to time. On the following +afternoon he found her, for instance, radiant with that exuberant +happiness he had learned now to distrust. And for a moment he half +believed again that the menace had lifted and the happiness was for him. +She held out both hands towards him, while she described a plan for going +to Edfu and Abou Simbel. His heart beat wildly for a second.</p> + +<p>'But Tony?' he asked, almost before he knew it. 'We can't leave him out!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but I've had a letter.' And as she said it his eye caught sight of a +bulky envelope lying in the sand beside her chair.</p> + +<p>'Good,' he said quietly, 'and when is he coming back? I haven't heard +from him.' The solid ground moved beneath his feet. He shivered, even in +the blazing heat.</p> + +<p>'To-morrow. He sends you all sorts of messages and says that something +you wrote made him very happy. I wonder what it was, Tom?'</p> + +<p>Behind her voice he heard the north wind rattling in the palms; he heard +the soft rustle of the acacia leaves as well; there was the crashing of +little waves upon the river; but a deep, deep shadow fell upon the sky and +blotted out the sunshine. The glory vanished from the day, leaving in its +place a painful glare that hurt the eyes. The soul in him was darkened.</p> + +<p>'Ah!' he exclaimed with assumed playfulness, 'but that's my secret!' +Men do smile, he remembered, as they are led to execution.</p> + +<p>She laughed excitedly. 'I shall find it out——'</p> + +<p>'You will,' he burst out significantly, 'in the end.'</p> + +<p>Then, as she passed him to go into the house, he lost control a moment. +He whispered suddenly:</p> + +<p>'Love has no secrets, Lettice, anywhere. We're in the Sea together. +I shall <i>never</i> let you go.' The intensity in his manner betrayed him; he +adored her; he could not hide it.</p> + +<p>She turned an instant, standing two steps above him; the sidelong downward +glance lent to her face a touch of royalty, half pitying, half imperious. +Her exquisite, frail beauty held a strength that mocked the worship in his +eyes and voice. Almost—she challenged him:</p> + +<p>'Soothsayer!' she whispered back contemptuously. 'Do your worst!'—and +was gone into the house.</p> + +<p>Desire surged wildly in him at that moment; impatience, scorn, fury even, +raised their heads; he felt a savage impulse to seize her with violence, +force her to confess, to have it out and end it one way or the other. +He loathed himself for submitting to her cruelty, for it was intentional +cruelty—she made him writhe and suffer of set purpose. And something +barbaric in his blood leaped up in answer to the savagery in her +own… when at that instant he heard her calling very softly:</p> + +<p>'Tom! Come indoors to me a moment; I want to show you something!'</p> + +<p>But with it another sentence sprang across him and was gone. Like a +meteor it streaked the screen of memory. Seize it he could not. It had +to do with death—his death. There was a thought of blood. Outwardly +what he heard, however, was the playful little sentence of to-day. +'Come, I want to show you something.'</p> + +<p>At the sound of her voice so softly calling all violence was forgotten; +love poured back in a flood upon him; he would go through fire and water +to possess her in the end. In this strange drama she played her +inevitable part, even as he did; there must be no loss of self-control +that might frustrate the coming climax. There must be no thwarting. +If he felt jealousy, he must hide it; anger, scorn, desire must veil their +faces.</p> + +<p>He crossed the passage and stood before her in the darkened room, afraid +and humble, full of a burning love that the centuries had not lessened, +and that no conceivable cruelty of pain could ever change. Almost he +knelt before her. Even if terrible, she was utterly adorable.</p> + +<p>For he believed she was about to make a disclosure that would lay him +bleeding in the dust; singularly at her mercy he felt, his heart laid bare +to receive the final thrust that should make him outcast. Her little foot +would crush him.…</p> + +<p>The long green blinds kept out the glare of the sunshine; and at first he +saw the room but dimly. Then, slowly, the white form emerged, the +broad-brimmed hat, the hanging violet veil, the yellow jacket of soft, +clinging silk, the long white gauntlet gloves. He saw her dear face +peering through the dimness at him, the eyes burning like two dark +precious stones. A table stood between them. There was a square white +object on it. A moment's bewilderment stole over him. Why had she +called him in? What was she going to say? Why did she choose this +moment? Was it the threat of Tony's near arrival that made her +confession—and his dismissal—at last inevitable?</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, that night in the London theatre flashed back across his +mind—her strange absorption in the play, the look of pain in her face, +the little conversation, the sense of familiarity that hung about it all. +He remembered Tony's words later: that another actor was expected with +whose entry the piece would turn more real—turn tragic.</p> + +<p>He waited. The dimness of the room was like the dimness of that theatre. +The lights were lowered. They played their little parts. The audience +watched and listened.</p> + +<p>'Tom, dear,' her voice came floating tenderly across the air. 'I didn't +like to give it you before the others. They wouldn't understand—they'd +laugh at us.'</p> + +<p>He did not understand. Surely he had heard indistinctly. He waited, +saying nothing. The tenderness in her voice amazed him. He had expected +very different words. Yet this was surely Lettice speaking, the Lettice +of his spring-time in the mountains beside the calm blue lake. He stared +hard. For the voice <i>was</i> Lettice, but the eyes and figure were +another's. He was again aware of two persons there—of perplexing and +bewildering struggle. But Lettice, for the moment, dominated as it +seemed.</p> + +<p>'So I put it here,' she went on in a low gentle tone, 'here, Tommy, on the +table for you. And all my love is in it—my first, deep, fond love—our +childhood love.' She leaned down and forward, her face in her hands, her +elbows on the dark cloth; she pushed the square, white packet across to +him. 'God bless you,' floated to him with her breath.</p> + +<p>The struggle in her seemed very patent then. Yet in spite of that other, +older self within her, it was still the voice of Lettice.…</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence while her whisper hung, as it were, upon the +air. His entire body seemed a single heart. Exactly what he felt he +hardly knew. There was a simultaneous collapse of several huge emotions +in him.… But he trusted her.… He clung to that beloved voice. +For she called him 'Tommy'; she was his mother; love, tenderness, and pity +emanated from her like a cloud of perfume. He heard the faint rustle of +her dress as she bent forward, but outside he heard the dry, harsh rattle +of the palm trees in the northern wind. And in that—was terror.</p> + +<p>'What—what is it, Lettice?' The voice sounded like a boy's. It was +outrageous. He swallowed—with an effort.</p> + +<p>'Tommy, you—don't mind? You <i>will</i> take it, won't you?' And it was as +if he heard her saying 'Help me…' once again, 'Trust me as I trust +you.…'</p> + +<p>Mechanically he put his hand out and drew the object towards him. He knew +then what it was and what was in it. He was glad of the darkness, for +there was a ridiculous moisture in his eyes now. A lump <i>was</i> in his +throat!</p> + +<p>'I've been neglecting you. You haven't had a thing for ages. You'll take +it, Tommy, won't you—dear?'</p> + +<p>The little foolish words, so sweetly commonplace, fell like balm upon an +open wound. He already held the small white packet in his hand. +He looked up at her. God alone knows the strain upon his will in that +moment. Somehow he mastered himself. It seemed as if he swallowed blood. +For behind the mothering words lurked, he knew, the other self that any +minute would return.</p> + +<p>'Thank you, Lettice, very much,' he said with a strange calmness, and his +voice was firm. Whatever happened he must not prevent the delivery of +what had to be. Above all, that was clear. The pain must come in full +before the promised joy.</p> + +<p>Was it, perhaps, this strength in him that drew her? Was it his moment of +iron self-mastery that brought her with outstretched, clinging arms +towards him? Was it the unshakable love in him that threatened the +temporary ascendancy of that other in her who gladly tortured him that joy +might come in a morning yet to break?</p> + +<p>For she stood beside him, though he had not seen her move. She was close +against his shoulder, nestling as of old. It was surely a stage effect. +A trap-door had opened in the floor of his consciousness; his first, early +love sheltered in his aching heart again. The entire structure of the +drama they played together threatened to collapse.</p> + +<p>'Tom… you love me less?'</p> + +<p>He held her to him, but he did not kiss the face she turned up to his. +Nor did he speak.</p> + +<p>'You've changed somewhere?' she whispered. 'You, too, have changed?'</p> + +<p>There was a pause before he found words that he could utter. He dared not +yield. To do so would be vain in any case.</p> + +<p>'N—no, Lettice. But I can't say what it is. There is pain.… +It has turned some part of me numb… killed something, brought +something else to life. You will come back to me… but not quite +yet.'</p> + +<p>In spite of the darkness, he saw her face clearly then. For a moment—it +seemed so easy—he could have caught her in his arms, kissed her, known +the end of his present agony of heart and mind. She would have come back +to him, Tony's claim obliterated from her life. The driving power that +forced an older self upon her had weakened before the steadfast love he +bore her. She was ready to capitulate. The little, childish present in +his hands was offered as of old.… Tears rose behind his eyes.</p> + +<p>How he resisted he never understood. Some thoroughness in him triumphed. +If he shirked the pain to-day, it would have to be faced to-morrow—that +alone was clear in his breaking heart. To be worthy of the greater love, +the completer joy to follow, they must accept the present pain and see it +through—experience it—exhaust it once for all. To refuse it now was +only to postpone it. She must go her way, while he went his.…</p> + +<p>Gently he pushed her from him, released his hold; the little face slipped +from his shoulder as though it sank into the sea. He felt that she +understood. He heard himself speaking, though how he chose the words he +never knew. Out of new depths in himself the phrases rose—a regenerated +Tom uprising, though not yet sure of himself:</p> + +<p>'You are not wholly mine. I must first—oh, Lettice!—learn to do without +you. It is you who say it.'</p> + +<p>Her voice, as she answered, seemed already changed, a shade of something +harder and less yielding in it:</p> + +<p>'That which you can do without is added to you.'</p> + +<p>'A new thing… beginning,' he whispered, feeling it both belief and +prophecy. His whisper broke in spite of himself. He saw her across the +room, the table between them again. Already she looked different, +'Lettice' fading from her eyes and mouth.</p> + +<p>She said a marvellous, sweet thing before that other self usurped her +then:</p> + +<p>'One day, Tom, we shall find each other in a crowd.…'</p> + +<p>There was a yearning cry in him he did not utter. It seemed she faded +from the atmosphere as the dimness closed about her. He saw a darker +figure with burning eyes upon a darker face; there was a gleam of gold; a +faint perfume as of ambra hung about the air, and outside the palm leaves +rattled in the northern wind. He had heard awful words, it seemed, that +sealed his fate. He was forsaken, lonely, outcast. It was a sentence of +death, for she was set in power over him.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>A flood of dazzling sunshine poured into the room from a lifted blind, as +the others looked in from the verandah to say that they were going and +wanted to say good-bye. A moment later all were discussing plans in the +garden, Tom as loudly and eagerly as any of them. He held his square +white packet. But he did not open it till he reached his room a little +later, and then arranged the different articles in a row upon his table: +the favourite cigarettes, the soap, the pair of white tennis socks with +his initial neatly sewn on, the tie in the shade of blue that suited him +best… the writing-pad and the dates!</p> + +<p>A letter from Tony next caught his eye and he opened it, slowly, calmly, +almost without interest, knowing exactly what it would say:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> '… I was delighted, old chap, to get your note,' he read. + 'I felt sure it would be all right, for I felt somehow that I <i>had</i> + exaggerated your feeling towards her. As you say, what one has to + think of with a woman in so delicate a position is her happiness more + than one's own. But I wouldn't do anything to offend you or cause + you pain for worlds, and I'm awfully glad to know the way is clear. + To tell you the truth, I went away on purpose, for I felt uneasy. + I wanted to be quite sure first that I was not trespassing. She made + me feel I was doing you no wrong, but I wanted your assurance + too.…'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>There was a good deal more in similar vein—he laid the burden upon +<i>her</i>—ending with a word to say he was coming back to Luxor immediately. +He would arrive the following day.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact Tony was already then in the train that left Cairo +that evening and reached Luxor at eight o'clock next morning. Tom, who +had counted upon another twenty-four hours' respite, did not know this; +nor did he know till later that another telegram had been carried by a +ghostly little Arab boy, with the result that Tony and Lettice enjoyed +their hot rolls and coffee alone together in the shady garden where the +cool northern wind rattled among the palm trees. Mrs. Haughstone +mentioned it in due course, however, having watched the <i>tête-à-tête</i> +from her bedroom window, unobserved.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0027"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> + + +<p>And next day there was one more revealing incident that helped, yet also +hindered him, as he moved along his <i>via dolorosa</i>. For every step he +took away from her seemed also to bring him nearer. They followed +opposing curves of a circle. They separated ever more widely, back to +back, yet were approaching each other at the same time. They would meet +face to face.…</p> + +<p>He found her at the piano, practising the song that now ran ever in his +blood; the score, he noticed, was in Tony's writing.</p> + +<p>'Unwelcome!' he exclaimed, reading out the title over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>'Tom! How you startled me! I was trying to learn it.' She turned to +him; her eyes were shining. He was aware of a singular impression— +struggle, effort barely manageable. Her beauty seemed fresh made; he +thought of a wild rose washed by the dew and sparkling in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>'I thought you knew it already,' he observed.</p> + +<p>She laughed significantly, looking up into his face so close he could have +kissed her lips by merely bending his head a few inches. 'Not quite— +yet,' she answered. 'Will you give me a lesson, Tom?'</p> + +<p>'Unpaid?' he asked.</p> + +<p>She looked reproachfully at him. 'The best services are unpaid always.'</p> + +<p>'I'm afraid I have neither the patience nor the knowledge,' he replied.</p> + +<p>Her next words stirred happiness in him for a moment; the divine trust he +fought to keep stole from his heart into his eyes: 'But you would never, +never give up, Tom, no matter how difficult and obstinate the pupil. +You would always understand. <i>That</i> I know.'</p> + +<p>He moved away. Such double-edged talk, even in play, was dangerous. +A deep weariness was in him, weakening self-control. Sensitive to the +slightest touch just then, he dared not let her torture him too much. +He felt in her a strength far, far beyond his own; he was powerless before +her. Had Tony been present he could not have played his part at all. +Somehow he had a curious feeling, moreover, that his cousin was not very +far away.</p> + +<p>'Tony will be here later, I think,' she said, as she followed him outside. +'But, if not, he's sure to come to dinner.'</p> + +<p>'Good,' he replied, thinking that the train arrived in time to dress, and +in no way surprised that she divined his thoughts. 'We can decide our +plans then.' He added that he might be obliged to go back to Assouan, but +she made no comment. Speech died away between them, as they sat down in +the old familiar corner above the Nile. Tom, for the life of him, could +think of nothing to say. Lettice, on the other hand, wanted to say +nothing. He felt that she <i>had</i> nothing to say. Behind, below the +numbness in him, meanwhile, her silence stabbed him without ceasing. +The intense yearning in his heart threatened any minute to burst forth in +vehement speech, almost in action. It lay accumulating in him +dangerously, ready to leap out at the least sign—the pin-prick of a look, +a word, a gesture on her part, and he would smash the barrier down between +them and—ruin all. The sight of Tony, for instance, just then must have +been as a red rag to a bull.</p> + +<p>He traced figures in the sand with his heel, he listened to the wind above +them, he never ceased to watch her motionless, indifferent figure +stretched above him on the long deck-chair. A book peeped out from behind +the cushion where her head rested. Tom put his hand across and took it +suddenly, partly for something to do, partly from curiosity as well. +She made a quick, restraining gesture, then changed her mind. And again +he was conscious of battle in her, as if two beings fought.</p> + +<p>'The Mary Coleridge Poems,' she said carelessly. 'Tony gave it me. +You'll find the song he put to music.'</p> + +<p>Tom vigorously turned the leaves. He had already glanced at the +title-page with the small inscription in one corner: 'To L. J., from +A. W.' There was a pencil mark against a poem half-way through.</p> + +<p>'He's going to write music for some of the others too,' she added, +watching him; 'the ones he has marked.' Her voice, he fancied, wavered +slightly.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded his head. 'I see,' he murmured, noticing a cross in pencil. +A sullen defiance rose in his blood, but he forced it out of sight. +He read the words in a low voice to himself. It was astonishing how the +powers behind the scenes forced a contribution from the commonest +incidents:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> The sum of loss I have not reckoned yet, +<span class = "ind3"> I cannot tell</span><br>. + For ever it was morning when we met,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> Night when we bade farewell.</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Perhaps the words let loose the emotion, though of different kinds, pent +up behind their silence. The strain, at any rate, between them tightened +first, then seemed to split. He kept his eyes upon the page before him; +Lettice, too, remained still as before; only her lips moved as she spoke:</p> + +<p>'Tom.…' The voice plunged into his heart like iron.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said quietly, without looking up.</p> + +<p>'Tom,' she repeated, 'what are you thinking about so hard?'</p> + +<p>He found no answer.</p> + +<p>'And all to yourself?'</p> + +<p>The blood rushed to his face; her voice was so soft.</p> + +<p>He met her eyes and smiled. 'The same as usual, I suppose,' he said.</p> + +<p>For a moment she made no reply, then, glancing at the book lying in his +hand, she said in a lower voice: 'That woman had suffered deeply. +There's truth and passion in every word she writes; there's a marvellous +restraint as well. Tom,' she added, gazing hard at him, 'you feel it, +don't you? You understand her?' For an instant she knit her brows as if +in perplexity or misgiving.</p> + +<p>'The truth, yes,' he replied after a moment's hesitation; 'the restraint +as well.'</p> + +<p>'And the passion?'</p> + +<p>He nodded curtly by way of agreement. He turned the pages over very +rapidly. His fingers were as thick and clumsy as rigid bits of wood. +He fumbled.</p> + +<p>'Will you read it once again?' she asked. He did so… in a low voice. +With difficulty he reached the end. There was a mist before his eyes and +his voice seemed confused. He dared not look up.</p> + +<p>'There's a deep spiritual beauty,' he went on slowly, making an enormous +effort, 'that's what I feel strongest, I think. There's renunciation, +sacrifice——'</p> + +<p>He was going to say more, for he felt the words surge up in his throat. +This talk, he knew, was a mere safety valve to both of them; they used +words as people attacked by laughter out of due season seize upon +anything, however far-fetched, that may furnish excuse for it. The flood +of language and emotion, too long suppressed, again rose to his very +lips—when a slight sound stopped his utterance. He turned. Amazement +caught him. Her frozen immobility, her dead indifference, her boredom +possibly—all these, passing suddenly, had melted in a flood of tears. +Her face was covered by her hands. She lay there sobbing within a foot of +his hungry arms, sobbing as though her heart must break. He saw the drops +between her little fingers, trickling.</p> + +<p>It was so sudden, so unexpected, that Tom felt unable to speak or act at +first. Numbness seized him. His faculties were arrested. He watched +her, saw the little body heave down its entire length, noted the small +convulsive movements of it. He saw all this, yet he could not do the +natural thing. It was very ghastly.… He could not move a muscle, +he could not say a single word, he could not comfort her—because he knew +those tears were the tears of pity only. It was for himself she sobbed. +The tenderness in her—in 'Lettice'—broke down before his weight of pain, +the weight of pain she herself laid upon him. Nothing that <i>he</i> might do +or say could comfort her. Divining what the immediate future held in +store for him, she wept these burning tears of pity. In that poignant +moment of self-revelation Tom's cumbersome machinery of intuition did not +fail him. He understood. It was a confession—the last perhaps. He saw +ahead with vivid and merciless clarity of vision. Only another could +comfort her.… Yet he could help. Yes—he could help—by going. +There was no other way. He must slip out.</p> + +<p>And, as if prophetically just then, she murmured between her +tight-pressed fingers: 'Leave me, Tom, for a moment… please go +away… I'm so mortified… this idiotic scene.… Leave me a +little, then come back. I shall be myself again presently.… It's +Egypt—this awful Egypt.…'</p> + +<p>Tom obeyed. He got up and left her, moving without feeling in his legs, +as though he walked in his sleep, as though he dreamed, as though he +were—dead. He did not notice the direction. He walked mechanically. +It felt to him that he simply walked straight out of her life into a world +of emptiness and ice and shadows.…</p> + +<p>The river lay below him in a flood of light. He saw the Theban Hills +rolling their dark, menacing wave along the far horizon. In the +blistering heat the desert lay sun-drenched, basking, silent. Its faint +sweet perfume reached him in the northern wind, that pungent odour of the +sand, which is the odour of this sun-baked land etherealised.</p> + +<p>A fiery intensity of light lay over it, as though any moment it must burst +into sheets of flame. So intense was the light that it seemed to let +sight through to—to what? To a more distant vision, infinitely remote. +It was not a mirror, but a transparency. The eyes slipped through it +marvellously.</p> + +<p>He stood on the steps of worn-out sandstone, listening, staring, feeling +nothing… and then a little song came floating across the air towards +him, sung by a boatman in mid-stream. It was a native melody, but it had +the strange, monotonous lilt of Tony's old-Egyptian melody.… And +feeling stole back upon him, alternately burning and freezing the currents +of his blood. The childhood nightmare touch crept into him: he saw the +wave-like outline of the gloomy hills, he heard the wind rattling in the +leaves behind him, to his nostrils came the strange, penetrating perfume +of the tawny desert that encircles ancient Thebes, and in the air before +him hung two pairs of eyes, dark, faithful eyes, cruel and at the same +time tender, true yet merciless, and the others—treacherous, false, light +blue in colour.… He began to shuffle furiously with his feet.… +The soul in him went under.… He turned to face the menace coming up +behind… the falling Wave.…</p> + +<p>'Tom!' he heard—and turned back towards her. And when he reached her +side, she had so entirely regained composure that he could hardly believe +it was the same person. Fresh and radiant she looked once more, no sign +of tears, no traces of her recent emotion anywhere. Perhaps the interval +had been longer than he guessed, but, in any case, the change was swift +and half unaccountable. In himself, equally, was a calmness that seemed +unnatural. He heard himself speaking in an even tone about the view, the +river, the gold of the coming sunset. He wished to spare her, he talked +as though nothing had happened, he mentioned the deep purple colour of the +hills—when she broke out with sudden vehemence.</p> + +<p>'Oh, don't speak of those hills, those awful hills,' she cried. 'I dread +the sight of them. Last night I dreamed again—they crushed me down into +the sand. I felt buried beneath them, deep, deep down—<i>buried</i>.' +She whispered the last word as though to herself. She hid her face.</p> + +<p>The words amazed him. He caught the passing shiver in her voice.</p> + +<p>'"Again"?' he asked. 'You've dreamed of them before?' He stood close, +looking down at her. The sense of his own identity returned slowly, yet +he still felt two persons in him.</p> + +<p>'Often and often,' she said in a lowered tone, 'since Tony came. I dream +that we all three lie buried somewhere in that forbidding valley. +It terrifies me more and more each time.'</p> + +<p>'Strange,' he said. 'For they draw me too. I feel them somehow known— +familiar.' He paused. 'I believe Tony was right, you know, when he +said that we three——'</p> + +<p>How she stopped him he never quite understood. At first he thought the +curious movement on her face portended tears again, but the next second he +saw that instead of tears a slow strange smile was stealing upon her— +upwards from the mouth. It lay upon her features for a second only, but +long enough to alter them. A thin, diaphanous mask, transparent, swiftly +fleeting, passed over her, and through it another woman, yet herself, +peered up at him with a penetrating yet somehow distant gaze. A shudder +ran down his spine; there was a sensation of inner cold against his heart; +he trembled, but he could not look away.… He saw in that brief +instant the face of the woman who tortured him. The same second, so +swiftly was it gone again, he saw Lettice watching him through half-closed +eyelids. He heard her saying something. She was completing the sentence +that had interrupted him:</p> + +<p>'We're too imaginative, Tom. Believe me, Egypt is no place to let +imagination loose, and I don't like it.' She sighed: there was exhaustion +in her. 'It's stimulating enough without <i>our</i> help. Besides—' she used +a curious adjective—'it's dangerous too.'</p> + +<p>Tom willingly let the subject drop; his own desire was to appear natural, +to protect her, to save her pain. He thought no longer of himself. +Drawing upon all his strength, forcing himself almost to breaking-point, +he talked quietly of obvious things, while longing secretly to get away to +his own room where he could be alone. He craved to hide himself; like a +stricken animal his instinct was to withdraw from observation.</p> + +<p>The arrival of the tea-tray helped him, and, while they drank, the sky let +down the emblazoned curtain of a hundred colours lest Night should bring +her diamonds unnoticed, unannounced. There is no dusk in Egypt; the sun +draws on his opal hood; there is a rush of soft white stars: the desert +cools, and the wind turns icy. Night, high on her spangled throne, +watches the sun dip down behind the Libyan sands.</p> + +<p>Tom felt this coming of Night as he sat there, so close to Lettice that he +could touch her fingers, feel her breath, catch the lightest rustle of her +thin white dress. He felt night creeping in upon his heart. Swiftly the +shadows piled. His soul seemed draped in blackness, drained of its +shining gold, hidden below the horizon of the years. It sank out of +sight, cold, lost, forgotten. His day was past and over.…</p> + +<p>They had been sitting silent for some minutes when a voice became audible, +singing in the distance. It came nearer. Tom recognised the +tune—'We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise,'; and +Lettice sat up suddenly to listen. But Tom then thought of one thing +only—that it was beyond his power just now to meet his cousin. +He knew his control was not equal to the task; he would betray himself; +the rôle was too exacting. He rose abruptly.</p> + +<p>'That must be Tony coming,' Lettice said. 'His tea will be all cold!' +Each word was a caress, each syllable alive with interest, sympathy, +excited anticipation. She had become suddenly alive. Tom saw her eyes +shining as she gazed past him down the darkening drive. He made his +absurd excuse. 'I'm going home to rest a bit, Lettice. I played tennis +too hard. The sun's given me a headache. We'll meet later. You'll keep +Tony for dinner?' His mind had begun to work, too; the evening train from +Cairo, he remembered, was not due for an hour or more yet. A hideous +suspicion rushed like fire through him.</p> + +<p>But he asked no question. He knew they wished to be alone together. +Yet also he had a wild, secret hope that she would be disappointed. +He was speedily undeceived.</p> + +<p>'All right, Tom,' she answered, hardly looking at him. 'And mind you're +not late. Eight o'clock sharp. I'll make Tony stay.'</p> + +<p>He was gone. He chose the path along the river bank instead of going by +the drive. He did not look back once. It was when he entered the road a +little later that he met Mrs. Haughstone coming home from a visit to some +friends in his hotel. It was then she told him.…</p> + +<p>'What a surprise you must have had,' Tom believes he said in reply. +He said something, at any rate, that he hoped sounded natural and right.</p> + +<p>'Oh, no,' Mrs. Haughstone explained. 'We were quite prepared. Lettice +had a telegram, you see, to let her know.'</p> + +<p>She told him other things as well.…</p> + + + +<h2>PART IV</h2> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0028"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> + + +<p>Tony had come back. The Play turned very real.</p> + +<p>The situation <i>à trois</i> thenceforward became, for Tom, an acutely +afflicting one. He found no permanent resting-place for heart or mind. +He analysed, asked himself questions without end, but a final decisive +judgment evaded him. He wrote letters and tore them up again. +He hid himself in Assouan with belief for a companion, he came back and +found that companion had been but a masquerader—disbelief. +Suspicion grew confirmed into conviction. Vanity persuaded him against +the weight of evidence, then left him naked with his facts. He wanted to +kill, first others, then himself. He laughed, but the same minute he +could have cried. Such complicated tangles of emotion were beyond his +solving—it amazed him; such prolonged and incessant torture, so +delicately applied—he marvelled that a human heart could bear it without +breaking. For the affection and sympathy he felt for his cousin refused +to die, while his worship and passion towards an unresponsive woman +increasingly consumed him.</p> + +<p>He no longer recognised himself, his cousin, Lettice; all three, indeed, +were singularly changed. Each duplicated into a double rôle. +Towards their former selves he kept his former attitude—of affection, +love, belief; towards the usurping selves he felt—he knew not what. +Therefore he drifted.… Strange, mysterious, tender, unfathomable +Woman! Vain, primitive, self-sufficing, confident Man! In him the +masculine tried to reason and analyse to the very end; in her the feminine +interpreted intuitively: the male and female attitudes, that is, held true +throughout. The Wave swept him forward irresistibly, his very soul, it +seemed, went shuffling to find solid ground.…</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, however, no one broke the rules—rules that apparently had made +themselves: subtle and delicate, it took place mostly out of sight, as it +were, inside the heart. Below the mask of ordinary surface-conduct all +agreed to wear, the deeper, inevitable intercourse proceeded, a Play +within a Play, a tragedy concealed thinly by general consent under the +most commonplace comedy imaginable. All acted out their parts, rehearsed, +it seemed, of long ago. For, more and more, it came to Tom that the one +thing he must never lose, whatever happened, was his trust in her. +He must cling to that though it cost him all—trust in her love and truth +and constancy. This singular burden seemed laid upon his soul. +If he lost that trust and that belief, the Wave could never break, +she could never justify that trust and that belief.</p> + +<p>This 'enchantment' that tortured him, straining his whole being, was +somehow a test indeed of his final worthiness to win her. +Somehow, somewhence, he owed her this.… He dared not fail. +For if he failed the Wave that should sweep her back into the 'sea' with +him would not break—he would merely go on shuffling with his feet to the +end of life. Tony and Lettice conquered him till he lay bleeding in the +sand; Tom played the rôle of loss—obediently almost; the feeling that +they were set in power over him persisted strangely. It dominated, at any +rate, the resistance he would otherwise have offered. He must learn to do +without her in order that she might in the end be added to him. Thus, and +thus alone, could he find himself, and reach the level where she lived. +He took his fate from her gentle, merciless hands, well knowing that it +had to be. In some marvellous, sweet way the sacrifice would bring her +back again at last, but bring her back completed—and to a Tom worthy of +her love. The self-centred, confident man in him that deemed itself +indispensable must crumble. To find regeneration he must risk +destruction.</p> + +<p>Events—yet always inner events—moved with such rapidity then that he +lost count of time. The barrier never lowered again. He played his +ghastly part in silence—always inner silence. Out of sight, below the +surface, the deep wordless Play continued. With Tony's return the drama +hurried. The actor all had been waiting for came on, and took the centre +of the stage, and stayed until the curtain fell—a few weeks, all told, of +their short Egyptian winter.</p> + +<p>In the crowded rush of action Tom felt the Wave—bend, break, and smash +him. At its highest moment he saw the stars, at its lowest the crunch of +shifting gravel filled his ears, the mud blinded sight, the rubbish choked +his breath. Yet he had seen those distant stars.… Into the +mothering sea, as he sank back, the memory of the light went with him. +It was a kind of incredible performance, half on earth and half in the +air: it rushed with such impetuous momentum.</p> + +<p>Amid the intensity of his human emotions, meanwhile, he lost sight of any +subtler hints, if indeed they offered: he saw no veiled eastern visions +any more, divined no psychic warnings. His agony of blinding pain, +alternating with briefest intervals of shining hope when he recovered +belief in her and called himself the worst names he could think of—this +seething warfare of cruder feelings left no part of him sensitive to the +delicate promptings of finer forces, least of all to the tracery of +fancied memories. He only gasped for breath—sufficient to keep himself +afloat and cry, as he had promised he would cry, even to the bitter end: +'I'll face it… I'll stick it out… I'll trust.…!'</p> + +<p>The setting of the Play was perfect; in Egypt alone was its production +possible. The brilliant lighting, the fathomless, soft shadows, deep +covering of blue by day, clear stars by night, the solemn hills, and the +slow, eternal river—all these, against the huge background of the Desert, +silent, golden, lonely, formed the adequate and true environment. +In no other country, in England least of all, could the presentation have +been real. Tony, himself, and Lettice belonged, one and all, it seemed, +to Egypt—yet, somehow, not wholly to the Egypt of the tourist hordes and +dragoman, and big hotels. The Onlooker in him, who stood aloof and held a +watching brief, looked down upon an ancient land unvexed by railways, +graciously clothed and coloured gorgeously, mapped burningly mid fiercer +passions, eager for life, contemptuous of death. He did not understand, +but that it was thus, not otherwise, he knew.…</p> + +<p>Her beauty, too, both physical and spiritual, became for him strangely +heightened. He shifted between moods of worship that were alternately +physical and spiritual. In the former he pictured her with darker +colouring, half barbaric, eastern, her slender figure flitting through a +grove of palms beyond a river too wide for him to cross; gold bands +gleamed upon her arms, bare to the shoulder; he could not reach her; +she was with another—it was torturing; she and that other disappeared +into the covering shadows.… In the latter, however, there was no +unworthy thought, no faintest desire of the blood; he saw her high among +the little stars, gazing with tender, pitying eyes upon him, calling +softly, praying for him, loving him, yet remote in some spiritual +isolation where she must wait until he soared to join her.</p> + +<p>Both physically and spiritually, that is, he idealised her—saw her +divinely naked. She did not move. She hung there like a star, waiting +for him, while he was carried past her, swept along helplessly by a tide, +a flood, a wave, though a wave that was somehow rising up to where she +dwelt above him.…</p> + +<p>It was a marvellous experience. In the physical moods he felt the fires +of jealousy burn his flesh away to the bare nerves—resentment, rage, a +bitterness that could kill; in the alternate state he felt the uplifting +joy and comfort of ultimate sacrifice, sweet as heaven, the bliss of +complete renunciation—for her happiness. If she loved another who could +give her greater joy, he had no right to interfere.</p> + +<p>It was this last that gradually increased in strength, the first that +slowly, surely died. Unsatisfied yearnings hunted his soul across the +empty desert that now seemed life. The self he had been so pleased with, +had admired so proudly with calm complacence, thinking it indispensable— +this was tortured, stabbed and mercilessly starved to death by slow +degrees, while something else appeared shyly, gently, as yet unaware of +itself, but already clearer and stronger. In the depths of his being, +below an immense horizon, shone joy, luring him onward and brightening as +it did so.</p> + +<p>Love, he realised, was independent of the will—no one can will to love: +she was not anywhere to blame, a stronger claim had come into life and +changed her. She could not live untruth, pretending otherwise. +He, rather, was to blame if he sought to hold her to a smaller love she +had outgrown. She had the inalienable right to obey the bigger claim, if +such it proved to be. Personal freedom was the basis of their contract. +It would have been easier for him if she could have told him frankly, +shared it with him; but, since that seemed beyond her, then it was for him +to slip away. He must subtract himself from an inharmonious three, +leaving a perfect two. He must make it easier for <i>her</i>.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The days of golden sunshine passed along their appointed way as before, +leaving him still without a final decision. Outwardly the little party <i>a +trois</i> seemed harmonious, a coherent unit, while inwardly the accumulation +of suppressed emotion crept nearer and nearer to the final breaking point. +They lived upon a crater, playing their comedy within sight and hearing of +destruction: even Mrs. Haughstone, ever waiting in the wings for her cue, +came on effectively and filled her rôle, insignificant yet necessary. +Its meanness was its truth.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Winslowe excites my cousin too much; I'm sure it isn't good for her— +in England, yes, but not out here in this strong, dangerous climate.'</p> + +<p>Tom understood, but invariably opposed her:</p> + +<p>'If it makes her happy for a little while, I see no harm in it; life has +not been too kind to her, remember.'</p> + +<p>Sometimes, however, the hint was barbed as well: 'Your cousin <i>is</i> a +delightful being, but he can talk nonsense when he wants to. +He's actually been trying to persuade me that you're jealous of him. +He said you were only waiting a suitable moment to catch him alone in the +Desert and shoot him!'</p> + +<p>Tom countered her with an assumption of portentous gravity: 'Sound travels +too easily in this still air,' he reminded her; 'the Nile would be the +simplest way.' After which, confused by ridicule, she renounced the hint +direct, indulging instead in facial expression, glances, and innuendo +conveyed by gesture.</p> + +<p>That there was some truth, however, behind this betrayal of her hostess +and her fellow-guest, Tom felt certain; it lied more by exaggeration than +by sheer invention: he listened while he hated it; ashamed of himself, he +yet invited the ever-ready warnings, though he invariably defended the +object of them—and himself.</p> + +<p>Alternating thus, he knew no minute of happiness; a single day, a single +hour contained both moods, trust ousted suspicion, and suspicion turned +out trust. Lettice led him on, then abruptly turned to ice. In the +morning he was first and Tony nowhere, the same afternoon this was +reversed precisely—yet the balance growing steadily in his cousin's +favour, the evidence accumulating against himself. It was not purposely +contrived, it was in automatic obedience to deeper impulses than she knew. +Tom never lost sight of this amazing duality in her, the struggle of one +self against another older self to which cruelty was no stranger—or, as +he put it, the newly awakened Woman against the Mother in her.</p> + +<p>He could not fail to note the different effects he and his cousin produced +in her—the ghastly difference. With himself she was captious, easily +exasperated; her relations with Tony, above all, a sensitive spot on which +she could bear no slightest pressure without annoyance; while behind this +attitude, hid always the faithful motherly care that could not see him in +distress. That touch of comedy lay in it dreadfully:—wet feet, cold, +hungry, tired, and she flew to his consoling! Towards Tony this side of +her remained unresponsive; he might drink unfiltered water for all she +cared, tire himself to death, or sit in a draught for hours. It could +have been comic almost but for its significance: that from Tony she +<i>received</i>, instead of gave. The woman in her asked, claimed even—of the +man in him. The pain for Tom lay there.</p> + +<p>His cousin amused, stimulated her beyond anything Tom could offer; she +sought protection from him, leant upon him. In his presence she blossomed +out, her eyes shone the moment he arrived, her voice altered, her spirits +became exuberant. The wholesome physical was awakened by him. He could +not hope to equal Tony's address, his fascination. He never forgot that +she once danced for happiness.… Helplessness grew upon him—he had +no right to feel angry even, he could not justly blame herself or his +cousin. The woman in her was open to capture by another; so far it had +never belonged to him. In vain he argued that the mother was the larger +part; it was the woman that he wanted with it. Having separated the two +aspects of her in this way, the division, once made, remained.</p> + +<p>And every day that passed this difference in her towards himself and Tony +grew more mercilessly marked. The woman in her responded to another touch +than his. Though neither lust nor passion, he knew, dwelt in her pure +being anywhere, there were yet a thousand delicate unconscious ways by +which a woman betrayed her attraction to a being of the opposite sex; they +could not be challenged, but equally they could not be misinterpreted. +Like the colour and perfume of a rose, they emanated from her inmost +being.… In this sense, she was sexually indifferent to Tom, and +while passion consumed his soul, he felt her, dearly mothering, yet cold +as ice. The soft winds of Egypt bent the full-blossomed rose into +another's hand, towards another's lips.… Tony had entered the garden +of her secret life.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0029"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> + + +<p>And so the fires of jealousy burned him. He struggled hard, smothering +all outward expression of his pain, with the sole result that the +suppression increased the fury of the heat within. For every day the +tiniest details fed its fierceness. It was inextinguishable. He lost his +appetite, his sleep, he lost all sense of what is called proportion. +There was no rest in him, day and night he lived in the consuming flame.</p> + +<p>His cousin's irresponsibility now assumed a sinister form that shocked +him. He recognised the libertine in his careless play with members of the +other sex who had pleased him for moments, then been tossed aside. +He became aware of grossness in his eyes and lips and bearing. +He understood, above all, his—hands.</p> + +<p>Against the fiery screen of his emotions jealousy threw violent pictures +which he mistook for thought…, and there burst through this screen, +then, scattering all lesser feelings, the flame of a vindictive anger that +he believed was the protective righteous anger of an outraged man. +'If Tony did her wrong,' he told himself, 'I would kill him.'</p> + +<p>Always, at this extravagant moment, however, he reached a climax, then +calmed down again. A sense of humour rose incongruously to check loss of +self-restraint. The memory of her daily tenderness swept over him; and +shame sent a blush into his cheeks. He felt mortified, ungenerous, a +foolish figure even. While the reaction lasted he forgave, felt her above +reproach, cursed his wretched thoughts that had tried to soil her, and +lost the violent vindictiveness that had betrayed him. His affection for +his cousin, always real, and the sympathy between them, always genuine, +returned to complete his own discomfiture. His mood swayed back to the +first, happy days when the three of them had laughed and played together.</p> + +<p>And to punish himself while this reaction lasted, he would seek her out +and see that she inflicted the punishment itself. He would hear from her +own lips how fond she was of Tony, fighting to convince himself, while he +listened, that she was above suspicion, and that his pain was due solely +to unworthy jealousy. He would be specially nice to Tony, making things +easier for him, even urging him, as it were, into her very arms.</p> + +<p>These moments of generous reaction, however, seemed to puzzle her. +The exalted state of emotion was confined, perhaps, to himself. +At any rate, he produced results the very reverse of what he intended; +Tony became more cautious, Lettice looked at himself with half-questioning +eyes.… There was falseness in his attitude, something unnatural. +It was not the part he was cast for in the Play. He could not keep it up. +He fell back once more to watching, listening, playing his proper rôle of +a slave who was forced to observe the happiness of others set somehow over +him, while suffering in silence. The inner fires were fed anew thereby. +He knew himself flung back, bruised and bleeding, upon his original fear +and jealousy, convinced more than ever before that this cruelty and +torture had to be, and that his pain was justified. To resist was only to +delay the perfect dawn.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> The sum of loss I have not reckoned yet,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> I cannot tell</span><br> + For ever it was morning when we met,<br> +<span class = "ind3"> Night when we bade farewell.</span><br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>He changed the pronouns in the last two lines, for always it was morning +when <i>they</i> met, night when <i>they</i> bade farewell.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haughstone, meanwhile, neglected no opportunity of dotting the vowel +for his benefit; she crossed each <i>t</i> that the writing of the stars +dropped fluttering across her path. 'Mr. Winslowe has emotions,' she +mentioned once, 'but he has no heart. If he ever marries and settles +down, his wife will find it out.'</p> + +<p>'My cousin is not the kind to marry,' Tom replied. 'He's too changeable, +and he knows it.'</p> + +<p>'He's young,' she said, 'he hasn't found the right woman yet. He will +improve—a woman older than himself with the mother strong in her might +hold him. He needs the mother too. Most men do, I think; they're all +children really.'</p> + +<p>Tom laughed. 'Tony as father of a family—I can't imagine it.'</p> + +<p>'Once he had children of his own,' she suggested, 'he would steady +wonderfully. Those men often make the best husbands—don't you think?'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps,' Tom replied briefly. 'Provided there's real heart beneath.'</p> + +<p>'In the woman, yes,' returned the other quietly. 'Too much heart in the +man can so easily cloy. A real man is always half a savage; that's why +the woman likes him. It's the woman who guards the family.'</p> + +<p>Tom, knowing that her words veiled other meanings, pretended not to +notice. He no longer rose to the bait she offered. He detected the +nonsense, the insincerity as well, but he could not argue successfully, +and generalisations were equally beyond him. Too polite to strike back, +he always waited till she had talked herself out; besides he often +acquired information thus, information he both longed for yet disliked +intensely. Such information rarely failed: it was, indeed, the desire to +impart it with an air of naturalness that caused the conversation almost +invariably. It appeared now. It was pregnant information, too. +She conveyed it in a lowered tone: there was news from Warsaw. +The end, it seemed, was expected by the doctors; a few months at most. +Lettice had been warned, however, that her appearance could do no good; +the sufferer mistook her for a relative who came to persecute him. +Her presence would only hasten the end. She had cabled, none the less, to +say that she would come. This was a week ago; the answer was expected in +a day or two.</p> + +<p>And Tom had not been informed of this.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Winslowe thinks she ought to go at once. I'm sure his advice is +wise. Even if her presence can do no good, it might be an unceasing +regret if she was not there.…'</p> + +<p>'Your cousin alone can judge,' he interrupted coldly. 'I'd rather not +discuss it, if you don't mind,' he added, noticing her eagerness to +continue the conversation.</p> + +<p>'Oh, certainly, Mr. Kelverdon—just as you feel. But in case she asks +your advice as well—I only thought you'd like to know—to be prepared, +I mean.'</p> + +<p>Only long afterwards did it occur to him that Tony's informant was +possibly this jealous parasite herself, who now deliberately put the +matter in another light, hoping to sow discord to her own eventual +benefit. All he realised at the moment was the intolerable pain that +Lettice should tell him nothing. She looked to Tony for help, advice, +possibly for consolation too.</p> + +<p>There were moments of another kind, however, when it seemed quite easy to +talk plainly. His position was absurd, undignified, unmanly. It was for +him to state his case and abide by the result. Hearts rarely break in +two, for all that poets and women might protest.</p> + +<p>These moments, however, he did not use. It was not that he shrank from +hearing his sentence plainly spoken, nor that he decided he must not +prevent something that had to be. The reason lay deeper still:—it was +impossible. In her presence he became tongue-tied, helpless. His own +stupidity overwhelmed him. Silence took him. He felt at a hopeless +disadvantage, ashamed even. No words of his could reach her through the +distance, across the barrier, that lay between them now. He made no +single attempt. His aching heart, filled with an immeasurable love, +remained without the relief of utterance. He had lost her. But he loved +now something in her place beyond the possibility of loss—an +indestructible ideal.</p> + +<p>Words, therefore, were not only impossible, they were vain. And when the +final moment came they were still more useless. He could go, but he could +not tell her he was going. Before that moment came, however, another +searching experience was his: he saw Tony jealous—jealous of himself! +He actually came to feel sympathy with his cousin who was his rival! +It was his faithful love that made that possible too.</p> + +<p>He realised this suddenly one day at Assouan.</p> + +<p>He had been thinking about the long conversations Tony and Lettice enjoyed +together, wondering what they found to discuss at such interminable +length. From that his mind slipped easily into another question—how she +could be so insensible to the pain she caused him?—when, all in a flash, +he realised the distance she had travelled from him on the road of love +towards Tony. The moment of perspective made it abruptly clear. She now +talked with Tony as once, at Montreux and elsewhere, she had talked with +himself. He saw his former place completely occupied. As an accomplished +fact he saw it.</p> + +<p>The belief that Tony's influence would weaken deserted him from that +instant. It had been but a false hope created by desire and yearning.</p> + +<p>There was a crash. He reached the bottom of despair. That same evening, +on returning to his hotel from the Works, he found a telegram. It had +been arranged that Lettice, Tony, Miss de Lorne and her brother should +join him in Assouan. The telegram stated briefly that it was not possible +after all:—she sent an excuse.</p> + +<p>The sleepless night was no new thing to him, but the acuteness of new +suffering was a revelation. Jealousy unmasked her amazing powers of +poisonous and devastating energy.… He visualised in detail. +He saw Lettice and his cousin together in the very situations he had +hitherto reserved imaginatively for himself, both sweets hoped for and +delights experienced, but raised now a hundredfold in actuality. +Like pictures of flame they rose before his inner eye; they seared and +scorched him; his blood turned acid; the dregs of agony were his to drink. +The happiness he had planned for himself, down to the smallest minutiæ of +each precious incident, he now saw transferred in this appalling way—to +another. Not deliberately summoned, not morbidly evoked—the pictures +rose of their own accord against the background of his mind, yet so +instinct with actuality, that it seemed he had surely lived them, too, +himself with her, somewhere, somehow… before. There was that same +haunting touch of familiarity about them.</p> + +<p>In the long hours of this particular night he reached, perhaps, the acme +of his pain; imagination, whipped by jealousy, stoked the furnace to a +heat he had not known as yet. He had been clinging to a visionary hope. +'I've lost her… lost her… lost her,' he repeated to himself, +as though with each repetition the meaning of the phrase grew clearer. +Numbness followed upon misery; there were long intervals when he felt +nothing at all, periods when he thought he hated her, when pride and anger +whispered he could do without her.… A state of negative +insensibility followed.… On the heels of it came a red and violent +vindictiveness; next—resignation, complete acceptance, almost peace. +Then acute sensitiveness returned again—he felt the whole series of +emotions over and over without one omission. This numbness and +sensitiveness alternated with a kind of rhythmic succession.… +He reviewed the entire episode from beginning to end, recalled every word +she had uttered, traced the gradual influence of Tony on her, from its +first faint origin to its present climax. He saw her struggles and her +tears… the mysterious duality working to possess her soul. It was +all plain as daylight. No justification for any further hope was left to +him. He must go.… It was the thunder, surely, of the falling Wave.</p> + +<p>For Tony, he realised at last, had not merely usurped his own place, but +had discovered a new Lettice to herself, and setting her thus in a new, a +larger world, had taught her a new relationship. He had achieved—perhaps +innocently enough so far as his conscience was concerned?—a new result, +and a bigger one than Tom, with his lesser powers, could possibly have +effected.</p> + +<p>There was no falseness, no duplicity in her. 'She still loves me as +before, the mother still gives me what she always gave,' Tom put it to +himself, 'but Tony has ploughed deeper—reached the woman in her. +He loves a Lettice I have never realised. It is this new Lettice that +loves him in return.… What right have I, with my smaller claim, to +stand in her way a single moment?… I must slip out.'</p> + +<p>He had lost the dream that Tony but tended a blossom, the fruit of which +would come sweetly to his plucking afterwards. The intense suffering +concealed all prophecy, as the jealousy killed all hope. He spent that +final night of awful pain on his balcony, remembering how weeks before in +Luxor the first menacing presentiment had come to him. He stared out into +the Egyptian wonder of outer darkness. The stillness held a final menace +as of death. He recalled a Polish proverb: 'In the still marshes there +are devils.' The world spread dark and empty like his life; the Theban +Hills seemed to have crept after him, here to Assouan; the stars, +incredibly distant, had no warmth or comfort in them; the river roared +with a dull and lonely sound; he heard the palm trees rattling in the +wind. The pain in him was almost physical.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>Dawn found him in the same position—yet with a change. Perhaps the +prolonged agony had killed the ache of ceaseless personal craving, or +perhaps the fierceness of the fire had burned it out. Tom could not say; +nor did he ask the questions. A change was there, and that was all he +knew. He had come at last to a decision, made a final choice. He had +somehow fought his battle out with a courage he did not know was courage. +Here at Assouan, he turned upon the Wave and faced it. He saw <i>her</i> +happiness only, fixed all his hope and energy on that. A new and loftier +strength woke in him. There was no shuffling now.</p> + +<p>He would give her up. In his heart she would always remain his dream and +his ideal—but outwardly he would no longer need her. He would do without +her. He forgave—if there was anything to forgive—forgave them +both.…</p> + +<p>Something in him had broken.</p> + +<p>He could not explain it, though he felt it. Yet it was not her that he +had given up—it was himself.</p> + +<p>The first effect of this, however, was to think that life lay in ruins +round him, that, literally, the life in him was smothered by the breaking +wave.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>And yet he did not break—he did not drown.</p> + +<p>For, as though to show that his decision was the right, inevitable one, +small outward details came to his assistance. Fate evidently approved. +For Fate just then furnished relief by providing another outlet for his +energies: the Works went seriously wrong: Tom could think of nothing else +but how he could put things right again. Reflection, introspection, +brooding over mental and spiritual pain became impossible.</p> + +<p>The lieutenants he trusted had played him false; sub-contracts of an +outrageous kind, flavoured by bribery, had been entered into; the cost of +certain necessaries had been raised absurdly, with the result that the +profits of the entire undertaking to the Firm must be lowered +correspondingly. And the blame, the responsibility was his own; he had +unwisely delegated his powers to underlings whose ambitions for money +exceeded their sense of honour. But Tom's honour was involved as well. +He had delegated his powers in writing. He now had to pay the price of +his prolonged neglect of duty.</p> + +<p>The position was irremediable; Tom's neglect and inefficiency were +established beyond question. He had failed in a position of high trust. +And to make the situation still less pleasant, Sir William, the Chairman +of the Company—Tom's chief, the man to whom he owed his partnership and +post of trust—telegraphed that he was on the way at last from Salonika. +One way alone offered—to break the disastrous contracts by payments made +down without delay. Tom made these payments out of his own pocket; they +were large; his private resources disappeared in a single day.… +But, even so, the delay and bungling at the Works were not to be +concealed. Sir William, shrewd, experienced man of business, stern of +heart as well as hard of head, could not be deceived. Within half an hour +of his arrival, Tom Kelverdon's glaring incompetency—worse, his +unreliability, to use no harsher word—were all laid bare. His position +in the Firm, even his partnership, perhaps, became untenable. Resignation +stared him in the face.</p> + +<p>He saw his life go down in ruins before his very eyes; the roof had fallen +long ago. The pillars now collapsed. The Wave, indeed, had turned him +upside down; its smothering crash left no corner of his being above water; +heart, mind, and character were flung in a broken tangle against the cruel +bottom as it fell to earth.</p> + +<p>But, at any rate, the new outlet for his immediate energies was offered. +He seized it vigorously. He gave up his room at Luxor, and sent a man +down to bring his luggage up. He did not write to Lettice. He faced the +practical situation with a courage and thoroughness which, though too +late, were admirable. Moreover, he found a curious relief in the new +disaster, a certain comfort even. There was compensation in it +somewhere. Everything was going to smash—the sooner, then, the better! +This recklessness was in him. He had lost Lettice, so what else mattered? +His attitude was somewhat devil-may-care, his grip on life itself seemed +slipping.</p> + +<p>This mood could not last, however, with a character like his. It seized +him, but retained no hold. It was the last cry of despair when he touched +bottom, the moment when weaker temperaments think of the emergency exit, +realise their final worthlessness—proving themselves worthless, indeed, +thereby.</p> + +<p>Tom met the blow in other fashion. He saw himself unworthy, but by no +means worthless. Suicide, whether of death or of final collapse, did not +enter his mind even. He faced the Wave, he did not shuffle now. He sent +a telegram to Lettice to say he was detained; he wrote to Tony that he had +given up his room in the Luxor hotel, an affectionate, generous note, +telling him to take good care of Lettice. It was only right and fair that +Tony should think the path for himself was clear. Since he had decided to +'slip out' this attitude towards his cousin was necessarily involved. +It must not appear that he had retired, beaten and unhappy. He must do no +single thing that might offer resistance to the inevitable fate, least of +all leave Tony with the sense of having injured him. True sacrifice +forbade; renunciation, if real, was also silent—the smiling face, the +cheerful, natural manner!</p> + +<p>Tom, therefore, fixed his heart more firmly than ever upon one single +point: her happiness. He fought to think of that alone. If he knew her +happy, he could live. He found life in her joy. He lived in that. +By 'slipping out,' no word of reproach, complaint, or censure uttered, he +would actually contribute to her happiness. Thus, vicariously, he almost +helped to cause it. In this faint, self-excluding bliss, he could live— +even live on—until the end. That seemed true forgiveness.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, not easily nor immediately, did he defy the anguish that, +day and night, kept gnawing at his heart. His one desire was to hide +it, and—if the huge achievement might lie within his powers— +to change it sweetly into a source of strength that should redeem him. +The 'sum of loss,' indeed, he had not 'reckoned yet,' but he was +beginning to add the figures up. Full measurement lay in the long, long +awful years ahead. He had this strange comfort, however—that he now +loved something he could never lose because it could not change. +He loved an ideal. In that sense, he and Lettice were in the 'sea' +together. His belief and trust in her were not lost, but heightened. +And a hint of mothering contentment stole sweetly over him behind this +shadowy yet genuine consolation.</p> + +<p>The childhood nightmare was both presentiment and memory. The crest of +the falling Wave was reflected in its base.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0030"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> + + +<p>Tom took his passage home; he also told Sir William that his resignation, +whether the Board accepted it or not, was final. His reputation, so far +as the Firm was concerned, he knew was lost. His own self-respect had +dwindled dangerously too. He had the feeling that he wanted to begin all +over again from the very bottom. It seemed the only way. The prospect, +at his age, was daunting. He faced it.</p> + +<p>At the very moment in life when he had fancied himself most secure, most +satisfied mentally, spiritually, materially—the entire structure on which +self-confidence rested had given way. Even the means of material support +had vanished too. The crash was absolute. This brief Egyptian winter +had, indeed, proved the winter of his loss. The Wave had fallen at last.</p> + +<p>During the interval at Assouan—ten days that seemed a month!—he heard +occasionally from Lettice. 'To-day I miss you,' one letter opened. +Another said: 'We wonder when you will return. We <i>all</i> miss you very +much: it's not the same here without you, Tom.' And all were signed +'Your ever loving Lettice.' But if hope for some strange reason refused +to die completely, he did not allow himself to be deceived. His task—no +easy one—was to transmute emotion into the higher, self-less, ideal love +that was now—oh, he knew it well enough—his only hope and safety. +In the desolate emptiness of desert that yawned ahead, he saw this single +tree that blossomed, and offered shade. Beauty and comfort both were +there. He believed in her truth and somehow in her faithfulness as well.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>Tom sent his heavy luggage to Port Said, and took the train to Luxor. +He had decided to keep his sailing secret. He could mention honestly that +he was going to Cairo. He would write a line from there or, better still, +from the steamer itself.</p> + +<p>And the instinct that led to this decision was sound and wise. The act +was not as boyish as it seemed. For he feared a reaction on her part that +yet could be momentary only. His leaving so suddenly would be a shock, it +might summon the earlier Lettice to the surface, there might be a painful +scene for both of them. She would realise, to some extent at any rate, +the immediate sense of loss; for she would surely divine that he was +going, not to England merely, but out of her life. And she would suffer; +she might even try to keep him—the only result being a revival of pain +already almost conquered, and of distress for her.</p> + +<p>For such reaction, he divined, could not be permanent. The Play was over; +it must not, could not be prolonged. He must go out. There must be no +lingering when the curtain fell. A curtain that halts in its descent upon +the actors endangers the effect of the entire Play.</p> + +<p>He wired to Cairo for a room. He wired to her too: 'Arrive to-morrow, +<i>en route</i> Cairo. Leave same night.' He braced himself. The strain +would be cruelly exacting, but the worst had been lived out already; the +jealousy was dead; the new love was established beyond all reach of +change. These last few hours should be natural, careless, gay, no hint +betraying him, flying no signals of distress. He could just hold out. +The strength was in him. And there was time before he caught the evening +train for a reply to come: 'All delighted; expect you breakfast. +Arranging picnic expedition.—Lettice.'</p> + +<p>And that one word 'all' helped him unexpectedly to greater steadiness. +It eliminated the personal touch even in a telegram.</p> + + +<br> +<p>In the train he slept but little; the heat was suffocating; there was a +Khamsîn blowing and the fine sand crept in everywhere. At Luxor, however, +the wind remained so high up that the lower regions of the sky were calm +and still. The sand hung in fog-like clouds shrouding the sun, dimming +the usual brilliance. But the heat was intense, and the occasional stray +puffs of air that touched the creeping Nile or passed along the sweltering +street, seemed to issue from the mouth of some vast furnace in the +heavens. They dropped, then ceased abruptly; there was no relief in them. +The natives sat listlessly in their doorways, the tourists kept their +rooms or idled complainingly in the hotel halls and corridors. +The ominous touch was everywhere. He felt it in his heart as well—the +heart he thought broken beyond repair.</p> + +<p>Tom bathed and changed his clothes, then drove down to the shady garden +beside the river as of old. He felt the gritty sand between his teeth, it +was in his mouth and eyes, it was on his tongue.… He met Lettice +without a tremor, astonished at his own coolness and self-control; he +watched her beauty as the beauty of a picture, something that was no +longer his, yet watched it without envy and, in an odd sense, almost +without pain. He loved the fairness of it for itself, for her, and for +another who was not himself. Almost he loved their happiness to come—for +<i>her</i> sake. Her eyes, too, followed him, he fancied, like a picture's +eyes. She looked young and fresh, yet something mysterious in the +following eyes. The usual excited happiness was less obvious, he thought, +than usual, the mercurial gaiety wholly absent. He fancied a cloud upon +her spirit somewhere. He imagined tiny, uncertain signs of questioning +distress. He wondered.… This torture of a last uncertainty was also +his.</p> + +<p>Yet, obviously, she was glad to see him; her welcome was genuine; she came +down the drive to meet him, both hands extended. Apparently, too, she was +alone, Mrs. Haughstone still asleep, and Tony not yet arrived. It was +still early morning.</p> + +<p>'Well, and how did you get on without me—all of you?' he asked, adding +the last three words with emphasis.</p> + +<p>'I thought you were never coming back, Tom; I had the feeling you were +bored here at Luxor and meant to leave us.' She looked him up and down +with a curious look—of admiration almost, an admiration he believed he +had now learned to do without. 'How lean and brown and well you look!' +she went on, 'but thin, Tom. You've grown thinner.' She shook her finger +at him. Her voice was perilously soft and kind, a sweet tenderness in her +manner, too. 'You've been over-working and not eating enough. You've not +had me to look after you.'</p> + +<p>He flushed. 'I'm awfully fit,' he said, smiling a little shyly. +'I may be thinner. That's the heat, I suppose. Assouan's a blazing +place—you feel you're in Africa.' He said the banal thing as usual.</p> + +<p>'But was there no one there to look after you?' She gave him a quick +glance. 'No one at all?'</p> + +<p>Tom noticed the repeated question, wondering a little. But there was no +play in him; in place of it was something stern, unyielding as iron, +though not tested yet.</p> + +<p>'The Chairman of my Company, nine hundred noisy tourists, and about a +thousand Arabs at the Works,' he told her. 'There was hardly a soul I +knew besides.'</p> + +<p>She said no more; she gave a scarcely audible sigh; she seemed unsatisfied +somewhere. To his surprise, then, he noticed that the familiar little +table was only laid for two.</p> + +<p>'Where's Tony?' he asked. 'And, by the by, how is he?'</p> + +<p>He thought she hesitated a moment. 'Tony's not coming till later,' she +told him. 'He guessed we should have a lot to talk about together, so he +stayed away. Nice of him, wasn't it?'</p> + +<p>Behind the commonplace sentences, the hidden wordless Play also drew on +towards its Curtain.</p> + +<p>'Well, it is my turn rather for a chat, perhaps,' he returned presently +with a laugh, taking his cup of steaming coffee from her hand. 'I can see +him later in the day. You've arranged something, I'm sure. Your wire +spoke of a picnic, but perhaps this heat—this beastly Khamsîn——'</p> + +<p>'It's passing,' she mentioned. 'They say it blows for three days, for six +days, or for nine, but as a matter of fact, it does nothing of the sort. +It's going to clear. I thought we might take our tea into the Desert.'</p> + +<p>She went on talking rapidly, almost nervously, it seemed to Tom. Her mind +was upon something else. Thoughts of another kind lay unexpressed behind +her speech. His own mind was busy too—Tony, Warsaw, the long long +interval he had been away, what had happened during his absence, and so +forth? Had no cable come? What would she feel this time to-morrow when +she knew?—these and a hundred others seethed below his quiet manner and +careless talk. He noticed then that she was exquisitely dressed; she +wore, in fact, the very things he most admired—and wore them purposely: +the orange-coloured jacket, the violet veil, the hat with the little roses +on the brim. It was his turn to look her up and down.</p> + +<p>She caught his eye. Uncannily, she caught his thought as well. +Tom steeled himself.</p> + +<p>'I put these on especially for you, you truant boy,' she said deliciously +across the table at him. 'I hope you're sensible of the honour done you.'</p> + +<p>'Rather, Lettice! I should think I am, indeed!'</p> + +<p>'I got up half an hour earlier on purpose too. Think what that means to a +woman like me.' She handed him a grape-fruit she had opened and prepared +herself.</p> + +<p>'My favourite hat, and my favourite fruit! I wish I were worthy of them!' +He stammered slightly as he said the stupid thing: the blood rushed up to +his very forehead, but she gave no sign of noticing either words or blush. +The strong sunburn hid the latter doubtless. There was a desperate +shyness in him that he could not manage quite. He wished to heaven the +talk would shift into another key. He could not keep this up for long; +it was too dangerous. Her attitude, it seemed, had gone back to that of +weeks ago; there was more than the mother in it, he felt: it was almost +the earlier Lettice—and yet not quite. Something was added, but +something too was missing. He wondered more and more… he asked +himself odd questions.… It seemed to him suddenly that her mood was +assumed, not wholly natural. The flash came to him that disappointment +lay behind it, yet that the disappointment was not with—himself.</p> + +<p>'You're wearing a new tie, Tom,' her voice broke in upon his moment's +reverie. 'That's not the one <i>I</i> gave you.'</p> + +<p>It was so unexpected, so absurd. It startled him. He laughed with +genuine amusement, explaining that he had bought it in Assouan in a moment +of extravagance—'the nearest shade I could find to the blue you gave me. +How observant you are!' Lettice laughed with him. 'I always notice +little things like that,' she said. 'It's what you call the mother in me, +I suppose.' She examined the tie across the table, while they smoked +their cigarettes. He looked aside. 'I hope it was admired. It suits +you.' She fingered it. Her hand touched his chin.</p> + +<p>'Does it? It's your taste, you know.'</p> + +<p>'But <i>was</i> it admired?' she insisted almost sharply.</p> + +<p>'That's really more than I can say, Lettice. You see, I didn't ask Sir +William what he thought, and the natives are poor judges because they +don't wear ties.' He was about to say more, talking the first nonsense +that came into his head, when she did a thing that took his breath away, +and made him tremble where he sat. Regardless of lurking Arab servants, +careless of Mrs. Haughstone's windows not far behind them, she rose +suddenly, tripped round the little table, kissed him on his cheek—and was +back again in her chair, smoking innocently as before. It was a +repetition of an earlier act, yet with a difference somewhere.</p> + +<p>The world seemed unreal just then; things like this did not happen in real +life, at least not quite like this; nor did two persons in their +respective positions talk exactly thus, using such banal language, such +insignificant phrases half of banter, half of surface foolishness. +The kiss amazed him—for a moment. Tom felt in a dream. And yet this +very sense of dream, this idle exchange of trivial conversation cloaked +something that was a cruel, an indubitable reality. It was not a dream +shot through with reality, it was a reality shot through with dream. +But the dream itself, though old as the desert, dim as those grim Theban +Hills now draped with flying sand, was also true and actual.</p> + +<p>The hidden Play had broken through, merging for an instant with the upper +surface-life. He was almost persuaded that this last, strange action had +not happened, that Lettice had never really left her chair. So still and +silent she sat there now. She had not stirred from her place. It was the +burning wind that touched his cheek, a waft of heated atmosphere, lightly +moving, that left the disquieting trail of perfume in the air. +The glowing heavens, luminous athwart the clouds of fine, suspended sand, +laid this ominous hint of dream upon the entire day.… The recent act +became a mere picture in the mind.</p> + +<p>Yet some little cell of innermost memory, stirring out of sleep, had +surely given up its dead.… For a second it seemed to him this heavy, +darkened air was in the recesses of the earth, beneath the burden of +massive cliffs the centuries had piled. It was underground. In some +cavern of those mournful Theban Hills, some one—had kissed him! For over +his head shone painted stars against a painted blue, and in his nostrils +hung a faint sweetness as of ambra.…</p> + +<p>He recovered his balance quickly. They resumed their curious masquerade, +the screen of idle talk between significance and emptiness, like sounds of +reality between dream and waking.</p> + +<p>And the rest of that long day of stifling heat was similarly a dream shot +through with incongruous touches of reality, yet also a reality shot +through with the glamour of some incredibly ancient dream. Not till he +stood later upon the steamer deck, the sea-wind in his face and the salt +spray on his lips, did he awake fully and distinguish the dream from the +reality—or the reality from the dream. Nor even then was the deep, +strange confusion wholly dissipated. To the end of life, indeed, it +remained an unsolved mystery, labelled a Premonition Fulfilled, without +adequate explanation.…</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The time passed listlessly enough, to the accompaniment of similar idle +talk, careless, it seemed to Tom, with the ghastly sense of the final +minutes slipping remorselessly away, so swiftly, so poignantly unused. +For each moment was gigantic, brimmed full with the distilled essence, as +it were, of intensest value, value that yet was not his to seize. +He never lost the point of view that he watched a picture that belonged to +some one else. His own position was clear; he had already leaped from a +height; he counted, as he fell, the blades of grass, the pebbles far +below; slipping over Niagara's awful edge, he noted the bubbles in the +whirlpools underneath. They talked of the weather.…!</p> + +<p>'It's clearing,' said Lettice. 'There'll be sand in our tea and thin +bread and butter. But anything's better than sitting and stifling here.'</p> + +<p>Tom readily agreed. 'You and I and Tony, then?'</p> + +<p>'I thought so. We don't want too many, do we?'</p> + +<p>'Not for our la—not for a day like this.' He corrected himself just in +time. 'Tony will be here for lunch?' he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded. 'He said so, at any rate, only one never quite knows with +Tony.' And though Tom plainly heard, he made no comment. He was puzzled.</p> + +<p>Most of the morning they remained alone together. Tom had never felt so +close to her before; it seemed to him their spirits touched; there was no +barrier now. But there was distance. He could not explain the paradox. +A vague sweet feeling was in him that the distance was not of height, as +formerly. He had risen somehow; he felt higher than before; he saw over +the barrier that had been there. Pain and sacrifice, perhaps, had lifted +him, raised him to the level where she dwelt; and in that way he was +closer. A new strength was in him. At the same time, behind her outer +quietness and her calm, he divined struggle still. In her atmosphere was +a hint of strain, disharmony. He was positive of this. From time to time +he caught trouble in her eyes. Could she, perhaps, discern—foreknow—the +shadow of the dropping Curtain? He wondered.… He detected something +in her that was new.</p> + +<p>If any weakening of resolve were in himself, it disappeared long before +Tony's arrival on the scene. A few private words from Mrs. Haughstone +later banished it effectually. 'Your telegram, Mr. Kelverdon, came as a +great surprise. We had planned a three-day trip to the Sphinx and +Pyramids. Mr. Winslowe had written to you; he hoped to persuade you to +join us. Again you left Assouan before the letter arrived. It's a habit +with you!'</p> + +<p>'Apparently.'</p> + +<p>The poison no longer fevered him; he was immune.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Winslowe—I had better warn you before he comes—was disappointed.'</p> + +<p>'I'm sorry I spoilt the trip. It was most inconsiderate of me. But you +can make it later when I'm gone—to Cairo, can't you?'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haughstone watched him somewhat keenly. Did she discover anything, +he wondered? Was she aware that he was no longer within reach of her +little shafts?</p> + +<p>'It's all for the best, I think,' she went on in a casual tone. +'Lettice was too easily persuaded—she didn't really want to go without +you. She said so. And Mr. Winslowe soon gets over his sulks——'</p> + +<p>Tom interrupted her, turning sharply round. 'Oh,' he laughed, 'was that +why he wouldn't come to breakfast, then?' And whether it was pain or +pleasure that he felt, he did not know. The moment's anguish—he verily +believed it—was for Lettice. And for Tony? Something akin to sympathy +perhaps! If Tony should ever suffer pain like his—even +temporarily.…!</p> + +<p>The other shrugged her angular shoulders a little. 'It's all passed now,' +she observed; 'he's forgotten it, I'm sure. You needn't notice anything, +by the way,' she added, 'if—if he seems ungracious.'</p> + +<p>'Not for worlds,' replied Tom, throwing stones into the sullen river +below. 'I'm far too tactful.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haughstone looked away. There was a moment's expression of +admiration on her face. 'You're big, Mr. Kelverdon, very big. I wish all +men were as generous.' She spoke hurriedly below her breath. 'I saw this +coming before you arrived. I wish I could have saved you. You've got the +hero in you.'</p> + +<p>Tom changed the subject, and presently moved away: it was time for lunch +for one thing, and for another he wanted to hide his face from her too +peering eyes. He was not quite sure of himself just then; his lips +trembled a little; he could not altogether control his facial muscles. +Tony jealous! Lettice piqued! Was this the explanation of her new +sweetness towards himself! The position tried him sorely, testing his new +strength from such amazing and unexpected angles. It was all beyond him +somehow, the reversal of rôles so afflicting, tears and laughter so oddly +mingled. Yet the sheet-anchor—his self-less love—held fast and true. +There was no dragging, no shuffling where he stood.</p> + +<p>Nor was there any weakening of resolution in him, any dimming of the new +dawn within his heart. He felt sure of something that he did not +understand, aware of a radiant promise some one whispered marvellously in +his ear. He was alone, yet not alone, outcast yet companioned sweetly, +bereft of all the world holds valuable, yet possessor of riches that the +world passed by. He felt a conqueror. The pain was somehow turning into +joy. He seemed above the earth. Only one thing mattered—that his ideal +love should have no stain upon it.</p> + +<p>The lunch he dreaded passed smoothly and without alarm. Tony was gay, +light-hearted as usual, belying Mrs. Haughstone's ominous prediction. +They smoked together afterwards, walking up and down the garden +arm-in-arm, Tony eagerly discussing expeditions, picnics, birds, anything +and everything that offered, with keen interest as of old; he even once +suggested coming back to Assouan with his cousin—alone… Tom made no +comment on the adverb. Nor was his sympathy mere acting; he genuinely +felt it; the affection for Tony somehow was not dead.… The joy in +him grew, meanwhile, brighter, clearer, higher. It was alive. Some +courage of the sun was in him. There seemed a great understanding with +it, and a greater forgiveness.</p> + +<p>Of one thing only did he feel uncertain. He caught himself sharply +wondering more than once. For he had the impression—the conviction +almost—that something had happened during his absence at Assouan—that +there was a change in <i>her</i> attitude to Tony. It was a subtle change; it +was beginning merely; but it was there. Her behaviour at breakfast was +not due to pique, not solely due to pique, at any rate. It had a deeper +origin. Almost he detected signs of friction between herself and Tony. +Very slight they were indeed, if not imagined altogether. His perception +was still exceptionally alert, its acuteness left over, apparently, from +the earlier days of pain and jealousy. Yet the result upon him was +confusing chiefly.</p> + +<p>In very trivial ways the change betrayed itself. The talk between the +three of them remained incongruously upon the surface always. The play +and chatter went on independently of the Play beneath, almost ignoring it. +In that Wordless Play, however, the change was registered.</p> + +<p>'Tom, you've got the straightest back of any man I ever saw,' Lettice +exclaimed once, eyeing them critically with an amused smile as they came +back towards her chair. 'I've just been watching you both.'</p> + +<p>They laughed, while Tony turned it wittily into fun. 'It's always safer +to look a person in the face,' he observed. If he felt the comparison was +made to his disadvantage he did not show it. Tom, wondering what she +meant and why she said it, felt that the remark annoyed him. For there +was disparagement of Tony in it.</p> + +<p>'I can read your soul from your back alone,' she added.</p> + +<p>'And mine!' cried Tony, laughing: 'what about my back too? Or have I got +no soul misplaced between my shoulder-blades?'</p> + +<p>Tom laid his hand between those slightly-rounded shoulders then—and +rather suddenly.</p> + +<p>'It's bent from too much creeping after birds,' he exclaimed. 'In your +next life you'll be on all fours if you're not careful.'</p> + +<p>The Arab appeared to say the donkeys and sand-cart were waiting in the +road, and Tony went indoors to get cameras and other paraphernalia +essential to a Desert picnic. Lettice continued talking idly to Tom, who +stood beside her, smoking.… The feeling of dream and reality were +very strong in him at the moment. He hardly realised what the nonsense +was he had said to his cousin. There was a slight sense of discomfort in +him. The little, playful conversation just over had meaning in it. +He missed that meaning. Somehow the comparison in his favour was +disagreeable—he preferred to hear his cousin praised, but certainly not +belittled. Perhaps vanity was wounded there—that his successful rival +woke contempt in her was unendurable.… And he thought of his train +for the first time with a vague relief.</p> + +<p>'Birds,' she was saying, half to herself, the eyes beneath the big sun-hat +looking beyond him, 'that reminds me, Tom—a dream I had. A little bird +left its nest and hopped about to try all the other branches, because it +thought it ought to explore them—had to, in a way. And it got into all +sorts of danger, and ran fearful risks, and couldn't fly or use its wings +properly,—till finally——'</p> + +<p>She stopped, and her eyes turned full upon his own. The love in his face +was plain to read, though he was not conscious of it. He waited in +silence:</p> + +<p>'Till finally it crept back up into its own nest again,' she went on, +'and found its wings lying there all the time. It had forgotten them! +And it got in, felt warm and safe and cosy—and fell asleep.'</p> + +<p>'Whereupon you woke and found it was all a dream,' said Tom. His tone, +though matter-of-fact, was lower than usual, but it was firm. No sign of +emotion now was visible in his face. The eyes were steady, the lips +betrayed no hint. Her little dream, the way of telling it rather, +perplexed him.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she said, 'but I found somehow that the bird was me.' She sighed a +little.</p> + +<p>It flashed upon him suddenly that she was exhausted, wearied out; that her +heart was beating with some interior stress and struggle. She seemed on +the point of giving up, some long long battle in her ended. There was +something she wished to say to him—he got this impression too—something +she could not bring herself to say, unless he helped her, unless he asked +for it. The duality was ending, perhaps fused into unity again?… +The intense and burning desire to help her rose upon him, the desire to +protect. And the word 'Warsaw' fled across his mind… as though it +fell through the heated air into his mind… from hers.</p> + +<p>'Tony declares,' she was saying, 'that our memories are packed away under +pressure like steam in a boiler, and the dream is their safety-valve… +I wonder.… He read it somewhere. It's not his own, of course. +But Tony never explains—because he doesn't really know. He's flashy—not +the depth we thought—the truth… <i>Tom!</i>'</p> + +<p>She called his name with emphasis, as if annoyed that he showed so little +interest. There was an instant's cloud upon her face; the eyes wavered, +then looked away; he felt again there was disappointment somewhere in her +—with himself or with Tony, he did not know.… He kept silent. +He could think of nothing by way of answer—nothing appropriate, nothing +safe.</p> + +<p>She waited, keeping silent too. The Curtain was lowering, its shadow +growing on the air.</p> + +<p>'I dream so little,' he stammered at length, 'I can't say.' It enraged +him that he faltered. He turned away.… Tony at that moment arrived. +The cart and animals were ready, everything was collected. He announced +it loudly, urging them with a certain impatience, as though they caused +the delay. He stared keenly at them a moment.… They started.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0031"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> + + +<p>How trivial, yet how significant of the tension of interior forces—the +careless words, the foolish little dream, the playful allusion to one +man's stoop and to another's upright carriage, how easy to read, how +obvious! Yet Tom, too intensely preoccupied, perhaps, with keeping his +own balance, was unaware of revelation. His mind perceived the delicate +change, yet attached a wrong direction to it. Perplexity and discomfort +in him deepened. He was relieved when Tony interrupted; he felt glad. +The shifting of values was disturbing to him. It was as though the +falling Curtain halted.…</p> + +<p>The hours left to him were few; they both rushed and lingered. +The afternoon seemed gone so quickly, while yet the moments dragged, each +separate instant too intense with feeling to yield up its being willingly. +The minutes lingered; it was the hours that rushed.</p> + +<p>Subconsciously, it seemed, Tom counted them in his heart.… +Subconsciously, too, he stated the position, as though to do so steadied +him: Three persons, three friends, were off upon a picnic. At a certain +moment they would turn back; at a certain moment two of them would say +good-bye; at a certain moment a final train would start—his eyes would no +longer see <i>her</i>.… It seemed impossible, unreal; it could not +happen.… He could so easily prevent it. No question had been asked +about his going to Cairo; it was taken for granted that he went on +business and would return. He could cancel his steamer-berth, no +explanation necessary, nor any asked.</p> + +<p>But having weighed the sacrifice against the joy, he was not wanting.</p> + +<p>They mounted their lusty donkeys; Lettice climbed into her sand-cart; the +boys came clattering after them down the street of Thebes with the +tea-things and the bundles of clover for the animals. Across the belt of +brilliant emerald green, past clover-fields and groves of palms, they +followed the ancient track towards the desert. They were on the eastern +bank, the Theban Hills far behind them on the horizon. Towards the Red +Sea they headed, though Tom had no notion of their direction, aware only +that while they went further and further from those hills, the hills +themselves somehow came ever nearer. The gaunt outline followed them; +each time he looked back the shadow cast was closer than before, almost +upon their heels. But for the assurance of his senses he could have +believed they headed towards these yellow cliffs instead of the reverse. +He could not shake off the singular impression that their weight was on +his back; he felt the oppression of those ancient tombs, those crowded +corridors, that hidden subterranean world. No mummy, he remembered, but +believed it would one day unwind again when the soul, cleansed and +justified, came back to claim it. Regeneration was inevitable. +A glorious faith secure in ultimate joy!</p> + +<p>They hurried vainly; the distance between them, instead of increasing, +lessened. The hills would not let them go.</p> + +<p>The burning atmosphere, the motionless air caused doubtless the optical +illusion. The glare was blinding. Tom did not draw attention to it. +He tugged his obstinate donkey into line with the slower sand-cart, riding +for several minutes in silence, close beside Lettice, aware of her +perfume, her flying veil almost across his eyes from time to time. +Tony was some way ahead.</p> + +<p>'Tom,' he heard suddenly, 'must you really go to Cairo to-night?'</p> + +<p>'I'm afraid so. It's important.' But after a pause he added 'Why?' +He said it because his sentence sounded otherwise suspiciously incomplete. +Above all, he must seem natural. 'Why do you ask?'</p> + +<p>The answer made him regret that extra word:</p> + +<p>'There's something I want to tell you.'</p> + +<p>'<i>Very</i> important?' He asked it laughingly, busy with the reins +apparently.</p> + +<p>'Far more important than your going to Cairo. I want your advice and +help.'</p> + +<p>'I must,' he said slowly. 'Won't it keep?' He tugged violently at the +reins, though the donkey was behaving admirably.</p> + +<p>'How long will you stay?' she asked.</p> + +<p>'One night only, Lettice. Not longer.'</p> + +<p>They were on soft and yellow sand by now; the desert shone with a luminous +glow; Tom could not hear the sound of his donkey's hoofs, nor the +crunching of the sand-cart. He heard nothing but a voice singing beside +him in the burning air. But the air had grown radiant. He realised that +he was beating the donkey without the slightest reason.</p> + +<p>'When you come back, then—I'll tell you when you come back,' he heard.</p> + +<p>And a sudden inspiration came to his assistance. 'Couldn't you write it?' +he asked calmly. 'The Semiramis Hotel will find me—in case anything +happened. I should have time to think it over—I like that best—if it's +really so important. My mind, you know, works slowly.'</p> + +<p>Her reply had a curious effect upon him. She needed help—his help. +'Perhaps, Tom. But one can depend so upon your judgment.'</p> + +<p>He knew that she was watching his face. With an effort he turned to meet +her gaze. He saw her against the background of the hills, whose following +mass towered menacingly above her little outline. And as he looked he was +suddenly transfixed, he dropped his reins, he stared without a word. +Two pairs of eyes, two smiles, two human physiognomies once again met his +arrested gaze. He knew them, of course, well enough by now, but never +before had he caught the two expressions so vividly revealed, so +distinctly marked; clear as a composite picture, one face painted in upon +another that lay beneath it. There was the darker face—and there was +Lettice; and each struggled for complete possession of her features. +There was conflict, sharp and dreadful; one second, the gleam of cruelty +flashed out, a yellow of amber in it, as though gold shone reflected +faintly—the next, an anguish of tenderness, as though love brimmed her +eyes with the moisture of divine compassion. The conflict was desperate, +amazing, painful beyond words. Then the darker aspect slowly waned, +withdrawing backwards, melting away into the shadows of the hills behind— +as though it first had issued thence—as though almost it belonged there. +Alive and true, yet vanquished, it faded out.… He saw at last the +dear, innocent eyes of—Lettice only. It was this Lettice who had spoken.</p> + +<p>His donkey stumbled—it was natural enough, seeing that the reins hung +loose and his feet had somehow left the stirrups. Tom pitched forward +heavily, saving himself and his animal from an ignominious accident just +in the nick of time. There were cries and laughter. The sand-cart +swerved aside at the same moment, and Tony, from a distance, came +galloping back towards them.</p> + +<p>Tom recovered his balance and told his donkey in honest English what he +thought of it. 'But it was your fault, you careless boy,' cried Lettice; +'you let go the reins and whacked it at the same time. Your eyes were +popping out of your head. I thought you'd seen a ghost.'</p> + +<p>Tom glanced at her. 'I was nearly off,' he said. 'Another second and it +would have been a case of "Low let me lie where the dead dog——"'</p> + +<p>She interrupted him with surprising vehemence:</p> + +<p>'Don't, don't, Tom. I hate it! I hate the words and the tune and +everything. I won't hear it…!'</p> + +<p>Tony came clattering up and the incident was over, ended as abruptly as +begun. But, as Tom well realised, another hitch had occurred in the +lowering of the Curtain. The actors, for a moment, had stood there in +their normal fashion, betrayed, caught in the act, a little foolish even. +It was the hand of a woman this time that delayed it.</p> + +<p>'Did you hurt yourself anywhere, Tom?' Her question rang in his head like +music for the next mile or two. He kept beside the sand-cart until they +reached their destination. It was absurd—yet he could not ride in front +with Tony lest some one driving behind them should notice—yes, that was +the half-comical truth—notice that Tony was round-shouldered—oh, very, +very slightly so—whereas his own back was straight! It was ridiculously +foolish, yet pathetic. At the same time, it was poignantly +dramatic.…</p> + +<p>And their destination was a deep bay of yellow sand, soft and tawny, +ribbed with a series of lesser troughs the wind had scooped out to look +like a shore some withdrawing ocean had left exposed below the westering +sun. A solitary palm tree stood behind upon a dune.</p> + +<p>The afternoon, the beating hotness of the air, the clouds of high, +suspended sand, the stupendous sunset—as if the world caught fire and +burned along the whole horizon—it was all unforgettable. The yellow sand +about them blazed and shone, scorching their bare hands; the Desert was +empty, silent, lonely. Only the western heavens, where the sun sank in a +red mass of ominous splendour, was alive with energy. Coloured shafts +mapped the vault from horizon to zenith like the spokes of a prodigious +wheel of fire. Any minute the air and the sand it pressed upon might +burst into a sea of flame. The furnace where the Khamsîn brewed in +distant Nubia sent its warnings in advance; it was slowly travelling +northward. And hence, possibly, arose the disquieting sensation that +something was gathering, something that might take them unawares. +The sand lay listening, waiting, watching. There was whispering among the +very grains.…</p> + +<p>It was half way through tea when the first stray puffs of wind came +dropping abruptly, sighing away in tiny eddies of dust beyond the circle. +Three human atoms upon the huge yellow carpet, that ere long would shake +itself across five hundred miles and rise, whirling, driving, suffocating +all life within its folds—three human beings noted the puffs of heated +air and reacted variously to the little change. Each felt, it seemed, a +slight uneasiness, as though of trouble coming that was yet not entirely +atmospherical. Nerves tingled. They looked into each other's faces. +They looked back.</p> + +<p>'We mustn't stay too late,' said Tony, filling a basket for the +donkey-boys in their dune two hundred yards away. 'We've a long way to +go.' He examined the portentous sky. 'It won't come till night,' he +added, 'still—they're a bit awkward, these sandstorms, and one never +knows.'</p> + +<p>'And I've got a train to catch,' Tom mentioned, 'absurd as it sounds in a +place like this.' He was scraping his lips with a handkerchief. +'I've eaten enough bread-and-sand to last me till dinner, anyhow.' +He helped his cousin with the Arabs' food. 'They probably don't mind it, +they're used to it.' He straightened up from his stooping posture. +Lettice, he saw, was lying with a cigarette against the bank of sloping +sand that curved above them. She was intently watching them. She had not +spoken for some time; she looked almost drowsy; the eyelids were half +closed; the cigarette smoke rose in a steady little thread that did not +waver.… There was perhaps ten yards between them, but he caught the +direction of her gaze, and throwing his own eyes into the same line of +sight, he saw what she saw. Instinctively, he took a quick step forward— +hiding Tony from her immediate view.</p> + +<p>It was certainly curious, this desire to screen his cousin, to prevent his +appearing at a disadvantage. He was impelled, at all costs and in the +smallest details, to help the man she admired, to increase his value, to +minimise his disabilities, however trivial. It pained him to see Tony +even at a physical disadvantage; Tony must show always at his very best; +and at this moment, bending over the baskets, the attitude of the +shoulders was disagreeably emphasised.</p> + +<p>Tom did not laugh, he did not even smile. Gravely, as though it were of +importance, he moved forward so that Lettice should not see the detail of +the rounded shoulders which, he knew, compared unfavourably with his own +straighter carriage. Yet almost the next minute, when he looked back +again, he saw that the cigarette had fallen from her fingers, the eyes +were closed, her body had slipped into a more recumbent angle, she seemed +actually asleep.</p> + +<p>'Give a shout, Tom, and the boys will come to fetch it,' said Tony, when +at length the basket was ready. He put his hands to his own mouth to +coo-ee across the dunes. Tom stopped him at once. 'Hush! Lettice has +dropped off,' he explained, 'you'll wake her. It's the heat. I'll carry +the things over to them.' He noticed Tony's hands as he held them to his +lips. And again he felt a touch of sympathy, almost pity. Had <i>she</i>, so +observant, so discerning in her fastidious taste—had she failed to notice +the small detail too?</p> + +<p>'No, let me take it,' Tony was saying, seizing the hamper from his cousin. +Tom suggested carrying it between them. They tried it, laughing and +struggling together with the awkward burden, but keeping their voices low. +They lost the direction too; for all the sand-dunes were alike, and the +boys were hidden in a hollow. It ended in Tony going off in triumph with +the basket under one arm, guided at length by the faint neighing of a +donkey in the distance.</p> + +<p>Some little time had passed, perhaps five minutes, perhaps longer, when +Tom went back to the tea-place across the soft sand, stepping cautiously +so as not to disturb the sleeper. And another five minutes, perhaps +another ten, had slipped by before Tony's head reappeared above a +neighbouring dune. A boy had come to meet him, shortening his journey.</p> + +<p>But Fate calculated to a nicety, wasting no seconds one way or the other. +There had been time—just time before Tony's return—for Tom to have +stretched himself at her feet, to have lit a cigarette, and to have smoked +sufficient of it for the first ash to fall. He was very careful to make +no sound, even lighting the match softly inside his hat. But his hand was +trembling. For Lettice slept, and in her sleep made little sounds of +pain.</p> + +<p>He watched her. There was a tiny frown between the eyebrows, the lips +twitched from time to time, she moved uneasily upon the bank of sliding +sand; and, as she made these little broken sounds of pain, from beneath +the closed eyelids two small tears crept out upon her cheeks.</p> + +<p>Tom stared, making no sound or movement. The tears rolled down and fell +into the sand. The suffering in the face made his heart beat irregularly. +Something transfixed him. She wore the expression he had seen in the +London theatre. For a moment he felt terror—a terror of something +coming, something going to happen. He stared, trembling, holding his +breath. She was dreaming, as a person even in a three-minute sleep can +dream—deeply, vividly. He waited. He had the amazing sensation that he +knew what she was dreaming—that he took part in it with her almost.… +Unable, finally, to restrain himself another instant, he moved—and the +noise wakened her. She sighed. The eyes opened of their own accord. +She stared at him in a dazed way for a moment. Then she looked over his +shoulder across the desert.</p> + +<p>'You've been asleep, Lettice,' he whispered, 'and actually dreaming—all +in five minutes.'</p> + +<p>She rubbed her eyes slowly, as though sand was in them. She stared into +his face a moment before she spoke.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I dreamed,' she answered with a little frightened sigh. 'I dreamed +of you——There was a tent—the flap lifted suddenly—oh, it was so vivid! +Then there was a crowd and awful drums were beating—and my river with the +floating faces was there and I plunged in to save one—it was yours, +<i>Tom</i>, yours——'</p> + +<p>She paused for a fraction of a second, while his heart went thumping +against his ribs. He did not speak. He waited.</p> + +<p>'Then somehow you were taken from me,' she went on; 'you left me, Tom.' +Her voice sank. 'And it broke my heart in two.'</p> + +<p>'Lettice…!'</p> + +<p>He made a sudden movement in the sand—at which moment, precisely, Tony's +head appeared above the neighbouring dune, the rest of his body following +it immediately.</p> + +<p>And it seemed to Tom that his cousin came upon them out of the heart of a +dream, out of the earth, out of a sandy tomb. His very existence, for +those minutes, had been utterly forgotten, obliterated. He rose from the +dead and came towards them over the hot, yellow desert. The distant +hills—the Theban Hills above the Valley of the Kings—disgorged him. +And, as once before, he looked dreadful, threatening, his great hands held +out in front of him. He came gliding down the yielding slope. He caught +them!</p> + +<p>In that second—it was but the fraction of a second actually—the +impression upon Tom's mind was acute and terrible. Speech and movement +were not in him anywhere; he could only sit and stare, both terrified and +fascinated. Between himself and Lettice stretched an interval of six feet +certainly, and into this very gap, the figure of his cousin, followed and +preceded by heaps of moving sand, descended now. It was towards Lettice +that Tony came so swiftly gliding.</p> + +<p>It <i>was</i> his cousin surely…?</p> + +<p>He saw the big hands outspread, he saw the slightly stooping shoulders, he +saw the face and eyes, the light blue eyes. But also he saw strange, +unaccustomed raiment, he saw a sheet of gold, he smelt the soft breath of +ambra.… And the face was dark and menacing. There were words, too, +careless, playful words, uttered undoubtedly by Tony's familiar voice: +'Caught you both asleep! Well, I declare! You <i>are</i> a couple…!' +followed by something else about its being 'time to pack up and go because +the sand was coming.…' Tom heard the words distinctly, but far away, +tiny with curious distance; they were half smothered, half submerged, it +seemed, behind an acute inner hearing that caught another set of words he +could not understand—in a language he both remembered and forgot. +And the deep sense of dread passed swiftly then into a blinding jealous +rage; he saw red; a fury of wrath that could kill and stab and strangle +rushed over him in a flood of passionate emotion. He lost control. He +rushed headlong.</p> + +<p>Seconds dragged out incredibly into minutes, as though time halted.… +An intense, murderous hatred blazed in his heart.</p> + +<p>From where he sat, both figures were above him, sheltered halfway up the +long sliding slope. At the base of the yellow dune he crouched; he looked +up at them. His eyes perhaps were blinded by the red tempest in his +heart; or perhaps the tiny particles of flying sand drove against his +eyeballs. He saw, at any rate, the figures close together, as if the man +came gliding straight into her arms. He rose—</p> + +<p>At the same moment a draught of sudden, violent wind broke with a pouring +rush across the desert, and the entire crest of the undulating dune behind +them rose to meet it in a single whirling eddy. As a gust of sea-wind +tosses the spray into the air, this burst of scorching desert-wind drew +the ridge up after it, then flung it in a blinding swirl against his face +and skin.</p> + +<p>The dune rose in a Wave of glittering yellow sand, drowning them from head +to foot. He saw the glint and shimmer of the myriad particles in the +sunset; he saw them drifting by the thousand, by the million through the +whirling mass of it; he saw the two figures side by side above him, caught +beneath the toppling crest of this bending billow that curved and broke +against the fiery sky; he smelt the faint perfume of the desert underneath +the hollow arch; he heard the thin, metallic grating of the countless +grains in friction; he heard the palm leaves rattling; he saw two pairs of +eyes… his feet went shuffling. It was The Wave—of sand.…</p> + +<p>And the nightmare clutch laid hold upon his heart with giant pincers. +The fiery red of insensate anger burst into flames, filled his throat to +choking, set his paralysed muscles free with uncontrollable energy. +This savage lust of murder caught him. The shuffling went faster, +faster.… He turned and faced the eyes. He would kill—rather than +see her touched by those great hands. It seemed he made the leap of a +wild animal upon its prey.…</p> + +<p>Fire flashed… then passed, before he knew it, from red to shining +amber, from sullen crimson into purest gold, from gold to the sheen of +dazzling whiteness. The change was instantaneous. His leap was arrested +in mid-air. The red wrath passed amazingly, forgotten or transmuted. +With a miraculous swiftness he was aware of understanding, of sympathy, of +forgiveness.… The red light melted into white—the white of glory. +The murder faded from his heart, replaced by a deep, deep glow of peace, +of love, of infinite trust, of complete comprehension.… He accepted +something marvellously. . . He forgot—himself.…</p> + +<p>The eyes faded, the gold, the raiment, the perfume vanished, the sound +died away. He no longer shuffled upon yielding sand. There was solid +ground beneath his feet.… He was standing alert and upright, his +arms outstretched to save—Tony from collapse upon the sliding dune. +And the sandy wind drove blindingly against his face and skin.</p> + +<p>The three of them stood side by side, holding to each other, laughing, +choking, spluttering, heads bent and eyes closed tightly. Tom found his +cousin's hand in his own, clutching it firmly to keep his balance, while +behind himself—against his 'straight back,' he realised, even while he +choked and laughed—Lettice clung for shelter. Tom, therefore, actually +<i>had</i> leaped forward—but to protect and not to kill. He protected both +of them. This time, however, it was to himself that Lettice clung, +instead of to another.</p> + +<p>The violent gust passed on its way, the flying cloud of sand subsided, +settling down on everything. For a moment they stood there rubbing their +eyes, shaking their clothing free; then raising their heads cautiously, +they looked about them. The air was still and calm again, but in the +distance, already a mile away and swiftly travelling across the luminous +waste, they saw the miniature whirlwind driving furiously, leaping from +ridge to ridge. It swept over the innumerable dunes, lifting the series, +one crest after another, into upright waves upon a yellow shimmering sea, +then scattering them in a cloud that shone and glinted against the fiery +sunset. Its track was easily marked. They watched it.…</p> + +<p>Tony was the first to recover breath.</p> + +<p>'Whew!' he cried, still spluttering, 'but that was sudden! It took me +clean off my feet for a moment. I got your hand, Tom, only just in time +to save myself!' He shook himself, the sand was down his back and in his +hair, his shoes were full of it. 'There'll be another any minute now— +another whirlwind—we'd better be starting.' He began packing up busily, +shouting as he did so to the donkey-boys. 'By Jove!' he cried the next +second, 'look what's happened to our dune!'</p> + +<p>Tom, who was on his knees, helping Lettice shake her skirts free, rose to +look. The high, curving bank of sand where they had sheltered had indeed +changed its shape; the entire ridge had been flattened by the wind; the +crest had been lifted and carried away, scattered in all directions. +The wave-outline of two minutes before no longer existed, it had broken, +fallen over, melted back into the surrounding sea of desert whence it +rose.…</p> + +<p>'It's disappeared!' exclaimed Tom and Lettice in the same breath.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>The boys arrived with the animals and sand-cart; the baskets were quickly +arranged, Tony mounted, Tom helped Lettice in. She leaned heavily on his +arm and shoulder. It was in this moment's pause before the actual start +that Lettice turned her head suddenly as though listening. The air, +motionless again, extraordinarily heated, hung in a dull and yet +transparent curtain between them and the sinking sun. The entire heavens +seemed to form a sounding-board, the least vibration resonant beneath its +stretch.</p> + +<p>'Listen!' she exclaimed. She had uttered no word till now. She looked +down at Tom, then looked away again.</p> + +<p>They turned their heads in the direction where she pointed, and Tom caught +a faint, distant sound as of little strokes that fell thudding on the +heavy air. Tony declared he heard nothing. The sound repeated itself +rapidly, but at rhythmic intervals; it was unpleasant somewhere, a hint of +alarm and menace in the throbbing note—ominous as though it warned. +In the pulse of the blood it seemed, like the beating of the heart, Tom +thought. It came to him almost through the pressure of her hand upon his +shoulder, although his ear told him it came from the horizon where the +Theban Hills loomed through the coming dusk, just visible, but shadowy. +The muttering died away, then ceased, but not before he suddenly recalled +an early morning hour beside a mountain lake, when months ago the thud of +invisible paddle-wheels had stolen upon him through the quiet air.…</p> + +<p>'A drum,' he heard Lettice murmur. 'It's a native drum in Thebes. +My little dream! How the sound travels too! And how it multiplies!' +She peered at Tom through half-closed eyelids. 'It must be at least a +dozen miles away…!' She smiled faintly, then dropped her eyes +quickly.</p> + +<p>'Or a dozen centuries,' he replied, not knowing quite why he said it. +'And more like a thousand drums than only one!' He smiled too. +For another part of him, beyond capture somehow, knew what he meant, knew +also why he smiled—knew also that <i>she</i> knew.</p> + +<p>'It frightens me! It's horrible. It sounds like death!' And though she +whispered the words, more to herself than to the others, Tom heard each +syllable.</p> + +<p>The sound died away into the distance, and then ceased.</p> + +<p>Then Tony, watching them both, but, unable to hear anything himself, +called out again impatiently that it was time to start, that Tom had a +train to catch, that any minute the real, big wind might be upon them. +The hand slowly, half lingeringly, left Tom's shoulder. They started +rapidly with a kind of flourish. In a thin, black line the small +procession crept across the immense darkening desert, like a strip of life +that drifted upon a shoreless ocean.…</p> + +<p>The sun sank down below the Libyan sands. But no awful wind descended. +They reached home safely, exhausted and rather silent. The two hours +seemed to Tom to have passed with a dream-like swiftness. The stars were +shining as they clattered down the little Luxor street. In a dream, too, +he went to the hotel to change, and fetch his bag; in a dream he stood +upon the platform, held Tony's hand, held the soft hand of Lettice, said +good-bye… and watched the station lights glide past as he left them +standing there together, side by side.</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0032"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> + + +<p>One incident, however,—trivial, yet pregnant with significant +revelation,—remained vividly outside the dream. The Play behind broke +through, as it were; an actor forgot his rôle, and involved another actor; +for an instant the masquerade tripped up, and merged with the commonplace +reality of daily life. Explicit disclosure lay in the trifling matter.</p> + +<p>They supplied a touch of comedy, but of rather ghastly comedy, ludicrous +and at the same time painful—those smart, new yellow gloves that Tony put +on when he climbed into the sand-cart and took the reins. His donkey had +gone lame, he abandoned it to the boys behind, he climbed in to drive with +Lettice. Tom, riding beside the cart, witnessed the entire incident; he +laughed as heartily as either of the others; he felt it, however, as <i>she</i> +felt it—a new sudden spiritual proximity to her proved this to him. +Both shrank—from something disagreeable and afflicting. The hands looked +somehow dreadful.</p> + +<p>For the first time Tom realised the physiognomy of hands—that hands, +rather than faces, should be photographed; not merely that they seemed now +so large, so spread, so ugly, but that somehow the glaring canary yellow +subtly emphasised another aspect that was distasteful and unpleasant—an +undesirable aspect in their owner. The cotton was atrocious. So obvious +was it to Tom that he felt pity before he felt disgust. The obnoxious +revelation was so palpable. He was aware that he felt ashamed—for +Lettice. He stared for a moment, unable to move his eyes away. +The next second, lifting his glance, he saw that she, too, had noticed it. +With a flash of keen relief, he was aware that she, like himself, shrank +visibly from the distressing half-sinister revelation that was betrayal.</p> + +<p>The hands, cased in their ridiculous yellow cotton, had physiognomy. +Upon the pair of them, just then, was an expression not to be denied: +of furtiveness, of something sly and unreliable, a quality not to be +depended on through thick and thin, able to grasp for themselves but not +to hold—for others; eager to take, yet incompetent to give. The hands +were selfish, mean and unprotective. It was a remarkable disclosure of +innate duality hitherto concealed. Their physiognomy dropped a mask the +face still wore. The hands looked straight at Lettice; they assumed a +sensual leer; they grinned.</p> + +<p>'One second,' Tony cried, 'the reins hurt my fingers,'—and had drawn from +his pocket the gloves and quickly slipped them on—canary yellow—cotton!</p> + +<p>'Oh, oh!' exclaimed Lettice, 'but how can you! It's ghastly… for a +man…!' She stared a moment, as though fascinated, then turned her +eyes away, flicking the whip in the air and laughing—a trifle nervously.</p> + +<p>Why the innocent, if vulgar, scraps of clothing should have been so +revealing was hard to say. That they were incongruous and out of place in +the Desert was surely an inconsiderable thing, that they were possibly in +bad taste was of even less account. It was something more than that. +It came in a second of vivid intuition—so, at least, it seemed to Tom, +and therefore perhaps to Lettice too—that he saw his cousin's soul behind +the foolish detail. Tony had put his soul upon his hands—and the hands +were somewhere cheap and worthless.</p> + +<p>So difficult was it to catch the elusive thought in language, that Tom +certainly used none of the adjectives that flashed unbidden across his +mind; he assuredly thought neither of 'coarse,' 'untrustworthy,' nor of +'false' or 'nasty'—yet the last named came probably nearest to expressing +the disquieting sensation that laid its instant pressure upon his nerves, +then went its way again. It was disturbing in a very searching way; he +felt uneasy for <i>her</i> sake. How could he leave her with the owner of +those hands, the wearer of those appalling yellow cotton gloves! +The laughter in him was subtle mockery. For, of course, he laughed at +himself for such an absurd conclusion.… Yet, somehow, those gloves +revealed the man, betrayed him mercilessly! The hands were naked—they +were stained.</p> + +<p>It was just then that her exclamation of disapproval interrupted Tom's +curious sensations. It came with welcome. 'Thank Heavens!' a voice cried +inside him.… 'She feels it too!'</p> + +<p>'But my sister sent them to me,' Tony defended himself, 'sent them from +London. They're the latest thing at home!' He was laughing at himself. +At the same time he was shifting the responsibility as usual.</p> + +<p>Lettice laughed with him then, though her laughter held another note that +was not merriment. He felt disgust, resentment in her. There was no +pity there. Tony had missed a cue—the entire Play was blocked. +The 'hero' stirred contempt in place of admiration. But more—the +incident confirmed, it seemed, much else that had preceded it. Her eyes +were opened.</p> + +<p>The conflict of pain and joy in Tom was most acute. His entire +sacrifice—for an instant—trembled in a hair-like balance. For the +capital rôle stood gravely endangered in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Take them off, Tony! Put them away! Hide them! I couldn't trust you to +drive me with such things on your hands. A man in yellow canary cotton!'</p> + +<p>All three laughed together, and Tom, watching the trivial incident, as he +rode beside them, saw her seize one hand and pull the glove off by the +fingers. It seemed she tore a mask from one side of his face—the face +beneath was disfigured. The glove fell into the bottom of the cart, then +caught the loose rein and was jerked out upon the sand. The next second, +something of covert fury in the gesture, Tony had taken off the other and +tossed it to keep company with the first. Both hands showed naked: the +entire face was bare. Tom looked away. + +'They <i>are</i> hideous rather, I admit,' exclaimed Tony. 'The donkey boys can +pick them up and wear them.' And there was mortification in his tone and +manner; almost—he was found out.</p> + + +<br><br><br> +<p>It was the memory of this pregnant little incident that held persistently +before Tom's mind now, as the train bore him the long night through +between the desert and the river that were Egypt. The bigger crowding +pictures, scenes and sentences, thronged panorama of the recent weeks, lay +in hiding underneath; but it was the incident of those yellow gloves that +memory tossed up for ever before his eyes. He clung to it in spite of +himself. Imagination played its impish pranks. What did it portend? +Removing gloves was the first act in undressing, it struck him. Tony had +dressed up for the Play, the Play was over, he must put off, piece by +piece, the glamour he had worn so successfully for his passionate rôle. +Once off the stage, the enchantment of the limelight, the scenery, the +raiment of gold that left a perfume of ambra in the air—all the assumed +allurements he had borrowed must be discarded. The Tony of the Play +withdrew, the real Tony stood discovered, undressed—by no means +admirable. No longer on the boards, walking like a king, with the regal +fascination of an older day, he would pass along the busy street +unnoticed, unadorned, bereft of the high distinction that imagination, so +strangely stirred, had laid upon him for a little space.… The yellow +gloves lay now upon the desert sand; perhaps the whirling tempest tossed +them to and fro, perhaps it buried them; perhaps the Arab boys, proud of +the tinsel they mistook for gold, now wore them in their sleep, lying on +beds of rushes beneath the flat-roofed houses of sun-baked clay.…</p> + +<p>This vivid detail kept the heavier memories back at first; somehow the +long review of his brief Egyptian winter blocked each time against a pair +of stooping shoulders and a pair of yellow cotton gloves.</p> + +<p>During the voyage of four days, however, followed then the inevitable +cruel aftermath of doubt, suspicion, jealousy he had fancied long since +overthrown. A hundred incidents and details forced themselves upon him +from the past—glances, gestures, phrases, such little things and yet so +pregnant with delayed or undelivered meaning. The meanings rose +remorselessly to the surface now.</p> + +<p>All belonged to the first days in Egypt before he noticed anything; the +mind worked backwards to their gleaning. They had escaped his attention +at the time, yet the mind had registered them none the less. He did not +seek their recovery, but the series offered itself, compelling him to +examine one and all, demanding that he should pass judgment. He forced +them back, they leaped up again on springs; the resilience was due to +their life, their truth; they were not to be denied. There was no +escape.…</p> + +<p>All pointed to the same conclusion: the month spent alone with Tony had +worked the mischief before his own arrival—by the time he came upon the +scene the new relationship was in full swing beyond her power to stop it. +Heavens, he had been blind! Ceaselessly, endlessly, he made the circle of +alternate pain and joy, of hope and despair, of doubt and confidences—yet +the ideal in him safe beyond assault. He believed in her, he trusted, and +he—hoped.</p> + +<p>The most poignant test, however, came when port was reached and the +scented land-wind met his nostrils with the—Spring. He saw the harbour +with its white houses shining in the early April sunshine; the blue sea +recalled a wide-shored lake among the mountains: he saw the sea-gulls, +heard the lapping of the waves against the shipping.…</p> + +<p>He took the train to a little town along the coast, meaning to stay there +a day or two before facing London, where the dismantling of the Brown Flat +and the search for work awaited him. And there the full-blooded spring of +this southern climate took him by the throat. The haze, the sweet moist +air, the luscious fields, the woods and flowery roads, above all the +singing birds—this biting contrast with the dry, blazing desert skies of +tawny Egypt was dislocating. The fierce glare of perpetual summer seemed +a nightmare he had left behind; he came back to the sweet companionship of +friendly life in field and tree and flower.</p> + +<p>The first soft shower of rain, the first long twilight, the singing of the +thrushes after dark, the light in the little homestead windows—he felt +such intimate kindness in it all that the tears rose to his eyes. +He longed to share it with her… there was no joy in life without +her.… Egypt lay behind him with its awful loneliness, its stern, +forbidding emptiness, its nightmare sunsets, its cruel desert, its +appalling vastness in which everything had already happened. Thebes was a +single, enormous tomb; his past lay buried there; from the solemn, +mournful, desolate hills he had escaped.… He emerged into a smiling +land of running streams and flowers. His new life was beginning like the +Spring. It gushed everywhere, reminding him of another Spring he had +known among the mountains.… The 'sum of loss' he counted minute by +minute, hour by hour, day by day. He began the long, long +reckoning.…</p> + +<p>He felt intolerably alone. The hunger and yearning in his heart seemed +more than he could bear. This beauty… without her beside him, +without her to share the sweet companionship of the earth… was too +much to bear. For one minute with her beside him in the meadows, picking +flowers, listening to the birds, her blue veil flying in the wet mountain +wind—he would have given all his life, his past, his future, everything +that mind and heart held precious.… In the middle of which and at +its darkest moment came the certain knowledge with a joy that broke in +light and rapture on his soul—that she <i>was</i> beside him because she was +within him.… He approached the impersonal, selfless attitude to +which the attainment of an ideal alone is possible. She had been added to +him.…</p> + + +<br><br> +<a name="2HCH0033"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<br><br> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> + + +<p>The silence, meanwhile, was like the silence that death brings. +He clung tenaciously to his ideal, yet he thought of her daily, nightly, +hourly. She was really never absent from his thoughts. He starved, yet +perhaps he did not know he starved.… The days grew into weeks with a +grinding, dreadful slowness. He had written from the steamer, explaining +briefly that he was called to England. He had written a similar line to +Tony too. No answers came.</p> + +<p>Yet the silence was full of questions. The mystery of her Egyptian +infatuation remained the biggest one of all perhaps. But there were +others, equally insistent. Did he really possess her in a way that made +earthly companionship unnecessary? Had he lasting joy in this ideal +possession? Was it true that an ideal once attained, its prototype +becomes unsatisfying? Did he deceive himself? And had not her strange +experience after all but ripened and completed her nature, provided +something she had lacked before, and blended the Mother and the Woman into +the perfect mate his dream foretold and his heart's deep instinct +prophesied?</p> + +<p>He heard many answers to these questions; his heart made one, his reason +made another. It was the soft and urgent Spring, however, with its +perfumed winds, its singing birds, its happy message breaking with +tumultuous life—it was the Spring on those wooded Mediterranean shores +that whispered the compelling truth. He needed her, he yearned. +An ideal, on this earth, to retain its upward lure, must remain—an ideal. +Attainment in the literal sense destroys it. His arms were hungry and his +heart was desolate. Then one day he knew the happy yet unhappy feeling +that she suffered too. He felt her thoughts about him like soft +birds.…</p> + +<p>And he wrote to her: 'I should just like to know that you are well—and +happy.' He addressed it to the Bungalow. The same day, chance had it, he +received word from her, forwarded from the Semiramis Hotel in Cairo. +She wrote two lines only: 'Tom, the thing I had to tell you about was— +Warsaw. It is over. As you said, it is better written, perhaps, than +told. Yours, L.'</p> + +<p>Egypt came flooding through the open window as he laid the letter down; +the silence, the desert spaces, the perfume and the spell. He saw one +thing clearly in that second, for he saw it in a flash. The secret of her +trouble that last day in Luxor was laid bare—the knowledge that within a +few hours she would be free. To Tom she could not easily tell it; +delicacy, modesty, pride forbade. Her long, painful duty, faithfully +fulfilled these many years, was over. Her world had altered, opened out. +Values, of course, had instantly altered too; she saw what was real and +what ephemeral; she looked at Tony and she looked at—himself. She could +speak to Tony—it was easier, it did not matter—but she could not so +easily speak to Tom. The yellow gloves of cotton!… His heart leaped +within him.…</p> + +<p>He stared out of the window across the blue Mediterranean with its +dancing, white-capped waves; he saw the white houses by the harbour; he +watched the whirling sea-gulls and tasted the fresh, salt air. +How familiar it all was! Of her whereabouts at that moment he had no +knowledge; she might be on the steamer, gazing at the same dancing waves; +she might be in Warsaw or in London even; she might pass by the windows of +the Brown Flat.…</p> + +<p>He turned aside, closing the window. Egypt withdrew, the glamour waned, +the ancient spell seemed lifted. He thought of those Theban Hills without +emotion. Yet something in him trembled; he yearned, he ached, he longed +with all the longing of the Spring. He wavered—oh, deliciously…! +He was glad, radiantly glad, that she had written. Only—he dared not, he +could not answer.…</p> + +<p>Yet big issues are decided sometimes by paltry and ignoble influences +when sturdier considerations produce no effect. It is the contrast +that furnishes the magic. It was contrast, doubtless, that swayed +Tom's judgment in the very direction he had decided was prohibited. +His surroundings at the moment supplied the contrast, for these +surroundings were petty and ignoble—they drove him by the distress of +sheer disgust into the world of larger values he had known with her. +Probably, he did not discover this consciously for himself: the result, in +any case, was logical and obvious. Values changed suddenly for him, too, +both in his outlook and his judgment.</p> + +<p>For he was spending a few days with his widowed sister, she who had been +playmate to Lettice years ago; and the conditions of her life and mind +distressed him. He had seen her name in a hotel list of Mentone; he +surprised her with a visit; he was received with inexplicable coldness. +His tie with her was slight, her husband, a clergyman, little to his +liking; he had not been near them for several years. The frigid +reception, however, had a deeper cause, he felt; his curiosity was piqued.</p> + +<p>His sister's chart of existence, indeed, was too remote from his own for +true sympathy to be possible, and her married life had not improved her. +They had drifted apart without openly acknowledging it. There was no +quarrel, but there was a certain bitterness between them. She had a +marked <i>faiblesse</i>, strange in one securely born, for those nominally in +high places that, while disingenuous enough, jarred painfully always on +her brother. God was unknown to her, although her husband preached most +familiarly concerning Him. She had never seen the deity, but an Earl was +a living reality, and often very useful. This banal weakness, he now +found, had increased in widowhood. Tom hid his extreme distaste—and +learned the astonishing reason for her coldness. It was Mrs. Haughstone. +It took his breath away. He was too amazed to speak.</p> + +<p>How clearly he understood her conduct now in Egypt! For Mrs. Haughstone +had spread stories of the Bungalow, pernicious stories of an incredible +kind, yet with just sufficient basis of apparent truth to render them +plausible—plausible, that is, to any who were glad of an excuse to +believe them against himself. These stories by a round-about way, +gathering in circumstantial detail as they travelled, had reached his +sister. She wished to believe them, and she did. Certain relatives, +moreover, of meagre intelligence but highly placed in the social world, +and consequently of great importance in her life, were remotely affected +by the lurid tales. A report in full is unnecessary, but Mary held that +the family honour was stained. It was an incredible imbroglio. Tom was +so overwhelmed by this revelation of the jealous woman's guile, and the +light it threw upon her rôle in Egypt, that he did not even trouble to +defend himself. He merely felt sorry that his sister could believe such +tales—and forgave her without a single word. He saw in it all another +scrap of evidence that the Wave had indeed fallen, that his life +everywhere, and from the most unlikely directions, was threatened, that +all the most solid in the structure he had hitherto built up and leaned +upon, was crumbling—and must crumble utterly—in order that it might rise +secure upon fresh foundations.</p> + +<p>He faced it, but faced it silently. He washed his hands of all concerned; +he had learned their values too; he now looked forward instead of behind; +that is, he forgot, and at the same time utterly—forgave.</p> + +<p>But the effect upon him was curious. The stagnant ditch his sister lived +in had the result of flinging him headlong back into the larger stream he +had just left behind him; in that larger world things happened indeed, +things unpleasant, cruel, mysterious, amazing—but yet not little things. +The scale was vaster, horizons wider, beauty and wonder walked hand in +hand with love and death. The contrast shook him; the trivial blow had +this immense effect, that he yearned with redoubled passion for the region +in which bigger ideals with their prototypes, however broken, existed side +by side.</p> + +<p>This yearning, and the change involved, remained subtly concealed, +however. He was not properly conscious of it. Other very practical +considerations, it seemed, influenced him; his money was getting low; he +had luckily sublet the flat, but the question of work was becoming +insistent. There was much to be faced.… A month had slipped by, it +was five weeks since he had left Egypt. He decided to go to London. +He telegraphed to the Club for his letters—he expected important ones—to +be sent to Paris, and it was in a small high room on the top floor of a +second-rate hotel across the Seine that he found them waiting for him. +It was here, in this dingy room, that he read the wondrous words. +The letter had lain at his Club three days, it was dated Switzerland and +the postmark was Montreux. It was in pencil, without beginning and +without end; his name, the signature did not appear:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> Your little letter has come—yes, I am well, but happy I am not. + I went to the Semiramis and found that you had sailed, sailed without + even a good-bye. I have come here, here to familiar little Montreux + by the blue lake, where we first knew the Spring together. + I can't say anything, I can't explain anything. You must never ask + me to explain; Egypt changed me—brought out something in me I was + helpless to resist. It was something perhaps I needed. + I struggled—perhaps you can guess how I struggled, perhaps you + can't. I have suffered these past weeks, I believe that I have + expiated something. The power that drove me is exhausted, and that + is all I know. I have worked it out. I have come back. There is + no blame for others—for any one; I can't explain. Your little + letter has come, and so I write. Help me, oh, help me in years to + find my respect again, and try to love the woman you once knew—knew + here in Montreux beside the lake, long ago in our childhood days, + further back still, perhaps, though where I do not know. And, Tom— + tell me how you are. I must know that. Please write and tell me + that. I can bear it no longer. If anything happened to you I should + just turn over and die. You have been true and very big, oh, so true + and big. I see it now.…</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Tom did not answer. He took the night train. He was just in time to +catch the Simplon Express from the Gare de Lyon. He reached Montreux at +seven o'clock, when the June sun was already high above the Dent du Midi +and the lake a sheet of sparkling blue. He went to his old hotel. He saw +the swans floating like bundles of dry paper, he saw the whirling +sea-gulls, he obtained his former room. And spring was just melting into +full-blown summer upon the encircling mountains.</p> + +<p>It was still early when he had bathed and breakfasted, too early for +visitors to be abroad, too early to search.… He could settle to +nothing; he filled the time as best he could; he smoked and read an +English newspaper that was several days old at least. His eyes took in +the lines, but his mind did not take in the sense—until a familiar name +caught his attention and made him keenly alert. The name was Anthony +Winslowe. He remembered suddenly that Tony had never replied to his +letter.… The paragraph concerning his cousin, however, dealt with +another matter that sent the blood flaming to his cheeks. He was +defendant in the breach of promise suit brought by a notorious London +actress, then playing in a popular revue. The case had opened; the +letters were already produced in court—and read. The print danced before +his eyes. The letters were dated last October and November, just before +Tony had come out to Egypt, and with crimson face Tom read them. It was +more than distressing, it was afflicting—the letters tore an established +reputation into a thousand pieces. He could not finish the report; he +only prayed that another had not seen it.…</p> + +<p>It was eleven o'clock when he went out and joined the throng of people +sunning themselves on the walk beside the lake. The air was sweet and +fresh, there were sailing-boats upon the water, the blue mountains lifted +their dazzling snow far, far into the summer sky. He leaned over the rail +and watched the myriads of tiny fishes, he watched the swans, he saw the +dim line of the Jura hills in the hazy distance, he heard the muffled beat +of a steamer's paddle-wheels a long way off. And then, abruptly, he was +aware that some one touched him; a hand in a long white glove was on his +arm; there was a subtle perfume; two dark eyes looked into his; and he +heard a low familiar voice:</p> + +<p>'One day we shall find each other in a crowd.'</p> + +<p>Tom was amazingly inarticulate. He just turned and looked down at her, +moving a few inches closer as he did so. She wore a black boa; the fur +touched his cheek.</p> + +<p>'You have come back,' he said.</p> + +<p>There was a new wonder in her face, a soft new beauty. The woman in her +glowed.… He saw the suffering plainly too.</p> + +<p>'We have both found out,' she said very low, 'found out what we are to one +another.'</p> + +<p>Tom's supply of words failed completely then. He looked at her—looked +all the language in the world. And she understood. She lowered her eyes. +'I feel shy,' he thought he heard. It was murmured only. The next minute +she raised her eyes again to his. He saw them dark and beautiful, tender +as his mother's, true and faithful, as in his boyhood's dream of years +ago. But they were now a woman's eyes.</p> + +<p>'I never really left you, Tom…' she said with absolute conviction. +'I never could. I went aside… to fetch something—to give to you. +That was all!'</p> + + + + +<h2>THE END.</h2> +<br><br><br> + +<h5><i>Printed by</i> R. & R. CLARK. LIMITED, <i>Edinburgh</i>.</h5> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wave, by Algernon Blackwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAVE *** + +***** This file should be named 33876-h.htm or 33876-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/8/7/33876/ + +Produced by Lionel Sear + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wave + An Egyptian Aftermath + +Author: Algernon Blackwood + +Release Date: October 18, 2010 [EBook #33876] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAVE *** + + + + +Produced by Lionel Sear + + + + +THE WAVE. + +An Egyptian Aftermath. + + +BY + +ALGERNON BLACKWOOD. + +Author of 'Education of Uncle Paul,' 'A Prisoner in Fairyland' Etc. + + +MACMILLAN AND CO LIMITED +St Martin's Street LONDON. +1916 + + +TO: M. S.=k +Egypt's Forgetful and Unwilling Child. + + + + +PART I + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Since childhood days he had been haunted by a Wave. + +It appeared with the very dawn of thought, and was his earliest +recollection of any vividness. It was also his first experience of +nightmare: a wave of an odd, dun colour, almost tawny, that rose behind +him, advanced, curled over in the act of toppling, and then stood still. +It threatened, but it did not fall. It paused, hovering in a position +contrary to nature; it waited. + +Something prevented; it was not meant to fall; the right moment had not +yet arrived. + +If only it would fall! It swept across the skyline in a huge, long curve +far overhead, hanging dreadfully suspended. Beneath his feet he felt the +roots of it withdrawing; he shuffled furiously and made violent efforts; +but the suction undermined him where he stood. The ground yielded and +dropped away. He only sank in deeper. His entire weight became that of a +feather against the gigantic tension of the mass that any moment, it +seemed, must lift him in its rising curve, bend, break, and twist him, +then fling him crashing forward to his smothering fate. + +Yet the moment never came. The Wave hung balanced between him and the +sky, poised in mid-air. It did not fall. And the torture of that +infinite pause contained the essence of the nightmare. + +The Wave invariably came up behind him, stealthily, from what seemed +interminable distance. He never met it. It overtook him from the rear. +The horizon hid it till it rose. + +There were stages in its history, moreover, and in the effect it produced +upon his early mind. Usually he woke up the moment he realised it was +there. For it invariably announced its presence. He heard no sound, but +knew that it was coming--there was a feeling in the atmosphere not unlike +the heavy brooding that precedes a thunderstorm, only so different from +anything he had yet known in life that his heart sank into his boots. +He looked up. There, above his head was the huge, curved monster, hanging +in mid-air. The mood had justified itself. He called it the 'wavy +feeling.' He was never wrong about it. + +The second stage was reached when, instead of trying to escape shorewards, +where there were tufts of coarse grass upon a sandy bank, he turned and +faced the thing. He looked straight into the main under-body of the +poised billow. He saw the opaque mass out of which this line rose up and +curved. He stared against the dull, dun-coloured parent body whence it +came--the sea. Terrified yet fascinated, he examined it in detail, as a +man about to be executed might examine the grain of the wooden block close +against his eyes. A little higher, some dozen feet above the level of his +head, it became transparent; sunlight shot through the glassy curve. +He saw what appeared to be streaks and bubbles and transverse lines of +foam that yet did not shine quite as water shines. It moved suddenly; +it curled a little towards the crest; it was about to topple over, to +break--yet did not break. + +About this time he noticed another thing: there was a curious faint +sweetness in the air beneath the bend of it, a delicate and indescribable +odour that was almost perfume. It was sweet; it choked him. He called +it, in his boyish way, a whiff. The 'whiff' and the 'wavy feeling' +impressed themselves so vividly upon his mind that if ever he met them in +his ordinary life--out of dream, that is--he was sure that he would know +them. In another sense he felt he knew them already. They were familiar. + +But another stage went further than all the others put together. +It amounted to a discovery. He was perhaps ten years old at this time, +for he was still addressed as 'Tommy,' and it was not till the age +of fifteen that his solid type of character made 'Tom' seem more +appropriate. He had just told the dream to his mother for the hundredth +time, and she, after listening with sympathy, had made her ever-green +suggestion--'If you dream of water, Tommy, it means you're thirsty in +your sleep,'--when he turned and stared straight into her eyes with such +intentness that she gave an involuntary start. + +'But, mother, it _isn't_ water!' + +'Well, darling, if it isn't water, what is it, then?' She asked the +question quietly enough, but she felt, apparently, something of the queer +dismay that her boy felt too. It seemed the mother-sense was touched. +The instinct to protect her offspring stirred uneasily in her heart. +She repeated the question, interested in the old, familiar dream for the +first time since she heard it several years before: 'If it isn't water, +Tommy, what is it? What can it be?' His eyes, his voice, his manner-- +something she could not properly name--had startled her. + +But Tommy noticed her slight perturbation, and knowing that a boy of his +age did not frighten his mother without reason, or even with it, turned +his eyes aside and answered: + +'I couldn't tell. There wasn't time. You see, I woke up then.' + +'How curious, Tommy,' she rejoined. 'A wave is a wave, isn't it?' + +And he answered thoughtfully: 'Yes, mother; but there are lots of things +besides water, aren't there?' + +She assented with a nod, and a searching look at him which he purposely +avoided. The subject dropped; no more was said; yet somehow from that +moment his mother knew that this idea of a wave, whether it was nightmare +or only dream, had to do with her boy's life in a way that touched the +protective thing in her, almost to the point of positive defence. +She could not explain it; she did not like it; instinct warned her--that +was all she knew. And Tommy said no more. The truth was, indeed, that he +did not know himself of what the Wave was composed. He could not have +told his mother even had he considered it permissible. He would have +loved to speculate and talk about it with her, but, having divined her +nervousness, he knew he must not feed it. No boy should do such a thing. + +Moreover, the interest he felt in the Wave was of such a deep, enormous +character--the adjectives were his own--that he could not talk about it +lightly. Unless to some one who showed genuine interest, he could not +even mention it. To his brothers and sister, both older and younger than +himself, he never spoke of it at all. It had to do with something so +fundamental in him that it was sacred. The realisation of it, moreover, +came and went, and often remained buried for weeks together; months passed +without a hint of it; the nightmare disappeared. Then, suddenly, the +feeling would surge over him, perhaps just as he was getting into bed, or +saying his prayers, or thinking of quite other things. In the middle of a +discussion with his brother about their air-guns and the water-rat they +hadn't hit--up would steal the 'wavy' feeling with its dim, familiar +menace. It stole in across his brother's excited words about the size and +speed of the rat; interest in sport entirely vanished; he stared at Tim, +not hearing a word he said; he dived into bed; he had to be alone with the +great mood of wonder and terror that was rising. The approach was +unmistakable; he cuddled beneath the sheets, fighting-angry if Tim tried +to win him back to the original interest. The dream was coming; and, sure +enough, a little later in his sleep, it came. + +For even at this stage of his development he recognised instinctively this +special quality about it--that it could not, was not meant to be avoided. +It was inevitable and right. It hurt, yet he must face it. It was as +necessary to his well-being as having a tooth out. Nor did he ever seek +to dodge it. His character was not the kind that flinched. The one thing +he did ask was--to understand. Some day, he felt, this full understanding +would come. + +There arrived then a new and startling development in this curious +obsession, the very night, Tommy claims, that there had been the fuss +about the gun and water-rat, on the day before the conversation with his +mother. His brother had plagued him to come out from beneath the sheets +and go on with the discussion, and Tommy, furious at being disturbed in +the 'wavy' mood he both loved and dreaded, had felt himself roused +uncommonly. He silenced Tim easily enough with a smashing blow from a +pillow, then, with a more determined effort than usual, buried himself to +face the advent of the Wave. He fell asleep in the attempt, but the +attempt bore fruit. He felt the great thing coming up behind him; he +turned; he saw it with greater distinctness than ever before; almost he +discovered of what it was composed. + +That it was _not_ water established itself finally in his mind; but more-- +he got very close to deciding its exact composition. He stared hard into +the threatening mass of it; there was a certain transparency about the +substance, yet this transparency was not clear enough for water: there +were particles, and these particles went drifting by the thousand, by the +million, through the mass of it. They rose and fell, they swept along, +they were very minute indeed, they whirled. They glistened, shimmered, +flashed. He made a guess; he was just on the point of guessing right, in +fact, when he saw another thing that for the moment obliterated all his +faculties. There was both cold and heat in the sensation, fear and +delight. It transfixed him. He saw eyes. + +Steady, behind the millions of minute particles that whirled and drifted, +he distinctly saw a pair of eyes of light-blue colour, and hardly had he +registered this new discovery, when another pair, but of quite different +kind, became visible beyond the first pair--dark, with a fringe of long, +thick lashes. They were--he decided afterwards--what is called Eastern +eyes, and they smiled into his own through half-closed lids. He thinks he +made out a face that was dimly sketched behind them, but the whirling +particles glinted and shimmered in such a confusing way that he could not +swear to this. Of one thing only, or rather of two, did he feel quite +positive: that the dark eyes were those of a woman, and that they were +kind and beautiful and true: but that the pale-blue eyes were false, +unkind, and treacherous, and that the face to which they belonged, +although he could not see it, was a man's. Dimly his boyish heart was +aware of happiness and suffering. The heat and cold he felt, the joy and +terror, were half explained. He stared. The whirling particles drifted +past and hid them. He woke. + +That day, however, the 'wavy' feeling hovered over him more or less +continuously. The impression of the night held sway over all he did and +thought. There was a kind of guidance in it somewhere. He obeyed this +guidance as by an instinct he could not, dared not disregard, and towards +dusk it led him into the quiet room overlooking the small Gardens at the +back of the house, his father's study. The room was empty; he approached +the big mahogany cupboard; he opened one of the deep drawers where he knew +his father kept gold and private things, and birthday or Christmas +presents. But there was no dishonourable intention in him anywhere; +indeed, he hardly knew exactly why he did this thing. The drawer, though +moving easily, was heavy; he pulled hard; it slid out with a rush; and at +that moment a stern voice sounded in the room behind him: 'What are you +doing at my Eastern drawer?' + +Tommy, one hand still on the knob, turned as if he had been struck. +He gazed at his father, but without a trace of guilt upon his face. + +'I wanted to see, Daddy.' + +'I'll show you,' said the stern-faced man, yet with kindness and humour in +the tone. 'It's full of wonderful things. I've nothing secret from you; +but another time you'd better ask first--Tommy.' + +'I wanted to see,' faltered the boy. 'I don't know why I did it. I just +had a feeling. It's the first time--_really_.' + +The man watched him searchingly a moment, but without appearing to do so. +A look of interest and understanding, wholly missed by the culprit, stole +into his fine grey eyes. He smiled, then drew Tommy towards him, and gave +him a kiss on the top of his curly head. He also smacked him playfully. +'Curiosity,' he said with pretended disapproval, 'is divine, and at your +age it is right that you should feel curiosity about everything in the +world. But another time just ask me--and I'll show you all I possess.' +He lifted his son in his arms, so that for the first time the boy could +overlook the contents of the opened drawer. 'So you just had a feeling, +eh----?' he continued, when Tommy wriggled in his arms, uttered a curious +exclamation, and half collapsed. He seemed upon the verge of tears. +An ordinary father must have held him guilty there and then. The boy +cried out excitedly: + +'The whiff! Oh, Daddy, it's my whiff!' + +The tears, no longer to be denied, came freely then; after them came +confession too, and confused though it was, the man made something +approaching sense out of the jumbled utterance. It was not mere patient +kindness on his part, for an older person would have seen that genuine +interest lay behind the half-playful, half-serious cross-examination. +He watched the boy's eager, excited face out of the corner of his eyes; +he put discerning questions to him, he assisted his faltering replies, and +he obtained in the end the entire story of the dream--the eyes, the wavy +feeling, and the whiff. How much coherent meaning he discovered in it all +is hard to say, or whether the story he managed to disentangle held +together. There was this strange deep feeling in the boy, this strong +emotion, this odd conviction amounting to an obsession; and so far as +could be discovered, it was not traceable to any definite cause that Tommy +could name--a fright, a shock, a vivid impression of one kind or another +upon a sensitive young imagination. It lay so deeply in his being that +its roots were utterly concealed; but it was real. + +Dr. Kelverdon established the existence in his second boy of an +unalterable premonition, and, being a famous nerve specialist, and a +disciple of Freud into the bargain, he believed that a premonition has a +cause, however primitive, however carefully concealed that cause may be. +He put the boy to bed himself and tucked him up, told Tim that if he +teased his brother too much he would smack him with his best Burmese +slipper which had tiny nails in it, and then whispered into Tommy's ear as +he cuddled down, happy and comforted, among the blankets: 'Don't make a +special effort to dream, my boy; but if you do dream, try to remember it +next morning, and tell me exactly what you see and feel.' He used the +Freudian method. + +Then, going down to his study again, he looked at the open drawer and +sniffed the faint perfume of things--chiefly from Egypt--that lay inside +it. But there was nothing of special interest in the drawer; indeed, it +was one he had not touched for years. + +He went over one by one a few of the articles, collected from various +points of travel long ago. There were bead necklaces from Memphis, some +trash from a mummy of doubtful authenticity, including several amulets and +a crumbling fragment of old papyrus, and, among all this, a tiny packet of +incense mixed from a recipe said to have been found in a Theban tomb. +All these, jumbled together in pieces of tissue-paper, had lain +undisturbed since the day he wrapped them up some dozen years before-- +indeed he heard the dry rattle of the falling sand as he undid the +tissue-paper. But a strong perfume rose from the parcel to his nostrils. +'That's what Tommy means by his whiff,' he said to himself. 'That's +Tommy's whiff beyond all question. I wonder how he got it first?' + +He remembered, then, that he had made a note of the story connected with +the incense, and after some rummaging he found the envelope and read the +account jotted down at the time. He had meant to hand it over to a +literary friend--the tale was so poignantly human--then had forgotten all +about it. The papyrus, dating over 3000 B.C., had many gaps. +The Egyptologist had admittedly filled in considerable blanks in the +afflicting story:-- + + 'A victorious Theban General, Prince of the blood, brought back a + Syrian youth from one of his foreign conquests and presented him to + his young wife who, first mothering him for his beauty, then made him + her personal slave, and ended by caring deeply for him. The slave, + in return, loved her with passionate adoration he was unable to + conceal. As a Lady of the Court, her quasi-adoption of the youth + caused comment. Her husband ordered his dismissal. But she still + made his welfare her especial object, finding frequent reasons for + their meeting. One day, however, her husband caught them together, + though their meeting was in innocence. He half strangled the youth, + till the blood poured down upon his own hands, then had him flogged + and sent away to On, the City of the Sun.' + + 'The Syrian found his way back again, vengeance in his fiery blood. + The clandestine yet innocent meetings were renewed. Rank was + forgotten. They met among the sand-dunes in the desert behind the + city where a pleasure tent among a grove of palms provided shelter, + and the slave losing his head, urged the Princess to fly with him. + Yet the wife, true to her profligate and brutal husband, refused his + plea, saying she could only give a mother's love, a mother's care. + This he rejected bitterly, accusing her of trifling with him. + He grew bolder and more insistent. To divert her husband's violent + suspicions she became purposely cruel, even ordering him punishments. + But the slave misinterpreted. Finally, warning him that if caught he + would be killed, she devised a plan to convince him of her sincerity. + Hiding him behind the curtains of her tent, she pleaded with her + husband for the youth's recall, swearing that she meant no wrong. + But the soldier, in his fury, abused and struck her, and the slave, + unable to contain himself, rushed out of his hiding-place and stabbed + him, though not mortally. He was condemned to death by torture. + She was to be chief witness against him. + + 'Meanwhile, having extracted a promise from her husband that the + torture should not be carried to the point of death, she conveyed + word to the victim that he should endure bravely, knowing that he + would not die. She now realised that she loved. She promised to fly + with him. + + 'The sentence was duly carried out, the slave only half believing in + her truth. It was a public holiday in Thebes. She was compelled to + see the punishment inflicted before the crowd. There were a thousand + drums. A sand-storm hid the sun. + + 'Seated beside her husband on a terrace above the Nile, she watched + the torture--then knew she had been tricked. But the Syrian did not + know; he believed her false. As he expired, casting his last glance + of anguish and reproach at her, she rose, leaped the parapet, flung + herself into the river, and was drowned. The husband had their + bodies thrown into the sea, unburied. The same wave took them both. + Later, however, they were recovered by influential friends; + they were embalmed, and secretly laid to rest in his ancestral + Tomb in the Valley of the Kings among the Theban Hills. + In due course the husband, unwittingly, was buried with them. + + 'Nearly five thousand years later all three mummies were discovered + lying side by side, their story inscribed upon a papyrus inside the + great sarcophagus.' + +Dr. Kelverdon glanced through the story he had forgotten, +then tore it into little pieces and threw them into the fireplace. +For a moment longer, however, he stood beside the open drawer +reflectingly. Had he ever told the tale to Tommy? No; it was hardly +likely; indeed it was impossible. The boy was not born even when first he +heard it. To his wife, then? Less likely still. He could not remember, +anyhow. The faint suggestion in his mind--a story communicated +pre-natally--was not worth following up. He dismissed the matter from his +thoughts. He closed the drawer and turned away. The little packet of +incense, however, taken from the Tomb, he did not destroy. 'I'll give it +to Tommy,' he decided. 'Its whiff may possibly stimulate him into +explanation!' + + + +CHAPTER II + + +As a result of having told everything to his father, Tommy's nightmare, +however, largely ceased to trouble him. He had found the relief of +expression, which is confession, and had laid upon the older mind the +burden of his terror. Once a month, once a week, or even daily if he +wanted to, he could repeat the expression as the need for it accumulated, +and the load which decency forbade being laid upon his mother, the +stern-faced man could carry easily for him. + +The comfortable sensation that forgiveness is the completion of confession +invaded his awakening mind, and had he been older this thin end of a +religious wedge might have persuaded him to join what his mother called +that 'vast conspiracy.' But even at this early stage there was something +stalwart and self-reliant in his cast of character that resisted the +cunning sophistry; vicarious relief woke resentment in him; he meant to +face his troubles alone. So far as he knew, he had not sinned, yet the +Wave, the Whiff, the Eyes were symptoms of some fate that threatened him, +a premonition of something coming that he must meet with his own strength, +something that he could only deal with effectively alone, since it was +deserved and just. One day the Wave would fall; his father could not help +him then. This instinct in him remained unassailable. He even began to +look forward to the time when it should come--to have done with it and get +it over, conquering or conquered. + +The premonition, that is, while remaining an obsession as before, +transferred itself from his inner to his outer life. The nightmare, +therefore, ceased. The menacing interest, however, held unchanged. +Though the name had not hitherto occurred to him, he became a fatalist. +'It's got to come; I've got to meet it. I will.' + +'Well, Tommy,' his father would ask from time to time, 'been dreaming +anything lately?' + +'Nothing, Daddy. It's all stopped.' + +'Wave, eyes, and whiff all forgotten, eh?' + +Tommy shook his head. 'They're still there,' he answered slowly, +'but----' He seemed unable to complete the sentence. His father helped +him at a venture. + +'But they can't catch you--is that it?' + +The boy looked up with a dogged expression in his big grey eyes. +'I'm ready for them,' he replied. And his father laughed and said, +'Of course. That's half the battle.' + +He gave him a present then--one of the packets of tissue-paper--and Tommy +took it in triumph to his room. He opened it in private, but the contents +seemed to him without especial interest. Only the Whiff was, somehow, +sweet and precious; and he kept the packet in a drawer apart where the +fossils and catapult and air-gun ammunition could not interfere with it, +hiding the key so that Tim and the servants could not find it. And on +rare occasions, when the rest of the household was asleep, he performed a +little ritual of his own that, for a boy of his years, was distinctly +singular. + +When the room was dark, lit in winter by the dying fire, or in summer by +the stars, he would creep out of bed, make quite sure that Tim was asleep, +stand on a chair to reach the key from the top of the big cupboard, and +carefully unlock the drawer. He had oiled the wood with butter, so that +it was silent. The tissue-paper gleamed dimly pink; the Whiff came out to +meet him. He lifted the packet, soft and crackling, and set it on the +window-sill; he did not open it; its contents had no interest for him, it +was the perfume he was after. And the moment the perfume reached his +nostrils there came a trembling over him that he could not understand. +He both loved and dreaded it. This manly, wholesome-minded, plucky little +boy, the basis of whose steady character was common sense, became the prey +of a strange, unreasonable fantasy. A faintness stole upon him; he lost +the sense of kneeling on a solid chair; something immense and irresistible +came piling up behind him; there was nothing firm he could push against to +save himself; he began shuffling with his bare feet, struggling to escape +from something that was coming, something that would probably overwhelm +him yet must positively be faced and battled with. The Wave was rising. +It was the wavy feeling. + +He did not turn to look, because he knew quite well there was nothing in +the room but beds, a fender, furniture, vague shadows and his brother Tim. +That kind of childish fear had no place in what he felt. But the Wave was +piled and curving over none the less; it hung between him and the shadowed +ceiling, above the roof of the house; it came from beyond the world, far +overhead against the crowding stars. It would not break, for the time +had not yet come. But it was there. It waited. He knelt beneath its +mighty shadow of advance; it was still arrested, poised above his eager +life, competent to engulf him when the time arrived. The sweep of its +curved mass was mountainous. He knelt inside this curve, small, helpless, +but not too afraid to fight. The perfume stole about him. The Whiff was +in his nostrils. There was a strange, rich pain--oddly remote, yet oddly +poignant. . . . + +And it was with this perfume that the ritual chiefly had to do. He loved +the extraordinary sensations that came with it, and tried to probe their +meaning in his boyish way. Meaning there was, but it escaped him. The +sweetness clouded something in his brain, and made his muscles weak; it +robbed him of that resistance which is fighting strength. It was this +battle that he loved, this sense of shoving against something that might +so easily crush and finish him. There _was_ a way to beat it, a way to +win--could he but discover it. As yet he could not. Victory, he felt, +lay more in yielding and going-with than in violent resistance. + +And, meanwhile, in an ecstasy of this half yielding, half resisting, he +lent himself fully to the overmastering tide. He was conscious of +attraction and repulsion, something that enticed, yet thrust him +backwards. Some final test of manhood, character, value, lay in the way +he faced it. The strange, rich pain stole marvellously into his blood and +nerves. His heart beat faster. There was this exquisite seduction that +contained delicious danger. It rose upon him out of some inner depth he +could not possibly get at. He trembled with mingled terror and delight. +And it invariably ended with a kind of inexpressible yearning that choked +him, crumpled him inwardly, as he described it, brought the moisture, hot +and smarting, into his burning eyes, and--each time to his bitter shame-- +left his cheeks wet with scalding tears. + +He cried silently; there was no heaving, gulping, audible sobbing, just a +relieving gush of heartfelt tears that took away the strange, rich pain +and brought the singular ritual to a finish. He replaced the +tissue-paper, blotted with his tears; locked the drawer carefully; hid the +key on the top of the cupboard again, and tumbled back into bed. + +Downstairs, meanwhile, a conversation was in progress concerning the +welfare of the growing hero. + +'I'm glad that dream has left him anyhow. It used to frighten me rather. +I did _not_ like it,' observed his mother. + +'He doesn't speak to you about it any more?' the father asked. + +For months, she told him, Tommy had not mentioned it. They went on to +discuss his future together. The other children presented fewer problems, +but Tommy, apparently, felt no particular call to any profession. + +'It will come with a jump,' the doctor inclined to think. 'He's been on +the level for some time now. Suddenly he'll grow up and declare his +mighty mind.' + +Father liked humour in the gravest talk; indeed the weightier the subject, +the more he valued a humorous light upon it. The best judgment, he held, +was shaped by humour, sense of proportion lost without it. His wife, +however, thought 'it a pity.' Grave things she liked grave. + +'There's something very deep in Tommy,' she observed, as though he were +developing a hidden malady. + +'Hum,' agreed her husband. 'His subconscious content is unusual, both in +kind and quantity.' His eyes twinkled. 'It's possible he may turn out an +artist, or a preacher. If the former, I'll bet his output will be +original; and, as for the latter,'--he paused a second--'he's too logical +and too fearless to be orthodox. Already he thinks things out for +himself.' + +'I should like to see him in the Church, though,' said Mother. 'He would +do a lot of good. But he _is_ uncompromising, rather.' + +'His honesty certainly is against him,' sighed his father. 'What do you +think he asked me the other day?' + +'I'm sure I don't know, John.' The answer completed itself with the +unspoken 'He never asks _me_ anything now.' + +'He came straight up to me and said, 'Father, is it good to feel pain? +To let it come, I mean, or try to dodge it?'' + +'Had he hurt himself?' the woman asked quickly. It seemed she winced. + +'Not physically. He had been feeling something inside. He wanted to know +how 'a man' should meet the case.' + +'And what did you tell him, dear?' + +'That pain was usually a sign of growth, to be understood, accepted, +faced. That most pain was cured in that way----' + +'He didn't tell you what had hurt him?' she interrupted. + +'Oh, I didn't ask him. He'd have shut up like a clam. Tommy likes to +deal with things alone in his own way. He just wanted to know if his way +was--well, _my_ way.' + +There fell a pause between them; then Mother, without looking up, +enquired: 'Have you noticed Lettice lately? She's here a good deal now.' + +But her husband only smiled, making no direct reply. 'Tommy will have a +hard time of it when he falls in love,' he remarked presently. +'He'll know the real thing and won't stand any nonsense--just as I did.' +Whereupon his wife informed him that if he was not careful he would simply +ruin the boy--and the brief conversation died away of its own accord. +As she was leaving the room a little later, unsatisfied but unaggressive, +he asked her: 'Have you left the picture books, my dear?' and she pointed +to an ominous heap upon the table in the window, with the remark that Jane +had 'unearthed every book that Tommy had set eyes upon since he was three. +You'll find everything that's ever interested him,' she added as she went +out, 'every picture, that is--and I suppose it is the pictures that you +want.' + +For an hour and a half the great specialist turned pages without ceasing-- +well-thumbed pages; torn, crumpled, blotted, painted pages. It was easy +to discover the boy's favourite pictures; and all were commonplace enough, +the sort that any normal, adventure-loving boy would find delightful. +But nothing of special significance resulted from the search; nothing that +might account for the recurrent nightmare, nothing in the way of eyes or +wave. He had already questioned Jane as to what stories she told him, and +which among them he liked best. 'Hunting or travel or collecting,' Jane +had answered, and it was about 'collecting that he asks most questions. +What kind of collecting, sir? Oh, treasure or rare beetles mostly, and +sometimes--just bones.' + +'Bones! What kind of bones?' + +'The villin's, sir,' explained the frightened Jane. 'He always likes the +villin to get lost, and for the jackals to pick his bones in the +desert----' + +'Any particular desert?' + +'No, sir; just desert.' + +'Ah--just desert! Any old desert, eh?' + +'I think so, sir--as long as it _is_ desert.' + +Dr. Kelverdon put the woman at her ease with the humorous smile that made +all the household love--and respect--him; then asked another question, as +if casually: Had she ever told him a story in which a wave or a pair of +eyes were in any way conspicuous? + +'No, never, sir,' replied the honest Jane, after careful reflection. +'Nor I wouldn't,' she added, 'because my father he was drowned in a tidal +wave; and as for eyes, I know that's wrong for children, and I wouldn't +tell Master Tommy such a thing for all the world----' + +'Because?' enquired the doctor kindly, seeing her hesitation. + +'I'd be frightening myself, sir, and he'd make such fun of me,' she +finally confessed. + +No, it was clear that the nurse was not responsible for the vivid +impression in Tommy's mind which bore fruit in so strange a complex of +emotions. Nor were other lines of enquiry more successful. There was a +cause, of course, but it would remain unascertainable unless some clue +offered itself by chance. Both the doctor and the father in him were +pledged to a persistent search that was prolonged over several months, but +without result. The most perplexing element in the problem seemed to him +the whiff. The association of terror with a wave needed little +explanation; the introduction of the eyes, however, was puzzling, unless +some story of a drowning man was possibly the clue; but the addition of a +definite odour, an Eastern odour, moreover, with which the boy could +hardly have become yet acquainted,--this combination of the three +accounted for the peculiar interest in the doctor's mind. + +Of one thing alone did he feel reasonably certain: the impression had been +printed upon the deepest part of Tommy's being, the very deepest; it arose +from those unplumbed profundities--though a scientist, he considered them +unfathomable--of character and temperament whence emerge the most +primitive of instincts,--the generative and creative instinct, choice of a +mate, natural likes and dislikes,--the bed-rock of the nature. A girl was +in it somewhere, somehow. . . . + +Midnight had sounded from the stable clock in the mews when he stole up +into the boys' room and cautiously approached the yellow iron bed where +Tommy lay. The reflection of a street electric light just edged his face. +He was sound asleep--with tear-stains marked clearly on the cheek not +pressed into the pillow. Dr. Kelverdon paused a moment, looked round the +room, shading the candle with one hand. He saw no photograph, no pictures +anywhere. Then he sniffed. There was a faint and delicate perfume in the +air. He recognised it. He stood there, thinking deeply. + +'Lettice Aylmer,' he said to himself presently as he went softly out again +to seek his own bed; 'I'll try Lettice. It's just possible. . . . Next +time I see her I'll have a little talk.' For he suddenly remembered that +Lettice Aylmer, his daughter's friend and playmate, had very large and +beautiful dark eyes. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Lettice Aylmer, daughter of the Irish Member of Parliament, did not +provide the little talk that he anticipated, however, because she went +back to her Finishing School abroad. Dr. Kelverdon was sorry when he +heard it. So was Tommy. She was to be away a year at least. +'I must remember to have a word with her when she comes back,' thought the +father, and made a note of it in his diary twelve months ahead. +'Three hundred and sixty-five days,' thought Tommy, and made a private +calendar of his own. + +It seemed an endless, zodiacal kind of period; he counted the days, a +sheet of foolscap paper for each month, and at the bottom of each sheet +two columns showing the balance of days gone and days to come. +Tuesday, when he had first seen her, was underlined, and each Tuesday had +a number attached to it, giving the total number of weeks since that +wonderful occasion. But Saturdays were printed. On Saturday Lettice had +spoken to him; she had smiled, and the words were, 'Don't forget me, +Tommy!' And Tommy, looking straight into her great dark eyes, that seemed +to him more tender even than his mother's, had stammered a reply that he +meant with literal honesty: 'I won't--never . . .'; and she was gone . . . +to France . . . across the sea. + +She took his soul away with her, leaving him behind to pore over his +father's big atlas and learn French sentences by heart. It seemed the +only way. Life had begun, and he must be prepared. Also, his career was +chosen. For Lettice had said another thing--one other thing. +When Mary, his sister, introduced him, 'This is Tommy,' Lettice looked +down and asked: 'Are you going to be an engineer?' adding proudly, +'My brother is.' Before he could answer she was scampering away with Mary, +the dark hair flying in a cloud, the bright bow upon it twinkling like a +star in heaven--and Tommy, hating his ridiculous boyish name with an +intense hatred, stood there trembling, but aware that the die was cast--he +was going to be an engineer. + +Trembling, yes; for he felt dazed and helpless, caught in a mist of fire +and gold, the furniture whirling round him, and something singing wildly +in his heart. Two things, each containing in them the essence of genuine +shock, had fallen upon him: shock, because there was impetus in them as of +a blow. They had been coming; they had reached him. There was no doubt +or question possible. He staggered from the impact. Joy and terror +touched him; at one and the same moment he felt the enticement and the +shrinking of his dream. . . . He longed to seize her and prevent her ever +going away, yet also he wanted to push her from him as though she somehow +caused him pain. + +For, on the two occasions when speech had taken place between himself and +Lettice, the dream had transferred itself boldly into his objective life-- +yet not entirely. Two characteristics only had been thus transferred. +When his sister first came into the hall with 'This is Tommy,' the wavy +feeling had already preceded her by a definite interval that was perhaps a +second by the watch. He was aware of it behind him, curved and risen--not +curving, rising--from the open fireplace, but also from the woods behind +the house, from the whole of the country right back to the coast, from +across the world, it seemed, towering overhead against the wintry sky. +And when Lettice smiled and asked that question of childish admiration +about being an engineer, he was already shuffling furiously with his feet +upon the Indian rug. She was gone again, luckily, he hoped, before the +ridiculous pantomime was noticeable. + +He saw her once or twice. He was invariably speechless when she came into +his presence, and his silence and awkwardness made him appear at great +disadvantage. He seemed intentionally rude. Nervous self-consciousness +caused him to bridle over nothing. Even to answer her was a torture. +He dreaded a snub appallingly, and bridled in anticipation. Furious with +himself for his inability to use each precious opportunity, he pretended +he didn't care. The consequence was that when she once spoke to him +sweetly, he was too overpowered to respond as he might have done. +That she had not even noticed his anguished attitude never occurred to +him. + +'We're always friends, aren't we, Tommy?' + +'Rather,' he blurted, before he could regain his composure for a longer +sentence. + +'And always will be, won't we?' + +'Rather,' he repeated, cursing himself later for thinking of nothing +better to say. Then, just as she flew off in that dancing way of hers, he +found his tongue. Out of the jumbled mass of phrases in his head three +words got loose and offered themselves: 'We'll always be!' he flung at her +retreating figure of intolerable beauty. And she turned her head over her +shoulder, waved her hand without stopping her career, and shouted +'Rather!' + +That was the Tuesday in his calendar. But on Saturday, the printed +Saturday following it, the second characteristic of his dream announced +itself: he recognised the Eyes. Why he had not recognised them on the +Tuesday lay beyond explanation; he only knew it was so. And afterwards, +when he tried to think it over, it struck him that she had scampered out +of the hall with peculiar speed and hurry; had made her escape without the +extra word or two the occasion naturally demanded--almost as though she, +too, felt something that uneasily surprised her. + +Tommy wondered about it till his head spun round. She, too, had received +an impact that was shock. He was as thorough about it as an instinctive +scientist. He also registered this further fact--that the dream-details +had not entirely reproduced themselves in the affair. There was no trace +of the Whiff or of the other pair of Eyes. Some day the three would come +together; but then. . . . + +The main thing, however, undoubtedly was this: Lettice felt something too: +she was aware of feelings similar to his own. He was too honest to assume +that she felt exactly what he felt; he only knew that her eyes betrayed +familiar intimacy when she said 'Don't forget me, Tommy,' and that when +she rushed out of the hall with that unnecessary abruptness it was +because--well, he could only transfer to her some degree of the 'wavy' +feeling in himself. + +And he fell in love with abandonment and a delicious, infinite yearning. +From that moment he thought of himself as Tom instead of Tommy. + +It was an entire, sweeping love that left no atom or corner of his being +untouched. Lettice was real; she hid below the horizon of distant France, +yet could not, did not, hide from him. She also waited. + +He knew the difference between real and unreal people. The latter wavered +about his life and were uncertain; sometimes he liked them, sometimes he +did not; but the former--remained fixed quantities: he could not alter +towards them. Even at this stage he knew when a person came into his life +to stay, or merely to pass out again. Lettice, though seen but twice, +belonged to this first category. His feeling for her had the Wave in it; +it gathered weight and mass, it was irresistible. From the dim, invisible +foundations of his life it came, out of the foundations of the world, out +of that inexhaustible sea-foundation that lay below everything. It was +real; it was not to be avoided. He knew. He persuaded himself that she +knew too. + +And it was then, realising for the first time the searching pain +of being separated from something that seemed part of his being by natural +right, he spoke to his father and asked if pain should be avoided. +This conversation has been already sufficiently recorded; but he asked +other things as well. From being so long on the level he had made a +sudden jump that his father had foretold; he grew up; his mind began to +think; he had peered into certain books; he analysed. Out of the nonsense +of his speculative reflections the doctor pounced on certain points that +puzzled him completely. Probing for the repressed elements in the boy's +psychic life that caused the triple complex of Wave and Eyes and Whiff, he +only saw the cause receding further and further from his grasp until it +finally lost itself in ultimate obscurity. The disciple of Freud was +baffled hopelessly. . . . + +Tom, meanwhile, bathed in a sea of new sensations. Distance held meaning +for him, separation was a kind of keen starvation. He made discoveries-- +watched the moon rise, heard the wind, and knew the stars shone over the +meadows below the house, things that before had been merely commonplace. +He pictured these details as they might occur in France, and once when he +saw a Swallow Tail butterfly, knowing that the few English specimens were +said to have crossed the Channel, he had a touch of ecstasy, as though the +proud insect brought him a message from the fields below the Finishing +School. Also he read French books and found the language difficult but +exquisite. All sweet and lovely things came from France, and at school he +attempted violent friendships with three French boys and the Foreign +Language masters, friendships that were not appreciated because they were +not understood. But he made progress with the language, and it stood him +in good stead in his examinations. He was aiming now at an Engineering +College. He passed in--eventually--brilliantly enough. + +Before that satisfactory moment, however, he knew difficult times. +His inner life was in a splendid tumult. From the books he purloined he +read a good many facts concerning waves and wave-formation. He learned, +among other things, that all sensory impressions reached the nerves by +impact of force in various wave-lengths; heat, light and sound broke upon +the skin and eyes and ears in vibrations of aether or air that advanced in +steady series of wavy formations which, though not quite similar to his +dream-wave, were akin to it. Sensation, which is life, was thus linked on +to his deepest, earliest memory. + +A wave, however, instantly rejoined the parent stock and formed again. +And perhaps it was the repetition of the wave--its forming again and +breaking again--that impressed him most. For he imagined his impulses, +emotions, tendencies all taking this wave-form, sweeping his moods up to a +certain point, then dropping back into his centre--the Sea, he called it-- +which held steady below all temporary fluctuations--only to form once more +and happen all over again. + +With his moral and spiritual life it was similar: a wind came, wind of +desire, wind of yearning, wind of hope, and he felt his strength +accumulating, rising, bending with power upon the object that he had in +view. To take that object exactly at the top of the wave was to achieve +success; to miss that moment was to act with a receding and diminishing +power, to dissipate himself in foam and spray before he could retire for +a second rise. He saw existence as a wave. Life itself was a wave that +rose, swept, curved, and finally--must break. + +He merely visualised these feelings into pictures; he did not think them +out, nor get them into words. The wave became symbolic to him of all +life's energies. It was the way in which all sensation expressed itself. +Lettice was the high-water mark on shore he longed to reach and sweep back +into his own tumultuous being. In that great underneath, the Sea, they +belonged eternally together. . . . + +One thing, however, troubled him exceedingly: he read that a wave was a +segment of a circle, the perfect form, yet that it never completed itself. +The ground on which it broke prevented the achievement of the circle. +That, he felt, was a pity, and might be serious; there was always that +sinister retirement for another effort that yet never did, and never +could, result in complete achievement. He watched the waves a good deal +on the shore, when occasion offered in the holidays--they came from +France!--and made a discovery on his own account that was not mentioned in +any of the books. And it was this: that the top of the wave, owing to its +curve, was reflected in the under part. Its end, that is, was foretold in +its beginning. + +There was a want of scientific accuracy here, a confusion of time and +space, perhaps, yet he noticed the idea and registered the thrill. At the +moment when the wave was poised to fall its crest shone reflected in the +base from which it rose. + +But the more he watched the waves on the shore, the more puzzled he +became. They seemed merely a movement of the sea itself. They endlessly +repeated themselves. They had no true, separate existence until they-- +broke. Nor could he determine whether the crest or the base was the +beginning, for the two ran along together, and what was above one minute +was below the minute after. Which part started first he never could +decide. The head kept chasing the tail in an effort to join up. +Only when a wave broke and fell was it really--a wave. It had to 'happen' +to earn its name. + +There were ripples too. These indicated the direction of the parent wave +upon whose side they happened, but not its purpose. Moods were ripples: +they varied the surface of life but did not influence its general +direction. + +His own life followed a similar behaviour; he was full of ripples that +were for ever trying to complete themselves by happening in acts. +But the main Wave was the thing--end and beginning sweeping along +together, both at the same time somehow. That is, he knew the end and +could foretell it. It rose from the great 'beneath' which was the sea in +him. It must topple over in the end and complete itself. He knew it +would; he knew it would hurt; he knew also that he would not shirk it when +it came. For it was a repetition somehow. + +'I jolly well mean to enjoy the smash,' he felt. 'I know one pair of Eyes +already; there's only the Whiff and the other Eyes to come. The moment I +find them, I'll go bang into it.' He experienced a delicious shiver at +the prospect. + +One thing, however, remained uncertain: the stuff the Wave was made of. +Once he discovered that, he would discover also--_where_ the smash would +come. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +'Can a chap feel things coming?' he asked his father. He was perhaps +fifteen or sixteen then. 'I mean, when you feel them coming, does that +mean they _must_ come?' + +His father listened warily. There had been many similar questions lately. + +'You can feel ordinary things coming,' he replied; 'things due to +association of ideas.' + +Tom looked up. 'Association?' he queried uncertainly. + +'If you feel hungry,' explained the doctor, 'you know that dinner's +coming; you associate the hunger with the idea of eating. You recognise +them because you've felt them both together before.' + +'They _ought_ to come, then?' + +'Dinner does come--ordinarily speaking. You've learned to expect it from +the hunger. You could, of course, prevent it coming,' he added dryly, +'only that would be bad for you. You need it.' + +Tom reflected a moment with a puckered face. His father waited for him to +ask more, hoping he would. The boy felt the sympathy and invitation. + +'_Before_,' he repeated, picking out the word with sudden emphasis, his +mind evidently breaking against a problem. 'But if I felt hungry for +something I _hadn't_ had before----?' + +'In that case you wouldn't call it hunger. You wouldn't know what to call +it. You'd feel a longing of some kind and would wonder what it meant.' + +Tom's next words surprised him considerably. They came promptly, but with +slow and thoughtful emphasis. + +'So that if I know what I want, and call it dinner, or pain, or--love, or +something,' he exclaimed, 'it means that I've had it _before_? And that's +why I know it.' The last five words were not a question but a statement +of fact apparently. + +The doctor pretended not to notice the variants of dinner. At least he +did not draw attention to them. + +'Not necessarily,' he answered. 'The things you feel you want may be the +things that everybody wants--things common to the race. Such wants are +naturally in your blood; you feel them because your parents, your +grandparents, and all humanity in turn behind your own particular family +have always wanted them.' + +'They come out of the sea, you mean?' + +'That's very well expressed, Tom. They come out of the sea of human +nature, which is everywhere the same, yes.' + +The compliment seemed to annoy the boy. + +'Of course,' he said bluntly. 'But--if it hurts?' The words were sharply +emphasised. + +'Association of ideas again. Toothache suggests the pincers. You want to +get rid of the pain, but the pain has to get worse before it can get +better. You know that, so you face it gladly--to get it over.' + +'You face it, yes,' said Tom. 'It makes you better in the end.' + +It suddenly dawned upon him that his learned father knew nothing, nothing +at least that could help him. He knew only what other people knew. +He turned then, and asked the ridiculous question that lay at the back of +his mind all the time. It cost him an effort, for his father would +certainly deem it foolish. + +'Can a thing happen before it really happens?' + +Dr. Kelverdon may or may not have thought the question foolish; his face +was hidden a moment as he bent down to put the Indian rug straight with +his hand. There was no impatience in the movement, nor was there mockery +in his expression, when he resumed his normal position. He had gained an +appreciable interval of time--some fifteen seconds. 'Tom, you've got good +ideas in that head of yours,' he said calmly; 'but what is it that you +mean exactly?' + +Tom was quite ready to amplify. He knew what he meant: + +'If I _know_ something is going to happen, doesn't that mean that it has +already happened--and that I remember it?' + +'You're a psychologist as well as engineer, Tom,' was the approving reply. +'It's like this, you see: In emotion, with desire in it, can predict the +fulfilment of that desire. In great hunger you imagine you're eating all +sorts of good things.' + +'But that's looking forward,'; the boy pounced on the mistake. 'It's not +remembering.' + +'That _is_ the difficulty,' explained his father; 'to decide whether +you're anticipating only--or actually remembering.' + +'I see,' Tom said politely. + +All this analysis concealed merely: it did not reveal. The thing itself +dived deeper out of sight with every phrase. _He_ knew quite well the +difference between anticipating and remembering. With the latter there +was the sensation of having been through it. Each time he remembered +seeing Lettice the sensation was the same, but when he looked forward to +seeing her _again_ the sensation varied with his mood. + +'For instance, Tom--between ourselves this--we're going to send Mary to +that Finishing School in France where Lettice is.' The doctor, it seemed, +spoke carelessly while he gathered his papers together with a view to +going out. He did not look at the boy; he said it walking about the room. +'Mary will look forward to it and think about it so much that when she +gets there it will seem a little familiar to her, as if--almost as if she +remembered it.' + +'Thank you, father; I see, yes,' murmured Tom. But in his mind a voice +said so distinctly 'Rot!' that he was half afraid the word was audible. + +'You see the difficulty, eh? And the difference?' + +'Rather,' exclaimed the boy with decision. + +And thereupon, without the slightest warning, he looked out of the window +and asked certain other questions. Evidently they cost him effort; his +will forced them out. Since his back was turned he did not see his +father's understanding smile, but neither did the latter see the lad's +crimson cheeks, though possibly he divined them. + +'Father--is Miss Aylmer older than me?' + +'Ask Mary, Tom. She'll know. Or, stay--I'll ask her for you--if you +like.' + +'Oh, that's all right. I just wanted to know,' with an assumed +indifference that barely concealed the tremor in the voice. + +'I suppose,' came a moment later, 'a Member of Parliament is a grander +thing than a doctor, is it?' + +'That depends,' replied his father, 'upon the man himself. Some M.P.'s +vote as they're told, and never open their mouths in the House. +Some doctors, again----' + +But the boy interrupted him. He quite understood the point. + +'It's fine to be an engineer, though, isn't it?' he asked. 'It's a real +profession?' + +'The world couldn't get along without them, or the Government either. +It's a most important profession indeed.' + +Tom, playing idly with the swinging tassel of the window-blind, asked one +more question. His voice and manner were admirably under control, but +there _was_ a gulp, and his father heard and noted it. + +'Shall I have--shall I be rich enough--to marry--some day?' + +Dr. Kelverdon crossed the room and put his hand on his son's shoulder, but +did not try to make him show his face. 'Yes,' he said quietly, 'you will, +my boy--when the time comes.' He paused a moment, then added: 'But money +will not make you a distinguished man, whereas if you become a famous +engineer, you'll have money of your own and--any nice girl would be proud +to have you.' + +'I see,' said Tom, tying the strings of the tassel into knots, then +untying them again with a visible excess of energy--and the conversation +came somewhat abruptly to an end. He was aware of the invitation to talk +further about Lettice Aylmer, but he resisted and declined it. What was +the use? He knew his own mind already about _that_. + +Yet, strictly speaking, Tom was not imaginative. It was as if an instinct +taught him. More and more, the Wave, with its accompanying details of +Eyes and Whiff, seemed to him the ghost of some dim memory that brought a +forgotten warning in its train--something missed, something to be +repeated, something to be faced and learned and--mastered. . . . + + + +His father, meanwhile, went forth upon his rounds that day, much +preoccupied about the character of his eldest boy. He felt a particular +interest in the peculiar obsession that he knew overshadowed the young, +growing life. It puzzled him; he found no clue to it; in his thought he +was aware of a faint uneasiness, although he did not give it a definite +name--something akin to what the mother felt. Admitting he was baffled, +he fell back, however, upon such generalities as prenatal influence, +ancestral, racial, and so eventually dismissed it from his active mind. + +Tom, meanwhile, for his part, also went along his steep, predestined path. +The nightmare had entirely deserted him, he now rarely dreamed; and his +outer life shaped bravely, as with a boy of will, honesty, and healthy +ambition might be expected. Neither Wavy feeling, Eyes, nor Whiff +obtruded themselves: they left him alone and waited: he never forgot them, +but he did not seek them out. Things once firmly realised remained in his +consciousness; he knew that his life was rising like a wave, that all his +energies worked in the form of waves, his moods and wishes, his passions, +emotions, yearnings--all expressed themselves by means of this unalterable +formula, yet all contributed finally to the one big important Wave whose +climax would be reached only when it fell. He distinguished between Wave +and Ripples. He, therefore, did not trouble himself with imaginary +details; he did not search; he waited. This steady strength was his. +His firm, square jaw and the fearless eyes of grey beneath the shock of +straight dark hair told plainly enough the kind of stuff behind them. +No one at school took unnecessary liberties with Tom Kelverdon. + +But, having discovered one pair of Eyes, he did not let them go. +In his earnest, dull, inflexible way he loved their owner with a belief in +her truth and loyalty that admitted of no slightest question. +Had his mother divined the strength and value of his passion, she would +surely have asked herself with painful misgiving: 'Is she--_can_ she be-- +worthy of my boy?' But his mother guessed it as little as any one else; +even the doctor had forgotten those early signs of its existence; and Tom +was not the kind to make unnecessary confidences, nor to need sympathy in +any matter he was sure about. + +There was down now upon his upper lip, for he was close upon seventeen and +the Entrance Examination was rising to the crest of its particular minor +wave, yet during the two years' interval nothing--no single fact--had +occurred to justify his faith or to confirm its amazing certainty within +his heart. Mary, his sister, had not gone after all to the Finishing +School in France; other girl friends came to spend the holidays with her; +the Irish member of Parliament had either died or sunk into another kind +of oblivion; the paths of the Kelverdons and the Aylmer family had gone +apart; and the name of Lettice no longer thrilled the air across the +tea-table, nor chance reports of her doings filled the London house with +sudden light. + +Yet for Tom she existed more potently than ever. His yearning never +lessened; he was sure she remembered him as he remembered her; he +persuaded himself that she thought about him; she doubtless knew that he +was going to be an engineer. He had cut a thread from the carpet in the +hall--from the exact spot her flying foot had touched that Tuesday when +she scampered off from him--and kept it in the drawer beside the Eastern +packet that enshrined the Whiff. Occasionally he took it out and touched +it, fingered it, even caressed it; the thread and the perfume belonged +together; the ritual of the childish years altered a little--worship +raised it to a higher level. + +He saw her with her hair done up now, long skirts, and a softer expression +in the tender, faithful eyes; the tomboy in her had disappeared; she gazed +at him with admiration. The face was oddly real, it came very close to +his own; once or twice, indeed, their cheeks almost touched: 'almost,' +because he withdrew instantly, uneasily aware that he had gone too far-- +not that the intimacy was unwelcome, but that it was somehow premature. +And the instant he drew back, a kind of lightning distance came between +them; he saw her eyes across an immense and curious interval, though +whether of time or space he could not tell. There was strange heat and +radiance in it--as of some blazing atmosphere that was not England. + +The eyes, moreover, held a new expression when this happened--pity. +And with this pity came also pain: the strange, rich pain broke over all +the other happier feelings in him and swamped them utterly. . . . + +But at that point instinct failed him; he could not understand why she +should pity him, why pain should come to him through her, nor why it was +necessary for him to feel and face it. He only felt sure of one thing-- +that it was essential to the formation of the Wave which was his life. +The Wave must 'happen,' or he would miss an important object of his +being--and she would somehow miss it too. The Wave would one day fall, +but when it fell she would be with him, by his side, under the mighty +curve, involved in the crash and tumult--with himself. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Then, without any warning, he received a second shock--it fell upon him +from the blue and came direct from Lettice. + +The occasion was a tennis party in the garden by the sea where the family +had come to spend the summer holidays. Tom was already at College, doing +brilliantly, and rapidly growing up. The August afternoon was very hot; +no wind ruffled the quiet blue-green water; there were no waves; the +leaves of the privet hedge upon the side of the cliffs were motionless. +A couple of Chalk-Blues danced round and round each other as though a wire +connected them, and Tom, walking in to tea with his partner after a +victorious game, found himself watching the butterflies and making a +remark about them--a chance observation merely to fill an empty pause. +He felt as little interest in the insects as he did in his partner, +an uncommonly pretty, sunburned girl, whose bare arms and hatless light +hair became her admirably. She, however, approved of the remark and by no +means despised the opportunity to linger a moment by the side of her +companion. They stood together, perhaps a dozen seconds, watching the +capricious scraps of colour rise, float over the privet hedge on balanced +wings, dip abruptly down and vanish on the farther side below the cliff. +The girl said something--an intentional something that was meant to be +heard and answered: but no answer was forthcoming. She repeated the +remark with emphasis; then, as still no answer came, she laughed brightly +to make his silence appear natural. + +But Tom had no word to say. He had not noticed the manoeuvre of the girl, +nor the manoeuvre of the two Chalk-Blues; neither had he heard the words, +although conscious that she spoke. For in that brief instant when the +insects floated over the hedge, his eyes had wandered beyond them to the +sea, and on the sea, far off against the cloudless horizon, he had seen-- +the Wave. + +Thinking it over afterwards, however, he realised that it was not actually +a wave he saw, for the surface of the blue-green sea was smooth as the +tennis lawn itself: it was the sudden appearance of the 'wavy feeling' +that made him _think_ he saw the old, familiar outline of his early dream. +He had objectified his emotion. His father perhaps would have called it +association of ideas. + +Abruptly, out of nothing obvious, the feeling rose and mastered him: and, +after its quiescence--its absence--for so long an interval, this revival +without hint or warning of any kind was disconcerting. The feeling was +vivid and unmistakable. The joy and terror swept him as of old. +He braced himself. Almost--he began shuffling with his feet. . . . + +'Tea's waiting for you,'; his mother's voice floated to his ears across +the lawn, as he turned with an effort from the sea and made towards the +group about the tables. The Wave, he knew, was coming up behind him, +growing, rising, curving high against the evening sky. Beside him walked +the sunburned girl, wondering doubtless at his silence, but happy enough, +it seemed, in her own interpretation of its cause. Scarcely aware of her +presence, however, Tom was searching almost fiercely in his thoughts, +searching for the clue. He knew there was a clue, he felt sure of it; the +'wavy feeling' had not come with this overwhelming suddenness without a +reason. Something had brought it back. But what? Was there any recent +factor in his life that might explain it? He stole a swift glance at the +girl beside him: had she, perhaps, to do with it? They had played tennis +together for the first time that afternoon: he had never seen her before, +was not even quite sure of her name; to him, so far, she was only 'a very +pretty girl who played a ripping game.' Had this girl to do with it? + +Feeling his questioning look, she glanced up at him and smiled. +'You're very absent-minded,' she observed with mischief in her manner. +'You took so many of my balls, it's tired you out!' She had beautiful +blue eyes, and her voice, he noticed for the first time, was very +pleasant. Her figure was slim, her ankles neat, she had nice, even teeth. +But, even as he registered the charming details, he knew quite well that +he registered them, one and all, as belonging merely to a member of the +sex, and not to this girl in particular. For all he cared, she might +follow the two Chalk-Blues and disappear below the edge of the cliff into +the sea. This 'pretty girl' left him as untroubled as she found him. +The wavy feeling was not brought by her. + +He drank his tea, keeping his back to the sea, and as the talk was lively, +his silence was not noticed. The Wave, meanwhile, he knew, had come up +closer. It towered above him. Its presence would shortly be explained. +Then, suddenly, in the middle of a discussion as to partners for the games +to follow, a further detail presented itself--also apparently out of +nothing. He smelt the Whiff. He knew then that the Wave was poised +immediately above his head, and that he stood underneath its threatening +great curve. The clue, therefore, was at hand. + +And at this moment his father came into view, moving across the lawn +towards them from the French window. No one guessed how Tom welcomed the +slight diversion, for the movement was already in his legs and in another +moment must have set his feet upon that dreadful shuffling. As from a +distance, he heard the formal talk and introductions, his father's +statement that he had won his round of golf with 'the Dean,' praise of the +weather, and something or other about the strange stillness of the sea-- +but then, with a sudden, hollow crash against his very ear, the appalling +words: '. . . broke his mashie into splinters, yes. And, by the by, the +Dean knows the Aylmers. They were staying here earlier in the summer, he +told me. Lettice, the girl,--Mary's friend, you remember--is going to be +married this week. . . .' + +Tom clutched the back of the wicker-chair in front of him. The sun went +out. An icy air passed Up his spine. The blood drained from his face. +The tennis courts, and the group of white figures moving towards them, +swung up into the sky. He gripped the chair till the rods of wicker +pressed through the flesh into the bone. For a moment he felt that the +sensation of actual sickness was more than he could master; his legs bent +like paper beneath his weight. + +'_You_ remember Lettice, Tom, don't you?' his father was saying somewhere +in mid-air above him. + +'Yes, rather.' Apparently he said these words; the air at any rate went +through his teeth and lips, and the same minute, with a superhuman effort +that only just escaped a stagger, he moved away towards the tennis courts. +His feet carried him, that is, across the lawn, where some figures dressed +in white were calling his name loudly; his legs went automatically. +'Hold steady!' he remembers saying somewhere deep inside him. 'Don't make +an ass of yourself,'; whereupon another voice--or was it still his own?-- +joined in quickly, 'She's gone from me, Lettice has gone. She's dead.' +And the words, for the first time in his life, had meaning: for the first +time in his life, rather, he realised what their meaning was. The Wave +had fallen. Moreover--this also for the first time in the history of the +Wave--there was something audible. He heard a Sound. + +Shivering in the hot summer sunshine, as though icy water drenched him, he +knew the same instant that he was wrong about the falling: the Wave, +indeed, had curled lower over him than ever before, had even toppled--but +it had not broken. As a whole, it had not broken. It was a smaller wave, +upon the parent side, that had formed and fallen. The sound he heard was +the soft crash of this lesser wave that grew out of the greater mass of +the original monster, broke upon the rising volume of it, and returned +into the greater body. It was a ripple only. The shock and terror he +felt were a foretaste of what the final smothering crash would be. +Yet the Sound he had heard was not the sound of water. There was a sharp, +odd rattling in it that he had never consciously heard before. And it +was--dry. + +He reached the group of figures on the tennis-courts: he played: a violent +energy had replaced the sudden physical weakness. His skill, it seemed, +astonished everybody; he drove and smashed and volleyed with a +recklessness that was always accurate: but when, at the end of the amazing +game, he heard voices praising him, as from a distance, he knew only that +there was a taste of gall and ashes in his mouth, and that he had but one +desire--to get to his room alone and open the drawer. Even to himself he +would not admit that he wished for the relief of tears. He put it, +rather, that he must see and feel the one real thing that still connected +him with Lettice--the thread of carpet she had trodden on. That--and the +'whiff'--alone could comfort him. + +The comedy, that is, of all big events lay in it; no one must see, no one +must know: no one must guess the existence of this sweet, rich pain that +ravaged the heart in him until from very numbness it ceased aching. +He double-locked the bedroom door. He had waited till darkness folded +away the staring day, till the long dinner was over, and the drawn-out +evening afterwards. None, fortunately, had noticed the change in his +demeanour, his silence, his absentmindedness when spoken to, his want of +appetite. 'She is going to be married . . . this week,' were the only +words he heard; they kept ringing in his brain. To his immense relief the +family had not referred to it again. + +And at last he had said good-night and was in his room--alone. The drawer +was open. The morsel of green thread lay in his hand. The faint eastern +perfume floated on the air. 'I am _not_ a sentimental ass,' he said to +himself aloud, but in a low, steady tone. 'She touched it, therefore it +has part of her life about it still.' Three years and a half ago! +He examined the diary too; lived over in thought every detail of their +so-slight acquaintance together; they were few enough; he remembered every +one. . . . Prolonging the backward effort, he reviewed the history of the +Wave. His mind stretched back to his earliest recollections of the +nightmare. He faced the situation, tried to force its inner meaning from +it, but without success. + +He did not linger uselessly upon any detail, nor did he return upon his +traces as a sentimental youth might do, prolonging the vanished sweetness +of recollection in order to taste the pain more vividly. He merely 'read +up,' so to speak, the history of the Wave to get a bird's-eye view of it. +And in the end he obtained a certain satisfaction from the process--a +certain strength. That is to say, he did not understand, but he accepted. +'Lettice has gone from me--but she hasn't gone for good.' The deep +reflection of hours condensed itself into this. + +Whatever might happen 'temporarily,' the girl was loyal and true: and she +was--his. It never once occurred to him to blame or chide her. All that +she did sincerely, she had a right to do. They were in the 'underneath' +together for ever and ever. They were in the sea. + +The pain, nevertheless, was acute and agonising; the temporary separation +of 'France' was nothing compared to this temporary separation of her +marrying. There were alternate intervals of numbness and of acute +sensation; for each time thought and feeling collapsed from the long +strain of their own tension, the relief that followed proved false and +vain. Up sprang the aching pain again, the hungry longing, the dull, +sweet yearning--and the whole sensation started afresh as at the first, +yet with a vividness that increased with each new realisation of it. +'Wish I could cry it out,' he thought. 'I wouldn't be a bit ashamed to +cry.' But he had no tears to spill. . . . + +Midnight passed towards the small hours of the morning, and the small +hours slipped on towards the dawn before he put away the parcel of +tissue-paper, closed the drawer and locked it. And when at length he +dropped exhausted into bed, the eastern sky was already tinged with the +crimson of another summer's day. He dreaded it, and closed his eyes. +It had tennis parties and engagements in its wearisome, long hours of heat +and utter emptiness. . . . + +Just before actual sleep took him, however, he was aware of one other +singular reflection. It rose of its own accord out of that moment's calm +when thought and feeling sank away and deliberate effort ceased: the fact +namely that, with the arrival of the Sound, all his five senses had been +now affected. His entire being, through the only channels of perception +it possessed, had responded to the existence of the Wave and all it might +portend. Here was no case of a single sense being tricked by some +illusion: all five supported each other, taste being, of course, +a modification of smell. + +And the strange reflection brought to his aching mind and weary body a +measure of relief. The Wave was real: being real, it was also well worth +facing when it--fell. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Between twenty and thirty a man rises through years reckless of power and +spendthrift of easy promises. The wave of life is rising, and every force +tends upwards in a steady rush. At thirty comes a pause upon the level, +but with thirty-five there are signs of the droop downhill. Age is first +realised when, instead of looking forward only, he surprises thought in +the act of looking--behind. + +Of the physical, at any rate, this is true; for the mental and emotional +wave is still ripening towards its higher curve, while the spiritual crest +hangs hiding in the sky far overhead, beckoning beyond towards unvistaed +reaches. + +Tom Kelverdon climbed through these crowded years with the usual scars and +bruises, but steadily, and without the shame of any considerable disaster. +His father's influence having procured him an opening in an engineering +firm of the first importance, his own talent and application maintained +the original momentum bravely. He justified his choice of a profession. +Also, staring eagerly into life's marvellous shop-window, he entered, hand +in pocket, and made the customary purchases of the enchantress behind the +counter. If worthless, well,--everybody bought them; the things had been +consummately advertised; he paid his money, found out their value, threw +them away or kept them accordingly. A certain good taste made his choice +not too foolish: and there was this wholesome soundness in him, that he +rarely repeated a purchase that had furnished him cheap goods. Slowly he +began to find himself. + +From learning what it meant to be well thrashed by a boy he loathed, and +to apply a similar treatment himself--he passed on to the pleasure of +being told he had nice eyes, that his voice was pleasant, his presence +interesting. He fell in love--and out again. But he went straight. +Moreover, beyond a given point in any affair of the heart he seemed unable +to advance: some secret, inner tension held him back. While believing he +loved various adorable girls the years offered him, he found it impossible +to open his lips and tell them so. And the mysterious instinct invariably +justified itself: they faded, one and all, soon after separation. There +was no wave in them; they were ripples only. . . . + +And, meanwhile, as the years rushed up towards the crest of thirty, he did +well in his profession, worked for the firm in many lands, obtained the +confidence of his principals, and proved his steady judgment if not his +brilliance. He became, too, a good, if generous, judge of other men, +seeing all sorts, both good and bad, and in every kind of situation that +proves character. His nature found excuses too easily, perhaps, for the +unworthy ones. It is not a bad plan, wiser companions hinted, to realise +that a man has dark behaviour in him, while yet believing that he need not +necessarily prove it. The other view has something childlike in it; +Tom Kelverdon kept, possibly, this simpler attitude alive in him, trusting +overmuch, because suspicion was abhorrent to his soul. The man of ideals +had never become the man of the world. Some high, gentle instinct had +preserved him from the infliction that so often results in this +regrettable conversion. Slow to dislike, he saw the best in everybody. +'Not a bad fellow,' he would say of some one quite obviously detestable. +'I admit his face and voice and manner are against him; but that's not his +fault exactly. He didn't make himself, you know.' + + + +The idea of a tide in the affairs of men is obvious, familiar enough. +Nations rise and fall, equally with the fortunes of a family. History +repeats itself, so does the tree, the rose: and if a man live long enough +he recovers the state of early childhood. There is repetition everywhere. +But while some think evolution moves in a straight line forward, others +speculate fancifully that it has a spiral twist upwards. At any given +moment, that is, the soul looks down upon a passage made before--but from +a point a little higher. Without living through events already +experienced, it literally lives them over; it sees them mapped out below, +and with the bird's-eye view it understands them. + +And in regard to his memory of Lettice Aylmer--the fact that he was still +waiting for her and she for him--this was somewhat the fanciful conception +that lodged itself, subconsciously perhaps, in the mind of Tom Kelverdon, +grown now to man's estate. He was dimly aware of a curious familiarity +with his present situation, a sense of repetition--yet with a difference. +Something he had experienced before was coming to him again. It was +waiting for him. Its wave was rising. When it happened before it had not +happened properly somehow--had left a sense of defeat, of dissatisfaction +behind. He had taken it, perhaps, at the period of receding momentum, and +so had failed towards it. This time he meant to face it. His own phrase, +as has been seen, was simple: 'I'll let it all come.' It was something +his character needed. Deep down within him hid this attitude, and with +the passage of the years it remained--though remained an attitude merely. + +But the attitude, being subconscious in him, developed into a definite +point of view that came, more and more, to influence the way he felt +towards life in general. Life was too active to allow of much +introspection, yet whenever pauses came--pauses in thought and feeling, +still backwaters in which he lay without positive direction--there, banked +up, unchanging in the background, stood the enduring thing: his love for +Lettice Aylmer. And this background was 'the sea' of his boyhood days, +the 'underneath' in which they remained unalterably together. There, too, +hid the four signs that haunted his impressionable youth: the Wave, the +other Eyes, the Whiff, the Sound. In due course, and at their appointed +time, they would combine and 'happen' in his outward life. The Wave +would--fall. + +Meanwhile his sense of humour had long ago persuaded him that, so far as +any claim upon the girl existed, or that she reciprocated his own deep +passion, his love-dream was of questionable security. The man in him that +built bridges and cut tunnels laughed at it; the man that devised these +first in imagination, however, believed in it, and waited. Behind thought +and reason, suspected of none with whom he daily came in contact, and +surprised only by himself when he floated in these silent, tideless +backwaters--it persisted with an amazing conviction that seemed deathless. +In these calm deeps of his being, securely anchored, hid what he called +the 'spiral' attitude. The thing that was coming, a tragedy whereof that +childish nightmare was both a memory and a premonition, clung and haunted +still with its sense of dim familiarity. Something he had known before +would eventually repeat itself. But--with a difference; that he would see +it from above--from a higher curve of the ascending spiral. + +There lay the enticing wonder of the situation. With his present English +temperament, stolid rather, he would meet it differently, treat it +otherwise, learn and understand. He would see it from another--higher-- +point of view. He would know great pain, yet some part of him would look +on, compare, accept the pain--and smile. The words that offered +themselves were that he had 'suffered blindly,' but suffered with fierce +and bitter resentment, savagely, even with murder in his heart; suffered, +moreover, somehow or other, at the hands of Lettice Aylmer. + +Lettice, of course,--he clung to it absurdly still--was true and loyal to +him, though married to another. Her name was changed. But Lettice Aylmer +was not changed. And this mad assurance, though he kept it deliberately +from his conscious thoughts, persisted with the rest of the curious +business, for nothing, apparently, could destroy it in him. It was part +of the situation, as he called it, part of the 'sea,' out of which would +rise eventually--the Wave. + +Outwardly, meanwhile, much had happened to him, each experience +contributing its modifying touch to the character as he realised it, +instead of merely knowing that it came to others. His sister married; +Tim, following his father's trade, became a doctor with a provincial +practice, buried in the country. His father died suddenly while he was +away in Canada, busy with a prairie railway across the wheat fields of +Assiniboia. He met the usual disillusions in a series, savoured and +mastered them more or less in turn. + +He was in England when his mother died; and, while his other experiences +were ripples only, her going had the wave in it. The enormous mother-tie +came also out of the 'sea'; its dislocation was a shock of fundamental +kind, and he felt it in the foundations of his life. It was one of the +things he could not quite realise. He still felt her always close and +near. He had just been made a junior partner in the firm; the love and +pride in her eyes, before they faded from the world of partnerships, were +unmistakable: 'Of course,' she murmured, her thin hand clinging to his +own, 'they had to do it . . . if only your father knew . . .' and she was +gone. The wave of her life sank back into the sea whence it arose. +And her going somehow strengthened him, added to his own foundations, as +though her wave had merged in his. + +With her departure, he felt vaguely the desire to settle down, to marry. +Unconsciously he caught himself thinking of women in a new light, +appraising them as possible wives. It was a dangerous attitude rather; +for a man then seeks to persuade himself that such and such a woman may +do, instead of awaiting the inevitable draw of love which alone can +justify a life-long union. + +In Tom's case, however, as with the smaller fires of his younger days, he +never came to a decision, much less to a positive confession. His immense +idealism concerning women preserved him from being caught by mere outward +beauty. While aware that Lettice was an impossible dream of boyhood, he +yet clung to an ideal she somehow foreshadowed and typified. He never +relinquished this standard of his dream; a mysterious woman waited for him +somewhere, a woman with all the fairy qualities he had built about her +personality; a woman he could not possibly mistake when at last he met +her. Only he did not meet her. He waited. + +And so it was, as time passed onwards, that he found himself standing upon +the little level platform of his life at a stage nearer to thirty-five +than thirty, conscious that a pause surrounded him. There was a lull. +The rush of the years slowed down. He looked about him. He looked--back. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The particular moment when this happened, suitable, too, in a chance, odd +way, was upon a mountain ridge in winter, a level platform of icy snow to +which he had climbed with some hotel acquaintances on a ski-ing +expedition. It was on the Polish side of the Hohe Tatra. + +Why, at this special moment, pausing for breath and admiring the immense +wintry scene about him, he should have realised that he reached a similar +position in his life, is hard to say. There is always a particular moment +when big changes claim attention. They have been coming slowly; but at a +given moment they announce themselves. Tom associated that icy ridge +above Zakopane with a pause in the rushing of the years: 'I'm getting on +towards middle age; the first swift climb--impetuous youth--lies now +behind me.' The physical parallel doubtless suggested it; he had felt his +legs and wind a trifle less willing, perhaps; there was still a steep, +laborious slope of snow beyond; he discovered that he was no longer +twenty-five. + +He drew breath and watched the rest of the party as they slowly came +nearer in the track he had made through the deep snow below. Each man +made this track in his turn, it was hard work, his share was done. +'Nagorsky will tackle the next bit,' he thought with relief, watching a +young Pole of twenty-three in the ascending line, and glancing at the +summit beyond where the run home was to begin. And then the wonder of the +white silent scene invaded him, the exhilarating thrill of the vast wintry +heights swept over him, he forgot the toil, he regained his wind and felt +his muscles taut and vigorous once more. It was pleasant, standing upon +this level ridge, to inspect the long ascent below, and to know the heavy +yet enjoyable exertion was nearly over. + +But he had felt--older. That ridge remained in his memory as the occasion +of its first realisation; a door opened behind him; he looked back. +He envied the other's twenty-three years. It is curious that, about +thirty, a man feels he is getting old, whereas at forty he feels himself +young again. At thirty he judges by the standard of eighteen, at the +later age by that of sixty. But this particular occasion remained vivid +for another reason--it was accompanied by a strange sensation he had +almost forgotten; and so long an interval had elapsed since its last +manifestation that for a moment a kind of confusion dropped upon him, as +from the cloudless sky. Something was gathering behind him, something was +about to fall. He recognised the familiar feeling that he knew of old, +the subterranean thrill, the rich, sweet pain, the power, the reality. +It was the wavy feeling. + +Balanced on his ski, the sealskin strips gripping the icy ridge securely, +he turned instinctively to seek the reason, if any were visible, of the +abrupt revival. His mind, helped by the stimulating air and sunshine, +worked swiftly. The odd confusion clouded his faculties still, as in a +dream state, but he pierced it in several directions simultaneously. + +Was it that, envying another's youth, he had re-entered imaginatively his +own youthful feelings? He looked down at the rest of the party climbing +towards him. And doing so, he picked out the slim figure of Nagorsky's +sister, a girl whose winter costume became her marvellously, and whom the +happy intimacy of the hotel life had made so desirable that an expedition +without her seemed a lost, blank day. Unless she was of the party there +was no sunshine. He watched her now, looking adorable in her big gauntlet +gloves, her short skirt, her tasselled cap of black and gold, a fairy +figure on the big snowfield, filling the world with sunshine--and knew +abruptly that she meant to him just exactly--nothing. The intensity of +the wavy feeling reduced her to an unreality. + +It was not she who brought the great emotion. + +The confusion in him deepened. Another scale of measurement appeared. +The crowded intervening years now seemed but a pause, a brief delay; he +had run down a side track and returned. _He_ had not grown older. +Seen by the grand scale to which the Wave and 'sea' belonged, he had +scarcely moved from the old starting-point, where, far away in some +unassailable recess of life, still waiting for him, stood--Lettice Aylmer. + +Turning his eyes, then, from the approaching climbers, he glanced at the +steep slope above him, and saw--as once before on the English coast-- +something that took his breath away and made his muscles weak. He stared +up at it. It looked down at him. + +Five hundred feet above, outlined against the sky of crystal clearness, +ran a colossal wave of solid snow. At the highest point it was, of +course, a cornice, but towards the east, whence came the prevailing +weather, the wind had so manipulated the mass that it formed a curling +billow, twenty or thirty feet in depth, leaping over in the very act of +breaking, yet arrested just before it fell. It hung waiting in mid-air, +perfectly moulded, a wave--but a wave of snow. + +It swung along the ridge for half a mile and more: it seemed to fill the +sky; it rose out of the sea of eternal snow below it, poised between the +earth and heavens. In the hollow beneath its curve lay purple shadows the +eye could not pierce. And the similarity to the earlier episode struck +him vividly; in each case Nature assisted with a visible wave as by way of +counterpart; each time, too, there was a girl--as though some significance +of sex hid in the 'wavy feeling.' He was profoundly puzzled. + +The same second, in this wintry world where movement, sound, and perfume +have no place, there stole to his nostrils across the desolate ranges +another detail. It was more intimate in its appeal even than the wavy +feeling, yet was part of it. He recognised the Whiff. And the joint +attack, both by its suddenness and by its intensity, overwhelmed him. +Only the Sound was lacking, but that, too, he felt, was on the way. +Already a sharp instinctive movement was running down his legs. He began +to shuffle on his ski. . . . + +A chorus of voices, as from far away, broke round him, disturbing the +intense stillness; and he knew that the others had reached the ridge. +With a violent effort he mastered the ridiculous movement of his +disobedient legs, but what really saved him from embarrassing notice was +the breathless state of his companions, and the fact that his action +looked after all quite natural--he seemed merely rubbing his ski along the +snow to clean their under-surface. + +Exclamations in French, English, Polish rose on all sides, as the view +into the deep opposing valley caught the eye, and a shower of questions +all delivered at once, drew attention from himself. What scenery, what a +sky, what masses of untrodden snow! Should they lunch on the ridge or +continue to the summit? What were the names of all these peaks, and was +the Danube visible? How lucky there was no wind, and how they pitied the +people who stayed behind in the hotels! Sweaters and woollen waistcoats +emerged from half a dozen knapsacks, cooking apparatus was produced, one +chose a spot to make a fire, while another broke the dead branches from a +stunted pine, and in five minutes had made a blaze behind a little wall of +piled-up snow. The Polish girl came up and asked Tom for his Zeiss +glasses, examined the soaring slope beyond, then obediently put on the +extra sweater he held out for her. He hardly saw her face, and certainly +did not notice the expression in her eyes. All took off their ski and +plunged them upright in the nearest drift. The sun blazed everywhere, the +snow crystals sparkled. They settled down for lunch, a small dark clot of +busy life upon the vast expanse of desolate snow . . . and anything +unusual about Tom Kelverdon, muffled to the throat against the freezing +cold, his eyes, moreover, concealed by green snow-spectacles, was +certainly not noticed. + +Another party, besides, was discovered climbing upwards along their own +laborious track: in the absorbing business of satisfying big appetites, +tending the fire, and speculating who these other skiers might be, Tom's +silence caused no comment. His self-control, for the rest, was soon +recovered. But his interest in the expedition had oddly waned; he was +still searching furiously in his thoughts for an explanation of the +unexpected 'attack,' waiting for the Sound, but chiefly wondering why his +boyhood's nightmare had never revealed that the Wave was of snow instead +of water--and, at the same time, oddly convinced that he had moved but +_one_ stage nearer to its final elucidation. That it was solid he had +already discovered, but that it was actually of snow left a curious doubt +in him. + +Of all this he was thinking as he devoured his eggs and sandwiches, +something still trembling in him, nerves keenly sensitive, but not _quite_ +persuaded that this wave of snow was the sufficient cause of what he had +just experienced--when at length the other climbers, moving swiftly, came +close enough to be inspected. The customary remarks and criticisms passed +from mouth to mouth, with warnings to lower voices since sound carried too +easily in the rarefied air. One of the party was soon recognised as the +hotel doctor, and the other, first set down as a Norwegian owing to his +light hair, shining hatless in the sunlight, proved on closer approach to +be an Englishman--both men evidently experienced and accomplished +'runners.' + +In any other place the two parties would hardly have spoken, settling down +into opposing camps of hostile silence; but in the lonely winter mountains +human relationship becomes more natural; the time of day was quickly +passed, and details of the route exchanged; the doctor and his friend +mingled easily with the first arrivals; all agreed spontaneously to take +the run home together; and finally, when names were produced with laughing +introductions, the Englishman--by one of those coincidences people pretend +to think strange, but that actually ought to occur more often than they +do--turned out to be known to Tom, and after considerable explanations was +proved to be more than that--a cousin. + +Welcoming the diversion, making the most of it in fact, Kelverdon +presented Anthony Winslowe to his Polish companions with a certain zeal to +which the new arrival responded with equal pleasure. The light-haired +blue-eyed Englishman, young and skilful on his ski, formed a distinct +addition to the party. He was tall, with a slight stoop about the +shoulders that suggested study; he was gay and very easy-going too. +It was 'Tom' and 'Tony' before lunch was over; they recalled their private +school, a fight, an eternal friendship vowed after it, and the twenty +intervening years melted as though they had not been. + +'Of course,' Tom said, proud of his new-found cousin, 'and I've read your +bird books, what's more. By Jove, you're quite an authority on natural +history, aren't you?' + +The other modestly denied any notoriety, but the girls, especially +Nagorsky's sister, piqued by Tom's want of notice, pressed for details in +their pretty broken English. It became a merry and familiar party, as the +way is with easy foreigners, particularly when they meet in such wild and +unconventional surroundings. Winslowe had lantern slides in his trunk: +that night he promised to show them: they chattered and paid compliments +and laughed, Tony explaining that he was on his way to Egypt to study the +bird-life along the Nile. Natural history was his passion; he talked +delightfully; he made the bird and animal life seem real and interesting; +there was imagination, humour, lightness in him. There was a fascination, +too, not due to looks alone. It was in his atmosphere, what is currently, +perhaps, called magnetism. + +'No animals _here_ for you,' said a girl, pointing to the world of white +death about them. + +'There's something better,' he said quickly in quite decent Polish. +'We're all in the animal kingdom, you know.' And he glanced with a bow of +admiration at the speaker, whom the others instantly began to tease. +It was Irena, Nagorsky's sister; she flushed and laughed. 'We thought,' +she said, 'you were Norwegian, because of your light hair, and the way you +moved on your ski.' + +'A great compliment,' he rejoined, 'but I saw _you_ long ago on the ridge, +and I knew at once that you were--Polish.' + +The girl returned his bow. 'The largest compliment,' she answered gaily, +'I had ever in my life.' + +Tom had only arrived two days before, bringing a letter of introduction to +the doctor, and that night he changed his hotel, joining his new friends +and his cousin at the Grand. An obvious flirtation, possibly something +more, sprung up spontaneously between him and the Polish girl, but +Kelverdon welcomed it and felt no jealousy. 'Not trespassing, old chap, +am I?' Tony asked jokingly, having divined on the mountains that the girl +was piqued. 'On the contrary,' was the honest assurance given frankly, +'I'm relieved. A delightful girl, though, isn't she? And fascinatingly +pretty!' + +For the existence of Nagorsky's sister had become suddenly to him of no +importance whatsoever. It was strange enough, but the vivid recurrence of +long-forgotten symbols that afternoon upon the heights had restored to him +something he had curiously forgotten, something he had shamefully +neglected, almost, it seemed, had been in danger of losing altogether. +It came back upon him now. He clung desperately to it as to a real, a +vital, a necessary thing. It was a genuine relief that the relationship +between him and the girl might be ended thus. In any case, he reflected, +it would have 'ended thus' a little later--like all the others. No trace +or sign of envy stayed in him. Irena and Tony, anyhow, seemed admirably +suited to one another; he noticed on the long run home how naturally they +came together. And even his own indifference would not bring her back to +him. He felt quite pleased and satisfied. He had a long talk with Tony +before going to bed. He felt drawn to him. There was a spontaneous +innate sympathy between them. + +They had many other talks together, and Tom liked his interesting, +brilliant cousin. A week passed; dances, ski-ing trips, skating, and the +usual programme of wintry enjoyments filled the time too quickly; +companionship became intimacy; all sat at the same table: Tony became a +general favourite. He had just that combination of reserve and abandon +which--provided something genuine lies behind--attracts the majority of +people who, being dull, have neither. Most are reserved, through +emptiness, or else abandoned--also through emptiness. Tony Winslowe, full +of experience and ideas, vivid experience and original ideas, combined the +two in rarest equipoise. It was spontaneous, and not calculated in him. +There was a stimulating quality in his personality. Like those tiny, +exciting Japanese tales that lead to the edge of a precipice, then end +with unexpected abruptness that is their purpose, he led all who liked him +to the brink of a delightful revelation--then paused, stopped, vanished. +And all did like him. He was light and gay, for all the depth in him. +Something of the child peeped out. He won Tom Kelverdon's confidence +without an effort. He also won the affectionate confidence of the Polish +girl. + +'You're not married, Tony, are you?' Tom asked him. + +'Married!' Tony answered with a flush--he flushed so easily when teased-- +'I love my wild life and animals far too much.' He stammered slightly. +Then he looked up quickly into his cousin's eyes with frankness. +Tom, without knowing why, almost felt ashamed of having asked it. 'I--I +never can go beyond a certain point,' he said, 'with girls. Something +always holds me back. Odd--isn't it?' He hesitated. Then this flashed +from him: 'Bees never sip the last, the sweetest drop of honey from the +rose, you know. The sunset always leaves one golden cloud adrift--eh?' +So there was poetry in him too! + +And Tom, simpler, as well as more rigidly moulded, felt a curious touch of +passionate sympathy as he heard it. His heart went out to the other +suddenly with a burst of confidence. Some barrier melted in him and +disappeared. For the first time in his life he knew the inclination, even +the desire, to speak of things hidden deep within his heart. His cousin +would understand. + +And Tony's sudden, wistful silence invited the confession. They had +already been talking of their forgotten youthful days together. +The ground was well prepared. They had even talked of his sister, Mary, +and her marriage. Tony remembered her distinctly. He spoke of it, +leaning forward and putting a hand on his cousin's knee. Tom noticed +vaguely the size of the palm, the wrist, the fingers--they seemed +disproportionate. They were ugly hands. But it was subconscious notice. +His mind was on another thing. + +'I say,' Tom began with a sudden plunge, 'you know a lot about birds and +natural history--biology too, I suppose. Have you ever heard of the +spiral movement?' + +'Spinal, did you say?' queried the other, turning the stem of his glass +and looking up. + +'No--_spiral_,' Tom repeated, laughing dryly in spite of himself. +'I mean the idea--that evolution, whether individually in men and animals, +or with nations--historically, that is--is not in a straight line ahead, +but moves upwards--in a spiral?' + + +'It's in the air,' replied Tony vaguely, yet somehow as if he knew a great +deal more about it. 'The movement of the race, you mean?' + +'And of the individual too. We're here, I mean, for the purpose of +development--whatever one's particular belief may be--and that this +development, instead of going forwards in a straight line, has a kind of-- +spiral movement--upwards?' + +Tony looked wonderfully wise. 'I've heard of it,' he said. 'The spiral +movement, as you say, is full of suggestion. It's common among plants. +But I don't think science--biology, at any rate--takes much account of +it.' + +Tom interrupted eagerly, and with a certain grave enthusiasm that +evidently intrigued his companion. 'I mean--a movement that is always +upwards, always getting higher, and always looking down upon what has gone +before. That, if it's true, a soul can look back--look down upon what it +has been through before, but from a higher point--do you see?' + +Tony emptied his glass and then lit a cigarette. 'I see right enough,' he +said at length, quick and facile to appropriate any and every idea he came +across, yet obviously astonished by his companion's sudden seriousness. +'Only the other day I read that humanity, for instance, is just now above +the superstitious period--of the Middle Ages, say--going over it again-- +but that the recrudescence everywhere of psychic interests-- +fortune-telling, palmistry, magic, and the rest--has become +quasi-scientific. It's going through the same period, but seeks to +explain and understand. It's above it--one stage or so. Is that what you +mean, perhaps?' + +Tom drew in his horns, though for the life of him he could not say why. +Tony appropriated his own idea too easily somehow--had almost read his +thoughts. Vaguely he resented it. Tony had stolen from him--offended +against some schoolboy _meum_ and _tuum_ standard. + +'That's it--the idea, at any rate,' he said, wondering why confidence had +frozen in him. 'Interesting, rather, isn't it?' + +And then abruptly he found that he was staring at his cousin's hands, +spread on the table palm downwards. He had been staring at them for some +time, but unconsciously. Now he saw them. And there was something about +them that he did not like. Absurd as it seemed, his change of mood had to +do with those big, ungainly hands, tanned a deep brown-black by the sun. +A faint shiver ran through him. He looked away. + +'Extraordinary,' Tony went chattering on. 'It explains these new wild +dances perhaps. Anything more spiral and twisty than these modern +gyrations I never saw!' He turned it off in his light amusing way, yet as +though quite familiar with the deeper aspects of the question--if he +cared. 'And what the body does,' he added, 'the mind has already done a +little time before!' + +He laughed, but whether he was in earnest, or merely playing with the +idea, was uncertain. What had stopped Tom was, perhaps, that they were +not in the same key together; Tom had used a word he rarely cared to use-- +soul--it had cost him a certain effort--but his cousin had not responded. +That, and the hands, explained his change of mood. For the first time it +occurred to his honest, simple mind that Tony was of other stuff, perhaps, +than he had thought. That remark about the bees and sunset jarred a +little. The lightness suggested insincerity almost. + +He shook the notion off, for it was disagreeable, ungenerous as well. +This was holiday-time, and serious discussion was out of place. The airy +lightness in his cousin was just suited to the conditions of a +winter-sport hotel; it was what made him so attractive to all and sundry, +so easy to get on with. Yet Tom would have liked to confide in him, to +have told him more, asked further questions and heard the answers; +stranger still, he would have liked to lead from the spiral to the wave, +to his own wavy feeling, and, further even--almost to speak of Lettice and +his boyhood nightmare. He had never met a man in regard to whom he felt +so forthcoming in this way. Tony surely had seriousness and depth in him; +this irresponsibility was on the surface only. . . . There was a queer +confusion in his mind--several incongruous things trying to combine. . . . + +'I knew a princess once--the widow of a Russian,' Tony was saying. +He had been talking on, gaily, lightly, for some time, but Tom, busy with +these reflections, had not listened properly. He now looked up sharply, +something suddenly alert in him. 'They're all princes in Russia,' Tony +laughed; 'it means less than Count in France or _von_ in Germany.' +He stopped and drained his glass. 'But you know,' he went on, his +thoughts half elsewhere, it seemed, 'it's bad for a country when titles +are too common, it lowers the aristocratic ideal. In the Caucasus-- +Batoum, for instance--every Georgian is a noble, your hotel porter a +prince.' He broke off abruptly as though reminded of something. +'Of course!' he exclaimed, 'I was going to tell you about the Russian +woman I knew who had something of that idea of yours.' He stopped as his +eye caught his cousin's empty glass. 'Let's have another,' he said, +beckoning to the waitress, 'it's very light stuff, this beer. These long +ski-trips give one an endless thirst, don't they?' Tom didn't know +whether he said yes or no. 'What idea?' he asked quickly. 'What do you +mean exactly?' A curious feeling of familiarity stirred in him. +This conversation had happened before. + +'Eh?' Tony glanced up as though he had again forgotten what he was going +to say. 'Oh yes,' he went on, 'the Russian woman, the Princess I met in +Egypt. She talked a bit like that once . . . I remember now.' + +'Like what?' Tom felt a sudden, breathless curiosity in him: he was +afraid the other would change his mind, or pass to something else, or +forget what he was going to say. It would prove another Japanese tale-- +disappear before it satisfied. + +But Tony went on at last, noticing, perhaps, his cousin's interest. + +'I was up at Edfu after birds,' he said, 'and she had a _dahabieh_ on the +river. Some friends took me there to tea, or something. It was nothing +particular. Only it occurred to me just now when you talked of spirals +and things.' + +'_You_ talked about the spiral?' Tom asked. 'Talked with _her_ about it, +I mean?' He was slow, almost stupid compared to the other, who seemed to +flash lightly and quickly over a dozen ideas at once. But there was this +real, natural sympathy between them both again. It seemed he knew exactly +what his cousin was going to say. + +Tony, blowing the foam off his beer glass, proceeded to quench his +wholesome thirst. 'Not exactly,' he said at length, 'but we talked, I +remember, along that line. I was explaining about the flight of birds-- +that all wild animal life moves in a spontaneous sort of natural rhythm-- +with an unconscious grace, I mean, we've lost because we think too much. +Birds in particular rise and fall with a swoop, the simplest, freest +movement in the world--like a wave----' + +'Yes?' interrupted Tom, leaning over the table a little and nearly +upsetting his untouched glass. 'I like that idea. It's true.' + +'And--oh, that all the forces known to science move in a similar way--by +wave-form, don't you see? Something like that it was.' He took another +draught of the nectar his day's exertions had certainly earned. + +'_She_ said that?' asked Tom, watching his cousin's face buried in the +enormous mug. + +Tony set it down with a sigh of intense satisfaction, '_I_ said it,' he +exclaimed with a frank egoism. 'You're too tired after all your falls +this afternoon to listen properly. _I_ was the teacher on that occasion, +she the adoring listener! But if you want to know what _she_ said too, +I'll tell you.' + +Tom waited; he raised his glass, pretending to drink; if he showed too +much interest, the other might swerve off again to something else. +He knew what was coming, yet could not have actually foretold it. +He recognised it only the instant afterwards. + +'She talked about water,' Tony went on, as though he had difficulty in +recalling what she really had said, 'and I think she had water on the +brain,' he added lightly. 'The Nile had bewitched her probably; it +affects most of 'em out there--the women, that is. She said life moved +in a stream--that she moved down a stream, or something, and that only +things going down the stream with her were real. Anything on the banks-- +stationary, that is--was not real. Oh, she said a lot. I've really +forgotten now--it was a year or two ago--but I remember her mentioning +shells and the spiral twist of shells. In fact,' he added, as if there +was no more to tell, 'I suppose that's what made me think of her just +now--your mentioning the spiral movement.' + +The door of the room, half _cafe_ and half bar, where the peasants sat at +wooden tables about them, opened, and the pretty head of Irena Nagorsky +appeared. A burst of music came in with her. 'We dance,' she said, a +note of reproach as well as invitation in her voice--then vanished. +Tony, leaving his beer unfinished, laughed at his cousin and went after +her. 'My last night,' he said cheerily. 'Must be gay and jolly. I'm off +to Trieste tomorrow for Alexandria. See you later, Tom--unless you're +coming to dance too.' + +But, though they saw each other many a time again that evening, there was +no further conversation. Next day the party broke up, Tom returning to +the Water Works his firm was constructing outside Warsaw, and Tony taking +the train for Budapesth _en route_ for Trieste and Egypt. He urged Tom to +follow him as soon as his work was finished, gave the Turf Club, Cairo, as +his permanent address where letters would always reach him sooner or +later, waved his hat to the assembled group upon the platform, and was +gone. The last detail of him visible was the hand that held the waving +hat. It looked bigger, darker, thought Tom, than ever. It was almost +disfiguring. It stirred a hint of dislike in him. He turned his eyes +away. + +But Tom Kelverdon remembered that last night in the hotel for another +reason too. In the small hours of the morning he woke up, hearing a sound +close beside him in the room. He listened a moment, then turned on the +light above the bed. The sound, of an unusual and peculiar character, +continued faintly. But it was not actually in the room as he first +supposed. It was outside. + +More than ten years had passed since he had heard that sound. He had +expected it that day on the mountains when the wavy feeling and the Whiff +had come to him. Sooner or later he felt positive he would hear it. +He heard it now. It had merely been delayed, postponed. Something +gathering slowly and steadily behind his life was drawing nearer--had come +already very close. He heard the dry, rattling Sound that was associated +with the Wave and with the Whiff. In it, too, was a vague familiarity. + +And then he realised that the wind was rising. A frozen pine-branch, +stiff with little icicles, was rattling and scraping faintly outside the +wooden framework of the double windows. It was the icy branch that made +the dry, rattling sound. He listened intently; the sound was repeated at +certain intervals, then ceased as the wind died down. And he turned over +and fell asleep again, aware that what he had heard was an imitation only, +but an imitation strangely accurate--of a reality. Similarly, the wave of +snow was but an imitation of a reality to come. This reality lay waiting +still beyond him. One day--one day soon--he would know it face to face. +The Wave, he felt, was rising behind his life, and his life was rising +with it towards a climax. On the little level platform where the years +had landed him for a temporary pause, he began to shuffle with his feet in +dream. And something deeper than his mind--looked back. . . . + +The instinct, or by whatever name he called that positive, interior +affirmation, proved curiously right. Life rose with the sweep and power +of a wave, bearing him with it towards various climaxes. His powers, such +as they were, seemed all in the ascendant. He passed from that level +platform as with an upward rush, all his enterprises, all his energies, +all that he wanted and tried to do, surging forward towards the crest of +successful accomplishment. + +And a dozen times at least he caught himself asking mentally for his +cousin Tony; wishing he had confided in him more, revealed more of this +curious business to him, exchanged sympathies with him about it all. +A kind of yearning rose in him for his vanished friend. Almost he had +missed an opportunity. Tony would have understood and helped to clear +things up; to no other man of his acquaintance could he have felt +similarly. But Tony was now out of reach in Egypt, chasing his birds +among the temples of the haunted Nile, already, doubtless, the centre of a +circle of new friends and acquaintances who found him as attractive and +fascinating as the little Zakopane group had found him. Tony must keep. + +Tom Kelverdon meanwhile, his brief holiday over, returned to his work at +Warsaw, and brought it to a successful conclusion with a rapidity no one +had foreseen, and he himself had least of all expected. The power of the +rising wave was in all he did. He could not fail. Out of the success +grew other contracts highly profitable to his firm. Some energy that +overcame all obstacles, some clarity of judgment that selected unerringly +the best ways and means, some skill and wisdom in him that made all his +powers work in unison till they became irresistible, declared themselves, +yet naturally and without adventitious aid. He seemed to have found +himself anew. He felt pleased and satisfied with himself: always +self-confident, as a man of ability ought to be, he now felt proud; and, +though conceit had never been his failing, this new-born assurance moved +distinctly towards pride. In a moment of impulsive pleasure he wrote to +Tony, at the Turf Club, Cairo, and told him of his success. . . . +The senior partner, his father's old friend, wrote and asked his advice +upon certain new proposals the firm had in view; it was a question of big +docks to be constructed at Salonica, and something to do with a barrage on +the Nile as well--there were several juicy contracts to choose between, +it seemed,--and Sir William proposed a meeting in Switzerland, on his way +out to the Near East; he would break the journey before crossing the +Simplon for Milan and Trieste. The final telegram said Montreux, and +Kelverdon hurried to Vienna and caught the night express to Lausanne by +way of Bale. + +And at Montreux further evidence that the wave of life was rising then +declared itself, when Sir William, having discussed the various +propositions with him, listening with attention, even with deference, to +Kelverdon's opinion, told him quietly that his brother's retirement left a +vacancy in the firm which--he and his co-directors hoped confidently-- +Kelverdon might fill with benefit to all concerned. A senior partnership +was offered to him before he was thirty-five! Sir William left the same +night for his steamer, and Tom was to wait at Montreux, perhaps a month, +perhaps six weeks, until a personal inspection of the several sites +enabled the final decision to be made; he was then to follow and take +charge of the work itself. + +Tom was immensely pleased. He wrote to his married sister in her Surrey +vicarage, told her the news with a modesty he did not really feel, and +sent her a handsome cheque by way of atonement for his bursting pride. + +For simple natures, devoid of a saving introspection and self-criticism, +upon becoming unexpectedly successful easily develop an honest yet none +the less corroding pride. Tom felt himself rather a desirable person +suddenly; by no means negligible at any rate; pleased and satisfied with +himself, if not yet overweeningly so. His native confidence took this +exaggerated turn and twist. His star was in the ascendant, a man to be +counted with. . . . + +The hidden weakness rose--as all else in him was rising--with the Wave. +But he did not call it pride, because he did not recognise it. It was +akin, perhaps, to that fatuous complacency of the bigoted religionist who, +thinking he has discovered absolute truth, looks down from his narrow cell +upon the rest of the world with a contemptuous pity that in itself is but +the ignorance of crass self-delusion. Tom felt very sure of himself. +For a rising wave drags up with it the mud and rubbish that have hitherto +lain hidden out of sight in the ground below. Only with the fall do these +undesirable elements return to their proper place again--where they belong +and are of value. Sense of proportion is recovered only with perspective, +and Tom Kelverdon, rising too rapidly, began to see himself in +disproportionate relation to the rest of life. In his solid, perhaps +stolid, way he considered himself a Personality--indispensable to no small +portion of the world about him. + + + +PART II + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It was towards the end of March, and spring was flowing down almost +visibly from the heights behind the town. April stood on tiptoe in the +woods, finger on lip, ready to dance out between the sunshine and the +rain. + +Above four thousand feet the snows of winter still clung thickly, but the +lower slopes were clear, men and women already working busily among the +dull brown vineyards. The early mist cleared off by ten o'clock, letting +through floods of sunshine that drenched the world, sparkled above the +streets crowded with foreigners from many lands, and lay basking with an +appearance of July upon the still, blue lake. The clear brilliance of the +light had a quality of crystal. Sea-gulls fluttered along the shores, +tame as ducks and eager to be fed. They lent to this inland lake an +atmosphere of the sea, and Kelverdon found himself thinking of some +southern port, Marseilles, Trieste, Toulon. + +In the morning he watched the graceful fishing-boats set forth, and at +night, when only the glitter of the lamps painted the gleaming water for a +little distance, he saw the swans, their heads tucked back impossibly into +the centre of their backs, scarcely moving on the unruffled surface as +they slept into the night. The first sounds he heard soon after dawn +through his wide-opened windows were the whanging strokes of their +powerful wings flying low across the misty water; they flew in twos and +threes, coming from their nests now building in the marshes beyond +Villeneuve. This, and the screaming of the gulls, usually woke him. +The summits of Savoy, on the southern shore, wore pink and gold upon their +heavy snows; the sharp air nipped; far in the west a few stars peeped +before they faded; and in the distance he heard the faint, drum-like +mutter of a paddle-steamer, reminding him that he was in a tourist centre +after all, and that this was busy, little, organised Switzerland. + +But sometimes it was the beating strokes of the invisible paddle-steamer +that woke him, for it seemed somehow a continuation of dreams he could +never properly remember. That he had been dreaming busily every night of +late he knew as surely as that he instantly forgot these dreams. +That muffled, drum-like thud, coming nearer and nearer towards him out of +the quiet distance, had some connection--undecipherable as yet--with the +curious, dry, rattling sound belonging to the Wave. The two were so +dissimilar, however, that he was unable to discover any theory that could +harmonise them. Nor, for that matter, did he seek it. He merely +registered a mental note, as it were, in passing. The beating and the +rattling were associated. + +He chose a small and quiet hotel, as his liking was, and made himself +comfortable, for he might have six weeks to wait for Sir William's +telegram, or even longer, if, as seemed likely, the summons came by post. +And Montreux was a pleasant place in early spring, before the heat and +glare of summer scorched the people out of it towards the heights. +He took long walks towards the snow-line beyond Les Avants and Les +Pleiades, where presently the carpets of narcissus would smother the +fields with white as though winter had returned to fling, instead of +crystal flakes, a hundred showers of white feathers upon the ground. +He discovered paths that led into the whispering woods of pine and +chestnut. The young larches wore feathery green upon their crests, +primroses shone on slopes where the grass was still pale and dead, +snowdrops peeped out beside the wooden fences, and here and there, shining +out of the brown decay of last year's leaves and thick ground-ivy, he +found hepaticas. He had never felt the spring so marvellous before; it +rose in a wave of colour out of the sweet brown earth. + +Though outwardly nothing of moment seemed to fill his days, inwardly he +was aware of big events--maturing. There was this sense of approach, of +preparation, of gathering. How insipid external events were after all, +compared to the mass, the importance of interior changes! A change of +heart, an altered point of view, a decision taken--these were the big +events of life. + +Yet it was a pleasant thing to be a senior partner. Here by the quiet +lake, stroking himself complacently, he felt that life was very active, +very significant, as he wondered what the choice would be. He rather +hoped for Egypt, on the whole. He could look up Tony and the birds. +They could go after duck and snipe together along the Nile. He would, +moreover, be quite an important man out there. Pride and vanity rose in +him, but unobserved. For the Wave was in this too. + +One afternoon, late, he returned from a long scramble among icy rocks +about the Dent de Jaman, changed his clothes, and sat with a cigarette +beside the open window, watching the throng of people underneath. +In a steady stream they moved along the front of the lake, their voices +rising through the air, their feet producing a dull murmur as of water. +The lake was still as glass; gulls asleep on it in patches, and here and +there a swan, looking like a bundle of dry white paper, floated idly. +Off-shore lay several fishing-boats, becalmed; and far beyond them, a +rowing-skiff broke the surface into two lines of widening ripples. +They seemed floating in mid-air against the evening glow. The Savoy Alps +formed a deep blue rampart, and the serrated battlements of the Dent du +Midi, full in the blaze of sunset, blocked the Rhone Valley far away with +its formidable barricade. + +He watched the glow of approaching sunset with keen enjoyment; he sat +back, listening to the people's voices, the gentle lap of the little +waves; and the pleasant lassitude that follows upon hard physical exertion +combined with the even pleasanter stimulus of the tea to produce a state +of absolute contentment with the world. . . . + +Through the murmur of feet and voices, then, and from far across the +water, stole out another sound that introduced into his peaceful mood an +element of vague disquiet. He moved nearer to the window and looked out. +The steamer, however, was invisible; the sea of shining haze towards +Geneva hid it still; he could not see its outline. But he heard the +echoless mutter of the paddle-wheels, and he knew that it was coming +nearer. Yet at first it did not disturb him so much as that, for a +moment, he heard no other sound: the voices, the tread of feet, the +screaming of the gulls all died away, leaving this single, distant beating +audible alone--as though the entire scenery combined to utter it. +And, though no ordinary echo answered it, there seemed--or did he fancy +it?--a faint, interior response within himself. The blood in his veins +went pulsing in rhythmic unison with this remote hammering upon the water. + +He leaned forward in his chair, watching the people, listening intently, +almost as though he expected something to happen, when immediately below +him chance left a temporary gap in the stream of pedestrians, and in this +gap--for a second merely--a figure stood sharply defined, cut off from the +throng, set by itself, alone. His eyes fixed instantly upon its +appearance, movements, attitude. Before he could think or reason he heard +himself exclaim aloud: + +'Why--it's----' + +He stopped. The rest of the sentence remained unspoken. The words rushed +down again. He swallowed, and with a gulp he ended--as though the other +pedestrians all were men--'----a woman!' + +The next thing he knew was that the cigarette was burning his fingers--had +been burning them for several seconds. The figure melted back into the +crowd. The throng closed round her. His eyes searched uselessly; no +space, no gap was visible; the stream of people was continuous once more. +Almost, it seemed, he had not really seen her--had merely thought her--up +against the background of his mind. + +For ten minutes, longer perhaps, he sat by that open window with eyes +fastened on the moving crowd. His heart was beating oddly; his breath +came rapidly. 'She'll pass by presently again,' he thought; 'she'll come +back!' He looked alternately to the right and to the left, until, +finally, the sinking sun blazed too directly in his eyes for him to see at +all. The glare blurred everybody into a smudged line of golden colour, +and the faces became a series of artificial suns that mocked him. + +He did, then, an unusual thing--out of rhythm with his normal self,--he +acted on impulse. Kicking his slippers off, he quickly put on a pair of +boots, took his hat and stick, and went downstairs. There was no +reflection in him; he did not pause and ask himself a single question; he +ran to join the throng of people, moved up and down with them, in and out, +passing and re-passing the same groups over and over again, but seeing no +sign of the particular figure he sought so eagerly. She was dressed in +black, he knew, with a black fur boa round her neck; she was slim and +rather tall; more than that he could not say. But the poise and attitude, +the way the head sat on the shoulders, the tilt upwards of the chin--he +was as positive of recognising these as if he had seen her close instead +of a hundred yards away. + +The sun was down behind the Jura Mountains before he gave up the search. +Sunset slipped insensibly into dusk. The throng thinned out quickly at +the first sign of chill. A dozen times he experienced the thrill--his +heart suddenly arrested--of seeing her, but on each occasion it proved to +be some one else. Every second woman seemed to be dressed in black that +afternoon, a loose black boa round the neck. His eyes ached with the +strain, the change of focus, the question that burned behind and in them, +the joy--the strange rich pain. + +But half, at least, of these dull people, he renumbered, were birds of +passage only; to-morrow or the next day they would take the train. +He said to himself a dozen times, 'Once more to the end and back again!' +For she, too, might be a bird of passage, leaving to-morrow or the next +day, leaving that very night, perhaps. The thought afflicted, goaded him. +And on getting back to the hotel he searched the _Liste des Etrangers_ as +eagerly as he had searched the crowded front--and as uselessly, since he +did not even know what name he hoped to find. + +But later that evening a change came over him. He surprised some sense of +humour: catching it in the act, he also surprised himself a little-- +smiling at himself. The laughter, however, was significant. For it was +just that restless interval after dinner when he knew not what to do with +the hours until bedtime: whether to sit in his room and think and read, or +to visit the principal hotels in the hope of chance discovery. He was +even considering this wild-goose chase to himself, when suddenly he +realised that his course of procedure was entirely the wrong one. + +This thing was going to happen anyhow, it was inevitable; but--it would +happen in its own time and way, and nothing he might do could hurry it. +To hunt in this violent manner was to delay its coming. To behave as +usual was the proper way. It was then he smiled. + +He crossed the hall instead, and put his head in at the door of the little +Lounge. Some Polish people, with whom he had a bowing acquaintance, were +in there smoking. He had seen them enter, and the Lounge was so small +that he could hardly sit in their presence without some effort at +conversation. And, feeling in no mood for this, he put his head past the +edge of the glass door, glanced round carelessly as though looking for +some one--then drew sharply back. For his heart stopped dead an instant, +then beat furiously, like a piston suddenly released. On the sofa, +talking calmly to the Polish people, was--the figure. He recognised her +instantly. + +Her back was turned; he did not see her face. There was a vast excitement +in him that seemed beyond control. He seemed unable to make up his mind. +He walked round and round the little hall examining intently the notices +upon the walls. The excitement grew into tumult, as though the meeting +involved something of immense importance to his inmost self--his soul. +It was difficult to account for. Then a voice behind him said, 'There is +a concert to-night. Radwan is playing Chopin. There are tickets in the +Bureau still--if Monsieur cares to go.' He thanked the speaker without +turning to show his face: while another voice said passionately within +him, 'I was wrong; she is slim, but she is not so tall as I thought.' +And a minute later, without remembering how he got there, he was in his +room upstairs, the door shut safely after him, standing before the mirror +and staring into his own eyes. Apparently the instinct to see what he +looked like operated automatically. For he now remembered--realised-- +another thing. Facing the door of the Lounge was a mirror, and their eyes +had met. He had gazed for an instant straight into the kind and beautiful +Eyes he had first seen twenty years ago--in the Wave. + +His behaviour then became more normal. He did the little, obvious things +that any man would do. He took a clothes-brush and brushed his coat; he +pulled his waistcoat down, straightened his black tie, and smoothed his +hair, poked his hanging watch-chain back into its pocket. Then, drawing a +deep breath and compressing his lips, he opened the door and went +downstairs. He even remembered to turn off the electric light according +to hotel instructions. 'It's perfectly all right,' he thought, as he +reached the top of the stairs. 'Why shouldn't I? There's nothing unusual +about it.' He did not take the lift, he preferred action. Reaching the +_salon_ floor, he heard voices in the hall below. She was already leaving +therefore, the brief visit over. He quickened his pace. There was not +the slightest notion in him what he meant to say. It merely struck him +that--idiotically--he had stayed longer in his bedroom than he realised; +too long; he might have missed his chance. The thought urged him forward +more rapidly again. + +In the hall--he seemed to be there without any interval of time--he saw +her going out; the swinging doors were closing just behind her. +The Polish friends, having said good-bye, were already rising past him in +the lift. A minute later he was in the street. He realised that, because +he felt the cool night air upon his cheeks. He was beside her--looking +down into her face. + +'May I see you back--home--to your hotel?' he heard himself saying. +And then the queer voice--it must have been his own--added abruptly, as +though it was all he really had to say: 'You haven't forgotten me really. +I'm Tommy--Tom Kelverdon.' + +Her reply, her gesture, what she did and showed of herself in a word, was +as queer as in a dream, yet so natural that it simply could not have been +otherwise: 'Tom Kelverdon! So it is! Fancy--_you_ being here!' +Then: 'Thank you very much. And suppose we walk; it's only a few +minutes--and quite dry.' + +How trivial and commonplace, yet how wonderful! + +He remembers that she said something to a coachman who immediately drove +off, that she moved beside him on this Montreux pavement, that they went +up-hill a little, and that, very soon, a brilliant door of glass blazed in +front of them, that she had said, 'How strange that we should meet again +like this. Do come and see me--any day--just telephone. I'm staying some +weeks probably,'--and he found himself standing in the middle of the road, +then walking wildly at a rapid pace downhill, he knew not whither, that he +was hot and breathless, that stars were shining, and swans, like bundles +of white newspaper, were asleep on the lake, and--that he had found her. + +He had walked and talked with Lettice. He bumped into more than one +irate pedestrian before he realised it; they knew it better than he did, +apparently. 'It was Lettice Aylmer, Lettice . . .' he kept saying to +himself. 'I've found her. She shook hands with me. That was her voice, +her touch, her perfume. She's here--here in little Montreux--for several +weeks. After all these years! Can it be true--really true at last? +She said I might telephone--might go and see her. She's glad to see me-- +again.' + +How often he paced the entire length of the deserted front beside the lake +he did not count: it must have been many times, for the hotel door, which +closed at midnight, was locked and the night-porter let him in. He went +to bed--if there was rose in the eastern sky and upon the summits of the +Dent du Midi, he did not notice it. He dropped into a half-sleep in which +thought continued but not wearingly. The excitement of his nerves +relaxed, soothed and mothered by something far greater than his senses, +stronger than his rushing blood. This greater Rhythm took charge of him +most comfortably. He fell back into the mighty arms of something that was +rising irresistibly--something inevitable and--half-familiar. It had long +been gathering; there was no need to ask a thousand questions, no need to +fight it anywhere. From the moment when he glanced idly into the Lounge +he had been aware of it. It had driven him downstairs without reflection, +as it had driven him also uphill till the blazing door was reached. +He smelt it, heard it, saw it, touched it. It was the Wave. + +Time certainly proved its unreality that night; the hours seemed both +endless and absurdly brief. His mind flew round and round in a circle, +lingering over every detail of the short interview with a tumultuous +pleasure that hid pain very thinly. He felt afraid, felt himself on the +brink of plunging headlong into a gigantic whirlpool. Yet he wanted to +plunge. . . . He would. . . . He had to. . . . It was irresistible. + +He reviewed the scene, holding each detail forcibly still, until the last +delight had been sucked out of it. At first he remembered next to +nothing--a blur, a haze, the houses flying past him, no feeling of +pavement under his feet, but only her voice saying nothing in particular, +her touch, as he sometimes drew involuntarily against her arm, her eyes +shining up at him. For her eyes remained the chief impression perhaps--so +kind, so true, so very sweet and frank--soft Irish eyes with something +mysterious and semi-eastern in them. The conversation seemed to have +entirely escaped recovery. + +Then, one by one, he remembered things that she had said. Sentences +offered themselves of their own accord. He flung himself upon them, +trying to keep tight hold of their first meaning--before he filled them +with significance of his own. It was a desperate business altogether; +emotion distorted her simple words so quickly. 'I was thinking of you +only to-day. I had the feeling you were here. Curious, wasn't it?' +He distinctly remembered her saying this. And then another sentence: +'I should have known you anywhere; though, of course, you've changed a +lot. But I knew your eyes. Eyes don't change much, do they?' +The meanings he read into these simple phrases filled an hour at least; he +lost entirely their simple first significance. But this last remark +brought up another in its train. As the tram went past them she had +raised her voice a little and looked up into his face--it was just then +they had cannonaded. People who like one another always cannonade, he +reflected. And her remark--'Ah, it comes back to me. You're so very like +your sister Mary. I've seen her several times since the days in Cavendish +Square. There's a strong family likeness.' + +He disliked the last part of the sentence. Mary, besides, had mentioned +nothing; her rare letters made no reference to it. The schooldays' +friendship had evaporated perhaps. This sent his thoughts back upon the +early trail of those distant months when Lettice was at a Finishing School +in France and he had kept that tragic Calendar. . . . + +Another sentence interrupted them: 'I had, oddly enough, been thinking of +you this very afternoon. I knew you the moment you put your head in at +the door, but, for the life of me, I couldn't get the name. All I got was +'Tommy'!' And only his sense of humour prevented the obvious rejoinder, +'I wish you would always call me that.' It struck him sharply. Such talk +could have no part in a meeting of this kind; the idea of flirtation was +impossible, not even thought of. Yet twice she had said, 'I was thinking +of you only to-day!' + +But other things came back as well. It was strange how much they had +really said to each other in those few brief minutes. Next day he +retraced the way and discovered that, even walking quickly, it took him a +good half hour; yet they had walked slowly, even leisurely. But, try as +he would, he was unable to force deeper meanings into these other remarks +that he recalled. She was evidently pleased to see him, that at least was +certain, for she had asked him to come and see her, and she meant it. +He remembered his reply, 'I'll come to-morrow--may I?' and then abruptly +realised for the first time that the plunge was taken. He felt himself +committed, sink or swim. The Wave already had lifted him off his feet. + +And it was on this his whirling thoughts came down to rest at last, and +sleep crept over him--just as dawn was breaking. He felt himself in the +'sea' with Lettice, there was nothing he could do, no course to choose, no +decision to be made. Though married, she was somehow free--he felt it in +her attitude. That sense of fatalism known in boyhood took charge of him. +The Wave was rising towards the moment when it must invariably break and +fall, and every impulse in him rising in it without a shade of denial or +resistance. It would hurt--the fall and break would cause atrocious pain. +But it was somewhere necessary to him. No atom of him held back or +hesitated. For there was joy beyond it somehow--an intense and lasting +joy, like the joy that belongs to growth and development after accepted +suffering. + +Vaguely--not put into definite words--it was this he felt, when at length +sleep took him. Yet just before he slept he remembered two other little +details, and smiled to himself as they rose before his sleepy mind, yet +not understanding exactly why he smiled: for he did not yet know her +name--and there was, of course, a husband. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +This resumption of a childhood's acquaintance that, by one at least, had +been imaginatively coaxed into a relationship of ideal character, at once +took on a standing of its own. It started as from a new beginning. + +Tom Kelverdon did not forget the childhood part, but he neglected it at +first. It was as if he met now for the first time--a woman who charmed +him beyond anything known before; he longed for her; that he had longed +for her subconsciously these twenty years slipped somehow or other out of +memory. With it slipped also those strange corroborative details that +imagination had clung to so tenaciously during the interval. The Whiff, +the Sound, the other pair of Eyes, the shuffling feet, the joy that +cloaked the singular prophecy of pain--all these, if not entirely +forgotten, ceased to intrude themselves. Even when looking into her +clear, dark eyes, he no longer quite realised them as the 'eastern eyes' +of his dim, dim dream; they belonged to a woman, and a married woman, whom +he desired with body, heart and soul. Calm introspection was impossible, +he could only feel, and feel intensely. He could not fuse this girl and +woman into one continuous picture: each was a fragment of some much older, +larger picture. But this larger canvas he could never visualise +successfully. It was coloured, radiant, gorgeous; it blazed as with gold, +a gold of sun and stars. But the strain of effort caused rupture +instantly. The vaster memory escaped him. He was conscious of reserve. + +The comedy of telephoning to a name he did not know was obviated next +morning by the arrival of a note: 'Dear Tom Kelverdon,' it began, and was +signed 'Yours, Lettice Jaretzka.' It invited him to come up for +_dejeuner_ in her hotel. He went. The luncheon led naturally to a walk +together afterwards, and then to other luncheons and other walks, to +evening rows upon the lake, and to excursions into the surrounding +country. . . . They had tea together in the lower mountain inns, picked +flowers, photographed one another, laughed, talked and sat side by side at +concerts or in the little Montreux cinema theatre. It was all as easy and +natural as any innocent companionship well could be--because it was so +deep. The foundations were of such solid strength that nothing on the +surface trembled. . . . Madame de Jaretzka was well known in the hotel-- +she came annually, it seemed, about this time and made a lengthy stay,-- +but no breath of anything untoward could ever be connected with her. +He, too, was accepted by one and all, no glances came their way. +He was her friend: that was apparently enough. And though he desired her, +body, heart and soul, he was quick to realise that the first named in the +trio had no role to play. Something in her, something of attitude and +atmosphere, rendered it inconceivable. The reserve he was conscious of +lay very deep in him; it lay in her too. There was a fence, a barrier he +must not, could not pass--both recognised it. Being a man, romance for +him drew some tendril doubtless from the creative physical, but the shade +of passing disappointment, if it existed, was renounced as instantly as +recognised. Yet he was not aware at first of any incompleteness in her. +He felt only a bigger thing. There seemed something in this simple woman +that bore him to the stars. + +For simple she undoubtedly was, not in the way of shallowness, but because +her nature seemed at harmony with itself: uncomplex, natural, frank and +open, and with an unconventional carelessness that did no evil for the +reason that she thought and meant none. She could do things that must +have made an ordinary worldly woman the centre of incessant talk and +scandal. There was, indeed, an extraordinary innocence about her that +perturbed the judgment, somewhat baffling it. Whereas with many women it +might have roused the suspicion of being a pose, an affectation, with her, +Tom felt, it was a genuine innocence, beyond words delightful and +refreshing. And it arose, he soon discovered, from the fact that, being +good and true herself, she thought everybody else was also good and true. +This he realised before two days' intercourse had made it seem as if they +had been together always and were made for one another. Something bigger +and higher than he had ever felt before stirred in him for this woman, +whom he thought of now invariably as Madame de Jaretzka, rather than as +Lettice of his younger dream. If she woke something nobler in him that +had slept, he did not label it as such: nor, if a portion of his younger +dream was fulfilling itself before his eyes, in a finer set of terms, did +he think it out and set it down in definite words. There _was_ this +intense and intimate familiarity between them both, but somehow he did not +call it by these names. He just thought her wonderful--and longed for +her. The reserve began to trouble him. . . . + +'It's sweet,' she said, 'when real people come together--find each other.' + +'Again,' he added. 'You left that out. For _I've_ never forgotten--all +these years.' + +She laughed. 'Well, I'll tell you the truth,' she confessed frankly. +'I hadn't forgotten either; I often thought of you and wondered----' + +'What I was like now?' + +'What you were doing, where you were,' she said. 'I always knew what you +were like. But I often wondered how far on you had got.' + +'You had no news of me?' + +'None. But I always believed you'd do something big in the world.' + +Something in her voice or manner made it wholly natural for him to tell +her of his boyhood love. He mentioned the Wave and wavy feeling, the +nightmare too, but when he tried to go beyond that, something checked him; +he felt a sudden shyness. It 'sounds so silly,' was his thought. +'But I always know a real person,' he said aloud, 'anybody who's going to +be real in my life; they always arrive on a wave, as it were. My wavy +feeling announces them.' And the interest with which she responded +prevented his regretting having made his confession. + +'It's an instinct, I think,' she agreed, 'and instincts are meant to be +listened to. I've had something similar, though with me it's not a wave.' +Her voice grew slower, she made a pause; when he looked up--her eyes were +gazing across the lake as though in a moment of sudden absent-mindedness. +. . . 'And what's yours?' he asked, wondering why his heart was beating as +though something painful was to be disclosed. + +'I see a stream,' she went on slowly, still gazing away from him across +the expanse of shining water, 'a flowing stream--with faces on it. They +float down with the current. And when I see one I know it's somebody +real--real to me. The unreal faces are always on the bank. I pass them +by.' + +'You've seen mine?' he asked, unable to hide the eagerness. 'My face?' + +'Often, yes,' she told him simply. 'I dream it usually, I think: but it's +quite vivid.' + +'And is that all? You just see the faces floating down with the current?' + +'There's one other thing,' she answered, 'if you'll promise not to laugh.' + +'Oh, I won't laugh,' he assured her. 'I'm awfully interested. It's no +funnier than my Wave, anyhow.' + +'They're faces I have to save,' she said. 'Somehow I'm meant to rescue +them.' In what way she did not know. 'Just keep them above water, I +suppose!' And the smile in her face gave place to a graver look. +The stream of faces was real to her in the way his Wave was real. +There was meaning in it. 'Only three weeks ago,' she added, 'I saw _you_ +like that.' He asked where it was, and she told him Warsaw. They +compared notes; they had been in the town together, it turned out. +Their outer paths had been converging for some time, then. + +'Why--did you leave?' he asked suddenly. He wanted to ask why she was +there at all, but something stopped him. + +'I usually come here,' she said quietly, 'about this time. It's restful. +There's peace in these quiet hills above the town, and the lake is +soothing. I get strength and courage here.' + +He glanced at her with astonishment a moment. Behind the simple language +another meaning flashed. There was a look in the eyes, a hint in the +voice that betrayed her. . . . He waited, but she said no more. Not that +she wished to conceal, but that she did not wish to speak of something. +Warsaw meant pain for her, she came here to rest, to recuperate after a +time of stress and struggle, he felt. And looking at the face he +recognised for the first time that behind its quiet strength there lay +deep pain and sadness, yet accepted pain and sadness conquered, a +suffering she had turned to sweetness. Without a particle of proof, he +yet felt sure of this. And an immense respect woke in him. He saw her +saving, rescuing others, regardless of herself: he felt the floating faces +real; the stream was life--her life. . . . And, side by side with the +deep respect, the bigger, higher impulse stirred in him again. Name it he +could not: it just came: it stole into him like some rare and exquisite +new fragrance, and it came from her. . . . He saw her far above him, +stooping down from a higher level to reach him with her little hand. . . . +He knew a yearning to climb up to her--a sudden and searching yearning in +his soul. 'She's come back to fetch me,' ran across his mind before he +realised it; and suddenly his heart became so light that he thought he had +never felt such happiness before. Then, before he realised it, he heard +himself saying aloud--from his heart: + +'You do me an awful lot of good--really you do. I feel better and happier +when I'm with you. I feel--' He broke off, aware that he was talking +rather foolishly. Yet the boyish utterance was honest; she did not think +it foolish apparently. For she replied at once, and without a sign of +lightness: + +'Do I? Then I mustn't leave you, Tom!' + +'Never!' he exclaimed impetuously. + +'Until I've saved you.' And this time she did not laugh. + +She was still looking away from him across the water, and the tone was +quiet and unaccented. But the words rang like a clarion in his mind. +He turned; she turned too: their eyes met in a brief but penetrating gaze. +And for an instant he caught an expression that frightened him, though he +could not understand its meaning. Her beauty struck him like a sheet of +fire--all over. He saw gold about her like the soft fire of the southern +stars. With any other woman, at any other time, he would--but the thought +utterly denied itself before it was half completed even. It sank back as +though ashamed. There was something in her that made it ugly, out of +rhythm, undesirable, and undesired. She would not respond--she would not +understand. + +In its place another blazed up with that strange, big yearning at the back +of it, and though he gazed at her as a man gazes at a woman he needs and +asks for, her quiet eyes did not lower or turn aside. The cheaper feeling +'I'm not worthy of you,' took in his case a stronger form: 'I'll be +better, bigger, for you.' And then, so gently it might have been a +mother's action, she put her hand on his with firm pressure, and left it +lying there a moment before she withdrew it again. Her long white glove, +still fastened about the wrist, was flung back so that it left the palm +and fingers bare, and the touch of the soft skin upon his own was +marvellous; yet he did not attempt to seize it, he made no movement in +return. He kept control of himself in a way he did not understand. +He just sat and looked into her face. There was an entire absence of +response from her--in one sense. Something poured from her eyes into his +very soul, but something beautiful, uplifting. This new yearning emotion +rose through him like a wave, bearing him upwards. . . . At the same time +he was vaguely aware of a lack as well . . . of something incomplete and +unawakened. . . . + +'Thank you--for saying that,' he was murmuring; 'I shall never forget it,'; +and though the suppressed passion changed the tone and made it tremble +even, he held himself as rigid as a statue. It was she who moved. +She leaned nearer to him. Like a flower the wind bends on its graceful +stalk, her face floated very softly against his own. She kissed him. +It was all very swift and sudden. But, though exquisite, it was not a +woman's kiss. . . . The same instant she was sitting straight again, +gazing across the blue lake below her. + +'You're still a boy,' she said, with a little innocent laugh, 'still a +wonderful, big boy.' + +'Your boy,' he returned. 'I always have been.' + +There was deep, deep joy in his heart, it lifted him above the world--with +her. Yet with the joy there was this faint touch of disappointment too. + +'But, I say--isn't it awfully strange?' he went on, words failing him +absurdly. 'It's very wonderful, this friendship. It's so natural.' +Then he began to flush and stammer. + +In an even tone of voice she answered: 'It's wonderful, Tom, but it's not +strange.' And again he was vaguely aware that something which might +have made her words yet more convincing was not there. + +'But I've got that curious feeling--I could swear it's all happened +before.' He moved closer as he spoke; her dress was actually against his +coat, but he could not touch her. Something made it impossible, wrong, +a false, even a petty thing. It would have taken away the kiss. +'Have _you_?' he asked abruptly, with an intensity that seemed to startle +her, 'have _you_ got that feeling of familiarity too?' + +And for a moment in the middle of their talk they both, for some reason, +grew very thoughtful. . . . + +'It had to be--perhaps,' she answered simply a little later. 'We are both +real, so I suppose--yes, it _has_ to be.' + +There was the definite feeling that both spoke of a bigger thing that +neither quite understood. Their eyes searched, but their hearts searched +too. There was a gap in her that somehow must be filled, Tom felt. . . . +They stared long at one another. He was close upon the missing thing-- +when suddenly she withdrew her eyes. And with that, as though a wave had +swept them together and passed on, the conversation abruptly changed its +key. They fell to talking of other things. The man in him was again +aware of disappointment. + +The change was quite natural, nothing forced or awkward about it. +The significance had gone its way, but the results remained. They were in +the 'sea' together. It 'had to be.' As from the beginning of the world +they belonged to one another, each for the other--real. There was nothing +about it of a text-book 'love affair,' absolutely nothing. Deeper far +than a passional relationship, guiltless of any fruit of mere propinquity, +the foundations of the sudden intimacy were as ancient as immovable. +The inevitable touch lay in it. And Tom knew this partly confirmed, at +any rate, by the emotion in him when she said 'my boy,' for the term woke +no annoyance, conveyed no lightness. Yet there was a flavour of +disappointment in it somewhere--something of necessary value that he +missed in her. . . . To a man in love it must have sounded superior, +contemptuous: whereas to him it sounded merely true. He was her boy. +This mother-touch was in her. To care, to cherish, somehow even to +rescue, she had come to find him out--again. She had come _back_. . . . +It was thus, at first, he felt it. From somewhere above, beyond the place +where he now stood in life, she had 'come back, come down, to fetch him.' +She was further on than he was. He longed to stand beside her. Until he +did so . . . this gap in her must prevent absolute union. On both sides +it was not entirely natural as yet. . . . Thought grew confused in him. + +And, though he could not understand, he accepted it as inevitable. +The joy, moreover, was so urgent and uprising, that it smothered a +delicate whisper that yet came with it--that the process involved also-- +pain. Though aware, from time to time, of this vague uneasiness, he +easily brushed it aside. It was the merest gossamer-thread of warning +that with each recurrent appearance became more tenuous, until finally it +ceased to make its presence felt at all. . . . + +In the entire affair of this sudden intercourse he felt the Wave, yet the +Wave, though steadily rising, ceased to make its presence too consciously +known; the Whiff, the Sound, the Eyes seemed equally forgotten: that is, +he did not realise them. He was living now, and introspection was a waste +of time, living too intensely to reflect or analyse. He felt swept +onwards upon a tide that was greater than he could manage, for instead of +swimming consciously, he was borne and carried with it. There was +certainly no attempt to stem. Life was rising. It rushed him forwards +too deliciously to think. . . . + +He began asking himself the old eternal question: 'Do I love? Am I in +love--at last, then?' . . . Some time passed, however, before he realised +that he loved, and it was in a sudden, curious way that this realisation +came. Two little words conveyed the truth--some days later, as they were +at tea on the verandah of her hotel, watching the sunset behind the blue +line of the Jura Mountains. He had been talking about himself, his +engineering prospects--rather proudly--his partnership and the letter he +expected daily from Sir William. 'I hope it will be Assouan,' he said, +'I've never been in Egypt. I'm awfully keen to see it.' She said she +hoped so too. She knew Egypt well: it enchanted, even enthralled her: +'familiar as though I'd lived there all my life. A change comes over me, +I become a different person--and a much older one; not physically,' she +explained with a curious shy gaze at him, 'but in the sense that I feel a +longer pedigree behind me.' She gave the little laugh that so often +accompanied her significant remarks. 'I always think of the Nile as the +'stream' where I see the floating faces.' + +They went on chatting for some minutes about it. Tom asked if she had met +his cousin out there; yes, she remembered vaguely a Mr. Winslowe coming to +tea on her _dahabieh_ once, but it was only when he described Tony more +closely that she recalled him positively. 'He interested me,' she said +then: 'he talked wildly, but rather picturesquely, about what he called +the 'spiral movement of life,' or something.' 'He goes after birds,' Tom +mentioned. 'Of course,' she replied, 'I remember distinctly now. It was +something about the flight of birds that introduced the spiral part of it. +He had a good deal in him, that man,' she added, 'but he hid it behind a +lot of nonsense--almost purposely, I felt.' + +'That's Tony all over,' Tom assented, 'but he's a rare good sort and I'm +awfully fond of him. He's 'real' in our sense too, I think.' + +She said then very slowly, as though her thoughts were far away in Egypt +at the moment: 'Yes, I think he is. I've seen _his_ face too.' + +'Floating down, you mean--or on the bank?' + +'Floating,' she answered. 'I'm sure I have.' + +Tom laughed happily. 'Then you've got him to rescue too,' he said. +'But, remember, if we're both drowning, I come first.' + +She looked into his face and smiled her answer, touching his fingers with +her hand. And again it was not a woman's touch. + +'He was in Warsaw, too, a few weeks ago,' Tom went on, 'so we were all +three there together. Rather odd, you know. He was ski-ing with me in +the Carpathians,'; and he described their meeting at Zakopane after the +long interval since boyhood. 'He told me about you in Egypt, too, now I +come to think of it. He mentioned the _dahabieh_, but called you a +Russian--yes, I remember now,--and a Russian Princess into the bargain. +Evidently you made less impression on Tony than----' + +It was then he stopped as though he had been struck. The idle +conversation changed. He heard her interrupting words from a curious +distance. They fell like particles of ice upon his heart. + +'Polish, of course, not Russian,' she mentioned casually, 'but the rest is +right, though I never use the title. My husband, in his own country, is a +Prince, you see.' + +Something reeled in him, then instantly righted itself. For a moment he +felt as though the freedom of their intercourse had received a shock that +blighted it. The words, 'my husband,' struck chill and ominous into his +heart. The recovery, however,--almost simultaneous--showed him that both +the freedom and the intercourse were right and unashamed. She gave him +nothing that belonged to any other: she was loyal and true to that other +as she was loyal and true to himself. Their relationship was high above +mere passional intrigue; it could exist--in the way she knew it, felt it-- +side by side with that other one, before that other one's very eyes, if +need be. . . . He saw it true: he saw it innocent as daylight. . . . +For what he felt was somehow this: the woman in her was not his, but more +than that--it was not any one's. It still lay dormant. . . . + +If there was a momentary confusion in his own mind, there was none, he +felt positive, in hers. The two words that struck him such a blow, she +uttered as lightly, innocently, as the rest of the talk between them. +Indeed, had that other--even in thought Tom preferred the paraphrase--been +present, she would have introduced them to each other then and there. +He heard her saying the little phrases even: 'My husband,' and, 'This is +Tom Kelverdon whom I've loved since childhood.' + +Nothing brought more home to him the high innocence, the purity and +sweetness of this woman than the reflections that flung after one another +in his mind as he realised that his hope of her being a widow was not +justified, and at the same moment that he desired exclusive possession of +her--that he was definitely in love. + +That she was unaware of any discovery, even if she divined the storm in +him at all, was clear from the way she went on speaking. For, while all +this flashed through his mind, she added quietly: 'He is in Warsaw now. +He--lives there. I go to him for part of every year.' To which Tom heard +his voice reply something as natural and commonplace as 'Yes--I see.' + +Of the hundred pregnant questions that presented themselves, he did not +ask a single one: not that he lacked the courage so much as that he felt +the right was--not yet--his. Moreover, behind her quiet words he divined +a tragedy. The suffering that had become sweetness in her face was half +explained, but the full revelation of it belonged to 'that other' and to +herself alone. It had been their secret, he remembered, for at least +fifteen years. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Yet, knowing himself in love, he was able to set his house in order. +Confusion disappeared. With the method and thoroughness of his character +he looked things in the face and put them where they belonged. +Even to wake up to an untidy room was an affliction. He might arrive in a +hotel at midnight, but he could not sleep until his trunks were empty and +everything in its place. In such outer details the intensity of his +nature showed itself: it was the intensity, indeed, that compelled the +orderliness. + +And the morning after this conversation, he woke up to an ordered mind-- +thoughts and emotions in their proper places where he could see and lay +his hand upon them. The strength and weakness of his temperament betrayed +themselves plainly here, for the security that pedantic order brought +precluded the perspective of a larger vision. This careful labelling +enclosed him within somewhat rigid fences. To insist upon this precise +ticketing had its perilous corollary; the entire view--perspective, +proportion, vision--was lost sight of. + +'I'm in love: she's beautiful, body, mind and soul. She's high above me, +but I'll climb up to where she is.' This was his morning thought, and the +thought that accompanied him all day long and every day until the moment +came to separate again. . . . 'She's a married woman, but her husband has +no claim on her.' Somehow he was positive of that; the husband had +forfeited all claim to her; details he did not know; but she was free; she +did no wrong. + +In imagination he furnished plausible details from sensational experiences +life had shown him. These may have been right or wrong; possibly the +husband had ill-treated, then deserted her; they were separated possibly, +though--she had told him this--there were no children to complicate the +situation. He made his guesses. . . . There was a duty, however, that +she would not, did not neglect: in fulfilment of its claim she went to +Warsaw every year. What it was, of course, he did not know; but this +thought and the emotions caused by it, he put away into their proper +places; he asked no questions of her; the matter did not concern him +really. The shock experienced the day before was the shock of realising +that--he loved. Those two significant words had suddenly shown it to him. +The order of his life was changed. 'She is essential to me; I am +essential to her.' But 'She's all the world to me,' involved equally +'I'm all the world to her.' The sense of his own importance was +enormously increased. The Wave surged upwards with a sudden leap. . . . + +There was one thing lacking in this love, perhaps, though he hardly +noticed it--the element of surprise. Ever since childhood he had +suspected this would happen. The love was predestined, and in so far +seemed a deliberate affair, pedestrian, almost calm. This sense of the +inevitable robbed it of that amazing unearthly glamour which steals upon +those who love for the first time, taking them deliciously by surprise. +He saw her beautiful, and probably she was, but her beauty was familiar to +him. He had come up with the childhood dream, and in coming up with it he +recognised it. It seemed thus somewhat. . . . But her mind and soul were +beautiful too, only these were more beautiful than he had dreamed. +In that lay surprise and wonder too. There was genuine magic here, +discovery and exhilarating novelty. He had not caught up with _that_. +The love as a whole, however, was expected, natural. It was inevitable. +The familiarity alone remained strange, a flavour of the uncanny about it +almost--yet certainly real. + +And these things also he tried to face and label, though with less +success. To bring order into them was beyond his powers. She had +outstripped him somehow in her soul, but had come back to fetch him--also +to get something for herself she lacked. The rest was oddly familiar: it +had happened before. It was about to happen now again, but on a higher +level; only before it could happen completely he must overtake her. +The spiral idea lay in it somewhere. But the Wave contained and drove +it. . . . His mind was not supple; analogy, that spiritual solvent, did +not help him. Yet the fact remained that he somehow visualised the thing +in picture form; a rising wave bore them charging up the spiral curve to a +point whence they both looked down upon a passage they had made before. +She was always a little in front of him, beyond him. But when the Wave +finally broke they would rush together--become one . . . there would be +pain, but joy would follow. + +And during all their subsequent happy days of companionship this one thing +alone marred his supreme contentment--this sense of elusiveness, that +while he held her she yet slipped between his fingers and escaped. +He loved; but whereas to most men love brings a feeling of finality and +rest, as of a search divinely ended, to Tom came the feeling that his +search was merely resumed, or, indeed, had only just begun. He had not +come into full possession of this woman: he had only found her. . . . +She was deep; her deceptive simplicity hid surprises from him; much--and +it was the greater part--he could not understand. Only when he came up +with that would possession be complete. Not that she said or did a single +thing that suggested this; she was not elusive of set purpose; she was +entirely guiltless of any desire to hold back a fraction of herself, and +to conceal was as foreign to her nature as to play with him; but that +some part of her hung high above his reach, and that he, knowing this, +admitted a subtle pain behind the joy. 'I can't get at her--quite,' he +put it to himself. 'Some part of her is not mine yet--doesn't belong to +me.' + +He thought chiefly, that is, of his own possible disabilities rather than +of hers. + +'I often wonder why we've come together like this,' he said once, as they +lay in the shade of a larch wood above Corvaux and looked towards the +snowy summits of Savoy. 'What brought us together, I mean? There's +something mysterious about it to me----' + +'God,' she said quietly. 'You needed me. You've been lonely. But you'll +never be lonely again.' + +Her introduction of the Deity into a conversation did not displease. +Fate, or any similar word, could have taken its place; she merely conveyed +her sense that their coming together was right and inevitable. +Moreover, now that she said it, he recognised the fact of loneliness--that +he always had been lonely, but that it was no longer possible. He felt +like a boy and spoke like a boy. She had come to look after, care for +him. She asked nothing for herself. The thought gave him a sharp and +sudden pang. + +'But my love means a lot to you, doesn't it?' he asked tenderly. +'I mean, you need me too?' + +'Everything, Tom,' she told him softly. He was conscious of the mother in +her, as though the mother overshadowed the woman. But while he loved it, +the tinge of resentment still remained. + +'You couldn't do without me, could you?' He took the hand she placed upon +his knee and looked up into her quiet eyes. 'You'd be lonely too if--I +went?' + +For a moment she gazed down at him and did not answer; he was aware of +both the pain and sweetness in her face; an interval of thoughtfulness +again descended on them both: then a great tenderness came welling up into +her eyes as she answered slowly: 'You couldn't go, Tom. You couldn't +leave me ever.' + +Her hand was on his shoulder, almost about his neck as she said it, and he +came in closer, and before he knew what he was doing his face was buried +in her lap. Her hand stroked his hair. Twenty-five years dropped from +him--he was a child again, a little boy, and she, in some divine, +half-impersonal sense he could not understand, was mothering him. +No foolish feeling of shame came with it; the mood was too sudden for +analysis, it passed away swiftly too; but he knew, for a brief second, all +the sensations of a restless and dissatisfied boy who needed above all +else--comfort: the comfort that only an inexhaustible mother-love could +give. . . . And this love poured from her in a flood. Till now he had +never known it, nor known the need of it. And because it had been +curiously lacking he suddenly wondered how he had done without it. +A strange sense of tears rose in his heart. He felt pain and tragedy +somewhere. For there was another thing he wanted from her too. . . . +Through the sparkle of his joy peeped out that familiar, strange, rich +pain, but so swiftly he hardly recognised it. It withdrew again. +It vanished. + +'But _you_ couldn't leave me either, could you?' he asked, sitting erect +again. He made a movement as though to draw her head down upon his +shoulder in the protective way of a man who loves, but--he could not do +it. It was curious. She did nothing to prevent, only somehow the +position would be a false one. She did not need him in that way. He was +not yet big enough to protect. It was she who protected him. And when +she answered the same second, the familiar sentence flashed across his +mind again: 'She has come back to fetch me.' + +'I shall never, never leave you, Tom. We're together for always. I know +it absolutely.' The girl of seventeen, the unawakened woman who was +desired, the mother who thought not of herself,--all three spoke in those +quiet words; but with them, too, he was aware of this elusive other thing +he could not name. Perhaps her eyes conveyed it, perhaps the pain and +sweetness in the little face so close above his own. She was bending over +him. He looked up. And over his heart rushed again that intolerable +yearning--the yearning to stand where she stood, far, far beyond him, yet +with it the certainty that pain must attend the effort. Until that pain, +that effort were accomplished, she could not entirely belong to him. +He had to win her yet. Yet also he had to teach _her_ something. . . . +Meanwhile, in the act of protecting, mothering him she must use pain, as +to a learning child. Their love would gain completeness only thus. + +Yet in words he could not approach it; he knew not how to. + +'It's a strange relationship,' he stammered, concealing, as he thought, +the deep emotions that perplexed him. 'The world would misunderstand it +utterly.' She smiled, nodding her head. 'I wish----' he added, 'I mean +it comes to me sometimes--that you don't need me quite as I need you. +You're my whole life, you know--now.' + +'You're growing imaginative, Tom,' she teased him smilingly. +Then, catching the earnest expression in his face, she added: 'My life has +been very full, you see, and I've always had to stand alone. There's been +so much for me to do that I've had no time to feel loneliness perhaps.' + +'Rescuing the other floating faces!' + +A slight tinge of a new emotion slipped through his mind, something he had +never felt before, yet so faint he could not even recapture it, much less +wonder whether it were jealousy or envy. It rose from the depths; it +vanished into him again. . . . Besides, he saw that she was smiling; the +teasing mood that so often baffled him was upon her; he heard her give +that passing laugh that almost 'kept him guessing,' as the Americans say, +whether she was in play or earnest. + +'It's worth doing, anyhow--rescuing the floating faces,' she said: 'worth +living for.' And she half closed her eyes so that he saw her as a girl +again. He saw her as she had been even before he knew her, as he used to +see her in his dream. It was the dream-eyes that peered at him through +long, thick lashes. They looked down at him. He felt caught away to some +remote, strange place and time. He was aware of gold, of colour, of a +hotter blood, a fiercer sunlight. . . . + +And the sense of familiarity became suddenly very real; he knew what she +was going to say, how he would answer, why they had come together. It all +flashed near, yet still just beyond his reach. He almost understood. +They had been side by side like this before, not in this actual place, but +somewhere--somewhere that he knew intimately. Her eyes had looked down +into his own precisely so, long, long ago, yet at the same time strangely +near. There was a perfume, a little ghostly perfume--it was the Whiff. +It was gone instantly, but he had tasted it. . . . A veil drew up. . . . +He saw, he knew, he remembered--_almost_. . . . Another second and he +would capture the meaning of it all. Another moment and it would reveal +itself--then, suddenly, the whole sensation vanished. He had missed it by +the minutest fraction in the world, yet missed it utterly. It left him +confused and baffled. + +The veil was down again, and he was talking with Madame Jaretzka, the +Lettice Aylmer of his boyhood days. Such moments of the _deja-vu_ leave +bewilderment behind them, like the effect of sudden change of focus in the +eye; and with the bewilderment a sense of insecurity as well. + +'Yes,' he said half dreamily, 'and you've rescued a lot already, haven't +you?' as though he still followed in speech the direction of the vanished +emotion. + +'You know that, Tom?' she enquired, raising her eyelids, thus finally +restoring the normal. + +He stammered rather: 'I have the feeling--that you're always doing good to +some one somewhere. There's something,'--he searched for a word-- +'impersonal about you--almost.' And he knew the word was nearly right, +though found by chance. It included 'un-physical,' the word he did not +like to use. He did not want an angel's love; the spiritual, to him, rose +from the physical, and was not apart from it. He was not in heaven yet, +and had no wish to be. He was on earth; and everything of value--love, +above all--must spring from earth, or else remain incomplete, insecure, +ineffective even. + +And again a tiny dart of pain shot through him. Yet he was glad he said +it, for it was true. He liked to face what hurt him. To face it was to +get it over. . . . + +But she was laughing again gently to herself, though certainly not at him. +'What were you thinking about so long?' she asked. 'You've been silent +for several minutes and your thoughts were far away.' And as he did not +reply immediately, she went on: 'If you go to Assouan you mustn't fall +into reveries like that or you'll leave holes in the dam, or whatever your +engineering work is--_Tom_!' + +She spoke the name with a sudden emphasis that startled him. It was a +call. + +'Yes,' he said, looking up at her. He was emerging from a dream. + +'Come back to me. I don't like your going away in that strange way-- +forgetting me.' + +'Ah, I like that. Say it again,' he returned, a deeper note in his voice. + +'You _were_ away--weren't you?' + +'Perhaps,' he said slowly. 'I can't say quite. I was thinking of you, +wherever I was.' He went on, holding her eyes with a steady gaze: +'A curious feeling came over me like--like heat and light. You seemed so +familiar to me all of a sudden that I felt I had known you ages and ages. +I was trying to make out where--it was----' + +She dropped her eyelids again and peered at him, but no longer smiling. +There was a sterner expression in her face. The lips curved a moment in a +new strange way. The air seemed to waver an instant between them. +She peered down at him as through a mist. . . . + +'There--like that!' he exclaimed passionately. 'Only I wish you wouldn't. +There's something I don't like about it. It hurts,'--and the same minute +felt ashamed, as though he had said a foolish thing. It had come out in +spite of himself. + +'Then I won't, Tom--if you'll promise not to go away again. I was +thinking of Egypt for a second--I don't know why.' + +But he did not laugh with her; his face kept the graver expression still. + +'It changes you--rather oddly,' he said quietly, 'that lowering of the +eyelids. I can't say why exactly, but it makes you look----Eastern.' +Again he had said a foolish thing. A kind of spell seemed over him. + +'Irish eyes!' he heard her saying. 'They sometimes look like that, I'm +told. But you promise, don't you?' + +'Of course I promise,' he answered bluntly enough, because he meant it. +'I can never go away from you because,'--he turned and looked very hard at +her a moment--'because there's something in you I need in my very soul,' +he went on earnestly, 'yet that always escapes me. I can't get hold of-- +all of you.' + +And though she refused his very earnest mood, she answered with obvious +sincerity at once. 'That's as it should be, Tom. A man tires of a woman +the moment he gets to the end of her.' She gave her little laugh and +touched his hand. 'Perhaps that's what I'm meant to teach you. When you +know all of me----' + +'I shall never know all of you,' said Tom. + +'You never will,' she replied with meaning, 'for I don't even know it all +myself.' And as she said it, he thought he had never seen anything so +beautiful in all the world before, for the breeze caught her long gauzy +veil of blue and tossed it across her face so that the eyes seemed gazing +at him from a distance, but a distance that had height in it. He felt her +above him, beyond him, on this height, a height he must climb before he +could know complete possession. + +'By Jove!' he thought, 'isn't it rising just!' For the Wave was under +them tremendously. + + + +April meanwhile had slipped into May, and their daily companionship had +become the most natural thing in the world, when the telegram arrived that +threatened to interrupt the delightful intercourse. But it was not the +telegram Tom expected. Neither Greece nor Egypt claimed his talents yet, +for the contracts both at Assouan and Salonica were postponed until the +autumn, and the routine of a senior partner's life in London was to be his +immediate fate. He brought her the news at once: they discussed it +together in all its details and as intimately as though it affected their +joint lives similarly. His first thought was to run and talk it over with +her; hers, how the change might influence their intercourse, their present +and their future. Their relationship was now established in this solid, +natural way. He told her everything as a son might tell his mother: she +asked questions, counselled, made suggestions as a woman whose loving care +considered his welfare and his happiness before all else. + +However, it brought no threatened interruption after all--involved, +indeed, less of separation than if he had been called away as they +expected: for though he must go to London that same week, she would +shortly follow him. 'And if you go to Egypt in the autumn, Tom,'--she +smiled at the way they influenced the future nearer to the heart's +desire--'I may go with you. I could make my arrangements accordingly-- +take my holiday out there earlier instead of here as usual in the spring.' + +The days passed quickly. Her first duty was to return to Warsaw; she +would then follow him to London and help him with his flat. No man could +choose furniture and carpets and curtains properly. They discussed the +details with the enthusiasm of children: she would come up several times a +week from her bungalow in Kent and make sure that his wall-papers did not +clash with the general scheme. Brown was his colour, he told her, and +always had been. It was the dominant shade of her eyes as well. He made +her promise to stand in the rooms with her eyes opened very wide so that +there could be no mistake, and they laughed over the picture happily. + +She came to the train, and although he declared vehemently that he +disliked 'being seen off,' he was secretly delighted. 'One says such +silly things merely because one feels one must say something. And those +silly things remain in the memory out of all proportion to their value.' +But she insisted. 'Good-byes are always serious to me, Tom. One never +knows. I want to see you to the very last minute.' She had this way of +making him feel little things significant with Fate. But another little +thing also was in store for him. As the train moved slowly out he noticed +some letters in her hand; and one of them was addressed to Warsaw. +The name leaped up and stung him--Jaretzka. A spasm of pain shot through +him. She was leaving in the morning, he knew. . . . + +'Write to me from Warsaw,' he said. 'Take care! We're moving!' + +'I'll write every day, my dearest Tom, my boy. You won't forget me. +I shall see you in a fortnight.' + +He let go the little hand he held till the last possible minute. +The bells drowned her final words. She stood there waving her hand with +the unposted letters in them, till the station pillars intervened and hid +her from him. + +And this time no 'silly last things' had been said that could 'stay in the +memory out of all proportion to their value.' It was something he had +noticed on the envelope that stayed--not the husband's name, but a word in +the address, a peculiar Polish word he happened to know:--'Tworki'--the +name of the principal _maison de sante_ that stood just outside the city +of Warsaw. . . . + +Half an hour, perhaps an hour, he sat smoking in his narrow sleeping +compartment, thinking with a kind of intense confusion out of which no +order came. . . . At Pontarlier he had to get out for the Customs +formalities. It was midnight. The stars were bright. The keen spring +air from the wooded Jura Mountains had a curious effect, for he returned +to his carriage feeling sleepy, the throng of pictures drowned into +calmness by one master-thought that reduced their confusion into order. +He looked back over the past weeks and realised their intensity. +He had lived. There was a change in him, the change of growth, +development. He loved. There was now a woman who was his entire world, +essential to him. He was essential to her too. And the importance of +this ousted all lesser things, even the senior partnership. This was the +master-thought--that he now lived for her. He was 'real' even as she was +'real,' each to the other _real_. The Wave had lifted him to a level +never reached before. And it was rising still. . . . + +He fell asleep on this, to dream of a mighty stream that swept them +together irresistibly towards some climax that he never could quite see. +She floated near to save him. She floated down. Her little hands were +stretched. It was a gorgeous and stupendous dream--a dream of rising life +itself--rising till it would curve and break and fall, and the inevitable +thing would happen that would bring her finally into his hungry arms, +complete, mother and woman, a spiritual love securely founded on the sweet +and wholesome earth. . . . + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +During the brief separation of a fortnight Tom was too busy in London to +allow himself much reflection. Absence, once the first keen sense of loss +is over, is apt to bring reaction. The self makes an automatic effort to +regain the normal life it led before the new emotion dislocated the +long-accustomed routine. It tries to run back again along the line of +least resistance that habit has made smooth and easy. If the reaction +continues to assert its claim, the new emotion is proved thereby a +delusion. The test lies there. + +In Tom's case, however, the reaction was a feeble reminder merely that he +had once lived--without her. It took the form of regret for all the best +years of his life he had endured--how, he could not think--without this +tender, loving woman at his side. That is, he recognised that his love +was real and had changed his outlook fundamentally. He could never do +without her from this moment onwards. She equally needed him. He would +never leave her. . . . Further than that, for the present, he did not +allow himself to think. Having divined something of her tragedy, he +accepted the definite limitations. Speculations concerning another he +looked on as beside the point. As far as possible he denied himself the +indulgence in them. But another thing he felt as well--the right to claim +her, whether he exercised that right or not. + +Concerning his relationship with her, however, he did not deny +speculation, though somehow this time the perspective was too vast for him +to manage quite. There was a strange distance in it: he lost himself in +remoteness. In either direction it ran into mists that were interminable, +as though veils and curtains lifted endlessly, melting into shadowy +reaches beyond that baffled all enquiry. The horizons of his life had +grown so huge. This woman had introduced him to a scale of living that he +could only gaze at with wondering amazement and delight, too large as yet +to conform to the order that his nature sought. He could not properly +find himself. + +'It feels almost as if I've loved her before like this--yet somehow not +enough. That's what I've got to learn,' was the kind of thought that came +to him, at odd moments only. The situation seemed so curiously familiar, +yet only half familiar. They were certainly made for one another, and the +tie between them had this deep touch of the inevitable about it that +refused to go. That notion of the soul's advance in a spiral cropped up +in his mind again. He saw her both coming nearer and retreating--as a +moving figure against high light leaves the spectator uncertain whether it +is advancing or retiring. He would have liked to talk to Tony all about +it, for Tony would be sympathetic. He wanted a confidant and turned +instinctively to his cousin. . . . _She_ already understood more than he +did, though perhaps not consciously, and therein lay the secret of her odd +elusiveness. Yet, in another sense, his possession was incomplete because +a part of her still lay unawakened. 'I must love her more and more and +more,' he told himself. But, at the same time, he took it for granted +that he was indispensable to her, as she was to him. + +These flashes of perception, deeper than anything he had experienced in +life hitherto, came occasionally while he waited in London for her return; +and though puzzled--his straightforward nature disliked all mystery--he +noted them with uncommon interest. Nothing, however, could prevent the +rise upwards of the Wave that bore the situation on its breast. +The affair swept him onwards; it was not to be checked or hindered. +He resigned direction to its elemental tide. + +The faint uneasiness, also, recurred from time to time, especially now +that he was alone again. He attributed it to the unsatisfied desire in +his heart, the knowledge that as yet he had no exclusive possession, and +did not really own her; the sense of insecurity unsettled him, the feeling +that she was open to capture by any one--'who understands and appreciates +her better than I do,' was the way he phrased it sometimes. He was +troubled and uneasy because so much of her lay unresponsive to his touch-- +not needing him. While he was climbing up to reach her, another, with a +stronger claim, might step in--step back--and seize her. + +It made him smile a little even while he thought of it, for her truth and +constancy were beyond all question. And then, suddenly, he traced the +uneasiness to its source. There _was_ 'another' who had first claim upon +her--who had it once, at any rate. Though at present some cloud obscured +and negatived that claim, the cloud might lift, the situation change, the +claim become paramount again, as once it surely had been paramount. +And, disquieting though the possibility was, Tom was pleased with +himself--he was so naive and simple towards life--for having discerned it +clearly. He recognised the risk and thus felt half prepared in +advance. . . . In another way it satisfied him too. With this dream-like +suggestion that it all had happened before, he had always felt that a +further detail was lacking to complete the scene he half remembered. +Something, as yet, was wanting. And this item needed to make the strange +repetition of the scene fulfil itself seemed, precisely, the presence of +'another.' + +Their intercourse, meanwhile, proved beyond words delightful during the +following weeks, when, after her return from Warsaw, she kept her word and +helped him in the prosaic business of furnishing his flat and settling +down, as in a hundred other details of his daily life as well. All that +they did and said together confirmed their dear relationship and +established it beyond reproach. There was no question of anything false, +illicit, requiring concealment: nothing to hide and no one to evade. +In their own minds their innocence was so sure, indeed, that it was not +once alluded to between them. It was impossible to look at her and doubt: +nor could the most cynical suspect Tom Kelverdon of an undesirable +intrigue with the wife of another man. His acquaintance, moreover, were +not of the kind that harboured the usual 'worldly' thoughts; he went +little into society, whereas the comparatively few Londoners she knew were +almost entirely--he discovered it by degrees--people whose welfare in one +way or another she had earnestly at heart. It was a marvel to him, +indeed, how she never wearied of helping ungrateful folk, for the wish to +be of service seemed ingrained in her. Her first thought on making new +acquaintances was always what she could do for them, not with money +necessarily, but by 'seeing' them in their proper _milieu_ and planning to +bring about the conditions they needed in order to realise themselves +fully. Failure, discontent, unhappiness were due to wrong conditions more +than to radical fault in the people themselves; once they 'found +themselves,' the rest would follow. It amounted to a genius in her. + +It seemed the artist instinct that sought this unselfish end rather than +any religious tendency. She felt it ugly to see people at issue with +their surroundings. Her religion was humanity, and had no dogmas. +Even Tony Winslowe, now in England again, came in for his share of this +sweet fashioning energy in her; much to his own bewilderment and to Tom's +amusement. . . . + +The summer passed towards early autumn and London emptied, but it made no +difference to them. Tom had urgent work to do and was absorbed in it, +never forgetting for a moment that he was now a Partner in the Firm. +He spent frequent week-ends at Madame Jaretzka's Kentish bungalow, where +she had for companion at the moment an Irish cousin who, as Tom easily +guessed, was also a dependant. This cousin had been invited with her +child, Molly, for the summer holidays, and these summer holidays had run +on into three months at least. + +A tall, thin, angular woman, of uncertain manners and capricious +temperament, Mrs. Haughstone had perhaps lived so long upon another's +bounty that she had come to take her good fortune for granted, and +permitted herself freely two cardinal indulgences--grumbling and +jealousy. Having married unwisely, in order to better herself rather than +because she loved, her shiftless husband had disgraced himself with an +adventuress governess, leaving her with three children and something below +150 pounds a year. Madame Jaretzka had stepped in to bring them together +again: she provided schooling abroad, holidays, doctors, clothes, and all +she could devise by way of helping them 'find themselves' again, and so +turning their broken lives to good account. With the husband, sly, lazy, +devoid of both pride and honesty, she could do little, and she was quite +aware that he and his wife put their heads together to increase the flow +of 'necessaries' she generously supplied. + +It was a sordid, commonplace story, sordidly treated by the soured and +vindictive wife, whose eventual aims upon her saviour's purse were too +obvious to be mistaken. Even Tom perceived the fact without delay. +He also perceived, behind the flattering tongue, an acid and suspicious +jealousy that regarded new friends with ill-disguised alarm. +Mrs. Haughstone thought of herself and her children before all else. +She mistook the impersonal attitude of her benefactress for credulous +weakness. A new friend was hostile to her shameless ambitions and +disliked accordingly. . . . Tom scented an enemy the first time he met +her. To him she expressed her disapproval of Tony, and _vice versa_, +while to her hostess she professed she liked them both--'but': the 'but' +implying that men were selfish and ambitious creatures who thought only of +their own advantage. + +His country visits, therefore, were not made happier by the presence in +the cottage of this woman and her child, but the manner in which the +benefactress met the situation justified the respect he had felt first +months before. It increased his love and admiration. Madame Jaretzka +behaved unusually. That she grasped the position there could be no doubt, +but her manner of dealing with it was unique. For when Mrs. Haughstone +grumbled, Madame Jaretzka gave her more, and when Mrs. Haughstone yielded +to jealousy, Madame Jaretzka smiled and said no word. She won her +victories with further generosity. + +'Another face that has to be rescued?' Tom permitted himself to say once, +after an unfortunate scene in which his hostess had been subtly accused of +favouritism to another child in the house. He could hardly suppress the +annoyance and impatience that he felt. + +'Oh, I never thought about it in that way,' she answered with her little +laugh, quite unruffled by what had happened. 'The best way is to help +them to--see themselves. Then they try to cure themselves.' She laughed +again, as though she had said a childish thing instead of something +distinctly wise. 'I can't _cure_ them,' she added. 'I can only help.' + +Tom looked at her. 'Help others to see themselves--as they are,' +he repeated slowly. 'So that's how you do it, is it?' He reflected a +moment. 'That's being impersonal. You rouse no opposition that way. +It's good.' + +'Is it?' she replied, as though guiltless of any conscious plan. +'It seems the natural thing to do.' Then, as he was evidently preparing +for discussion in his honest and laborious way, she stopped him with a +look, smiling, sighing, and holding up her little finger warningly. +He understood. Analysis and argument she avoided always; they obscured +the essential thing; here was the intuitive method of grasping the +solution the instant the problem was stated. Detailed examination +exhausted her merely. And Tom obeyed that look, that threatening finger. +In little things he invariably yielded, while in big things he remained +firm, even obstinate, though without realising it. + +Her head inclined gracefully, acknowledging her victory. 'That's one +reason I love you, Tom,' she told him as reward; 'you're a boy on the +surface and a man inside.' + +Tom saw beauty flash about her as she said it; emotion rose through him in +a sudden tumult; he would have seized her, kissed her, crumpled her little +self against his heart and held her there, but for the tantalising truth +that the thing he wanted would have escaped him in the very act. +The loveliness he yearned for, craved, was not open to physical attack; it +was a loveliness of the spirit, a bird, a star, a wild flower on some high +pinnacle near the snow: to obtain it he must climb to where it soared +above the earth--rise up to her. + +He laughed and took her little finger in both hands. He felt awkward, big +and clumsy, a giant trying to catch an elusive butterfly. 'You turn us +all round _that_!' he declared. 'You turn her,' nodding towards the door, +'and me,' kissing the tip quickly, 'and Tony too. Only she and Tony don't +know you twiddle them--and I do.' + +She let him kiss her hand, but when he drew nearer, trying to set his lips +upon the arm her summer dress left bare, she put up her face instead and +kissed him lightly on the cheek. Her free hand made a caressing gesture +across his neck and shoulder, as she stood on tiptoe to reach him. +The mother in her, not the woman, caressed him dearly. It was wonderful; +but the surge of mingled emotions clouded something in his brain, and a +string of words came tumbling out in a fire of joy and pain. 'You're a +queen and a conqueror,' he said, longing to seize her, yet holding himself +back strongly. 'Somewhere I'm your helpless slave, but somewhere I'm your +master.' The protective sense came up in him. 'It's too delicious! +I'm in a dream! Lettice,' he whispered, 'it's my Wave! The Wave is behind +it! It's behind us both!' + +For an instant she half closed her eyelids in the way she knew both +pleased and frightened him. Invariably this gave her the advantage. +He felt her above him when she looked like this, he kneeling with hands +outstretched, yearning to be raised to where she stood. 'You're a baby, a +poet, and a man rolled into a dear big boy,' she said quickly, moving +towards the door away from him. 'And now I must go and get my garden hat, +for it's time to meet Tony and Moyra at the train, and as you have so much +surplus energy to-day we'll walk through the woods instead of going in the +motor.' She waved her hand and vanished behind the door. He heard the +patter of her feet as she ran upstairs. + +He went to the open window, lit his pipe, leaned out with his head among +the climbing roses, and thought of many things. Great joy was in him, but +behind it, far down where he could not reach it quite, hid a gnawing pain +that was obscure uneasiness. Pictures came floating across his mind, +rising and falling, sometimes rushing hurriedly; he saw things and faces +mixed, his own and hers chief among them. Her little finger pointed to a +star. He sighed, he wondered, he half prayed. Would he ever understand, +rise to her level, possess her for his very own? She seemed so far beyond +him. It was only part of her he touched. + +The faces fluttered and looked into his own, one among them an imagined +face--the husband's. It was a face with light blue eyes, moreover. +He saw Tony's too, frank, laughing, irresponsible, and the face of the +Irish girl who was Tony's latest passion. Tony could settle down to no +one for long. Tom remembered suddenly his remark at Zakopane months ago, +that the bee never sipped the last drop of honey from the flower. . . . +His thoughts tumbled and flew in many directions, yet all at once. +Life seemed very full and marvellous; it had never seemed so intense +before; it bore him onwards, upwards, forwards, with a rush beyond all +possible control and guidance. He acknowledged a rather delicious sense +of helplessness. The Wave was everywhere behind and under him. It was +sweeping him along. + +Then thought returned to Tony and the Irish girl who were coming down for +the Sunday, and he smiled to himself as he recalled his cousin's ardent +admiration at a theatre party a few nights ago in town. Tony had +something that naturally attracted women, dominating them too easily. +Was he heartless a little in the business? Would he never, like Tom, +settle down with one? His thought passed to the latest capture: there +were signs, indeed, that here Tony was caught at last. + +For Tom, Tony, and Madame Jaretzka formed an understanding trio, and there +were few expeditions, town or country, of which the lively bird-enthusiast +did not form an active member. Tony took it all very lightly, unaware of +any serious intention behind the pleasant invitations. Tom was amused by +it. He looked forward to his cousin's visit now. He was feeling the need +of a confidant, and Tony might so admirably fill the role. It was +curious, a little: Tom often felt that he wanted to confide in Tony, yet +somehow or other the confidences were never actually made. There was +something in Tony that invited that free, purging confidence which is a +need of every human being. It was so easy to tell things, difficult +things, to this careless, sympathetic being; yet Tom never passed the +frontier into definite revelation. At the last moment he invariably held +back. + +Thought passed to his hostess, already manoeuvring to help Tony 'find +himself.' It amused Tom, even while he gave his willing assistance; for +Tony was of evasive, slippery material, like a fluid that, pressed in one +given direction, resists and runs away into several others. 'He scatters +himself too much,' she remarked, 'and it's a pity; there's waste.' +Tom laughed, thinking of his episodic love affairs. 'I didn't mean that,' +she added, smiling with him; 'I meant generally. He's full of talent and +knowledge. His power over women is natural, but it comes of mere +brilliance. If all that were concentrated instead, he would do something +real; he might be extraordinarily effective in life. Yes, Tom, I mean +it.' But Tom, though he smiled, agreed with her, feeling rather flattered +that she liked his cousin. + +'But he breaks too many hearts,' he said lightly, thinking of his last +conquest, and then added, hardly knowing why he said it, 'By the by, did +you ever notice his hands?' + +The way she quickly looked up at him proved that she divined his meaning. +But the glance had a flash of something that escaped him. + +'You're very observant, Tommy,' she said evasively. It seemed impossible +for her to say a disparaging thing of anybody. She invariably picked out +and emphasised the best. 'You don't admire them?' + +'Do _you_, Lettice?' + +She paused for an imperceptible second, then smiled. 'I rather like big +rough hands in a man--perhaps,' she said without any particular interest, +'though--in a way--they frighten me sometimes. Tony's are ugly, but +there's power in them.' And she placed her own small gloved hand upon his +arm. 'He's rather irresponsible, I know,' she added gently, 'but he'll +grow out of that in time. He's beginning to improve already.' + +'You see, he's got no mother,' Tom observed. + +'No wife either--yet,' she added with a laugh. + +'Or work,' put in Tom, with a touch of self-praise, and thinking of his +own position in the world. Her interest in Tony had the effect of making +himself seem worthier, more important. This fine woman, who judged people +from so high a standpoint, had picked out--himself! He had an absurd yet +delightful feeling as though Tony was their child, and the perfectly +natural way she took him under her mothering wing stirred an admiring pity +in him. + +Then as they walked together through the fragrant pine-woods to the +station, an incident at a recent theatre party rose before his memory. +Tony and his Amanda had been with them. The incident in question had left +a singular impression on his mind, though why it emerged now, as they +wandered through the quiet wood, he could not tell. It had occurred a +week or two ago. He now saw it again--in a tenth of the time it takes to +tell. + + + +The scene was laid in ancient Egypt, and while the play was commonplace, +the elaborate production--scenery, dresses, atmosphere--was good. +But Tom, unable to feel interest in the trivial and badly acted story, had +felt interest in another thing he could not name. There was a subtle +charm, a delicate glamour about it as of immensely old romance, but some +lost romance of very far away. Yet, whether this charm was due to the +stage effects or to themselves, sitting there in the stalls together, +escaped him. For in some singular way the party, his hostess certainly, +seemed to interpenetrate the play itself. She, above all, and Tony +vaguely, seemed inseparable from what he gazed at, heard, and felt. + +Continually he caught himself thinking how delightful it was to know +himself next to Madame Jaretzka, so close that he shared her atmosphere, +her perfume, touched her even; that their minds were engaged intimately +together watching the same scene; and also, that on her other side, sat +Tony, affectionate, whimsical, fascinating Tony, whom they were trying to +help 'find himself'; and that he, again, was next to a girl he liked. +The harmonious feeling of the four was pleasurable to Tom. He felt +himself, moreover, an important and indispensable item in its composition. +It was vague; he did not attempt to analyse it as self-flattery, as +vanity, as pride--he was aware, merely, that he felt very pleased with +himself and so with everybody else. It was gratifying to sit at the head +of the group; everybody could see how beautiful _she_ was; the dream of +exclusive ownership stole over him more definitely than ever before. +'She's chosen _me_! She needs me--a woman like that!' + +The audience, the lights, the colour, the music influenced him. It seemed +he caught something from the crude human passion that was being ranted on +the stage and transferred it unconsciously into his relations with the +party he belonged to, but, above all, into his relationship with her--and +with another. But he refused to let his mind dwell upon that other. +He found himself thinking instead of the divine tenderness that was in +her, yet at the same time of her elusiveness and the curious pain it +caused him. Whence came, he wondered, the sweet and cruel flavour? +It seemed like a memory of something suffered long ago, the sweetness in +it true and exquisite, the cruelty an error on his own part somehow. +The old hint of uneasiness, the strange, rich pain he had known in +boyhood, stole faintly over him; its first and immediate effect +heightening the sense of dim, old-world romance already present. . . . + +And he had turned cautiously to look at her. She was leaning forward a +little as though the play absorbed her, and the attitude startled him. +It caused him almost a definite shock. The face had pain in it. + +She was not aware that he stared; her attention was fastened upon the +stage; but the eyes were fixed, the little mouth was fixed as well, the +lips compressed; and all her features wore this expression of curious +pain. There was sternness in them, something almost hard. He watched her +for some minutes, surprised and fascinated. It came over him that he +almost knew what that was in her mind. Another moment and he would +discover it--when, past her profile, he caught his cousin's eyes peering +across at him. Tony had felt the direction of his glance and had looked +round: and Tony--mischievously--winked! + +The spell was broken. In that instant, however, through the heated air of +the crowded stalls already weighted with sickly artificial perfumes, there +reached him faintly, as from very far away, another and a subtler perfume, +something of elusive fragrance in it. It was very poignant, instinct as +with forgotten associations. It was the Whiff. It came, it went; but it +was unmistakable. And he connected it, as by some instantaneous +certitude, with the play--with Egypt. + +'What do you think of it, Lettice?' he had whispered, nodding towards the +stage. + +She turned with a start. She came back. The expression of pain flashed +instantly away. She had evidently not been thinking of the performance. +'It's not much, Tom, is it? But I like the scenery. It makes me feel +strange somewhere--the change that comes over me in Egypt. We'll be there +together--some day.' She leaned over with her lips against his ear. + +And there was significance in the commonplace words, he thought--a +significance her whisper did not realise, and certainly did not intend. + +'All three of us,' he rejoined before he knew what he meant exactly. + +And she nodded hurriedly. Either she agreed, or else she had not heard +him. He did not insist, he did not repeat, he sat there wondering why on +earth he said the thing. A touch of pain pricked him like an insect's +sting, but a pain he could not account for. His blood, at the same time, +leaped as she bent her face so near to his own. He felt his heart swell +as he looked into her eyes. Her beauty astonished him; in this twilight +of the theatre it glowed and burned like a veiled star. He fancied--it +was the trick of the half-light, of course--she had grown darker and that +a dusky flush lay on her cheeks. + +'What were you thinking about?' he whispered lower again, changing the +sentence slightly. And, as he asked it, he saw Tony still watching him, +two seats away. It annoyed him; he drew his head back a little so that +her face concealed him. + +'I don't know,' she whispered back; 'nothing in particular.' She put her +gloved hand stealthily towards him and touched his knee. The gesture, he +felt, was intended to supplement the words. For the first time in his +life he did not quite believe her. The thought was odious, but not to be +denied. It merely flashed across him, however. He forgot it instantly. + +'Seems oddly familiar somehow,' he said, 'doesn't it?' + +Again she nodded, smiling, as she gazed for a moment first into one eye, +then into the other, then turned away to watch the stage. And abruptly, +as she did so, the entire feeling vanished, the mood evaporated, her +expression was normal once more, and he fixed his attention on the stupid +play. + +He turned his interest into other channels; he would take his party on to +supper. He did so. Yet an impression remained--the impression that the +Wave had come nearer, higher, that it was rising and gaining impetus, +accumulating mass, momentum, power. The gay supper could not dissipate +that, nor could the happy ten minutes in a taxi, when he drove her to her +door, decrease or weaken it. She was very tired. They spoke little, he +remembered; she gave him a gentle touch as the cab drew up, and the few +things she said had entirely to do with his comfort in his flat. He felt +in that touch and in those tender questions the mother only. The woman, +it suddenly occurred to him, had gone elsewhere. He had never had it, +never even claimed it. A deep sense of loneliness touched him for a +moment. His heart beat rapidly. He dreamed. . . . + + + +Why the scene came back to him now as they walked slowly through the +summery pine-wood he knew not. He caught himself thinking vividly of +Egypt suddenly, of being in Egypt with her--and with another. But on that +other he refused to let thought linger. Of set purpose he chose Tony in +that other's place. He saw it in a picture: he and she together helping +Tony, she and Tony equally helping him. It passed before him merely, a +glowing coloured picture set in high light against the heavy background of +these English fir-woods and the Kentish sky. Whether it came towards him +or retreated, he could not say. It was very brief, instantaneous almost. +The memory of the play, with its numerous attendant correlations, rose up, +then vanished. + +'Give me your arm, Tom, you mighty giant: these pine-needles are so +slippery.' He felt her hand creep in and rest upon his muscles, and a +glow of boyish pride came with it. In her summer dress of white, her big +garden hat and flowing violet veil, she looked adorable. He liked the +long white gauntlet gloves. The shadows of the trees became her well: +against the thick dark trunks she seemed slim and dainty as a flower that +the breeze bent over towards him. 'You're so horribly big and strong,' +she said, and her eyes, full of expression, glanced up at him. He watched +her little feet in the neat white shoes peep out in turn as they walked +along; her fingers pressed his arm. He tried to take her parasol, but she +prevented him, saying it was her only weapon of defence against a giant, +'and there _is_ a giant in this forest, though only a baby one perhaps!' +He felt the mother in her pour over him in a flood of tenderness that +blessed and soothed and comforted. It was as if a divine and healing +power streamed from her into him. + +'And what _were_ you thinking about, Tom?' she enquired teasingly. +'You haven't said a word for a whole five minutes!' + +'I was thinking of Egypt,' he answered with truth. + +She looked up quickly. + +'I'm to go out in December,' he went on. 'I told you. It was decided at +our last Board Meeting.' + +She said she remembered. 'But it's funny,' she added, 'because I was +thinking of Egypt too just then--thinking of the Nile, my river with the +floating faces.' + + + +The week-end visit was typical of many others; Mrs. Haughstone, seeing +safety in numbers possibly, was pleasant on the surface, Molly deflecting +most of her poisoned darts towards herself; while Tom and Tony shared the +society of their unconventional hostess with boyish enjoyment. +Tom modified the air of ownership he indulged when alone with her, and +no one need have noticed that there was anything more between them than a +hearty, understanding friendship. Tony, for instance, may have guessed +the true situation, or, again, he may not; for he said no word, nor showed +the smallest hint by word, by gesture, or by silence--most significant +betrayal of all--that he was aware of any special tie. Though a keen +observer, he gave no sign. 'She's an interesting woman, Tom,' he remarked +lightly yet with enthusiasm once, 'and a rare good hostess--a woman in a +thousand, I declare. We make a famous trio. As you've got that Assouan +job we'll have some fun next winter in Egypt, eh?' + +And Tom, pleased and secretly flattered by the admiration, tried to make +his confidences. Unless Tony had liked her this would have been +impossible. But they formed such a natural, happy trio together, giving +the lie to the hoary proverb, that Tom felt it was permissible to speak of +her to his sympathetic cousin. Already they had laughingly discussed the +half-forgotten acquaintanceship begun in the _dahabieh_ on the Nile, Tony +making a neat apology by declaring to her, 'Beautiful women blind me so, +Madame Jaretzka, that I invariably forget all lesser details. And that's +why I told Tom you were a Russian.' + +On this particular occasion, too, it was made easier because Tony had +asked his cousin's opinion about the Irish girl, invited for his special +benefit. 'I was never so disappointed in my life,' he said in his +convincing yet airy way. 'She looked so wonderful the other night. +It was the evening dress, I suppose. You should always see a girl first +in the daytime; the daylight self is the real self.' And Tom, amused by +the irresponsible attitude towards the sex, replied that the right woman +looked herself in any dress because it was as much a part of her as her +own skin. 'Yes,' said Tony, 'it's the thing inside the skin that counts, +of course; you're right; the rest is only a passing glamour. But +friendship with a woman is the best of all, for friendship grows +insensibly into the best kind of love. It's a delightful feeling,' he +added sympathetically, 'that kind of friendship. Independent of what they +wear!' + +He enjoyed his pun and laughed. 'I say, Tom,' he went on suddenly with a +certain inconsequence, 'have you ever met the Prince--Madame Jaretzka's +husband--by the way? I wonder what he's like.' He looked up carelessly +and raised his eyebrows. + +'No,' replied Tom in a quiet tone, 'but I--exp--hope to some day.' + +'I think he ran away and left her, or something,' continued the other. +'He's dead, anyhow, to all intents and purposes. But I've been wondering +lately. I'll be bound there was ill-treatment. She looks so sad +sometimes. The other night at the theatre I was watching her----' + +'That Egyptian play?' broke in Tom. + +'Yes; it was bad enough to make any one look sad, wasn't it? But it was +curious all the same----' + +'I didn't mean the badness.' + +'Nor did I. It was odd. There was atmosphere in spite of everything.' + +'I thought you were too occupied to notice the performance,' Tom hinted. + +Tony laughed good-naturedly. 'I was a bit taken up, I admit,' he said. +'But there was something curious all the same. I kept seeing you and our +hostess on the stage----' + +'In Egypt!' + +'In a way, yes.' He hesitated. + +'Odd,' said his cousin briefly. + +'Very. It seemed--there was some one else who ought to have been there as +well as you two. Only he never came on.' + +Tom made no comment. Was this thought-transference, he wondered? + +The natural sympathy between them furnished the requisite conditions +certainly. + +'He never came on,' continued Tony, 'and I had the queer feeling that he +was being kept off on purpose, that he was busy with something else, but +that the moment he came on the play would get good and interesting--real. +Something would happen. And it was then I noticed Madame Jaretzka----' + +'And me, too, I suppose,' Tom put in, half amused, half serious. +There was an excited yet uneasy feeling in him. + +'Chiefly her, I think. And she looked so sad,--it struck me suddenly. +D'you know, Tom,' he went on more earnestly, 'it was really quite curious. +I got the feeling that we three were watching that play together from +above it somewhere, looking down on it--sort of from a height above----' + +'Above,' exclaimed his cousin. There was surprise in him--surprise at +himself. That faint uneasiness increased. He realised that to confide in +Tony was impossible. But why? + +'H'm,' Tony went on in a reflective way as if half to himself. 'I may +have seen it before and forgotten it.' Then he looked up at his cousin. +'And what's more--that we three, as we watched it, knew the same thing +together--knew that we were waiting for another chap to come on, and that +when he came the silly piece would turn suddenly interesting, dramatic in +a true sense, only tragedy instead of comedy. Did _you_, Tom?' he asked +abruptly, screwing up his eyes and looking quite serious a moment. + +Tom had no answer ready, but his cousin left no time for answering. + +'And the fact is,' he continued, lowering his voice, 'I had the feeling +the other chap we were waiting for was _him_.' + +Tom was too interested to smile at the grammar. 'You mean--her husband?' +he said quietly. He did not like the turn the talk had taken; it pleased +him to talk of her, but he disliked to bring the absent husband in. +There was trouble in him as he listened. + +'Possibly it was,' he added a trifle stiffly. Then, ashamed of his +feeling towards his imaginative cousin, he changed his manner quickly. +He went up and stood behind him by the open window. 'Tony, old boy, we're +together somehow in this thing,' he began impulsively; 'I'm sure of it.' +Then the words stuck. 'If ever I want your help----' + +'Rather, Tom,' said the other with enthusiasm, yet puzzled, turning with +an earnest expression in his frank blue eyes. In another moment, like two +boys swearing eternal friendship, they would have shaken hands. Tom again +felt the impulse to make the confidences that desire for sympathy +prompted, and again realised that it was difficult, yet that he would +accomplish it. Indeed, he was on the point of doing so, relieving his +mind of the childhood story, the accumulated details of Wave and Whiff and +Sound and Eyes, the singular Montreux meeting, the strange medley of joy +and uneasiness as well, all in fact without reserve--when a voice from the +lawn came floating into the room and broke the spell. It lifted him +sharply to another plane. He felt glad suddenly that he had not spoken-- +afterwards, he felt very glad. It was not right in regard to her, he +realised. + +'You're never ready, you boys,' their hostess was saying, 'and Miss +Monnigan declares that men always wait to be fetched. The lunch-baskets +are all in, and the motor's waiting.' + +'We didn't want to be in the way,' cried Tony gaily, ever ready with an +answer first. 'We're both so big and clumsy. But we'll make the fire in +the woods and do the work that requires mere strength without skill all +right.' He leaped out of the window to join them, while Tom went by the +door to fetch his cap and overcoat. Turning an instant he saw the three +figures on the lawn standing in the sunlight, Madame Jaretzka with a +loose, rough motor-coat over her white dress, a rose at her throat and the +long blue veil he loved wound round her hair and face. He saw her eyes +look up at Tony and heard her chiding him. 'You've been talking mischief +in there together,' she was saying laughingly, giving him a searching +glance in play, though the tone had meaning in it. 'We were talking of +you,' swore Tony, 'and you,' he added, turning by way of polite +after-thought to the girl. And one of his big hands he laid for a moment +upon Madame Jaretzka's arm. + +Tom turned sharply and hurried on into the hall. The first thought in his +mind was how tender and gentle Madame Jaretzka looked standing in the +sunshine, her eyes turned up at Tony. His second thought was vaguer: he +felt glad that Tony admired and liked her so. The third was vaguer still: +Tony didn't really care for the girl a bit and was only amusing himself +with her, but Madame Jaretzka would protect her and see that no harm came +of it. She could protect the whole world. That was her genius. + +In a moment these three thoughts flashed through him, but while the last +two vanished as quickly as they came, the first lingered like sunlight in +him. It remained and grew and filled his heart, and all that day it kept +close by him--her love, her comfort, her mothering compassion. + +And Tom felt glad for some reason that his confidences to Tony after all +had been interrupted and prevented. They remained thus interrupted and +prevented until the end, even when the 'other' came upon the scene, and +above all while that 'other' stayed. It all seemed curiously inevitable. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The last few weeks of September they were much alone together, for Mrs. +Haughstone had gone back to her husband's tiny house at Kew, Molly to the +Dresden school, and Tony somewhere into space--northern Russia, he said, +to watch the birds beginning to leave. + +Meanwhile, with deepening of friendship, and experiences whose +ordinariness was raised into significance because this woman shared them +with him, Tom saw the summer fade in England and usher in the longer +evenings. Light and heat waned from the sighing year; winds, charged with +the memory of roses, took the paling skies; the swallows whispered +together of the southern tour. New stars swam into their autumnal places, +and the Milky Way came majestically to its own. He watched the curve of +it on moonless nights, pouring its grand river across the heavens. And in +the heart of its soft brilliance he saw Cygnus, cruciform and shining, +immersed in the white foam of the arching wave. + +He noticed these things now, as once long ago in early boyhood, because a +time of separation was at hand. His yearning now was akin to his yearning +then--it left a chasm in his soul that beauty alone could help to fill. +At fifteen he was thirty-five, as now at thirty-five he was fifteen again. + +Lettice was not, indeed, at a Finishing School across the Channel, but she +was shortly going to Warsaw to spend October with her husband, and in +November she was to sail for Egypt from Trieste. Tom was to follow in +December, so a separation of three months was close at hand. 'But a +necessary separation,' she said one evening as they motored home beneath +the stars, 'is always bearable and strengthening; we shall both be +occupied with things that must--I mean, things we ought to do. It's the +needless separations that are hard to bear.' He replied that it would be +wonderful meeting again and pretending they were strangers. He tried to +share her mood, her point of view with honesty. 'Yes,' she answered, +'only that wouldn't be quite true, because you and I can never be +separated--really. The curve of the earth may hide us from each other's +sight like that,'--and she pointed to the sinking moon--'but we feel the +pull just the same.' + +They leaned back among the cushions, sharing the mysterious beauty of the +night-sky in their hearts. They lowered their voices as though the hush +upon the world demanded it. The little things they said seemed suddenly +to possess a significance they could not account for quite and yet +admitted. + +He told her that the Milky Way was at its best these coming months, and +that Cygnus would be always visible on clear nights. 'We'll look at that +and remember,' he said half playfully. 'The astronomers say the Milky Way +is the very ground-plan of the Universe. So we all come out of it. +And you're Cygnus.' She called him sentimental, and he admitted that +perhaps he was. 'I don't like this separation,' he said bluntly. In his +mind he was thinking that the Milky Way had his wave in it, and that its +wondrous arch, like his life and hers, rose out of the 'sea' below the +world. In that sea no separation was possible. + +'But it's not that that makes you suddenly poetic, Tom. It's something +else.' + +'Is it?' he answered. A whisper of pain went past him across the night. +He felt something coming; he was convinced she felt it too. But he could +not name it. + +'The Milky Way is a stream as well as a wave. You say it rises in the +autumn----?' She leaned nearer to him a little. + +'But it's seen at its best a little later--in the winter, I believe.' + +'We shall be in Egypt then,' she mentioned. He could have sworn she would +say those very words. + +'Egypt,' he repeated slowly. 'Yes--in Egypt.' + +And a little shiver came over him, so slight, so quickly gone again, that +he hoped it was imperceptible. Yet she had noticed it. + +'Why, Tom, don't you like the idea?' + +'I wonder--' he began, then changed the sentence--'I wonder what it will +be like. I have a curious desire to see it--I know that.' + +He heard her laugh under her breath a little. What came over them both in +that moment he couldn't say. There was a sense of tumult in him +somewhere, a hint of pain, of menace too. Her laughter, slight as it was, +jarred upon him. She was not feeling quite what he felt--this flashed, +then vanished. + +'You don't sound enthusiastic,' she said calmly. + +'I am, though. Only--I had a feeling----' He broke off. The truth was +he couldn't describe that feeling even to himself. + +'Tom, dear, my dear one--' she began, then stopped. She also stopped an +impulsive movement towards him. She drew back her sentence and her arms. +And Tom, aware of a rising passion in him he might be unable to control, +turned his face away a moment. Something clutched at his heart as with +cruel pincers. A chill followed close upon the shiver. He felt a moment +of keen shame, yet knew not exactly why he felt it. + +'I am a sentimental ass!' he exclaimed abruptly with a natural laugh. +His voice was tender. He turned again to her. 'I believe I've never +properly grown up.' And before he could restrain himself he drew her +towards him, seized her hand and kissed it like a boy. It was that kiss, +combined with her blocked sentence and uncompleted gesture, rather than +any more passionate expression of their love for one another, that he +remembered throughout the empty months to follow. + +But there was another reason, too, why he remembered it. For she wore a +silk dress, and the arm against his ear produced a momentary rustling that +brought back the noise in the Zakopane bedroom when the frozen branch had +scraped the outside wall. And with the Sound, absent now so long, the old +strange uneasiness revived acutely. For that caressing gesture, that +kiss, that phrase of love that blocked its own final utterance brought +back the strange rich pain. + +In the act of giving them, even while he felt her touch and held her +within his arms--she evaded him and went far away into another place where +he could not follow her. And he knew for the first time a singular +emotion that seemed like a faint, distant jealousy that stirred in him, +yet a spiritual jealousy . . . as of some one he had never even seen. + +They lingered a moment in the garden to enjoy the quiet stars and see the +moon go down below the pine-wood. The tense mood of half an hour ago in +the motor-car had evaporated of its own accord apparently. + +A conversation that followed emphasised this elusive emotion in him, +because it somehow increased the remoteness of the part of her he could +not claim. She mentioned that she was taking Mrs. Haughstone with her to +Egypt in November; it again exasperated him; such unselfishness he could +not understand. The invitation came, moreover, upon what Tom felt was a +climax of shameless behaviour. For Madame Jaretzka had helped the family +with money that, to save their pride, was to be considered lent. +The husband had written gushing letters of thanks and promises that--Tom +had seen these letters--could hardly have deceived a schoolgirl. +Yet a recent legacy, which rendered a part repayment possible, had been +purposely concealed, with the result that yet more money had been 'lent' +to tide them over non-existent or invented difficulties. + +And now, on the top of this, Madame Jaretzka not only refused to divulge +that the legacy was known to her, but even proposed an expensive two +months' holiday to the woman who was tricking her. + +Tom objected strongly for two reasons; he thought it foolish kindness, and +he did not want her. + +'You're too good to the woman, far too good,' he said. But his annoyance +was only increased by the firmness of the attitude that met him. +'No, Tom; you're wrong. They'll find out in time that I know, and see +themselves as they are.' + +'You forgive everything to everybody,' he observed critically. 'It's too +much.' + +She turned round upon him. Her attitude was a rebuke, and feeling rebuked +he did not like it. For though she did not quote 'until seventy times +seven,' she lived it. + +'When she sees herself sly and treacherous like that, she'll understand,' +came the answer, 'she'll get her own forgiveness.' + +'Her own forgiveness!' + +'The only real kind. If I forgive, it doesn't alter her. But if she +understands and feels shame and makes up her mind not to repeat--that's +forgiving herself. She really changes then.' + +Tom gasped inwardly. This was a level of behaviour where he found the air +somewhat rarified. He saw the truth of it, but had no answer ready. + +'Remorse and regret,' she went on, 'only make one ineffective in the +present. It's looking backwards, instead of looking forwards.' + +He felt something very big in her as she said it, holding his eyes firmly +with her own. To have the love of such a woman was, indeed, a joy and +wonder. It was a keen happiness to feel that he, Tom Kelverdon, had +obtained it. His admiration for himself, and his deep, admiring love for +her rose side by side. He did not recognise the flattery of self in this +attitude. The simplicity in her baffled him. + +'I could forgive _you_ anything, Lettice!' he cried. + +'Could you?' she said gently. 'If so, you really love me.' + +It was not the doubt in her voice that overwhelmed him then; she never +indulged in hints. It was a doubt in himself, not that he loved her, but +that his love was not yet big enough, unselfish enough, sufficiently large +and deep to be worthy of this exquisite soul beside him. Perhaps it was +realising he could not yet possess her spirit that made him seize the +precious little body that contained it. Nothing could stop him. He took +her in his arms and held her till she became breathless. The passionate +moment expressed real spiritual yearning. And she knew it. She did not +struggle, yet neither did she respond. They stood upon different levels +somehow. + +'There'll be nothing left to love,' she gasped, 'if you do that often!' +She released herself quietly, tidying her hair and putting her hat +straight while she smiled at him. Her dark veil had caught in his +tie-pin. She disentangled it, her hands touching his mouth as she did so. +He kissed them gently, bending his head down with an air of repentance. + +'My God, Lettice--you're precious to me!' he stammered. + +But even as he said it, even while he still felt her soft cheeks against +his lips, her frail unresisting figure within his arms, there came this +pang of sudden pain that was so acute it frightened him. There was +something impersonal in her attitude that alarmed him. What was it? +He was helpless to understand it. The excitement in his blood obscured +inner perception. . . . Such tempestuous moments were rare enough between +them, and when they came he felt that she endured them rather than +responded. He was aware of a touch of shame in himself. But this +pain----? Even while he held her it seemed again that she escaped him +because of the heights she lived on, yet partly, too, because of the +innocence which had not yet eaten of the tree of knowledge. . . . Was +that, then, the lack in her? Had she yet to learn that the spiritual dare +not be divorced wholly from the physical and that the divine blending of +the two in purity of heart alone brings safety? + +She slipped from his encircling arms and--rose. He struggled after her. +But that air he could not breathe. She was too far above him. She had to +stoop to meet the passionate man in him that sought to seize and hold her. +She had--the earlier phrase returned--come back to fetch him. He did not +really love yet as he ought to love. He loved himself--in her; selfishly +somehow, somewhere. But this thought he did not capture wholly. It cast +a shadow merely and was gone. + +Somewhere, too, there was jealous resentment in him. He could not feel +himself indispensable to a woman who occupied a pinnacle. + +His cocksureness wavered a little before the sharp attack. Pang after +pang stung him shrewdly, stung his pride, his confidence, his vanity, +shaking the platform on which he stood till each separate plank trembled +and the sense of security grew less. + +But the confusion in his heart and mind bewildered him. It was all so +strange and incomprehensible; he could not understand it. He knew she was +true and loyal, her purity beyond reproach, her elusiveness not calculated +or intended, yet that somewhere, somehow she could do without him, and +that if he left her she--almost--would have neither remorse nor regret. +She would just accept it and--forgive. . . . + +And he thought suddenly with an intense bitterness that amazed him--of the +husband. The thought of that 'other' who had yet to come afflicted him +desperately. When he met those light-blue eyes of the Wave he would +surely know them . . .! He felt again the desire to seek counsel and +advice from another, some one of his own sex, a sympathetic and +understanding soul like Tony. + +The turmoil in him was beyond elucidation: thoughts and emotions of +nameless kind combined to produce a fluid state of insecurity he could not +explain. As usual, however, there emerged finally the solid fact which +seemed now the keynote of his character; at least, he invariably fell back +upon it for support against these occasional storms: 'She has singled me +out; she can't really do without me; we're necessary to each other; I'm +safe.' The rest he dismissed as half realised only and therefore not +quite real. His position with her was unique, of course, something the +world could not possibly understand, and, while resenting what he called +the 'impersonal' attitude in her, he yet knew that it was precisely this +impersonal attitude that justified their love. Their love, in fine, was +proved spiritual thereby. They were in the 'sea' together. Invariably in +the end he blamed himself. + +The rising Wave, it seemed, was bringing up from day to day new, +unexpected qualities from the depths within him, just as it brings up mud +and gravel from the ground-bed of the shore. He felt it driving him +forward with increasing speed and power. With an irresistible momentum +that left him helpless, it was hurrying him along towards the moment when +it would lower its crest again towards the earth--and break. + +He knew now where the smothering crash would come, where he would finally +meet the singular details of his boyhood's premonition face to face,--the +Sound, the Whiff, the other pair of Eyes. They awaited him--in Egypt. +In Egypt, at last, he would find the entire series, recognise each item. +He would also discover the nature of the wave that was neither of water +nor of snow. . . . + +Yet, strange to say, when he actually met the pair of light-blue eyes, he +did not recognise them. He encountered the face to which they belonged, +but was not warned. While fulfilling its prophecy, the premonition +failed, of course, to operate. + +For premonitions are a delicate matter, losing their power in the act of +justifying themselves. To prevent their fulfilment were to stultify their +existence. Between a spiritual warning and its material consummation +there is but a friable and gossamer alliance. Had he recognised, he might +possibly have prevented; whereas the deeper part of him unconsciously +invited and said, Come. + +And so, not recognising the arrival of the other pair of eyes, Tom, when +he met them, knew himself attracted instead of repelled. Far from being +warned, he knew himself drawn towards their owner by natural sympathy, as +towards some one whose deep intrusion into his inner life was necessary to +its fuller realisation--the tumultuous breaking of the rapidly +accumulating Wave. + + + +PART III + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The weeks that followed seemed both brief and long to Tom. The separation +he felt keenly, though as a breathing spell the interval was even welcome +in a measure. Since the days at Montreux he had been living intensely, +swept along by a movement he could not control: now he could pause and +think a moment. He tried to get the bird's-eye view in which alone +details are seen in their accurate relations and proportions. +There was much that perplexed his plain, straightforward nature. But the +more he thought, the more puzzled he became, and in the end he resigned +himself happily to the great flow of life that was sweeping him along. +He was distinctly conscious of being 'swept along.' What was going to +happen would happen. He wondered, watched and waited. The idea of Egypt, +meanwhile, thrilled him with a curious anticipation each time he thought +of it. And he thought of it a good deal. + +He received letters from Warsaw, but they told nothing of her life there: +she referred vaguely to duties whose afflicting nature he half guessed +now; and the rest was filled with loving solicitude for his welfare. +Even through the post she mothered him absurdly. He felt his life now +based upon her. Her love was indispensable to him. + +The last letters--from Vienna and Trieste--were full of a tenderness most +comforting, and he felt relief that she had 'finished with Warsaw,' as he +put it. His own last letter was timed to catch her steamer. 'You have +all my love,' he wrote, 'but you can give what you can spare to Tony, as +he's in Egypt by now, and tell him I shall be out a month from to-day. +Everything goes well here. I'm to have full charge of the work at +Assouan. The Firm has put everything in my hands, but there won't be much +to do at first, and I shall be with you at Luxor a great deal. +I'm looking forward to Egypt too--immensely. I believe all sorts of +wonderful things are going to happen to us there.' + +He was very pleased with himself, and very pleased with her, and very +pleased with everything. The wave of his life was rising still +triumphantly. + +He kept her Warsaw letters and reread them frequently. She wrote +admirably. Mrs. Haughstone, it seemed, complained about everything, from +the cabin and hotel room 'which, she declares, are never so good as my +own,' to her position as an invited guest, 'which she accepts as though +she favoured me by coming, thinking herself both chaperone and +indispensable companion. How little some people realise that no one is +ever really indispensable!' And the first letter from Egypt told him to +come out quickly and 'help me keep her in her place, as only a man can do. +Tony wonders why you're so long about it.' It pleased him very much, and +as the time approached for leaving, his spirits rose; indeed, he reached +Marseilles much in the mood of a happy, confident boy who has passed all +exams, and is off upon a holiday most thoroughly deserved. + +There had been time for three or four letters from Luxor, and he read them +in the train as he hurried along from Geneva towards the south, leaving +the snowy Jura hills behind him. 'Those are the blue mountains we watched +from Montreux together in the spring,' he said to himself, looking out of +the window. 'Soon, in Egypt, we shall watch the Desert and the Nile +instead.' And, remembering that dream-like, happy time of their earliest +acquaintance, his heart beat in delighted anticipation. He could think of +nothing else but her. Those Montreux days seemed years ago instead of a +brief six months. What a lot he had to tell her, how much they would have +to talk about. Life, indeed, was rich and full. He was a lucky man; +yet--he deserved it all. Belief and confidence in himself increased. +He gazed out of the window, thinking happily as the scenery rushed +by. . . . Then he came back to the letters and read them over yet once +again; he almost knew them now by heart; he opened his bag and read the +Warsaw letters too. Then, putting them all away, he lay back in his +corner and tried to sleep. The express train seemed so slow, but the +steamer would seem slower still. . . . Thoughts and memories passed idly +through his brain, grew mingled and confused; his eyes were closed; he +fell into a doze: he almost slept--when something rose into his drowsy +mind and made him suddenly wakeful. + +What was it? He didn't know. It had vanished as soon as it appeared. +But the drowsy mood had passed, the desire to sleep was gone. There was +impatience in him, the keen wish to be in Egypt--immediately. He cursed +the slow means of travel, longed to be out there, on the spot, with her +and Tony. Her last letters had been full of descriptions of the place and +people, of Tony and his numerous friends, his kindness in introducing her +to the most interesting among them, their picnics together on the Nile and +in the Desert, visits to the famous sites of tomb and temple, in +particular of an all-night bivouac somewhere and the sunrise over the +Theban hills. . . . Tom, as he read it all, felt this keen impatience to +be sharing it with them; he was out of it; oh, how he would enjoy it all +when he got there! The words 'Theban hills' called up a vivid and +stimulating picture in particular. + +But it was not this that chased the drowsy mood and made him wakeful. +It was the letters themselves, something he had not noticed hitherto, +something that had escaped him as he first read them one by one. +Indefinable, it hid between the lines. Only on reading the series as a +whole was it noticeable at all. He wondered. He asked himself vague +questions. + +Opening his bag again, he went through the letters in the order of their +arrival; then put them back inside the elastic ring with a sensation of +relief and a happy sigh. He had discovered the faint, elusive impression +that had made him wakeful, but in discovering it had satisfied himself +that it was imagination--caused by the increasing impatience of his +impetuous heart. For it had seemed to him that he was aware of a change, +though so slight as to be scarcely perceptible, and certainly not +traceable to actual words or sentences. It struck him that the Warsaw +letters felt the separation more keenly, more poignantly, than the +Egyptian letters. This seemed due rather to omissions in the latter than +to anything else that he could name, for while the Warsaw letters spoke +frequently of the separation, of her longing to see him close, those from +Luxor omitted all such phrases. There were pleas in plenty for his +health, his comfort, his welfare and success--the Mother found full +scope--but no direct expression of her need for him. This, briefly, was +the notion he had caught faintly from 'between the lines.' + +But, having run it to earth, he easily explained it too. At Warsaw she +was unhappy; whereas now, in Egypt, their reunion was almost within sight: +she felt happier, too, her unpleasant duties over. It was all natural +enough. 'What a sentimental donkey a man is when he's in love!' he +exclaimed with a self-indulgent smile of pleased forgiveness; 'but the +fact is--when she's not by me to explain--I could imagine anything!' +And he fell at length into the doze his excited fancy had postponed. + +After leaving Marseilles his impatience grew with the slowness of the +steamer. The voyage of four days seemed interminable. The sea and sky +took on a deeper blue, the air turned softer, the sweetness of the south +became more marked. His exhilaration increased with every hour, the +desire to reach his destination increasing with it. There was an +intensity about his feelings he could not entirely account for. +The longing to see Egypt merged with the longing to see Lettice. +But the two were separate. The latter was impatient happiness, while the +former struck a slower note--respect and wonder that contained a hint of +awe. + +Somewhere in this anticipatory excitement, too, hid drama. And his first +glimpse of the marvellous old land did prove dramatic in a sense. +For when a passenger drew his attention to the white Alexandrian harbour +floating on the shining blue, he caught his breath a moment and his heart +gave a sudden unexpected leap. He saw the low-lying coast, a palm, a +mosque, a minaret; he saw the sandy lip of--Africa. + +That shimmering line of blue and gold was Egypt. . . . He had known it +would look exactly thus, as he now saw it. The same instant his heart +contracted a little. . . . He leaned motionless upon the rail and watched +the coast-line coming nearer, ever nearer. It rose out of the burning +haze of blue and gold that hung motionless between the water and the air. +Bathed in the drenching sunlight, the fringe of the great thirsty Desert +seemed to drink the sea. . . . + +His entry was accompanied by mingled emotions and sensations. +That Lettice stood waiting for him somewhere behind the blaze of light +contributed much; yet the thrill owned a more complex origin, it seemed. +To any one not entirely callous to the stab of strange romance and +stranger beauty, the first sight of Egypt must always be an event, and +Tom, by no means thus insensitive, felt it vividly. He was aware of +something not wholly unfamiliar. The invitation was so strong, it seemed +to entice as with an attraction that was almost summons. As the ship drew +nearer, and thoughts of landing filled his mind, he felt no opposition, no +resistance, no difficulty, as with other countries. There was no hint of +friction anywhere. He seemed instantly at home. Egypt not merely +enticed--she pulled him in. + +'Here I am at last!' whispered a voice, as he watched the noisy throng of +Arabs, Nubians, Soudanese upon the crowded wharf. He delighted in the +colour, the gleaming eyes, bronze skins, the white caftans with their red +and yellow sashes. The phantasmal amber light that filled the huge, still +heavens lit something similar in his mind and thoughts. Only the train, +with its luxurious restaurant car, its shutters to keep out the dust and +heat, appeared incongruous. He lost the power to think this or that. +He could only feel, and feel intensely. His feet touched Egypt, and a +deep glow of inner happiness possessed him. He was not disappointed +anywhere, though as yet he had seen nothing but a steamer quay. Then he +sent a telegram to Lettice: 'Arrived safely. Reach Luxor eight o'clock +to-morrow morning.'; and, having slid through the Delta country with the +flaming sunset, he had his first glimpse of the lordly Pyramids as the +train drew into Cairo. Dim and immense he saw them across the +swift-falling dusk, shadowy as forgotten centuries that cannot die. +Though too distant to feel their menace, he yet knew them towering over +him, mysterious, colossal, unintelligible, the sentinels of a gateway he +had passed. + +Such was the first touch of Egypt on his soul. It was as big and magical +as he had known it would be. The magnificence and the glamour both were +there. Europe already lay forgotten far behind him, non-existent. +Some one tapped him on the shoulder, whispered a password, he was-- +in. . . . + +He dined in Cairo and took the night train on to Luxor, the white, +luxurious _wagon lit_ again striking an incongruous note. For he had +stepped from a platform into space, a space that floated suns and +constellations. About him was that sense of the illimitable which broods +everywhere in Egypt, in sand and sky, in sun and stars; it absorbed him +easily, small human speck in a toy train with electric lights and modern +comforts! An emotion difficult to seize gripped his heart, as he slid +deeper and deeper into the land towards Lettice. . . . For Lettice also +was involved in this. With happiness, yet somehow, too, with tears, he +thought of her waiting for him now, expecting him, perhaps reading his +telegram for the twentieth time. Through a mist of blue and gold she +seemed to beckon to him across the shimmer of the endless yellow sands. +He saw the little finger he had kissed. The dear face smiled. But there +was a change upon it somewhere, though a change too subtle to be precisely +named. The eyelids were half closed, and in the smile was power; the +beckoning finger conveyed a gesture that was new--command. It seemed to +point; it had a motion downwards; about her aspect was some flavour of +authority almost royal, borrowed, doubtless, from the regal gold and +purple of the sky's magnificence. + +Oddly, again, his heart contracted as this changed aspect of her, due to +heightened imagination, rose before the inner eye. A sensation of +uncertainty and question slipped in with it, though whence he knew not. +A hint of insecurity assailed his soul--almost a sense of inferiority in +himself. It even flashed across him that he was under orders. It was +inexplicable. . . . A restlessness in his blood prevented sleep. . . . +He drew the blind up and looked out. + +There was no moon. The night was drowned in stars. The train rushed +south towards Thebes along the green thread of the Nile; the Lybian desert +keeping pace with it, immense and desolate, death gnawing eternally at the +narrow strip of life. . . . And again he knew the feeling that he had +stepped from a platform into space. Egypt lay spread _below_ him. +He fell towards it, plunging, and as he fell, looked down--upon something +vaguely familiar and half known. . . . An underlying sadness, +inexplicable but significant, crept in upon his thoughts. + +They rushed past Bedrashein, a straggling Arab village where once great +Memphis owned eighteen miles of frontage on the stately river; he saw the +low mud huts, the groves of date-palms that now marked the vanished +splendour. They slid by in their hundreds, the spectral desert gleaming +like snow between the openings. The huge pyramids of Sakkhara loomed +against the faint western afterglow. He saw the shaft of strange green +light they call zodiacal. + +And the sadness in him deepened inexplicably--that strange Egyptian +sadness which ever underlies the brilliance. . . . The watchful stars +looked down with sixty listening centuries between them and a forgotten +glory that dreamed now among a thousand sandy tombs. For the silent +landscape flying past him like a dream woke emotions both sweet and +painful that he could not understand--sweet to poignancy, exquisitely +painful. + +Perhaps it was natural enough, natural, too, that he should transfer these +in some dim measure to the woman now waiting for him among the ruins of +many-gated Thebes. The ancient city, dreaming still beside the storied +river, assumed an appearance half fabulous in his thoughts. Egypt had +wakened imagination in his soul. The change he fancied in Lettice was +due, doubtless, to the transforming magic that mingled an actual present +with a haunted past. Possibly this was some portion of the truth. . . . +And yet, while the mood possessed him, some joy, some inner sheath, as it +were, of anticipated happiness slipped off him into the encroaching yellow +sand--as though he surrendered, not so much the actual happiness, as his +right to it. A second's helplessness crept over him; another Self that +was inferior peeped up and sighed and whispered. . . . He was aware of +hidden touches that stabbed him into uneasiness, disquiet, almost +pain. . . . Some outer tissue was stripped from his normal being, leaving +him naked to the tang of extremely delicate shafts, buried so long that +interpretation failed him. + +The curious sensation, luckily, did not last; but this hint of a +familiarity that seemed both sweet and dangerous, made it astonishingly +convincing at the time. Some aspect of vanity, of confidence in himself +distinctly weakened. . . . + +It passed with the spectral palm trees as the train sped farther south. +He finally dismissed it as the result of fatigue, excitement and +anticipation too prolonged. . . . Yes, he dismissed it. At any rate it +passed. It sank out of sight and was forgotten. It had become, perhaps, +an integral portion of his being. Possibly, it had always been so, and +had been merely waiting to emerge. . . . + +But such intangible and elusive emotions were so new to him that he could +not pretend to deal with them. There is a stimulus as of ether about the +Egyptian climate that gets into the mind, it is said, and stirs unwonted +dreams and fantasies. The climate becomes mental. His stolid temperament +was, perhaps, pricked thus half unintelligibly. He could not understand +it. He drew the blind down. But before turning out the light, he read +over once again the note of welcome Lettice had sent to meet him at the +steamer. It was brief, but infinitely precious. The thought of her love +sponged all lesser feelings completely from his mind, and he fell asleep +thinking only of their approaching meeting, and of his marvellous deep +joy. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +On reaching Luxor at eight o'clock in the morning, to his keen delight an +Arab servant met him with an unexpected invitation. He had meant to go +first to his hotel, but Lettice willed otherwise, everything thought out +beforehand in her loving way. He drove accordingly to her house on the +outskirts of the town towards Karnak, changed and bathed in a room where +he recognised with supreme joy a hundred familiar touches that seemed +transplanted from the Brown Flat at home--and found her at nine o'clock +waiting for him on the verandah. Breakfast was laid in the shady garden +just beyond. + +It was ideal as a dream. She stood there dressed in white, wearing a big +sun-hat with little roses, sparkling, radiant, a graceful fairy figure +from the heart of spring. 'Here's the inevitable fly-whisk, Tom,' was the +first thing she said, and as naturally as though they had parted a few +hours before, 'it's to keep the flies away, and to keep you at your +distance too!' And his first remark, escaping him impulsively in place of +a hundred other things he had meant to say, was, 'You look different; +you've changed. Lettice, you're far more lovely than I knew. I've never +seen you look like that before!' He felt his entire being go out to her +in a consuming flame. 'You look perfectly divine.' Sheer admiration took +his breath away. 'I believe you're Isis herself,' he laughed in his +delight, 'come back into her own!' + +'Then you must be Osiris, Tom!' her happy voice responded, 'new risen from +his sandy tomb!' + +There was no time for private conversation, for Mrs. Haughstone appeared +just then and enquired politely after his health and journey. +'The flies are awful,' she mentioned, 'but Lettice always insists on +having breakfast out of doors. I hope you'll be able to stand it.' +And she continued to flutter her horse-hair whisk as though she would have +liked to sweep Egypt itself from the face of the map. 'No wonder the +Israelites were glad to leave. There's sand in everything you eat and +flies on everything you see.' Yet she said it with what passed in her +case for good nature; she, too, was evidently enjoying herself in Egypt. + +Tom said that flies and sand would not trouble him with such gorgeous +sunlight to compensate, and that anyhow they were better than soot and +fogs in London. + +'You'll be tired of the sun before a week is over,' she replied, +'and long to see a cloud or feel a drop of rain.' She followed his eyes +which seemed unable to leave the face and figure of his hostess. +'But it all agrees wonderfully with my cousin. Don't you find her looking +well? She's quite changed into another person, _I_ think,' the tone +suggesting that it was not altogether a change that she herself approved +of. 'We're all different here, a little. Even Mr. Winslowe's improved +enormously. He's steadier and wiser than he used to be.' And Tom, +laughing, said he hoped he would improve, too, himself. + +The comforting hot coffee, the delicious rolls, the cool iced fruit, and, +above all, Lettice beside him at last in the pleasant shade, gave Tom such +high spirits that the woman's disagreeable personality produced no effect. +Through the gate in the stone wall at the end of the garden, beneath +masses of drooping bougainvillaea, the Nile dreamed past in a sheet of +golden haze; the Theban hills, dipped in the crystal azure of the sky, +rose stern and desolate upon the horizon; the air, at this early hour, was +fresh and keen. He felt himself in some enchanted garden of the ancient +world with a radiant goddess for companion. . . . There was a sound of +singing from the river below--the song of the Nile boatman that has not +changed these thousand years; a quaint piping melody floated in from the +street outside; from the farther shore came the dull beating of a native +tom-tom; and the still, burning atmosphere held the mystery of wonder in +suspension. Her beauty, at last, had found its perfect setting. + +'I never saw your eyes so wonderful--so soft and brilliant,' he whispered +as soon as they were alone. 'You're very happy.' He paused, looking at +her. 'That's me, isn't it? Lettice, say it is at once.' He was very +playful in his joy; but he longed eagerly to hear her admit that his +coming meant as much to her as it meant to him. + +'I suppose it must be,' she replied, 'but it's the climate too. This keen +dry air and the sunshine bring all one's power out. There's something +magical in it. You forget the years and feel young--against the +background of this old land a lifetime seems like an afternoon, merely. +And the nights--oh, Tom, the stars are too, too marvellous.' She spoke +with a kind of exuberance that seemed new in her. + +'They must be,' he rejoined, as he gazed exultantly, 'for they're all in +you, sun, air, and stars. You're a perfect revelation to me of what a +woman----' + +'Am I?' she interrupted, fluttering her whisk between her chair and his. +'But now, dear Tom, my headstrong boy, tell me how you are and all about +yourself, your plans, and everything else in the world besides.' He told +her what he could, answered all her questions, declared he and she were +going to have the time of their lives, and behaved generally, as she told +him, like a boy out of school. He admitted it. 'But I'm hungry, Lettice, +awfully hungry.' He kept reminding her that he had been starving for two +long months; surely she was starving too. He longed to hear her confess +it with a sigh of happy relief. 'My arms and lips are hungry,' he went on +incorrigibly, 'but I'm tired, too, from travelling. I feel like putting +my head on your breast and going sound asleep.' 'My boy,' she said +tenderly, 'you shall.' She responded instantly to that. 'You always were +a baby and I'm here to take care of you.' He seized her hand and kissed +it before she could draw it away. 'You must be careful, Tom. Everything +has eyes in Egypt; the Arabs move like ghosts.' She glanced towards the +windows. 'And the gossip is unbelievable.' She was quiet again now, and +very gentle; it struck him how calm and sweet she was towards him, yet +that there was a delightful happy excitement underneath that she only just +controlled. He was aware of something wild in her just out of sight--a +kind of mental effervescence, almost intoxication she deliberately +suppressed. + +'And so are you--unbelievable,' he exclaimed impetuously; 'unbelievably +beautiful. This is your country with a vengeance, Lettice. You're like +an Egyptian queen--a princess of the sun!' + +He gazed critically at her till she lowered her eyes. He realised that, +actually, they were not visible from the house and that the garden trees +were thick about them; but he also received a faint impression that she +did not want, did not intend, to allow quite the same intimacy as before. +It just flashed across him with a hint of disappointment, then was gone. +His boyish admiration, perhaps, annoyed her. He had felt for a second +that her excuse of the windows and the gossip was not the entire truth. +The merest shadow of a thought it was. He noticed her eyes fixed intently +upon him. The same minute, then, she rose quietly and rustled over to his +chair, kissed him on the cheek quickly, and sat down again. 'There!' she +said playfully as though she had guessed his thoughts, 'I've done the +awful thing; now you'll be reasonable, perhaps!' And whether or not she +had divined his mood, she instantly dispelled it--for the moment. . . . + +They talked about a hundred things, moving their chairs as the blazing +sunshine found them out, till finally they sat with cushions on the steps +of stone that led down to the river beneath the flaming bougainvillaea. +He felt the strange touch of Egypt all about them, that touch of eternity +that floats in the very air, a hint of something deathless and sublime +that whispers in the sunshine. Already he was aware of the long fading +stretch of years behind. He thought of Egypt as two vast hands that held +him, one of tawny gold and one of turquoise blue--the desert and the sky. +In the hollow of those great hands, he lay with Lettice--two tiny atoms of +sand. . . . + +He watched her every movement, every gesture, noted the slightest +inflection of her voice, was aware that five years at least had dropped +from her, that her complexion had grown softer, a shade darker, too, from +the sun; but, above all, that there was a new expression, a new light +certainly, soft and brilliant, in her eyes. It seemed, briefly put, that +she had blossomed somehow into a fuller expression of herself. +An overflowing vitality, masked behind her calmness, betrayed itself in +every word and glance and gesture. There was an exuberance he called joy, +but it was, somehow, a new, an unexpected joy. + +She was, of course, aware of his untiring scrutiny; and presently, in a +lull, keeping her eyes on the river below them, she spoke of it. +'You find me a little changed, Tom, don't you? I warned you that Egypt +had a certain effect on me. It enflames the heart and----' + +'But a very wonderful effect,' he broke in with admiration. 'You're +different in a way--yes--but _you_ haven't changed--not towards me, I +mean.' He wanted to say a great deal more, but could not find the words; +he divined that something had happened to her, in Warsaw probably, and he +longed to question her about the 'other' who was her husband, but he could +not, of course, allow himself to do so. An intuitive feeling came to him +that the claim upon her of this other was more remote than formerly. +His dread had certainly lessened. The claims upon her of this 'other' +seemed no longer--dangerous. . . . He wondered. . . . There was a certain +confusion in his mind. + +'You got my letter at Alexandria?' she interrupted his reflections. +He thanked her with enthusiasm, trying to remember what it said--but +without success. It struck him suddenly that there was very little in it +after all, and he mentioned this with a reproachful smile. 'That's my +restraint,' she replied. 'You always liked restraint. Besides, I wasn't +sure it would reach you.' She laughed and blew a kiss towards him. +She made a curious gesture he had never seen her make before. It seemed +unlike her. More and more he registered a difference in her, as if side +by side with the increase of spontaneous vitality there ran another mood, +another aspect, almost another point of view. It was not towards him, yet +it affected him. There seemed a certain new lightness, even +irresponsibility in her; she was more worldly, more human, not more +ordinary by any means, but less 'impersonal.' He remembered her singular +words: 'It enflames the heart.' He wondered--a little uneasily. +There seemed a new touch of wonder about her that made him aware of +something commonplace, almost inferior, in himself. . . . + +At the same time he felt another thing--a breath of coldness touched him +somewhere, though he could not trace its origin to anything she did or +said. Was it perhaps in what she left unsaid, undone? He longed to hear +her confess how she had missed him, how thrilled she was that he had come: +but she did not say these passionately desired things, and when he teased +her about it, she showed a slight impatience almost: 'Tom, you know I +never talk like that. Anything sentimental I abhor. But I live it. +Can't you see?' His ungenerous fancies vanished then at once; at a word, +a smile, a glance of the expressive eyes, he instantly forgot all else. + +'But I _am_ different in Egypt,' she warned him playfully again, half +closing her eyelids as she said it. 'I wonder if you'll like me--quite as +well.' + +'More,' he replied ardently, 'a thousand times more. I feel it already. +There's mischief in you,' he went on watching the half-closed eyes, +'a touch of magic too, but very human magic. I love it.' And then he +whispered, 'I think you're more within my reach.' + +'Am I?' She looked bewitching, a being of light and air. + +'Everybody will fall in love with you at sight.' He laughed happily, +aware of an enchantment that fascinated him more and more, but when he +suddenly went over to her chair, she stopped him with decision. +'Don't, Tom, please don't. Tony'll be here any minute now. It would be +unpleasant if he saw you behaving wildly like this! He wouldn't +understand.' + +He drew back. 'Oh, Tony's coming--then I must be careful!' He laughed, +but he was disappointed and he showed it: it was their first day together, +and eager though he was to see his cousin, he felt it might well have been +postponed a little. He said so. + +'One must be natural, Tom,' she told him in reply; 'it's always the best +way. This isn't London or Montreux, you see, and----' + +'Lettice, I understand,' he interrupted, a trifle ashamed of himself. +'You're quite right.' He tried to look pleased and satisfied, but the +truth was he felt suddenly--stupid. 'And we've got lots of time--three +months or more ahead of us, haven't we?' She gave him an expressive, +tender look with which he had to be contented for the moment. + +'And by the by, how is old Tony, and who is his latest?' he enquired +carelessly. + +'Very excited at your coming, Tom. You'll think him improved, I hope. +I believe _I_'m his latest,' she added, tilting her chin with a delicious +pretence at mischief. And the gesture again surprised him. It was new. +He thought it foreign to her. There seemed a flavour of impatience, of +audacity, almost of challenge in it. + +'Finding himself at last. That's good. Then you've been fishing to some +purpose.' + +'Fishing?' + +'Rescuing floating faces.' + +She pouted at him. 'I'm not a saint, Tom. You know I never was. +Saints are very inspiring to read about, but you couldn't live with one-- +or love one. Could you, now?' + +He gave an inward start she did not notice. The same instant he was aware +that it was her happy excitement that made her talk in this exaggerated +way. That was why it sounded so unnatural. He forgot it instantly. + +They laughed and chatted as happily as two children--Tom felt a boy +again--until Mrs. Haughstone appeared, marching down the river bank with +an enormous white umbrella over her head, and the talk became general. +Tom said he would go to his hotel and return for lunch; he wanted to +telephone to Assouan. He asked where Tony was staying. 'But he knew I +was at the Winter Palace,' he exclaimed when she mentioned the Savoy. +'He found some people there he wanted to avoid,' she explained, 'so moved +down to the Savoy.' + +Tom said he would do the same; it was much nearer to her house, for one +thing: 'You'll keep him for lunch, won't you?' he said as he went off. +'I'll try,' she promised, 'but he's so busy with his numerous friends as +usual that I can't be sure of him. He has more engagements here than in +London,'--whereupon Mrs. Haughstone added, 'Oh, he'll stay, Mr. Kelverdon. +I'm sure he'll stay. We lunch at one o'clock, remember.' + +And in his room at the hotel Tom found a dozen signs of tenderness and +care that increased his happiness; there were touches everywhere of her +loving thought for his comfort and well-being--flowers, his favourite +soap, some cigarettes, one of her own deck-chairs, books, and even a big +box of crystallised dates as though he was a baby or a little boy. +It all touched him deeply; no other woman in the world could possibly have +thought out such dear reminders, much less have carried them into effect. +There was even a writing-pad and a penholder with the special nib he +liked. He laughed. But her care for him in such trivial things was +exquisite because it showed she claimed the right to do them. + +His heart brimmed over as he saw them. It was impossible to give up any +room, even a hotel room, into which she had put her sweet and mothering +personality. He could do without Tony's presence and companionship, +rather than resign a room she had thus prepared for him. He engaged it +permanently therefore. Then, telephoning to Assouan, he decided to take +the night train and see what had to be done there. It all sounded most +satisfactory; he foresaw much free time ahead of him; occasional trips to +the work would meet the case at present. . . . + +Happier than ever, he returned to a lunch in the open air with her and +Tony, and it was the gayest, merriest meal he had ever known. +Mrs. Haughstone retired to sleep through the hotter hours of the +afternoon, leaving the trio to amuse themselves in freedom. And though +they never left the shady garden by the Nile, they amused themselves so +well that tea was over and it was time for Tom to get ready for his train +before he realised it. Tony and Madame Jaretzka drove him to his hotel, +and afterwards to the station, sitting in the compartment with him until +the train was actually moving. He watched them standing on the platform +together, waving their hands. He waved his own. 'I'll be back to-morrow +or the next day,' he cried. Emotions and sensations were somewhat tangled +in him, but happiness certainly was uppermost. + +'Don't forget,' he heard Tony shout. . . . And her eyes were on his own +until the trees on the platform hid her from his sight behind their long +deep shadows. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The first excitement of arrival over, he drew breath, as it were, and +looked about him. Egypt delighted and amazed him, surpassing his +expectations. Its effect upon him was instantaneous and profound. +The decisive note sounded at Alexandria continued in his ears. Egypt drew +him in with golden, powerful arms. In every detail it was strange, yet +with the strangeness of a predetermined welcome. It was not strange to +_him_. The thrill of welcome made him feel at home. He had come +back. . . . + +Here, at Assouan, he was aware of Africa, mystic, half-monstrous +continent, lying with its heat and wonder just beyond the horizon. +He saw the Southern Cross, pitched low above the sandy rim. . . . +Yet Africa had no call for him. It left him without a thrill, an +uninviting, undesirable land. It was Egypt that made the intimate and +personal appeal, as of a deeply loved and half-familiar place. It seemed +to gather him in against its mighty heart. He lay in some niche of +comforting warm sand against the ancient mass that claimed him, tucked in +by the wonder and the mystery, protected, even mothered. It was an oddly +stimulated imagination that supplied the picture--and made him smile. +He snuggled down deeper and deeper into this figurative warm bed of sand +the ages had pre-ordained. He felt secure and sheltered--as though the +wonder and the mystery veiled something that menaced joy in him, something +that concealed a notion of attack. Almost there seemed a whisper in the +wind, a watchful and unclosing eye behind the dazzling sunshine: +'Surrender yourself to me, and I will care for you. I will protect you +against . . . yourself. . . . Beware!' + +This peculiar excitement in his blood was somehow precisely what he had +expected; the wonder and the thrill were natural and right. He had known +that Egypt would mesmerise his soul exactly in this way. He had, it +seemed, anticipated both the exhilaration and the terror. He thought much +about it all, and each time Egypt looked him in the face, he saw Lettice +too. They were inseparably connected, as it were. He saw her brilliant +eyes peering through the great tawny visage. Together they bade him pause +and listen. . . . The wind brought up its faint, elusive whisper: +'Wait. . . . We have not done with you. . . . Wait and listen! +Watch . . .!' + +Before his mind's eye the mighty land lay like a map, a blazing garden of +intenser life that the desolation ill concealed. Europe seemed infinitely +remote, the life he had been accustomed to unreal, of tepid interest, +while the intimate appeal that Egypt made grew more insistent every hour +of the day. It was Luxor, however, that called him peremptorily--Luxor +where all that was dearest to him in life now awaited his return. +He yearned for Luxor; Thebes drew him like a living magnet. Lettice was +in Thebes, and Thebes also seemed the heart of ancient Egypt, its centre +and its climax. 'Come back to us,' whispered the sweet desert wind; +'we are waiting. . . .' In Thebes seemed the focus of the strange +Egyptian spell. + +At all hours of the day and night, here in Assouan, it caught him, asking +forever the great unanswerable questions. In the pauses of his strenuous +work, in the watches of the night, when he heard the little owls and the +weird barking of the prowling jackals; in the noontide heat, and in the +cold glimmer of the quiet stars, he was never unconscious of its haunting +presence, he was never beyond its influence. He was never quite +alone. . . . + +What did it mean? And why did this hint of danger, of pain, of loneliness +lurk behind the exhilaration and the peace? Wherein lay the essence of +the enchantment this singular Egyptian glamour laid upon his very soul? + +In his laborious way, Tom worked at the disentanglement, but without much +success. One curious thought, however, persisted with a strange enough +significance. It rose, in a sense, unbidden. It was not his brain that +discovered it. It just 'came.' + +For he was thinking of other wonderful countries he had known. +He remembered Japan and India, both surpassing Egypt in colour, sunshine, +gorgeous pageantry, and certainly equalling it in historical association +and the rest. Yet, for him, these old lands had no spell, no glamour +comparable to what he now experienced. The mind contains them, +understands them easily. They are continuous with their past. +The traveller drops in and sees them as they always have been. They are +still, so to speak, going on comfortably as before. There is no shock of +dislocation. They have not died. + +Whereas Egypt has left the world; Egypt is dead; there is no link with +present things. Both heart and mind are aware of this deep vacuum they +vainly strive to fill. That ancient civilisation, both marvellous and +somewhere monstrous, breaking with beauty, burning with aspiration, +mysterious and vital--all has vanished as completely as though it had not +been. The prodigious ruins hint, but cannot utter. No reconstruction +from tomb or temple can recall a great dream the world has lost. +It is forgotten, swept away, there is no clue. Egypt has left the +world. . . . + +Yet, as he thought about it in his uninspired way, it seemed that some +part of him still beat in sympathy with the pulse of the forgotten dream. +Egypt indeed was dead, yet sometimes--she came back. . . . She came to +revisit her soft stars and moon, her great temples and her mighty tombs. +She stole back into the sunshine and the sand; her broken, ruined heart at +Thebes received her. He saw her as a spirit, a persistent, living +presence, a stupendous Ghost. . . . And the idea, having offered itself, +remained. Both he and Lettice somehow were associated with it, and with +this elusive notion of return. They, too, were entangled in the glamour +and the spell. They, too, had stolen back as from some immemorial lost +dream to revisit the scenes of an intenser yet forgotten life. +And Thebes was its centre; the secretive and forbidding Theban Hills, with +their desolate myriad sepulchres, its focus and its climax. . . . + + + +Assouan detained him only a couple of days. He had capable lieutenants; +there was delay, moreover, in the arrival of certain material; he could +always be summoned quickly by telephone. He sent home his report and took +the express train back to Luxor and to--her. + +He had been too occupied, too tired at night, to do more than write a +fond, short letter, then go to sleep; the heat was considerable; he +realised that he was in Africa; the scenery fascinated him, the enormous +tawny desert, the cataracts of golden yellow sand, the magical old river. +The wonder of Philae, with its Osirian shrine and island sanctuary, caught +him as it has caught most other humans. After the sheer bulk of the +pyramids and temples, Philae bursts into the heart with almost lyrical +sweetness. But his heart was fast in Thebes, and not all the enchantment +of this desert paradise could seduce him. Moreover, one detail he +disliked: the ubiquitous earthenware tom-tom that sounded day and +night . . . he heard its sullen beating in his dreams. + +Yet of one thing he was ever chiefly conscious--that he was impatient to +be with Lettice, that his heart hungered without ceasing, that she meant +more to him than ever. Her new beauty astonished him, there was a subtle +charm in her presence he had not felt in London, her fresh spontaneous +gaiety filled him with keen delight. And all this was his. His arrival +gave her such joy that she could not even speak of it; yet he was the +cause of it. It made him feel almost shy. + +He received one characteristic letter from her. 'Come back as quickly as +you can,' she wrote. 'Tony has gone down the river after his birds, and I +feel lonely. Telegraph, and come to dinner or breakfast according to your +train. I'll meet you if possible. You must come here for all your meals, +as I'm sure the hotel food is poor and the drinking water unsafe. +This is open house, remember, for you both.' And there was a delicious +P.S. 'Mind you only drink filtered water, and avoid the hotel salads +because the water hasn't been boiled.' He kissed the letter. He laughed. +Her tender thought for him almost brought the tears into his eyes. It was +the tenderness of his own mother who was dead. + +He reached Luxor in the evening, and to his delight she was on the +platform; long before the train stopped he recognised her figure, the wide +sun-hat with the little roses, the white serge skirt and jacket of knitted +yellow silk to keep the evening chill away. They drove straight to her +house; the sun was down behind the rocky hills and the Nile lay in a dream +of burnished gold; the little owls were calling; there was singing among +the native boatmen on the water; they saw the fields of brilliant green +with the sands beyond, and the keen air from the desert wafted down the +street of what once was great hundred-gated Thebes. A strangely delicate +perfume hung about the ancient city. Tom turned to look at the woman +beside him in the narrow-seated carriage, and felt as if he were driving +through a dream. + +'I can stay a week or ten days at least,' he said at last. 'Is old Tony +back?' + +Yes, he had just arrived and telephoned to ask if he might come to dinner. +'And look, Tom, you can just see the heads of the Colossi rising out of +the haze,'--she pointed quickly--'I thought we would go and show them you +to-morrow. We might all take our tea and eat it in the clover. +You've seen nothing of Egypt yet.' She spoke rapidly, eagerly, full of +her little plan. + +'All?' he repeated doubtfully. + +'Yes, wouldn't you like it?' + +'Oh, rather,' he said, wondering why he did not say another thing that +rose for a moment in his mind. + +'You must see everything,' she went on spontaneously, 'and a dragoman's a +bore. Tony's a far better guide. He knows old Egypt as well as he knows +his old birds.' She laughed. 'It's too ridiculous--his enthusiasm; he's +been dying to explain it all to you as he did to me, and he does it +exactly like a museum guide who is a scholar and a poet too. And he is a +poet, you know. I'd never noticed it before.' + +'Splendid,' said Tom. He was thinking several things at once, among them +that the perfumed air reminded him of something he could not quite recall. +It seemed far away and yet familiar. 'I'm a rare listener too,' he added. + +'The King's Valley you really must do alone together,' she went on; +'I can't face it a second time--the heat, the gloom of it--it oppressed +and frightened me a little. Those terrible grim hills--they're full of +death, those Theban hills.' + +'Tony took you?' he asked. + +She nodded. 'We did the whole thing,' she added, 'every single Tomb. +I was exhausted. I think we all were--except Tony.' The eager look in +her face had gone. Her voice betrayed a certain effort. A darkness +floated over it, like the shadow of a passing cloud. + +'All of you!' he exclaimed, as though it were important. 'No bird-man +ever feels tired.' He seemed to think a moment. There was a tiny pause. +The carriage was close to the house now, driving up with a flourish, and +Tony and Mrs. Haughstone, an incongruous couple, were visible standing +against the luminous orange sky beside the river. Tom pointed to them +with a chuckle. 'All right,' he exclaimed, with a gesture as though he +came to a decision suddenly, 'it shall be the Colossi to-morrow. +There are two of them, aren't there--only two?' + +'Two, yes, the Twin Colossi they call them,' she replied, joining in his +chuckle at the silhouetted figures in the sunset. + +'Two,' he repeated with emphasis, 'not three.' But either she did not +notice or else she did not hear. She was leaning forward waving her hand +to her other guests upon the bank. + + + +There followed then the happiest week that Tom had ever known, for there +was no incident to mar it, nor a single word or act that cast the +slightest shadow. His dread of the 'other' who was to come apparently had +left him, the faint uneasiness he had felt so often seemed gone. +He even forgot to think about it. Lettice he had never seen so gay, so +full of enterprise, so radiant. She sparkled as though she had recovered +her girlhood suddenly. With Tony in particular she had incessant battles, +and Tom listened to their conversations with amusement, for on no single +subject were they able to agree, yet neither seemed to get the best of it. +Tom felt unable to keep pace with their more nimble minds. . . . + +Tony was certainly improved in many ways, more serious than he had showed +himself before, and extraordinarily full of entertaining knowledge into +the bargain. Birds and the lore of ancient Egypt, it appeared, were +merely two of his pet hobbies; and he talked in such amusing fashion that +he kept Tom in roars of laughter, while stimulating Madame Jaretzka to +vehement contradictions. They were much alone, and profited by it. +The numerous engagements Lettice had mentioned gave no sign. +Tony certainly was a brilliant companion as well as an instructive +cicerone. There was more in him than Tom had divined before. His clever +humour was a great asset in the longer expeditions. 'Tony, I'm tired and +hot; please come and talk to me: I want refreshing,' was never addressed to +Tom, for instance, whose good nature could not take the place of wit. +Each of the three, as it were, supplied what the other lacked; it was not +surprising they got on well together. Tom, however, though always happy +provided Lettice was of the party, envied his cousin's fluid temperament +and facile gifts--even in the smallest things. Tony, for instance, would +mimic Mrs. Haughstone's attitude of having done her hostess a kindness in +coming out to Egypt: 'I couldn't do it _again_, dear Lettice, even for +_you_'--the way Tony said and acted it had a touch of inspiration. + +Mrs. Haughstone herself, meanwhile, within the limits of her angular +personality, Tom found also considerably improved. Egypt had changed her +too. He forgave her much because she was afraid of the sun, so left them +often alone. She showed unselfishness, too, even kindness, on more than +one occasion. Tom was aware of a nicer side in her; in spite of her +jealousy and criticism, she was genuinely careful of her hostess's +reputation amid the scandal-loving atmosphere of Egyptian hotel life. +It amused him to see how she arrogated to herself the place of chaperone, +yet Tom saw true solicitude in it, the attitude of a woman who knew the +world towards one who was too trustful. He figured her always holding up +a warning finger, and Lettice always laughingly disregarding her advice. + +Her warnings to Lettice to be more circumspect were, at any rate, by no +means always wrong. Though not particularly observant as a rule, he +caught more than once the tail-end of conversations between them in which +advice, evidently, had been proffered and laughed aside. But, since it +did not concern him, he paid little attention, merely aware that there +existed this difference of view. One such occasion, however, Tom had good +cause to remember, because it gave him a piece of knowledge he had long +desired to possess, yet had never felt within his rights to ask for. +It merely gave details, however, of something he already knew. + +He entered the room, coming straight from a morning's work at his own +hotel, and found them engaged hammer and tongs upon some dispute regarding +'conduct.' Tony, who had been rowing Madame Jaretzka down the river, had +made his escape. Madame Jaretzka effected hers as Tom came in, throwing +him a look of comical relief across her shoulder. He was alone with the +Irish cousin. 'After all, she _is_ a married woman,' remarked Mrs. +Haughstone, still somewhat indignant from the little battle. + +She addressed the words to him as he was the only person within earshot. +It seemed natural enough, he thought. + +'Yes,' said Tom politely. 'I suppose she is.' + +And it was then, quite unexpectedly, that the woman spoke to him as though +he knew as much as she did. He ought, perhaps, to have stopped her, but +the temptation was too great. He learned the facts concerning Warsaw and +the--husband. That the Prince had ill-treated her consistently during the +first five years of their married life could certainly not justify her +freedom, but that he had lost his reason incurably, no longer even +recognised her, that her presence was discouraged by the doctors since it +increased the violence of his attacks, and that his malady was hopeless +and could end only in his death--all this, while adding to the wonder of +her faithful pilgrimages, did assuredly at the same time set her +free. . . . The effect upon his mind may be imagined; it deepened his +love, increased his admiration, for it explained the suffering in the face +she had turned to sweetness, while also justifying her conduct towards +himself. With a single blow, moreover, it killed the dread Tom had been +haunted by so long--that this was that 'other' who must one day take her +from him, obedient to a bigger claim. + +This knowledge, as though surreptitiously obtained, Tom locked within his +breast until the day when she herself should choose to share it with him. + +He remembered another little conversation too when, similarly, he +disturbed them in discussion: this time it was Mrs. Haughstone who was +called away. + +'Behaving badly, Lettice, is she? Scolding you again?' + +'Not at all. Only she sees the bad in every one and I see the good. +She disapproves of Tony rather.' + +'Then she will be less often deceived than you,' he replied laughingly. +The reference to Tony had escaped him; his slow mind was on the general +proposition. + +'Perhaps. But you can only make people better by believing that they +_are_ better,' she went on with conviction--when Mrs. Haughstone joined +them and took up her parable again: + +'My cousin behaves like a child,' she said with amusing severity. +'She doesn't understand the world. But the world is hard upon grown-ups +who behave like children. Lettice thinks everybody good. Her innocence +gets her misjudged. And it's a pity.' + +'I'll keep an eye on her,' Tom said solemnly, 'and we'll begin this very +afternoon.' + +'Do, Mr. Kelverdon, I'm glad to hear it.' And as she said it, he noticed +another expression on her face as she glanced down the drive where Tony, +dressed in grey flannels and singing to himself, was seen sauntering +towards them. She wore an enigmatic smile by no means pleasant. It gave +him a moment's twinge. He turned from her to Lettice by way of relief. +She was waving her white-gloved hand, her eyes were shining, her little +face was radiant--and Tom's happiness came back upon him in a rising flood +again as he watched her beauty. . . . He thought that Egypt was the most +marvellous place he had ever known. Even Tony looked enchanted--almost +handsome. But Lettice looked divine. He felt more and more that the +woman in her blossomed into life before his very eyes. His content was +absolute. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +With Tony as guide they took their fill of wonder. The principal +expeditions were made alone, introducing Tom to the marvels of +ancient Egypt which they already knew. On the sturdiest donkey +Thebes could furnish, he raced his cousin across the burning sands, +Madame Jaretzka following in a sand-cart, her blue veil streaming in +the cool north wind. They played like children, defying the tide of +mystery that this haunted land pours against the modern human soul, +while yet the wonder and the mystery added to their enjoyment, +deepening their happiness by contrast. + +They ate their _al fresco_ luncheons gaily, seated by hoary tombs +that opened into the desolate hills; kings, priests, princesses, dead +six thousand years, listening in caverns underground to their +careless talk. Yet their gaiety had a hush in it, a significance +behind the sentences; for even their lightest moments touched ever +upon the borders of an awfulness that was sublime, and all that they +said or did gained this hint of deeper value--that it was set against +a background of the infinite, the deathless. + +It was impossible to forget that this was Egypt, the deposit of +immemorial secrets, the store-house of stupendous vanished dreams. + +'There was a majesty, after all, about their strange old gods,' said +Tony one afternoon as they emerged from the stifling darkness of a +forgotten kingly tomb into the sunlight. 'They seem to thunder +still--below the ground--subconsciously.' He was ever ready with the +latest modern catchword. He flung himself down upon the sand, shaded +from the glare by a recumbent column of granite exquisitely carved, +then abandoned of the ages. 'They touch something in one even +to-day--something superb. Human worship hasn't changed so +fundamentally after all.' + +'A sort of ghostly deathlessness,' agreed Lettice, making a bed of +sand beside him. 'I think that's what one feels.' + +Tony looked up. He glanced alertly at her. A question flashed a +moment in his eyes, then passed unspoken. + +'Perhaps,' Tony went on in a more flippant tone, 'even the dullest +has to acknowledge the sublime in their conceptions. Isis! Why, the +very name is a poem in a single word. Anubis, Nepthys, Horus-- +there's poetry in them all. They seem to sing themselves into the +heart, as Petrie might have said--but didn't.' + +'The names _are_ rather splendid,' Tom put in, as he unpacked the +kettle and spirit-lamp for tea. 'One can't forget them either.' + +There was a moment's silence, then Tony spoke again. He had lost his +flippant tone. He addressed his remark to Lettice. Tom was aware +that she was somehow waiting for it. + +'Their deathlessness! Yes, you're right.' He turned an instant to +look at the colossal structure behind them, whence the imposing +figures of a broken Pharaoh and his Queen stared to the east cross +the shoulder of some granite Deity that had refused to crumble for +three thousand years. 'Their deathlessness,' he repeated, lowering +his voice, 'it's really startling.' + +He looked about him. It was amazing how his little words, his +gesture, his very atmosphere created a spontaneous expectancy--as +though Thoth might stride sublimely up across the sand, or even Ra +himself come blazing with extended wings and awful disk of fire. + +Tom felt the touch of the unearthly as he watched and listened. +Lettice--he was certain of it--shivered. He moved nearer and spread +a rug across her feet. + +'Don't, Tom, please! I'm hot enough already.' Her tone had a +childish exasperation in it--as though he interrupted some mood that +gave her pleasure. She turned her eyes to Tony, but Tony was busily +opening sandwich packets with hands that--Tom thought--shared one +quality at least of the stone effigies they had been discussing-- +size. And he laughed. The spell was broken. They fell hungrily +upon their desert meal. . . . + +Yet, it was odd how Tony had expressed precisely what Tom had himself +been vaguely feeling, though unable to find the language for his +fancy--odd, too, that apparently all three of them had felt the same +dim thing. No one among them was 'religious,' nor, strictly +speaking, imaginative; poetical least of all in the regenerative, +creative sense. Not one of the trio, that is, could have seized +imaginatively the conception of an alien deity and made it live. +Yet Tony's idle mood or idler words had done this very thing--and all +three acknowledged it in their various ways. The flavour of a remote +familiarity was manifest in each one of them--collectively as well. + +Another time they sat by night in ruined Karnak, watching the silver +moonlight bring out another world among the mighty pylons. +It painted the empty and enormous aisles with crowding processions of +lost ages. Speaking in whispers, they saw the stars peep down +between the soaring forest of old stone; the cold desert wind brought +with it a sadness, a mournful retrospect too vast to realise, the +tragedy that such splendour left but a lifeless skeleton behind, a +gigantic, soulless ruin. That such great prophecies remained +unfulfilled was somewhere both terrible and melancholy. The immortal +strength of these Egyptian stones conveyed a grandeur almost +sinister. The huge dumb beauty seemed menacing, even ominous; they +sat closer; they felt dwarfed uncomfortably, their selves reduced to +insignificance, almost threatened. Even Tony sobered as they talked +in lowered voices, seated in the shadow of the towering columns, +their feet resting on the sand. + +'I'm sure we've sat here before just like this, the three of us,' he +said in a lowered voice; 'it all seems like a dream to me.' + +Madame Jaretzka, who was between them, made no answer, and Tom, +leaning forward, caught his cousin's eye beyond her. . . . The scene +in the London theatre flashed across his mind. He felt very happy, +very close to them both, extraordinarily at one with them, the woman +he loved best in all the world, the man who was his greatest friend. +He felt truth, not foolishness, in Tony's otherwise commonplace +remarks that followed: 'I could swear I'd known you both before--here +in Egypt.' + +Madame Jaretzka moved a little, shuffling farther back so that she +could lean against the great curved pillar. It brought them closer +together still. She said no word, however. + +'There's certainly a curious sympathy between the three of us,' +murmured Tom, who usually felt out of his depth in similar talks, +leaving his companions to carry it further while he listened merely. +'It's hard to believe that we meet for the first time now.' + +He sat close to her, fingering her gauzy veil that brushed his face. +There was a pause, and then Madame Jaretzka said, turning to Tony: +'We met here first anyhow, didn't we? Two winters ago, before I met +Tom----' + +But Tony said he meant something far older than that, much longer +ago. 'You and Tom knew each other as children, you told me once. +Tom and I were boys together too . . . but . . .' + +His voice died away in Tom's ears; her answers also were inaudible as +she kept her head turned towards Tony: his thoughts, besides, were +caught away a moment to the days in Montreux and in London. . . . +He fell into a reverie that lasted possibly a minute, possibly +several minutes. The conversation between them left him somehow out +of it; he had little to contribute; they had an understanding, as it +were, on certain subjects that neglected him. His mind accordingly +left them. He followed his own thoughts dreamily . . . far away + . . . past the deep black shadows and out into the soft blaze of +moonlight that showered upon the distant Theban hills. . . . He +remembered the curious emotions that had marked his entry into Egypt. +He thought of a change in Lettice, at present still undefined. +He wondered what it was about her now that lent to her gentle spirit +a touch of authority, of worldly authority almost, that he dared not +fail to recognise--as though she had the right to it. The flavour of +uneasiness stole back. It occurred to him suddenly that he felt no +longer quite at home with her _alone_ as of old. Some one watched +him: some one watched them both. . . . + +It was as though for the first time he realised distance--a new +distance creeping in upon their relationship somewhere. . . . + +A slight shiver brought him back. The wind came moaning down the +monstrous, yawning aisles against them. The overpowering effect of +so much grandeur had become intolerable. 'Ugh! I'm cold,' he +exclaimed abruptly. 'I vote we move a bit. I think--_I_'ll move +anyhow.' + +Madame Jaretzka turned to him with a definite start; she straightened +herself against the huge sandstone column. The moonlight touched +her; it clothed her in gold and silver, the gold of the sand, the +silver of the moon. She looked ethereal, ghostly, a figure of air +and distance. She seemed to belong to her surroundings--another +person somehow--faintly Egyptian almost. + +'I thought you were asleep, Tom,' she said softly. She had been in +the middle of an animated, though whispered, talk with Tony. +She peered at him with a little smile that lifted her lip oddly. + +'I was far away somewhere,' he returned, peering at her closely. +'I forgot all about you both. I thought, for a moment, I was quite-- +alone.' + +He saw her start again. A significance he hardly intended had crept +into his tone. Her face moved back into the shadow quickly beside +Tony. + +She teased Tom for his want of manners, then fell to caring for his +comfort. 'It's icy,' she said, 'and you're in flannels. The sudden +chill of these Egyptian nights is really treacherous,' and she took +the rug from her lap and put it round his shoulders. As she did so, +the strange appearance he had noted increased about her. + +And Tom got up abruptly. 'No, Lettice dear, thank you; I think I'll +move a bit.' He had said 'Lettice dear' without realising it, and +before his cousin too. 'I'll take a turn and then come back for you. +You stay here with Tony,' and he moved off somewhat briskly. + +Then, instantly, the other two rose up like one person, following him +to where the carriage waited. . . . + +'They're frightening rather, don't you think--these ancient places?' +she said presently, as they drove along past palms and the +flat-topped houses of the felaheen. 'There's something watching and +listening all the time.' + +Tom made no answer. He felt suddenly unsure of something--almost +unsure of himself, it seemed. + +'One feels a bit lost,' he said slowly after a bit, 'and lonely. +It's the size, I think.' + +'Perhaps,' she rejoined, peering at him with half-lowered eyelids, +'and the silence.' She broke off, then added, 'You can hear your +thoughts too clearly.' + +Tom was sitting back amid a bundle of rugs she had wrapped him in; +Tony, beside her, on the front seat, seemed in a gentle doze. +They drove the rest of the way in silence, dropping Tony first at the +Savoy, then going on to Tom's hotel. She insisted, although her own +house was in the opposite direction. 'And you're to take a hot +whisky when you get into bed, remember, and don't get up to-morrow if +you feel a chill.' She gave him orders for his health and comfort as +though he were her son. Tom noticed it, told her she was divinely +precious to him, and promised faithfully to obey. + +'What do you think about Tony?' he asked suddenly, when they had +driven alone for several minutes. 'I mean, what impression does he +make on you? How do you _feel_ him?' + +'He's enjoying himself immensely with his numerous friends,' she +replied at once. 'He grows on one rather. He's a dear, I think.' +She looked at him, then turned away again. 'Don't you, Tom?' + +'Oh, rather. I've always thought so. I told you first long ago, +didn't I?' He made no reference to the exaggeration about the +friends. 'And I think it's wonderful how well we--what a perfect +trio we are.' + +'Yes, isn't it?' + +They both became thoughtful then. There fell a pause between them, +when Tom broke in abruptly once again: + +'But--what do _you_ feel? Because _I_ think he's half in love with +you, if you want to know.' He leaned over and whispered in her ear. +The words tumbled out as though they were in a hurry. 'It pleases me +immensely, Lettice; it makes me feel so proud of you and happy. +It'll do him a world of good, too, if he loves a woman like you. +You'll teach him something.' She smiled shyly and said, 'I wonder, +Tom. Do you really think so? He certainly seems fond of me, but I +hadn't thought quite that. You think everybody must fall in love +with me.' She pushed him away with a gentle yet impatient pressure +of her arm, indicating the Arab coachman with a nod of her head. +'Take care of him, Lettice: he's a dear fellow; don't let him break +his heart.' + +Tom began to flirt outrageously; his arm crept round her, he leaned +over and stole a kiss--and to his amazement she did not try to stop +him. She did not seem to notice it. She sat very still--a stone +statue in the moonlight. + +Then, suddenly, he realised that she had not replied to his question. +He promptly repeated it therefore. 'You put me off with what _he_ +feels, but I want to know what _you_ feel,' he said with emphasis. + +'But, Tom, I'm not putting you off, as you call it--with anything,' +and there was a touch of annoyance in her tone and manner. + +'Tell me, Lettice; it interests me. You're such a puzzle, d'you +know, out here.' His tone unconsciously grew more earnest as he +spoke. + +Madame Jaretzka broke into a little laugh. 'You boy!' she exclaimed +teasingly, 'you're trying to heighten his value so as to increase +your own by contrast. The more people you can find in love with me, +the more you'll be able to flatter yourself.' + +Tom laughed with her, though he did not quite understand. He had +never heard her say such a thing before. He accepted the cleverness +she gave him credit for, however. 'Of course, and why shouldn't I?' +And he was just going to put his original question in another form-- +had already begun it, in fact--when she interrupted him, putting her +hand playfully over his mouth for a second: 'I do think Tony's a +happy entertaining sort of man,' she told him, 'even fascinating in a +certain kind of way. He's very stimulating to me. And I feel--don't +you, Tom?'--a slight change--was it softness?--crept into her tone-- +'a sort of beauty in him somewhere?' + +'Yes, p'raps I do,' he assented briefly; 'but, I say, Lettice +darling, you mischievous Egyptian princess.' + +'Be quiet, Tom, and take your arm away. Here's the hotel in sight.' +And yet, somehow, he fancied that she preferred his action to the +talk. + +'Tell me this first,' he went on, obeying her peremptory tone: +'do you think it's true that we three have been together before like +that--as Tony said, I mean? It's a funny thing, but I swear it +sounded true when he said it.' His tone was earnest again. +'It gave me the creeps a bit, and, d'you know, you looked so queer, +so wonderful in the moonlight--you looked un-English, foreign--like +one of those Egyptian figures come to life. That's what made me +cold, I think.' His laughter died away. He was grave suddenly. +He sighed a little and moved closer to her. 'That's--what made me +get up and leave you,' he added abruptly. + +'Oh, he's always saying that kind of thing,' she answered quickly, +moving the rugs for him to get out as the carriage slowed up before +the brilliantly lit hotel. She made no reference to his other words. +'There's a lot of poetry in Tony too--out here.' + +'Said it before, has he?' exclaimed Tom with genuine astonishment. +'All three of us or--or just you and him? Am _I_ in the business +too?' He was now bubbling over with laughter again for some reason; +it all seemed comical, almost. Yet it was a sudden, an emotional +laughter. His emotion--his excitement surprised him even at the +time. + +'All three of us--I think,' she said, as he held her hand a moment, +saying good-bye. 'Yes, all three of us, of course. Now good-night, +you inquisitive and impertinent boy, and if you have to stay in bed +to-morrow we'll come over and nurse you all day long.' He answered +that he would certainly stay in bed in that case--and watched her +waving her hand over the back of the carriage as she drove away into +the moonlight like a fading dream of stars and mystery and beauty. +Then he took his telegrams and letters from the Arab porter with the +face of expressionless bronze, and went up to bed. + +'What a strange and wonderful woman!' he thought as the lift rushed +him up: 'out here she seems another being, and a thousand times more +fascinating.' He felt almost that he would like to win her all over +again from the beginning. 'She's different to what she was in +England. Tony's different too. And so am I, I do believe!' he +exclaimed in his bedroom, looking at his sunburned face in the glass +a moment. 'We're all different!' He felt singularly happy, +hilarious, stimulated--a deep and curious excitement was in him. +Above all there was high pride that she belonged to him so +absolutely. But the analysis he had indulged in England vanished +here. He forgot it all. . . . He was in Egypt with her . . . now. + +He read his letters and telegrams, only half realising at first that +they called him back to Assouan. 'What a bore,' he thought; +'I simply shan't go. A week's delay won't matter. I can telephone.' + +He laid them down upon the table beside him and walked out on to his +balcony. Responsibility seemed less in him. He felt a little +reckless. His position was quite secure. He was his own master. +He meant to enjoy himself. . . . But another, deeper voice was +sounding in him too. He heard it, but at first refused to recognise +it. It whispered. One word it whispered: 'Stay . . .!' + + + +There was no sleep in him; with an overcoat thrown across his +shoulders he watched the calm Egyptian night, the soft army of the +stars, the river gleaming in a broad band of silver. Hitherto +Lettice had monopolised his energies; he had neglected Egypt, whose +indecipherable meaning now came floating in upon him with a strange +insistence. Lettice came with it too. The two beauties were +indistinguishable. . . . + +A flock of boats lay motionless, their black masts hanging in +mid-air; all was still and silent, no voices, no footsteps, no +movements anywhere. In the distance the desolate rocky hills rolled +like a solid wave along the horizon. Gaunt and mysterious, they +loomed upon the night. They were pierced by myriad tombs, those +solemn hills; the stately dead lay there in hundreds--he imagined +them looking forth a moment like himself across the peace and silence +of the moonlit desert. They focussed upon Thebes, upon the white +hotel, upon a modern world they could not recognise--upon his very +windows. It seemed to him for a moment that their ancient eyes met +his own across the sand, across the silvery river, and, as they met, +a shadowy gleam of recognition passed between them and himself. +At the same time he also saw the eyes he loved. They gazed through +half-closed eyelids . . . the Eastern eyes of his early boyhood's +dream. He remembered again the strange emotion of the day he first +arrived in Egypt, weeks ago. . . . + +And then he suddenly thought of Tony, and of Tony's careless remark +as they sat in ruined Karnak together: 'I feel as if we three had all +been here before.' + +Why it returned to him just now he did not know: for some reason +unexplained the phrase revived in him. Perhaps he felt an +instinctive sympathy towards the poet's idea that he and _she_ were +lovers of such long standing, of such ancient lineage. It flattered +his pride, while at the same time it disturbed him. A sense of vague +disquiet grew stronger in him. In any case, he did not dismiss it +and forget--his natural way of treating fancies. 'Perhaps,' he +murmured, 'the bodies she and I once occupied lie there now--lie +under the very stars their eyes--_our_ own--once looked upon.' + +It was strange the fancy took such root in him. . . . He stood a +long time gazing at the vast, lonely necropolis among the mountains. +There was an extraordinary stillness over that western bank, where +the dead lay in their ancient tombs. The silence was eloquent, but +the whole sky whispered to his soul. And again he felt that Egypt +welcomed him; he was curiously at home here. It moved the deeps in +him, brought him out; it changed him; it brought out Lettice too-- +brought out a certain power in her. She was more of a woman here, a +woman of the world. She was more wilful, and more human. Values had +subtly altered. Tony himself was altered. . . . Egypt affected them +all three. . . . + +The vague uneasiness persisted. His mood changed a little, the +excitement gradually subsided; thought shifted to a minor key, +subdued by the beauty of the southern night. The world lay in a +mysterious glow, the hush was exquisite. Yet there was expectancy: +that glow, that hush were ready to burst into flame and language. +They covered secrets. Something was watching him. He was dimly +aware of a thousand old forgotten things. . . . + +He no longer thought, but felt. The calm, the peace, the silence +laid soothing fingers against the running of his blood; the turbulent +condition settled down. Then, through the quieting surface of his +reverie, stole up a yet deeper mood that seemed evoked partly by the +mysterious glamour of the scene, yet partly by his will to let it +come. It had been a long time in him; he now let it up to breathe. +It came, moreover, with ease, and quickly. + +For a gentle sadness rose upon him, a sadness deeply hidden that he +suddenly laid bare as of set deliberation. The recent play and +laughter, above all his own excitement, had purposely concealed it-- +from others possibly, but certainly from himself. The excitement had +been a mask assumed by something deeper in him he had wished--and +tried--to hide. Gently it came at first, this sadness, then with +increasing authority and speed. It rose about him like a cloud that +hid the stars and dimmed the sinking moon. It spread a veil between +him and the rocky cemetery on those mournful hills beyond the Nile. +In a sense it seemed, indeed, to issue thence. It emanated from +their silence and their ancient tombs. It sank into him. It was +penetrating--it was familiar--it was deathless. + +But it was no mood of common sadness; there lay no physical tinge in +it, but rather a deep, unfathomable sadness of the spirit: an inner +loneliness. From his inmost soul it issued outwards, meeting +half-way some sense of similar loneliness that breathed towards him +from these tragic Theban hills. . . . + +And Tom, not understanding it, tried to shake himself free again; +he called up cheerful things to balance it; he thought of his firm +position in the world, of his proud partnership, of his security with +her he loved, of his zest in life, of the happy prospect immediately +in front of him. But, in spite of all, the mood crept upwards like a +rising wave, swamping his best resistance, drowning all appeal to joy +and confidence. He recognised an unwelcome revival of that earlier +nightmare dread connected with his boyhood, things he had decided to +forget, and had forgotten as he thought. The mood took him gravely, +with the deepest melancholy he had ever known. It had begun so +delicately; it became in a little while so determined, it threatened +to overmaster him. He turned then and faced it, so to speak. +He looked hard at it and asked of himself its meaning. Thought and +emotion in him shuffled with their shadowy feet. + +And then he realised that, in germ at any rate, the mood had lain +actually a long time in him, deeply concealed--the surface excitement +merely froth. He had hidden it from himself. It had been +accumulating, gaining strength and impetus, pausing upon direction +only. All the hours just spent at Karnak it had been there, drawing +nearer to the surface; this very night, but a little while ago, +during the drive home as well; before that even--during all the talks +and out-door meals and expeditions; he traced its existence suddenly, +and with tiny darts of piercing, unintelligible pain, as far back as +Alexandria and the day of his arrival. It seemed to justify the +vivid emotions that had marked his entry into Egypt. It became +sharply clear now--this had been in him subconsciously since the +moment when he read the little letter of welcome Lettice sent to meet +him at the steamer, a letter he discovered afterwards was curiously +empty. This disappointment, this underlying sadness he had kept +hidden from himself: he now laid it bare and recognised it. He faced +it. With a further flash he traced it finally to the journey in the +Geneva train when he had read over the Warsaw and the Egyptian +letters. + +And he felt startled: something at the roots of his life was +trembling. He tried to think. But Tom was slow; he could feel, but +he could not dissect and analyse. Introspection with him invariably +darkened vision, led to distortion and bewilderment. The effort to +examine closely confused him. Instead of dissipating the emotion he +intensified it. The sense of loneliness grew inexplicably--a great, +deep loneliness, a loneliness of the spirit, a loneliness, moreover, +that it seemed to him he had experienced before, though when, under +what conditions, he could not anywhere remember. + +His former happiness was gone, the false excitement with it. +This freezing loneliness stole in and took their places. +Its explanation lay hopelessly beyond him, though he felt sure it had +to do with this haunted and mysterious land where he now found +himself, and in a measure with her, even with Tony too. . . . + +The hint Egypt dropped into him upon his arrival was a true one--he +had slipped over an edge, slipped into something underneath, below +him--something past. But slipped _with her_. She had come back to +fetch him. They had come back to fetch--each other . . . through +pain. . . . + +And a shadow from those sombre Theban mountains crept, as it were, +upon his life. He knew a sinking of the heart, a solemn, dark +presentiment that murmured in his blood the syllables of 'tragedy.' +To his complete amazement--at first he refused to believe it indeed-- +there came a lump into his throat, as though tears must follow to +relieve the strain; and a moment later there was moisture, a +perceptible moisture, in his eyes. The sadness had so swiftly passed +into foreboding, with a sense of menacing tragedy that oppressed him +without cause or explanation. Joy and confidence collapsed before it +like a paper platform beneath the pressure of a wind. His feet and +hands were cold. He shivered. . . . + +Then gradually, as he stood there watching the calm procession of the +stars, he felt the ominous emotion draw down again, retreat. +Deep down inside him whence it came, it retired into a kind of +interior remoteness that lay beyond his reach. It was incredible and +strange. The intensity had made it seem so real. . . . For, while +it lasted, he had felt himself bereft, lonely beyond all telling, +outcast, lost, forgotten, wrapped in a cold and desolate misery that +frightened him past all belief. The hand that lit his pipe still +trembled. But the mood had passed as mysteriously as it came. +It left him curiously shaken in his heart. 'Perhaps this too,'-- +thought murmured from some depth in him he could neither control nor +understand--'perhaps this too is--Egypt.' + +He went to bed, emotion all smoothed out again, yet wondering a good +deal at himself. For the odd upheaval was a new experience. Such an +attack had never come to him before; he laughed at it, called it +hysteria, and decided that its cause was physical; he persuaded +himself that it had a very banal cause--a chill, even a violent +chill, incipient fever and over-fatigue at the back of it. He smiled +at himself, while obeying the loving orders he had received, and +brewing the comforting hot mixture with his spirit-lamp. + +Then drinking it, he looked round the room with satisfaction at the +various evidences of precious motherly care. This mother-love +restored his happiness by degrees. His more normal, stolid, +unimaginative self climbed back into its place again--yet with a +touch of awkwardness and difficulty. Something in him was changed, +or changing; he had surprised it in the act. + +The nature of the change escaped him, however. It seemed, perhaps-- +this was the nearest he could get to it--that something in him had +weakened, some sense of security, of confidence, of self-complacency +given way a little. Only it was not his certainty of the mother-love +in her: that remained safe from all possible attack. A tinge of +uneasiness still lay like a shadow on his mind--until the fiery +spirit chased it away, and a heavy sleep came over him that lasted +without a break until he woke two hours after sunrise. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +He sprang from his bed, went to the open window and thrust his head out +into the crystal atmosphere. It was impossible to credit the afflicting +nightmare of a few hours ago. Gold lay upon the world, and the face of +Egypt wore her great Osirian look. + +In the air was that tang of mountain-tops that stimulated like wine. +Everything sparkled, the river blazed, the desert was a sheet of burnished +bronze. Light, heat, and radiance pervaded the whole glad morning, +bathing even his bare feet on the warm, soft carpet. It was good to be +alive. How could he not feel happy and unafraid? + +The change, perhaps, was sudden; it certainly was complete. . . . +These vivid alternations seemed characteristic of his whole Egyptian +winter. Another self thrust up, sank out of sight, then rose again. +The confusion seemed almost due to a pair of competing selves, each +gaining the upper hand in turn--sometimes he lived both at once. . . . +The uneasy mood, at any rate, had vanished with the darkness, for nothing +sad or heavy-footed could endure amid this dancing exhilaration of the +morning. Born of the brooding night and mournful hills, his recent pain +was forgotten. + +He dressed in flannels, and went his way to the house upon the Nile soon +after nine o'clock; he certainly had no chill, there was only singing in +his heart. The curious change in Lettice, it seemed, no longer troubled +him. And, finding Tony already in the garden, they sat in the shade and +smoked together while waiting for their hostess. Light-hearted as +himself, Tony outlined various projects, to which the other readily +assented. He persuaded himself easily, if recklessly; the work could +wait. 'We simply must see it all together,' Tony urged. 'You can go back +to Assouan next week. You'll find everything all right. Why hurry off?' + . . . How his cousin had improved, Tom was thinking; his tact was +perfect; he asked no awkward questions, showed no inquisitiveness. +He just assumed that his companions had a right to be fond of each other, +while taking his own inclusion in the collective friendship for granted as +natural too. + +And when Lettice came out to join them, radiant in white, with her broad +sun-hat and long blue veil and pretty gauntlet gloves, Tony explained with +enthusiasm at the beauty of the picture: 'She's come into her own out here +with a vengeance,' he declared. 'She ought to live in Egypt always. +It suits her down to the ground.' Whereupon Tom, pleased by the +spontaneous admiration, whispered proudly to himself, 'And she is mine-- +all mine!' Tony's praise seemed to double her value in his eyes at once. +So Tony, too, was aware that she had changed; had noted the subtle +alteration, the enhancement of her beauty, the soft Egyptian +transformation! + +'You'd hardly take her for European, I swear--at a distance--now, would +you?' + +'N-no,' Tom agreed, 'perhaps you wouldn't----' at which moment precisely +the subject of their remarks came up and threw her long blue veil across +them both with the command that it was time to start. + +The following days were one long dream of happiness and wonder spent +between the sunlight and the stars. They were never weary of the beauty, +the marvel, and the mystery of all they saw. The appeal of temple, tomb, +and desert was so intimate--it seemed instinctive. The burning sun, the +scented winds, great sunsets and great dawns, these with the palms, the +river, and the sand seemed a perfect frame about a perfect picture. +They knew a kind of secret pleasure that was satisfying. Egypt harmonised +all three of them. And if Tom did not notice the change increasing upon +one of them, it was doubtless because he was too much involved in the +general happiness to see it separate. + +There came a temporary interruption, however, in due course--his +conscience pricked him. 'I really must take a run up to Assouan,' he +decided. 'I've been rather neglecting things perhaps. A week at most +will do it--and then for another ten days' holiday again!' + +The rhythm broke, as it were, with a certain suddenness. A rift came in +the collective dream. He saw details again--saw them separate. And the +day before he left a trifling thing occurred that forced him to notice the +growth of the change in Lettice. He focussed it. It startled him a +little. + +The others had not sought to change his judgment. But they planned an +all-night bivouac in the desert for his return; they would sleep with +blankets on the sand, cook their supper upon an open fire, and see the +dawn. 'It's an exquisite experience,' said Tony. 'The stars fade +quickly, there's a puff of warmer wind, and the sun comes up with a rush. +It's marvellous. I'll get de Lorne and his sister to join us; he can tell +stories round the fire, and perhaps she will get inspiration at last for +her awful pictures.' Madame Jaretzka laughed. 'Then we must have Lady +Sybil too,' she added; 'de Lorne may find courage to propose to her +fortune at last.' Tom looked up at her with a momentary surprise. +'I declare, Lettice, you've grown quite worldly; that's a very cynical +remark and point of view.' + +He said it teasingly, but it was this innocent remark that served to focus +the change in her he had been aware of vaguely for a long time. She was +more worldly here, the ordinary 'woman' in her was more in evidence: and +while he rather liked it--it brought her more within his reach, as it +were, yet without lowering her--he felt also puzzled. Several times of +late he had surprised this wholesome sign of sex in things she said and +did, as though the woman-side, as he called it, was touched into activity +at last. It added to her charm; at the same time it increased his burning +desire to possess her absolutely for himself. What he felt as the +impersonal--almost spiritually elusive--aspect of her he had first known, +was certainly less in evidence. Another part of her was rising into view, +if not already in the ascendant. The burning sun, the sensuous colour and +beauty of the Egyptian climate, he had heard, could have this +physiological effect. He wondered. + +'Sybil has been waiting for him to ask her ever since I came out,' he +heard her saying with a gesture almost of impatience. 'Only he thinks he +oughtn't to speak because he's poor. The result is she's getting bolder +in proportion as he gets more shy.' + +They all laughingly agreed to help matters to a climax when Tom, looking +up suddenly, saw Madame Jaretzka smiling at his cousin with her eyelids +half closed in the way he once disliked but now adored. He wondered +suddenly how much Tony liked her; the improvement in him was assuredly due +to her, he felt; Tony had less and less time now for his other friends. +It occurred to him for a second that the change in her was greater than he +quite knew, perhaps. He watched them together for some moments. It gave +him a proud sense of pleasure to feel that her influence was making a man +out of the medley of talent and irresponsibility that was Tony. Tony was +learning at last to 'find himself.' It must be quite a new experience for +him to know and like a woman of her sort, almost a discovery. But with a +flash--too swift and fleeting to be a definite thought--Tom was conscious +of another thing as well--and for the first time: 'How she would put him +in his place if he attempted any liberties with her!' + +The same second he was ashamed that such a notion could ever have occurred +to him: it was mean towards Tony, ungenerous towards her; and yet--he was +aware of a distinct emotion, a touch of personal triumph in it +somewhere. . . . + +His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden tumult. There was a scurry; +Tony flung a stone; Madame Jaretzka leaped upon a boulder, gathering her +skirts together hurriedly, with a little scream. 'Kill it, Tony! Quick!' +he heard her cry. And he saw then a very large and hairy spider crawling +swiftly across the white paper that had wrapped their fruit and +sandwiches, an ugly and distressing sight. 'It's a tarantula,' she +screamed, half laughing, half alarmed, showing neat ankles as she balanced +precariously upon her boulder, 'and it's coming at me. Quick, Tony, +another stone,' as he missed it for the second time, 'it's making for me! +Oh, kill it, kill it!' Tony, still aiming badly, assured her it was not a +tarantula, nor poisonous even; he knew the species well. 'It's quite +harmless,' he cried, 'there's no need to kill it. It's not in a +house----' And he flung another useless stone at it. + +What followed happened very quickly, in a second or two at most. +Tom saw it with sharp surprise, a curious distaste, almost with a shudder. +It certainly astonished him, and in another sense it shocked him. +He had done nothing himself because Lettice, he thought, was half in fun, +making a diversion out of nothing. Only much later did it occur to him +that she had turned instinctively to Tony for protection, rather than to +himself. What caused him the unpleasant sensation, however, was that she +deliberately stepped down from her perch of safety and kicked at the +advancing horror. Probably her intention was merely to drive it away--she +was certainly excited--but the result was that she set her foot upon the +creature and crushed its life out with an instant's pressure of her dainty +boot. 'There!' she cried. 'Oh, but I didn't mean to kill it! +How frightful of me!' + +He heard Tony say, 'Bravo, you _are_ a brave woman! Such creatures have +no right to live!' as he hid the disfigured piece of paper beneath some +stones . . . and, after a few minutes' chatter, the donkey-boys had packed +up the luncheon things and they were all on their way towards the next +object of their expedition, as though nothing had happened. The entire +incident had occupied a moment and a half at most. Madame Jaretzka was +laughing and talking as before, gay as a child and pretty as a dream. + +In Tom's mind, however, it went on happening--over and over again. +He could not at once clean his mind of a disagreeable impression that +remained. Another woman, any woman for that matter, might have done what +she did without leaving a trace in him of anything but a certain +admiration. It was a perfectly natural thing. The creature probably was +poisonous as well as hideous; Tony merely said the contrary to calm her; +moreover, he gave no help, and the insect was certainly making hurriedly +towards her--she had to save and protect herself. There was nothing in +the incident beyond an ugliness, a passing second of distress; and yet-- +this was what remained with him--it was not a natural thing for 'Lettice' +to have done. Her intention, no doubt, was otherwise; there was +miscalculation as well. She had only meant to frighten the scurrying +creature. Yet at the same time the instinctive act issued, he felt, from +another aspect, another part of her, a part that in London, in Montreux, +lay unexpressed and unawakened. And it issued deliberately too. +The exquisite tenderness that could not have put a fly to death was less +in her. Egypt had changed her oddly. He was aware of something that made +him shrink, though he did not use the phrase even to himself in thought; +of something hard and almost cruel, though both adjectives lay far from +clothing the faint sensation in his mind with definite words. + +Tom watched her instinctively from that moment, unconsciously, that is; +less with his eyes than with a little pair of glasses in his heart. +There was certainly a change in her that he could not quite account for; +the notion came to him once or twice that some influence was upon her, +some power that was outside herself, modifying the sharp outlines of her +first peculiar tenderness. These dear outlines blurred a trifle in the +fierce sunlight of this desert air. He knew not how to express it even to +himself, for it was too tenuous to seize in actual words. + +He arrived at this partial conclusion anyhow: that he was aware of what he +called the 'woman' in her, but a very human woman--a certain wilfulness +that was half wildness in it. There was a hint of the earthly, too, as +opposed to spiritual, though in a sense that was wholesome, good, entirely +right. Yet it was rather, perhaps, primitive than earthly in any vulgar +meaning. . . . It had been absent or dormant hitherto. She needed it; +something--was it Egypt? was it sex?--had stirred it into life. And its +first expression--surprising herself as much as it surprised him--had an +aspect of exaggeration almost. + +The way she raced their donkeys in her sand-cart on the way home, by no +means sparing the whip, was extremely human, but unless he had witnessed +it he could never have pictured it as possible--so utterly unlike the +gentle, gracious, almost fastidious being he had known first. There was a +hint of a darker, stronger colour in the pattern of her being now, partly +of careless and abundant spirits, partly of this new primitive savagery. +He noticed it more and more, it was both repellant and curiously +attractive; yet, while he adored it in her, he also shrank. He detected a +touch even of barbaric vanity, and this singular touch of the barbaric +veiled the tenderness. He almost felt in her the power to inflict pain +without flinching--upon another. . . . + +The following day their time of gaiety was to end, awaiting only his +return later from Assouan. Tony was going down to Cairo with some other +friends. Tom would be away at least a week, and tried hard to persuade +his cousin to come with him instead; but Tony had given his word, and +could not change. Moreover, he was dining with his friends that very +night, and must hurry off at once. He said his good-byes and went. + +'We're very rarely alone now, are we, Lettice?' Tom began abruptly the +instant they were together. At the back of his mind rose something he did +not understand that forced more significance into his tone than he +intended. He felt very full--an accumulation that must have expression. +He blurted it out without reflection. 'Hardly once since I arrived two +weeks ago, now I come to think of it.' He looked at her half playfully, +half reproachfully. 'We're always three,' he added with the frank pathos +of a boy. And while one part of him felt ashamed, another part urged him +onward and was glad. + +But the way she answered startled him. + +'Tom dear, don't scold me now. I _am_ so tired.' It was the tone that +took his breath away. For the first time in their acquaintance he noticed +something like exasperation. 'I've been doing too much,' she went on more +gently, smiling up into his face: 'I feel it. And that dreadful thing-- +that insect,'--she shuddered a little--'I never meant to hurt it. +It's upset me. All this daily excitement, and the sun, and the jolting of +that rickety sand-cart--There, Tom, come and sit beside me a moment and +let's talk before you go. I'm really too done up to drive you to the +station to-night. You'll understand and forgive me, won't you?' +Her voice was very soft. She was excited, too, talking at random rather. +Her being seemed confused. + +He took his place on a sturdy cushion at her feet, full of an exaggerated +remorse. She looked pale, though her eyes were very sparkling. His heart +condemned him. He said nothing about the 'dreadful incident.' + +'Lettice, dearest girl, I didn't mean anything. You have been doing far +too much, and it's my fault; you've done it all for me--to give me +pleasure. It's been too wonderful.' He took her hand, while her other +stroked his head. 'You must rest while I'm away.' + +'Yes,' she murmured, 'so as to be quite fresh when you come back. +You won't be _very_ long, will you?' He said he would risk his whole +career to get back within the week. 'But, you know, I have neglected +things rather--up there.' He smiled fondly as he said 'up there.' +She looked down tenderly into his eyes. 'And I have neglected you--down +here,' she said. 'That's what you mean, boy, isn't it?' And for the +first time he did not like the old mode of address he once thought +perfect. There seemed a flavour of pity in it. 'It _would_ be nice to be +alone sometimes, wouldn't it, Lettice? Quite alone, I mean,' he said with +meaning. + +'We shall be, we will be--later, Tom,' she whispered; '_quite_ alone +together.' She paused, then added louder: 'The truth is, Egypt--the air +and climate--stimulates me too much; it makes me restless. It excites me +in a way I can't quite understand. I can't sit still and talk and be idle +as one does in sleepy, solemn England.' + +He was explaining with laborious logic that it was the dryness of the air +that exhausted the nerves a bit, when she straightened herself up and took +her hand away. 'Oh yes, Tom, I know, I know. That's perfectly true, and +everybody says that--I mean, everybody feels it, don't they?' She said it +quickly, almost impatiently. + +The old uneasiness flashed through him at that moment: it occurred to him, +'I'm dull, I'm boring her.' She was over-tired, he remembered then, her +nerves on edge a trifle; it was natural enough; he would just kiss her and +leave her to rest quietly. Yet a tiny sense of resentment, even of chill, +crept over him. This impatience in her was new to him. He wondered an +instant, then crushed back the words that tried to rise. He said goodbye, +taking her in his arms for a moment with an overmastering impulse he could +not check. Deep love and tenderness were in his heart and eyes. +He yearned to protect and guide her--keep her safe from harm. He felt his +older years, his steadier strength; he was a man, she but a little gentle +woman. And the elemental powers of life were very strong. With a sudden +impulsive gesture, then, that surprised him, she returned the embrace with +a kind of vehemence, pressing him closely to her heart and kissing him +repeatedly on the cheeks and eyes. + +Tom had expected her to resist and chide him. He was bewildered and +delighted; he was also puzzled--for the first second only. 'You darling +woman,' he cried, forgetting utterly the suspicion, the uneasiness, the +passing cold of a moment before. He marvelled that his heart could have +let such fancies come to birth. Surely he had changed for such a thing to +be possible at all! . . . Various impulses and emotions that clamoured in +him he kept back with an effort. He was aware of clashing contradictions. +Confidence was less in him. He felt curiously unsure of himself--also, in +a cruel, subtle way--of her. There was a new thing in her--rising. +Was it against himself somewhere? The tangle in his heart and mind seemed +inextricable: he wanted to seize her and carry her away, struggling but +captured, and at the same time--singular contradiction--to entreat her +humbly, though passionately, to love him more, and to _show_ more that she +loved him. Surely there were two selves in him. + +He moved over to the door. 'Cataract Hotel, remember, finds me.' +He stood still, looking back at her. + +She smiled, repeating the words after him. 'And Lettice, you _will_ +write?' She blew a kiss to him by way of answer. Then, charged to the +brim with a thousand things he ached to say, yet would not, almost dared +not say, he added playfully--a child must have noticed that his voice was +too deep for banter and his breath came oddly: + +'And mind you don't let Tony lose his head _too_ much. He's pretty far +gone, you know, already.' + +The same instant he could have bitten his tongue off to recall the words. +Somewhere he had been untrue to himself, almost betrayed himself. + +She rose suddenly from her sofa and came quickly towards him across the +floor; he felt his heart sink a moment, then start hammering irregularly +against his ribs. Something frightened him. For he caught in her face +an expression he could not understand--the struggle of many strong +emotions--anxiety and passion, fear and love; the eyes were shining, +though the lids remained half closed; she made a curious gesture: she +moved swiftly. He braced himself as against attack. He shrank. +Her power over him was greater than he knew. + +For he saw her in that instant as another person, another woman, foreign-- +almost Eastern; the barbaric primitive thing flamed out of her, but with +something regal, queenly, added to it; she looked Egyptian; the Princess, +as he called her sometimes, had come to life. And the same moment in +himself this curious sense of helplessness appeared--he raged against it +inwardly--as though he were in her power somehow, as though her little +foot could crush him--too--into the yellow sand. . . . + +A spasm of acute and aching pain shot through him; he winced; he wanted to +turn and fly, yet was held rooted to the floor. He could not escape. It +had to be. For oddly, mysteriously, he felt pain in her quick approach: +she was coming to do him injury and hurt. The incident of the afternoon +flashed again upon his mind--with the idea of cruelty in it somewhere, +but a deep surge of strange emotion that flung wild sentences into his +mind at the same instant. He tightly shut his lips, lest a hundred +thoughts that had lain in him of late might burst into words he would +later regret intensely. He must not avoid, delay, an inevitable thing. +To resist was somehow to be untrue to the deepest in him--to something +painful he deserved, and, paradoxically, desired too. What could it all +mean? . . . He shivered as he waited--watching her come nearer. + +She reached his side and her arms were stretched towards him. To his +amazement she folded him in closely against her breast and held him as +though she never could let him go again. He stood there helpless; the +revulsion of feeling took his strength away. He heard her breathless, +yearning whisper as she kissed him: 'My Tom, my precious boy, I couldn't +see a hair of your dear head injured--I couldn't see you hurt! Take care +of yourself and come back quickly--do, _do_ take care of yourself. +I shall count the days----' she broke off, held his face between her +hands, gazed into his astonished eyes, and kissed him with the utmost +tenderness again, the tenderness of a mother who is forced to be separated +from the boy she loves better than herself. + +Tom stood there trembling before her, and no speech came to help him. +The thing passed like a dream; the dread, the emotion left him; the +nightmare touch was gone. Her self-betrayal his simple nature did not at +once discern. He felt only her divine tenderness pour over him. A spring +of joy rose bubbling in him that no words could tell. Also he felt +afraid. But the fear was no longer for himself. In some perplexing, +singular way, he felt afraid for her. + +Then, as a sentence came struggling to his lips, a step was heard upon the +landing. There was time to resume conventional attitudes of good-bye when +Mrs. Haughstone appeared on the staircase leading to the hall. Tom said +his farewells hurriedly to both of them, making his escape as naturally as +possible. 'I've just time to pack and catch the train,' he shouted, and +was gone. + +And what remained with him afterwards of the curious little scene was the +absolute joy and confidence those last tender embraces had restored to +him, side by side with another thing that he was equally sure about, yet +refused to dwell upon because he dared not--yet. For, as she came across +the floor of the sunny room towards him, he realised two things in her, +two persons almost. Another influence, he was convinced, worked in her +strangely--some older, long-buried presentment of her interpenetrating, +even piercing through, the modern self. She was divided against herself +in some extraordinary fashion, one half struggling fiercely, yet +struggling bravely, honestly, against the other. And the relationship +between himself and her, though the evidence was so negligibly slight as +yet, he knew had definitely changed. . . . + +It came to him as the Mother and the Woman in her. The Mother belonged +unchangeably to him: the Woman, he felt, was troubled, tempted, and +afraid. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Afterwards, months, years afterwards, looking back upon these strange +weeks of his brief Egyptian winter, Tom marvelled at himself; he looked +back, as it were, upon the thoughts and emotions of another man he could +not recognise. This illusion involved his two companions also, Madame +Jaretzka supremely, Tony slightly less, all three, however, together +affected, all three changed. + +As regards himself, however, there was always a part, it seemed, that +remained unaffected. It looked on, it compared, it judged. He called it +the Onlooker. . . . + +Explanation lay beyond his reach; he termed it enchantment: and there he +left it. Insight seemed only to operate with regard to himself: of +_their_ feelings, thoughts, or point of view he was uninformed. +They offered no explanations, and he sought none. . . . The man honest +with himself is more rare than a January swallow. He alone is honest who +can state a case without that bias of exaggeration favourable to himself +which is almost lying. Try as he may, his statement leans one way or the +other. The spirit-level of absolute honesty is hard to find, and, of +course, Tom was no exception. . . . Occasionally he recalled the +'spiral theory,' which once, at least, had been in the minds of all +three--the notion that their three souls lived over a former episode +together, but from a higher point, and with the bird's-eye view which +brought in understanding. But if this offered a hint of that winter's +inner spiritual structure, Tom certainly did not claim it as a true +solution. The whole thing began so stealthily, and progressed so slowly +yet so surely. . . . + +He could only marvel at himself: he was so singularly changed--imagination +so active, judgment alternately so positive and so faltering, every +emotion so amazingly intensified. All the weakest and least admirable in +him, the very dregs, seemed dragged up side by side with what was noblest, +highest, and flung together in the rush and smother of the breaking Wave. + +Events, in the dramatic meaning of the word, and outwardly, there were few +perhaps, and those few meagre and unsensational. No one was shot or +drowned, no one was hanged and quartered; the police were not called in; +to outsiders there seemed no air or attitude of drama anywhere; but in +three human hearts, thrown together as by chance currents of normal life, +there came to pass changes of a spiritual kind, conflict between +essential, primitive forces of the soul, battlings, temptings, +aspirations, sacrifice, that are the truest drama always, because the +inmost being, whether glorified or degraded, is thereby--changed. + +In this fierce intensification of his own being, and in the events +experienced, Tom recognised the rising of his childhood Wave towards the +breaking point. The early premonition that had seemed causeless to his +learned father, that stirred in his mother the deep instinct to protect, +and that ever, more or less, hung poised above the horizon of his passing +years, had its origin in the bed-rock of his nature. It was associated +with memory and instinct; the native tendencies and forces of his being +had dramatised their inevitable fulfilment in a dream. He recognised +intuitively what was coming--and he welcomed it. The body shrank from +pain; the soul held out her hands to it. . . . + +Thus, looking back, he saw it mapped below him from a higher curve in +life's ascending spiral. In the glare of a drenching sunshine that seemed +hauntingly familiar, in the stupendous blaze of Egypt that knew and +favoured it, the action lay spread out: but in darkness, too, an +oppressive, suffocating darkness as of the grave, as of the bottom of the +sea. The map was streaked with this alternate light and gloom of +elemental kind. It passed swiftly, he went swiftly with it. A few short +crowded weeks of the intensest pain and happiness he had ever known,--and +the Wave, its crest reflected in its origin, fell with a drowning crash. +He merged into his background, yet he did not drown: in due course he +again--emerged. + +The sense of rushing that accompanied it all was in himself apparently: +heightened by the contrast of the divine stillness which is Egypt--the +golden, hanging days, the nights of cool, soft moonlight, the sighing +winds with perfume in their breath, the mournful palms that fringed the +peaceful river, the calm of multitudinous stars. The grim Theban hills +looked on; the ruined Temples watched and knew; there were listening ears +within a thousand tombs. . . . And there was the Desert--the endless +emptiness where everything had already happened, the place where, +therefore, everything could happen again without affronting time and +space--the Desert seemed the infinite background whence the Wave tossed up +three little specks of passionate human action and reaction. It was the +'sea,' a sea of dust. Yet out of the dust wild roses blossomed eventually +with a sweetness of beauty unknown to any cultivated gardens. . . . + +And while he and his two companions made their moves upon this ancient +chessboard of half-forgotten, half-remembered life, all natural things as +well seemed raised to their most significant expression, sharing the joy +and sadness, the beauty and the terror of his own experience. For the +very scenery borrowed of his intensity, the familiar details urged a +fraction beyond the normal, as though any moment they must break down into +their elemental and essential nakedness. The pungent odour of the +universal sand, the dust, the minute golden particles suspended in the +flaming air, the marvellous dawns and sunsets, the mighty, awful pylons, +and the heat--all these contributed their quota of wonder and mystery to +what happened. Egypt inspired it, and was satisfied. + +The sediment of his nature was drawn up, the rubbish floated before his +eyes, he saw himself through the curtains of suspended dust--until the +flood, retiring, left him high upon the shore, no longer shuffling with +his earthly, physical feet. + + + +In the train to Assouan, Tom still felt the clinging arms about his neck, +still heard the loving voice, eager with tenderness for his welfare and +his quick return. She needed him: he was everything to her. He knew it, +oh he was sure of it. He thought of his work, and knew some slight +anxiety that he had neglected it. He would devote all his energies to the +interests of his firm: there should be no shirking anywhere; his ten +days' holiday was over. His mind fixed itself deliberately, though not +too easily, on this alone. + +He knew his own capacity, however, and that by concentration he could +accomplish in a short time what other men might ask weeks to complete. +Provided all was going well, he saw no reason why he could not be free +again in a week at most. He knew quite well his value to the firm, but he +knew also that he must continue to justify it. He was complacent, but, he +hoped, not carelessly complacent. Tom felt very sure of himself again. + +To his great relief he found things running smoothly. He examined every +detail, interviewed all and sundry, supervised, decided, gave +instructions. There was a letter from the London office conveying the +formal satisfaction of the Board with results so far, praising especially +certain reductions in cost he had judiciously effected; another private +letter from the older partner referred confidently to greater profits than +they had dared to anticipate; also there was a brief note from Sir +William, the Chairman, now at Salonica, saying he might run over a little +later and see for himself how the work was getting along. + +Tom was supremely happy with it all. There was really very little for him +to do; his engineers were highly competent; they could summon him at a +day's notice from Luxor if anything went wrong. 'But there's no sign of +difficulty, sir,' was their verdict; 'everything's going like clockwork; +the men working splendidly; it's only a matter of time.' + +It was the evening of the second day that Tom decided to go back to Luxor. +He was eager for the promised bivouac they had arranged together. +He had written once to say that all was well, but no word had yet come +from her; she was resting, he was glad to think: Tony was away at Cairo +with his friends; there might be a letter for him in the morning, but that +could be sent after him. Joy and impatience urged him. He chuckled +happily over his boyish plan; he would not announce himself; he would +surprise her. He caught a train that would get him in for dinner. + +And during his journey of six hours he rehearsed this pleasure of +surprising her. She was lonely without him. He visualised her delight +and happiness. He would creep up to the window, to the edge of the +verandah where she sat reading, Mrs. Haughstone knitting in a chair +opposite. He would call her name 'Lettice. . . .' Her eyes would +lighten, her manner change. That new spontaneous joy would show +itself. . . . + + + +The sun was setting when the train got in, but by the time he had changed +into flannels at his hotel the short dusk was falling. The entire western +sky was gold and crimson, the air was sharp, the light dry desert wind +blew shrewdly down the street. Behind the eastern hills rose a huge full +moon, still pale with daylight, peering wisely over the enormous spread of +luminous desert. . . . He drove to her house, leaving the _arabyieh_ at +the gates. He walked quickly up the drive. The heavy foliage covered him +with shadows, and he easily reached the verandah unobserved; no one seemed +about; there was no sound of voices; the thick creepers up the wooden +pillars screened him admirably. There was a movement of a chair, his +heart began to thump, he climbed up softly, and at the other end of the +verandah saw--Mrs. Haughstone knitting. But there was no sign of +Lettice--and the blood rushed from his heart. + +He had not been noticed, but his game was spoilt. He came round to the +front steps and wished her politely a good-evening. Her surprise once +over and explanations made, she asked him, cordially enough, to stay to +dinner. 'Lettice, I know, would like it. You must be tired out. She did +not expect you back so soon; but she would never forgive me if I let you +go after them.' + +Tom heard the words as in a dream, and answered also in a dream--a dream +of astonishment, vexation, disappointment, none of them concealed. +His uneasiness returned in an acute, intensified form. For he learned +that they were bivouacking on the Nile to see the sunrise. Tony had, +after all, not gone to Cairo; de Lorne and Lady Sybil accompanied them. +It was the picnic they had planned together against his return. +'Lettice wrote,' Mrs. Haughstone mentioned, 'but the letter must have +missed you. I warned her you'd be disappointed--if you knew.' + +'So Tony didn't go to Cairo after all?' Tom asked again. His voice +sounded thin, less volume in it than usual. That 'if you knew' dropped +something of sudden anguish in his heart. + +'His friends put him off at the last moment--illness, he said, or +something.' Mrs. Haughstone repeated the invitation to dine and make +himself at home. 'I'm positive my cousin would like you to,' she added +with a certain emphasis. + +Tom thanked her. He had the impression there was something on her mind. +'I think I'll go after them,' he repeated, 'if you'll tell me exactly +where they've gone.' He stammered a little. 'It would be rather a lark, +I thought, to surprise them.' What foolish, what inadequate words! + +'Just as you like, of course. But I'm sure she's quite safe,' was the +bland reply. 'Mr. Winslowe will look after her.' + +'Oh, rather,' replied Tom; 'but it would be good fun--rather a joke, you +know--to creep upon them unawares,'--and then was surprised and sorry that +he said it. 'Have they gone very far?' he asked, fumbling for his +cigarettes. + +He learned that they had left after luncheon, taking with them all +necessary paraphernalia for the night. There were feelings in him that he +could not understand quite as he heard it. But only one thing was clear +to him--he wished to be quickly, instantly, where Lettice was. +It was comprehensible. Mrs. Haughstone understood and helped him. +'I'll send Mohammed to get you a boatman, as you seem quite determined,' +she said, ringing the bell: 'you can get there in an hour's ride. +I couldn't go,' she added, 'I really felt too tired. Mr. Winslowe was +here for lunch, and he exhausted us all with laughing so that I felt I'd +had enough. Besides, the sun----' + +'They all lunched here too?' asked Tom. + +'Mr. Winslowe only,' she mentioned, 'but he was a host in himself. +It quite exhausted me----' + +'Tony can be frightfully amusing, can't he, when he likes?' said Tom. +Her repetition of 'exhausted' annoyed him furiously for some reason. + +He saw her hesitate then: she began to speak, but stopped herself; there +was a curious expression in her face, almost of anxiety, he fancied. +He felt the kindness in her. She was distressed. And an impulse, whence +he knew not, rose in him to make her talk, but before he could find a +suitable way of beginning, she said with a kind of relief in her tone and +manner: 'I'm glad you're back again, Mr. Kelverdon.' She looked +significantly at him. 'Your influence is so steadying, if you don't mind +my saying so.' She gave an awkward little laugh, half of apology, half of +shyness, or of what passed with her for shyness. 'This climate--upsets +some of us. It does something to the blood, I'm sure----' + +'You feel anxious about--anything in particular?' Tom asked, with a +sinking heart. At any other time he would have laughed. + +Mrs. Haughstone shrugged her shoulders and sighed. She spoke with an +effort apparently, as though doubtful how much she ought to say. +'My cousin, after all, is--in a sense, at least--a married woman,' was the +reply, while Tom remembered that she had said the same thing once before. +'And all men are not as careful for her reputation, perhaps, as you are.' +She mentioned the names of various people in Luxor, and left the +impression that there was considerable gossip in the air. Tom disliked +exceedingly the things she said and the way she said them, but felt unable +to prevent her. He was angry with himself for listening, yet felt it +beyond him to change the conversation. He both longed to hear every word, +and at the same time dreaded it unspeakably. If only the boat would give +him quickly an excuse. . . . He therefore heard her to the end concerning +the unwisdom of Madame Jaretzka in her careless refusal to be more +circumspect, even--Mrs. Haughstone feared--to the point of compromising +herself. With whom? Why, with Mr. Winslowe, of course. Hadn't he +noticed it? No! Well, of course there was no harm in it, but it was a +mistake, she felt, to be seen about always with the same man. He called, +too, at such unusual hours. . . . + +And each word she uttered seemed to Tom exactly what he had expected her +to utter, entering his mind as a keenly poisoned shaft. Something already +prepared in him leaped swiftly to understanding; only too well he grasped +her meaning. The excitement in him passed into a feverishness that was +painful. + +For a long time he merely stood and listened, gazing across the river but +seeing nothing. He said no word. His impatience was difficult to +conceal, yet he concealed it. + +'Couldn't you give her a hint perhaps?' continued the other, as they +waited on the steps together, watching the preparations for the boat +below. She spoke with an assumed carelessness that was really a disguised +emphasis. 'She would take it from _you_, I'm sure. She means no harm; +there is no harm. We all know that. She told me herself it was only a +boy and girl affair. Still----' + +'_She_ said that?' asked Tom. His tone was calm, even to indifference, +but his eyes, had she looked round, must certainly have betrayed him. +Luckily she kept her gaze upon the moon-lit river. She drew her knitted +shawl more closely round her. The cold air from the desert touched them +both. Tom shivered. + +'Oh, before you came out, that was,' she mentioned; and each word was a +separate stab in the centre of his heart. After a pause she went on: +'So you might say a little word to be more careful, if you saw your way. +Mr. Winslowe, you see, is a poor guide just now: he has so completely lost +his head. He's very impressionable--and very selfish--_I_ think.' + +Tom was aware that he braced himself. Various emotions clashed within +him. He knew a dozen different pains, all equally piercing. It angered +him, besides, to hear Lettice spoken of in this slighting manner, for the +inference was unavoidable. But there hid below his anger a deep, dull +bitterness that tried angrily to raise its head. Something very ugly, +very fierce moved with it. He crushed it back. . . . A feeling of hot +shame flamed to his cheeks. + +'I should feel it an impertinence, Mrs. Haughstone,' he stammered at +length, yet confident that he concealed his inner turmoil. 'Your cousin-- +I mean, all that she does is quite beyond reproach.' + +Her answer staggered him like a blow between the eyes. + +'Mr. Kelverdon--on the contrary. My cousin doesn't realise quite, I'm +sure--that she may cause _him_ suffering. She won't listen to me, but you +could do it. _You_ touch the mother in her.' + +It was a merciless, keen shaft--these last six words. The sudden truth of +them turned him into ice. He touched only the mother in her: the woman-- +but the thought plunged out of sight, smothered instantly as by a granite +slab he set upon it. The actual thought was smothered, yes, but the +feeling struggled horribly for breath; and another inference, more deadly +than the first, stole with a freezing touch upon his soul. + +He turned round quietly and looked at his companion. 'By Jove,' he said, +with a laugh he believed was admirably natural, 'I believe you're right. +I'll give her a little hint--for Tony's sake.' He moved down the steps. +'Tony is so--I mean he so easily loses his head. It's quite absurd.' + +But Mrs. Haughstone did not laugh. 'Think it over,' she rejoined. +'You have excellent judgment. You may prevent a little disaster.' +She smiled and shook a warning finger. And Tom, feigning amusement as +best he might, murmured something in agreement and raised his helmet with +a playful flourish. + +Mohammed, soft of voice and moving like a shadow, called that the boat was +ready, and Tom prepared to go. Mrs. Haughstone accompanied him half-way +down the steps. + +'You won't startle them, will you, Mr. Kelverdon?' she said. 'Lettice, +you know, is rather easily frightened.' And she laughed a little. +'It's Egypt--the dry air--one's nerves----' + +Tom was already in the boat, where the Arab stood waiting in the moonlight +like a ghost. + +'Of course not,' he called up to her through the still air. But, none the +less, he meant to surprise her if he could. Only in his thought the +pronoun insisted, somehow, on the plural form. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The boat swung out into mid-stream. Behind him the figure of Mrs. +Haughstone faded away against the bougainvillaea on the wall; in front, +Mohammed's head and shoulders merged with the opposite bank; beyond, the +spectral palms and the shadowy fields of clover slipped into the great +body of the moon-fed desert. The desert itself sank down into a hollow +that seemed to fling those dark Theban hills upwards--towards the stars. + +Everything, as it were, went into its background. Everything, animate and +inanimate, rose out of a common ultimate--the Sea. Yet for a moment only. +There was this sense of preliminary withdrawal backwards, as for a leap +that was to come. . . . + +He, too, felt merged with his own background. In his soul he knew the +trouble and tumult of the Wave--gathering for a surging rise to +follow. . . . + +For some minutes the sense of his own identity passed from him, and he +wondered who he was. 'Who am I?' would have been a quite natural +question. 'Let me see; I'm Kelverdon, Tom Kelverdon.' Of course! Yet he +felt that he was another person too. He lost his grip upon his normal +modern self a moment, lost hold of the steady, confident personality that +was familiar. . . . The voice of Mohammed broke the singular spell. +'Shicago, vair' good donkey. Yis, bes' donkey in Luxor--' and Tom +remembered that he had a ride of an hour or so before he could reach the +Temple of Deir El-Bahri where his friends were bivouacking. He tipped +Mohammed as he landed, mounted 'Chicago,' and started off impatiently, +then ran against little Mohammed coming back for a forgotten--kettle! +He laughed. Every third Arab seemed called Mohammed. But he learned +exactly where the party was. He sent his own donkey-boy home, and rode on +alone across the moon-lit plain. + +The wonder of the exquisite night took hold of him, searching his heart +beyond all power of language--the strange Egyptian beauty. The ancient +wilderness, so calm beneath the stars; the mournful hills that leaped to +touch the smoking moon; the perfumed air, the deep old river--each, and +all together, exhaled their innermost, essential magic. Over every +separate boulder spilt the flood of silver. There were troops of shadows. +Among these shadows, beyond the boulders, Isis herself, it seemed, went by +with audible footfall on the sand, secretly guiding his advance; Horus, +dignified and solemn, with hawk-wings hovering, and fierce, deathless +eyes--Horus, too, watched him lest he stumble. . . . + +On all sides he seemed aware of the powerful Egyptian gods, their +protective help, their familiar guidance. The deeps within him opened. +He had done this thing before. . . . Even the little details brought the +same lost message back to him, as the hoofs of his donkey shuffled through +the sand or struck a loose stone aside with metallic clatter. He heard +the lizards whistling. . . . + +There were other vaster emblems too, quite close. To the south, a little, +the shoulders of the Colossi domed awfully above the flat expanse, and +soon he passed the Ramesseum, the moon just entering the stupendous +aisles. He saw the silvery shafts beneath the huge square pylons. +On all sides lay the welter of prodigious ruins, steeped in a power and +beauty that seemed borrowed from the scale of the immeasurable heavens. +Egypt laid a great hand upon him, her cold wind brushed his cheeks. +He was aware of awfulness, of splendour, of all the immensities. +He was in Eternity; life was continuous throughout the ages; there was no +death. . . . + +He felt huge wings, and a hawk, disturbed by his passing, flapped silently +away to another broken pillar just beyond. He seemed swept forward, the +plaything of greater forces than he knew. There was no question of +direction, of resistance: the Wave rushed on and he rushed with it. +His normal simplicity disappeared in a complexity that bewildered him. +Very clear, however, was one thing--courage; that courage due to +abandonment of self. He would face whatever came. He needed it. +It was inevitable. Yes--this time he would face it without shuffling or +disaster. . . . For he recognised disaster--and was aware of blood. . . . + +Questions asked themselves in long, long whispers, but found no answers. +They emerged from that mothering background and returned into it +again. . . . Sometimes he rode alone, but sometimes Lettice rode beside +him: Tony joined them. . . . He felt them driven forward, all three +together, obedient to the lift of the same rising wave, urged onwards +towards a climax that was lost to sight, and yet familiar. He knew both +joy and shrinking, a delicious welcome that it was going to happen, yet a +dread of searing pain involved. A great fact lay everywhere about him in +the night, but a fact he could not seize completely. All his faculties +settled on it, but in vain--they settled on a fragment, while the rest lay +free, beyond his reach. Pain, which was a pain at nothing, filled his +heart; joy, which was joy without a reason, sang in him. The Wave rose +higher, higher . . . the breath came with difficulty . . . the wind was +icy . . . there was choking in his throat. . . . + +He noticed the same high excitement in him he had experienced a few nights +ago beneath the Karnak pylons--it ended later, he remembered, in the +menace of an unutterable loneliness. This excitement was wild with an +irresponsible hilarity that had no justification. He felt _exalte_. +The wave, he swinging in the crest of it, was going to break, and he knew +the awful thrill upon him before the dizzy, smothering plunge. + +The complex of emotions made clear thought impossible. To put two and two +together was beyond him. He felt the power that bore him along immensely +greater than himself. And one of the smaller, self-asking questions +issued from it: 'Was this what _she_ felt? Was Tony also feeling this? +Were all three of them being swept along towards an inevitable climax?' + . . . This singular notion that none of them could help themselves +passed into him. . . . + +And then he realised from the slower pace of the animal beneath him that +the path was going uphill. He collected his thoughts and looked about +him. The forbidding cliffs that guard the grim Valley of the Kings, the +haunted Theban hills, stood up pale yellow against the stars. The big +moon, no longer smoking in the earthbound haze, had risen into the clear +dominion of the upper sky. And he saw the terraces and columns of the +Deir El-Bahri Temple facing him at the level of his eyes. + + + +Nothing bore clearer testimony to the half-unconscious method by which the +drama developed itself, to the deliberate yet uncalculated attitude of the +actors towards some inevitable fulfilment, than the little scene which +Tom's surprise arrival then discovered. According to the mood of the +beholder it could mean much or little, everything or nothing. It was so +nicely contrived between concealment and disclosure, and, like much else +that happened, seemed balanced exquisitely, if painfully, between guilt +and innocence. The point of view of the onlooker could alone decide. +At the same time it provided a perfect frame for another picture that +later took the stage. The stage seemed set for it exactly. The later +picture broke in and used it too. That is to say, two separate pictures, +distinct yet interfused, occupied the stage at once. + +For Tom, dismounting, and leaving his animal with the donkey-boys some +hundred yards away, approached stealthily over the sand and came upon the +picnic group before he knew it. He watched them a moment before he +announced himself. The scene was some feet below him. He looked down. + +Two minutes sooner, he might conceivably have found the party quite +differently grouped. Instead, however, his moment of arrival was exactly +timed as though to witness a scene set cleverly by the invisible Stage +Manager to frame two similar and yet different incidents. + +Tom leaned against a broken column, staring. + +Young de Lorne and Lady Sybil, he saw, were carefully admiring the +moonlight on the yellow cliffs. Miss de Lorne stooped busily over rugs +and basket packages. Her back was turned to Tony and Madame Jaretzka, who +were intimately engaged, their faces very close together, in the +half-prosaic, half-poetic act of blowing up a gipsy fire of scanty sticks +and crumpled paper. The entire picture seemed arranged as though intended +to convey a 'situation.' And to Tom a situation most certainly was +conveyed successfully, though a situation of which the two chief actors-- +who shall say otherwise?--were possibly unconscious. For in that first +moment as he leaned against the column, gazing fixedly, the smoking sticks +between them burst into a flare of sudden flame, setting the two faces in +a frame of bright red light, and Tom, gazing upon them from a distance of +perhaps some twenty yards saw them clearly, yet somehow did not--recognise +them. Another picture thrust itself between: he watched a scene that lay +deep below him. Through the soft blaze of that Egyptian moonlight, across +the silence of that pale Egyptian desert, beneath those old Egyptian +stars, there stole upon him some magic which is deathless, though its +outer covenants have vanished from the world. . . . Down, down he sank +into the forgotten scenes whence it arose. Smothered in sand, it seemed, +he heard the centuries roar past him. . . . + +He saw two other persons kneeling above that fire on the desert floor, two +persons familiar to him, yet whom he could not wholly recognise. In that +amazing second, while his heart stopped beating, it seemed as if thought +in anguish cried aloud: 'So, there you are! I have the proof!' while yet +all verification of the tragic 'you' remained just out of reach and +undisclosed. + +He did not recognise two persons whom he knew, while yet some portion of +him keenly, fiercely searching, dived back into the limbo of unremembered +time. . . . A thin blue smoke rose before his face, and to his nostrils +stole a delicate perfume as of ambra. It was a picnic fire no longer. +It was an Eastern woman he saw lean forward across the gleam of a golden +brazier and yield a kiss to the lips of a man who claimed it passionately. +He saw her small hands folded and clinging about his neck. The face of +the man he could not see, the head and shoulders being turned away, but +hers he saw clearly--the dark, lustrous eyes that shone between +half-closed eyelids. They were highly placed in life, these two, for +their aspect as their garments told it; the man, indeed, had gold about +him somewhere and the woman, in her mien, wore royalty. Yet, though he +but saw their hands and heads alone, he knew instinctively that, if not +regal, they were semi-regal, and set beyond his reach in power natural to +them both. They were high-born, the favoured of the world. Inferiority +was his who watched them, the helpless inferiority of subordinate +position. That, too, he knew . . . for a gasp of terror, though quickly +smothered terror, rose vividly behind an anger that could gladly--kill. + +There was a flash of fiery and intolerable pain within him. . . . + +The next second he saw merely--Lettice!--blowing the smoke from her face +and eyes, with an impatient little gesture of both hands, while in front +of her knelt Tony--fanning a reluctant fire of sticks and paper with his +old felt hat. + +He had been gazing at a coloured bubble, the bubble had burst into air and +vanished, the entire mood and picture vanished with it--so swiftly, so +instantaneously, moreover, that Tom was ready to deny the entire +experience. + +Indeed, he did deny it. He refused to credit it. It had been, surely, a +feeling rather than a sight. But the feeling having utterly vanished, he +discredited the sight as well. The fiery pain had vanished too. He found +himself watching the semi-comical picture of de Lorne and Lady Sybil +flirting in dumb action, and Tony and Lettice trying to make a fire +without the instinct or ability to succeed. And, incontinently, he burst +out laughing audibly. + +Yet, apparently, his laughter was not heard; he had made no actual sound. +There was, instead, a little scream, a sudden movement, a scurrying of +feet among the sand and stones, and Lettice and Tony rose upon one single +impulse, as once before he had seen them rise in Karnak weeks ago. +They stood up like one person. They looked about them into the +surrounding shadows, disturbed, afflicted, yet as though they were not +certain they had heard . . . and then, abruptly, the figure of Tony went +out . . . it disappeared. How, precisely, was not clear, but it was gone +into the darkness. . . . + +And another picture--or another aspect of the first--dropped into place. +There was an outline of a shadowy tent. The flap was stirring lightly, as +though behind it some one hid--and watched. He could not tell. A deep +confusion, as of two pictures interfused, was in him. For somehow he +transferred his own self--was it physical desire? was it spiritual +yearning? was it love?--projected his own self into the figure that had +kissed her, taking her own passionate kiss in return. He actually +experienced it. He did this thing. He had done it--once before! +Knowing himself beside her, he both did it and saw himself doing it. +He was both actor and onlooker. . . . + +There poured back upon him then, sweet and poignant, his love of an +Egyptian woman, the fragrance of remembered tresses, the perfume of fair +limbs that clung and of arms that lingered round his neck--yet that in the +last moment slipped from his full possession. He was on his knees before +her; he gazed up into her ardent eyes, set in a glowing face above his +own; the face bent lower; he raised two slender hands, the fingers +henna-stained, and pressed them to his lips. He felt their silken +texture, the fragile pressure, her breath upon his face--yet all sharply +withdrawn again before he captured them completely. There was the odour +of long-forgotten unguents, sweet with a tang that sharpened them towards +desire in days that knew a fiercer sunlight. . . . His brain went +reeling. The effort to keep one picture separate from the other broke +them both. He could not disentangle, could not distinguish. +They intermingled. He was both the figure hidden behind the tent and the +figure who held the woman in his arms. What his heart desired became, it +seemed, that which happened. . . . + +And then the flap of the tent flung open, and out rushed a violent, +leaping outline--the figure of a man. Another--it seemed himself--rushed +to meet him. There was a gleam, a long deep cry. . . . A woman, with +arms outstretched, knelt close beside the struggling figures on the sand. +He saw two huge, dark, muscular hands about a bent and yielding neck, +blood oozing thickly between the gripping fingers, staining them . . . +then sudden darkness that blacked out the entire scene, and a choking +effort to find breath. . . . But it was his own breath that failed, +choked as by blood and fire that broke into his own throat. . . . +Smothered in sand, the centuries roared past him, died away into the +distance, sank back into the interminable desert. . . . He found his +voice this time. He shouted. + +He saw again--Lettice, blowing the smoke from her face and eyes with an +impatient little gesture of both hands, while Tony knelt in front of her +and fanned a reluctant fire with his old felt hat. The picture--the +second picture--had been instantaneous. It had not lasted a fraction of a +second even. + +He shouted. And this time his voice was audible. Lettice and Tony stood +up, as though a single person rose. Both turned in the direction of the +sound. Then Tony moved off quickly. Tom's vision had interpenetrated +this very action even while it was actually taking place--the first time. + +'Why--I do declare--if it isn't--Tom!' he heard in a startled woman's +voice. + +He came down towards her slowly. Something of the 'pictures' still swam +in between what was next said and done. It seemed in the atmosphere, +pervading the three of them. But it was weakening, passing away quickly. +For one moment, however, before it passed, it became overpowering again. + +'But, Tom--is this a joke, or what? You frightened me,'--she gave a horrid +gasp--'nearly to death! You've come back----!' + +'It's a surprise,' he cried, trying to laugh, though his lips were dry and +refused the effort. 'I have surprised you. I've come back!' + +He heard the gasp prolonged. Breathing seemed difficult. Some deep +distress was in her. Yet, in place of pity, exultation caught him oddly. +The next instant he felt suddenly afraid. There was confusion in his +soul. For it was _he and she_, it seemed, who had been 'surprised and +caught.' And her voice called shrilly: + +'Tony! Tony . . .!' + +There was amazement in the sound of it--terror, relief, and passion too. +The thin note of fear and anguish broke through the natural call. +Then, as Tony came running up, a few sticks in his big hands--she +screamed, yet with failing breath: + +'Oh, oh . . .! Who _are_ you . . .?' + +For the man she summoned came, but came too swiftly. Moving with +uncertain gait, he yet came rapidly--terribly, somehow, and with +violence. Instantaneously, it seemed, he covered the intervening space. +In the calm, sweet moonlight, beneath the blaze of the steady stars, he +suddenly was--there, upon that patch of ancient desert sand. He looked +half unearthly. The big hands he held outspread before him glistened a +little in the shimmer of the moon. Yet they were dark, and they seemed +menacing. They threatened--as with some power he meant to use, because it +was his right. But the gleam upon them was not of swarthy skin alone. +The gleam, the darkness, were of blood. . . . There was a cry again--a +sound of anguish almost intolerable. . . . + +And the same instant Tom felt the clasp of his cousin's hand upon his own, +and heard his jolly voice with easy, natural laughter in it: 'But, Tom, +old chap, how ripping! You're really back! This _is_ a grand surprise! +It's splendid!' + + + +There was nothing that called upon either his courage or control. +They were overjoyed to see him, the surprise he provided proved indeed the +success of the evening. + +'I thought at first you were Mohammed with the kettle,' exclaimed Madame +Jaretzka, coming close to make quite sure, and murmuring quickly-- +nervously as well, he thought--'Oh, Tom, I _am_ so glad,' beneath her +breath. 'You're just in time--we all wanted you so.' + +Explanations followed; Tony's friends had postponed the Cairo trip at the +last moment; the picnic had been planned as a rehearsal for the real one +that was to follow later. Tom's adroitness in finding them was praised; +he became the unwilling hero of the piece, and as such had to make the +fire a success and prove himself generally the _clou_ of the party that +hitherto was missing. He became at once the life and centre of the little +group, gay and in the highest spirits, the emotion accumulated in him +discharging itself in the entirely unexpected direction of hilarious fun +and gaiety. + +The sense of tragedy he had gathered on his journey, if it muttered at +all, muttered out of sight. He looked back upon his feelings of an hour +before with amazement, dismay, distress--then utterly forgot them. +The picture itself--the vision--was as though it had not been at all. +What, in the name of common sense, had possessed him that he could ever +have admitted such preposterous uneasiness? He thought of Mrs. +Haughstone's absurd warnings with a sharp contempt, and felt his spirits +only rise higher than before. She was meanly suspicious about nothing. +Of course he would give Lettice a hint: why not, indeed? He would give it +then and there before them all and hear them laugh about it till they +cried. And he would have done so, doubtless, but that he realised the +woman's jealousy was a sordid topic to introduce into so gay a party. + +'You arrived in the nick of time, Tom,' Lettice told him. 'We were +beginning to feel the solemnity of these surroundings, the awful Tombs of +the Kings and Priests and people. Those cliffs are too oppressive for a +picnic.' + +'A fact,' cried Tony. 'It feels like sacrilege. They resent us being +here.' He glanced at Madame Jaretzka as he said it. 'If you hadn't come, +Tom, I'm sure there'd have been a disaster somewhere. Anyhow, one must +feel superstitious to enjoy a place like this. It's the proper +atmosphere!' + +Lettice looked up at Tom, and added, 'You've really saved us. The least +we can do is to worship the sun the moment he gets up. We'll adore old +Amon-Ra. It's obvious. We must!' + +They made themselves merry over a rather sandy meal. She arranged a place +for him close beside her, and her genuine pleasure at his unexpected +return filled him with a joy that crowded out even the memory of other +emotions. The mixture called Tom Kelverdon asserted itself: he felt +ashamed; he heartily despised his moods, wondering whence they came so +strangely. Tony himself was quiet and affectionate. If anything was +lacking, Tom's high spirits carried him too boisterously to notice it. +Otherwise he might possibly have thought that she spoke a little sharply +once or twice to Tony, neglecting him in a way that was not quite her +normal way, and that to himself, even before the others, she was +unusually--almost too emphatically--dear and tender. Indeed, she seemed +so pleased he had come that a cynical observer, cursed with an acute, +experienced mind, might almost have thought she showed something not far +from positive relief. But Tom, too happy to be sensitive to shades of +feminine conduct, was aware chiefly, if not solely, of his own joy and +welcome. + +'You didn't get my letter, then, before you left?' she asked him once; and +he replied, 'The answer, as in Parliament, is in the negative. But it +will be forwarded all right.' He would get it the following night. +'Ah, but you mustn't read it _now_,' she said. 'You must tear it up +unread,' and made him promise faithfully he would obey. '_I_ wrote to you +too,' mentioned Tony, as though determined to be left out of nothing. +'You'll get it at the same time. But you mustn't tear mine up, remember. +It's full of advice and wisdom you badly need.' And Tom promised that +faithfully as well. The reply was in the affirmative. + +The bivouac was a complete success; all looked back upon it as an +unforgettable experience. They declared, of course, they had not slept a +wink, yet all had snored quite audibly beneath the wheeling stars. +They were fresh and lively enough, certainly, when the sun poured his +delicious warmth across the cloudless sky, while Tom and Tony made the +fire and set the coffee on for breakfast. + +Of the marvellous beauty that preceded the actual sunrise no one spoke; it +left them breathless rather; they watched the sky beyond the hills +change colour; great shafts of gold transfixed the violet heavens; the +Nile shone faintly; then, with a sudden drive, the stars rushed backwards +in a shower, and the amazing sun came up as with a shout. Perfumes that +have no name rose from the desert and the fields along the distant river +banks. The silence deepened, for no birds sang. Light took the world-- +and it was morning. + +And when the donkey-boys arrived at eight o'clock, the party were slow in +starting: it was so pleasant to lie and bask in the sumptuous bath of heat +and light that drenched them. The night had been chilly enough. +They were a tired party. Once home again, all retired with one accord to +sleep, remaining invisible until the sun was slanting over Persia and the +Indian Ocean, gilding the horizon probably above the starry skies of far +Cathay. + +But as Tom dozed off behind the shuttered windows in the hotel towards +eleven o'clock, having bathed and breakfasted a second time, he thought +vaguely of what Mrs. Haughstone had said to him a few hours before. +It seemed days ago already. He was too drowsy to hold the thought more +than a moment in his mind, much less to reflect upon it. 'It may be just +as well to give a hint,' occurred to him. 'Tony _is_ a bit too fond of +her--too fond for his happiness, perhaps.' Nothing had happened at the +picnic to revive the notion; it just struck him as he fell asleep, then +vanished; it was a moment's instinct. The vision--it had been an +instantaneous flash after all and nothing more--had left his mind +completely for the time. + +But Tom looked back afterwards upon the all-night bivouac as an occasion +marked specially in memory's calendar, yet for a reason that was unlike +the reasons his companions knew. He remembered it with mingled joy and +pain, also with a wonder that he could have been so blind--the last night +of happiness in his brief Egyptian winter. + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +He slept through the hot hours of the afternoon. In the cool of the +evening, as he strolled along the river bank, he read the few lines +Lettice had written to him at Assouan. For the porter had handed him +half-a-dozen letters as he left the hotel. Tony's he put for the moment +aside; the one from Lettice was all he cared about, quite forgetting he +had promised to tear it up unread. It was short but tender--anxious about +his comfort and well-being in a strange hotel 'when I am not there to take +care of you.' It ended on a complaint that she was 'tired rather and +spending my time at full length on a deck-chair in the garden.' +She promised to write 'at greater length to-morrow.' + +'Instead of which,' thought Tom with a boy's delight, 'I surprised her and +we talked face to face.' But for the Arab touts who ran beside him, +offering glass beads made in Birmingham, he could have kissed the letter +there and then. + +The resplendent gold on the river blinded him, he was glad to enter the +darker street and shake off the children who pestered him for bakshish. +Passing the Savoy Hotel, he hesitated a moment, then went on. 'No, I won't +call in for Tony; I'll find her alone, and we'll have a cosy little talk +together before the others come.' He quickened his pace, entered the +shady garden, discovered her instantly, and threw himself down upon the +cushions beside her deck-chair. 'Just what I hoped,' he said, with +pleasure and admiration in his eyes, 'alone at last. That is good luck-- +isn't it, Lettice?' + +'Of course,' she agreed, and smiled lazily, though some might have thought +indifferently, as she watched him arranging the cushions. +He flung himself back and gazed at her. She wore a dress of palest yellow, +and the broad-brimmed hat with the little roses. She seemed part of the +flaming sunset and the tawny desert. + +'Well,' he grumbled playfully, 'it is true, isn't it? Our not being alone +often, I mean?' He watched her without knowing that he did so. + +'In a way--yes,' she said. 'But we can't have everything at once, can we, +Tom?' Her voice was colourless perhaps. A tiny frown settled for an +instant between her eyes, then vanished. Tom did not notice it. +She sighed. 'You baby, Tom. I spoil you dreadfully, and you know I do.' + +He liked her in this quiet, teasing mood; it was often the prelude to +more delightful spoiling. He was in high spirits. 'You look as fresh as +a girl of sixteen, Lettice,' he declared. 'I believe you're only this +instant out of your bath and bed. D'you know, I slept like a baby too-- +the whole afternoon----' + +He interrupted himself, for at that moment a cigarette-case on the sand +beside him caught his eye. He picked it up--he recognised it. 'Yes--I +wish you'd smoke,' she said the same instant, brushing a fly quickly from +her cheek. + +'Tony's,' he exclaimed, examining the case. + +He noticed at the same time several burnt matches between his cushions and +her chair. + +'But he'd love you to smoke them: I'll take the responsibility.' +She laughed quietly. 'I'm sure they're good--better than yours; he's +wickedly extravagant.' She watched him as he took one out, examining the +label critically, then lighting it slowly and inhaling the smoke to taste +it. There was a faint perfume that clung to the case and its contents. +'Ambra,' said Lettice, a kind of watchful amusement in her eyes. +'You don't like it!' + +Tom looked up sharply. + +'Is that it? I didn't know.' + +She nodded. 'It's Tony's smell; haven't you noticed it? He always has +it about him. No, no,' she laughed, noticing his expression of +disapproval, 'he doesn't use it. It's just in his atmosphere, I mean.' + +'Oh, is it?' said Tom. + +'I rather like it,' she went on idly, 'but I never can make out where it +comes from. We call it ambra--the fragrance that hangs about the bazaars: +I believe they used it for the mummies; but the desert perfume is in it +too. It's rather wonderful--it suits him--don't you think? Penetrating, +and so delicate.' + +What a lot she had to say about it! He made no reply. He was looking +down to see what caused him that sudden, inexplicable pain--and discovered +that the lighted match had burned his fingers. The next minute he looked +up again--straight into her eyes. + +But, somehow, he did not say exactly what he meant to say. He said, in +fact, something that occurred to him on the spur of the moment. His mind +was simple, possibly, yet imps occasionally made use of it. An imp just +then reminded him: 'Her letter made no mention of the picnic, of Tony's +sudden change of plan, yet it was written yesterday morning when both were +being arranged.' + +So Tom did not refer to the ambra perfume, nor to the fact that Tony had +spent the afternoon with her. He said quite another thing--said it rather +bluntly too: 'I've just got your letter from Assouan, Lettice, and I clean +forgot my promise that I wouldn't read it.' He paused a second. +'You said nothing about the picnic in it.' + +'I thought you'd be disappointed if you knew,' she replied at once. +'That's why I didn't want you to read it.' And she fell to scolding him +in the way he usually loved,--but at the moment found less stimulating for +some reason. He smoked his stolen cigarette with energy for a measurable +period. + +'You're the spoilt child, not I,' he said at length, still looking at her. +'You said you were tired and meant to rest, and then you go for an +exhausting expedition instead.' + +The tiny frown reappeared between her eyes, lingered a trifle longer than +before, and vanished. She made a quick gesture. 'You're in a very nagging +mood, Tom; bivouacs don't agree with you.' She spoke lightly, easily, in +excellent good temper really. 'It was Tony persuaded me, if you want to +know the truth. He found himself free unexpectedly; he was so persistent; +it's impossible to resist him when he's like that--the only thing is to +give in and go.' + +'Of course.' Tom's face was like a mask. He thought so, at least, as he +laughed and agreed with her, saying Tony was an unscrupulous rascal at the +best of times. Apparently there was a struggle in him; he seemed in two +minds. 'Was he here this afternoon?' he asked. He learned that Tony had +come at four o'clock and had tea with her alone. 'We didn't telephone +because he said it would only spoil your sleep, and that a man who works +as well as plays must sleep--longer than a younger man.' Then, as Tom +said nothing, she added, 'Tony _is_ such a boy, isn't he?' + +There were several emotions in Tom just then. He hardly knew which was +the true, or at least, the dominant one. He was thinking of several +things at once too: of her letter, of that faint peculiar odour, of Tony's +coming to tea, but chiefly, perhaps, of the fact that Lettice had not +mentioned it,--but that he had found it out. . . . His heart sank. +It struck him suddenly that the mother in her sought to protect him from +the pain the woman gave. + +'Is he--yes,' he said absent-mindedly. And she repeated quietly, +'Oh, I think so.' + +The brief eastern twilight had meanwhile fallen, and the rapidly cooling +air sighed through the foliage. It grew darker in their shady corner. +The western sky was still a blaze of riotous colour, however, that +filtered through the trees and shed a luminous glow upon their faces. +It was a bewitching light--there was something bewitching about Lettice as +she lay there. Tom himself felt a touch of that deep Egyptian +enchantment. It stole in among his thoughts and feelings, colouring +motives, lifting into view, as from far away, moods that he hardly +understood and yet obeyed because they were familiar. + +This evasive sense of familiarity, both welcome and unwelcome, swept in, +dropped a fleeting whisper, and was gone again. He felt himself for an +instant--some one else: one Tom felt and spoke, while another Tom looked +on and watched, a calm, outside spectator. And upon his heart came a +touch of that strange, rich pain that was never very far away in Egypt. + +'I say, Lettice,' he began suddenly, as though he came to an abrupt +decision. 'This is an awful place for talk--these Luxor hotels----' +He stuck. 'Isn't it? You know what I mean.' His laborious manner +betrayed intensity, yet he meant to speak lightly, easily, and thought his +voice was merely natural. He stared hard at the glowing tip of his +cigarette. + +Lettice looked across at him without speaking for a moment. Her eyelids +were half closed. He felt her gaze and raised his own. He saw the smile +steal down towards her lips. + +'Tom, why are you glaring at me?' + +He started. He tried to smile, but there was no smile in him. + +'Was I, Lettice? Forgive me.' The talk that was coming would hurt him, +yet somehow he desired it. He would give his little warning and take the +consequences. 'I was devouring your beauty, as the _Family Herald_ says.' +He heard himself utter a dry and unconvincing laugh. Something was rising +through him; it was beyond control; it had to come. He felt stupid, +awkward, and was angry with himself for being so. For, somehow, at the +same time he felt powerless too. + +She came to the point with a directness that disconcerted him. +'Who has been talking about me?' she enquired, her voice hardening a +little; 'and what does it matter if they have?' + +Tom swallowed. There was something about her beauty in that moment that +set him on fire from head to foot. He knew a fierce desire to seize her +in his arms, hold her for ever and ever--lest she should escape him. + +But he was unable to give expression in any way to what was in him. +All he did was to shift his cushions slightly farther from her side. + +'It's always wiser--safer--not to be seen about too much with the same +man--alone,' he fumbled, recalling Mrs. Haughstone's words, 'in a place +like this, I mean,' he qualified it. It sounded foolish, but he could +evolve no cleverer way of phrasing it. He went on quicker, a touch of +nervousness in his voice he tried to smother: 'No one can mistake _our_ +relationship, or think there's anything wrong in it.' He stopped a +second, as she gazed at him in silence, waiting for him to finish. +'But Tony,' he concluded, with a gulp he prayed she did not notice, 'Tony +is a little----' + +'Well?' she helped him, 'a little what?' + +'A little different, isn't he?' + +Tom realised that he was producing the reverse of what he intended. +Somehow the choice of words seemed forced upon him. He was aware of his +own helplessness; he felt almost like a boy scolding his own wise, +affectionate mother. The thought stung him into pain, and with the pain +rose, too, a first distant hint of anger. The turmoil of feeling confused +him. He was aware--by her silence chiefly--of the new distance between +them, a distance the mention of Tony had emphasised. Instinctively he +tried to hide both pain and anger--it could only increase this distance +that was already there. At the same time he saw red. . . . Her answer, +then, so gently given, baffled him absurdly. He felt out of his depth. + +'I'll be more careful, Tom, dear--you wise, experienced chaperone.' + +The words, the manner, stung him. Another emotion, wounded vanity, came +into play. To laugh at himself was natural and right, but to be laughed +at by a woman, a woman whom he loved, whom he regarded as exclusively his +own, against whom, moreover, he had an accumulating grievance--it hurt him +acutely, although he seemed powerless to prevent it. He felt his own +stupidity increase. + +'It's just as well, I think, Lettice.' It was the wrong, the hopeless +thing to say, but the words seemed, in a sense, pushed quickly out of his +mouth lest he should find better ones. He anticipated, too, her +exasperation before her answer proved it: 'But, really, Tom, you know, I +can look after myself rather well as a rule--don't you think?' + +He interrupted her then, a mixture of several feelings in him--shame, the +pain of frustrate yearning, perversity too. For, in spite of himself, he +wanted to hear how she would speak of Tony. He meant to punish himself by +hearing her praise him. He, too, meant to speak well of his cousin. + +'He's a bit careless, though,' he blurted, 'irresponsible, in a way--where +women are concerned. I'm sure he means no harm, of course, but----' +He paused in confusion, he was no longer afraid that harm might come to +Tony; he was afraid for her, but now also for himself as well. + +'Tom, I do believe you're jealous!' + +He laughed boisterously when he heard it. It was really comical, absurdly +comical, of course. It sounded, too, the way she said it--ugly, mean, +contemptible. The touch of shame came back. + +'Lettice! But what an idea!' He gasped, turning round upon his other +elbow, closer to her. But the sinking of his heart increased; he felt an +inner cold. And a moment of deep silence followed the empty laughter. +The rustle of the foliage alone was audible. + +Lettice looked down sideways at him through half-closed eyelids; propped +on his cushions beside her, this was natural: yet he felt it mental as +well as physical. There was pity in her attitude, a concealed +exasperation, almost contempt. At the same time he realised that she had +never seemed so adorably lovely, so exquisite, so out of his reach. +He had never felt her so seductively desirable. He made an impetuous +gesture towards her before he knew it. + +'Don't, Tom; you'll upset my papers and everything,' she said calmly, yet +with the merest suspicion of annoyance in her tone. She was very gentle, +she was also very cold--cold as ice, he felt her, while he was burning as +with fire. He was aware of this unbridgeable distance between his passion +and her indifference; and a dreadful thought leaped up in him with +stabbing pain: 'Her answer to Tony would have been quite otherwise.' + +'I'm sorry, Lettice--so sorry,' he said brusquely, to hide his +mortification. 'I'm awfully clumsy.' She was putting her papers tidy +again with calm fingers, while his own were almost cramped with the energy +of suppressed desire. 'But, seriously,' he went on, refusing the rebuff +by pretending it was play on his part, 'it isn't very wise to be seen +about so much alone with Tony. Believe me, it isn't.' For the first +time, he noticed, it was difficult to use the familiar and affectionate +name. But for a sense of humour he could have said 'Anthony.' + +'I do believe you, Tom. I'll be more careful.' Her eyes were very soft, +her manner quiet, her gentle tone untinged with any emotion. Yet Tom +detected, he felt sure, a certain eagerness behind the show of apparent +indifference. She liked to talk--to go on talking--about Tony. 'Do you +_really_ think so, really mean it?' he heard her asking, and thus knew his +thought confirmed. She invited more. And, with open eyes, with a curious +welcome even to the pain involved, Tom deliberately stepped into the cruel +little trap. But he almost felt that something pushed him in. He talked +exactly like a boy: 'He--he's got a peculiar power with women,' he said. +'I can't make it out quite. He's not good-looking--exactly--is he?' +It was impossible to conceal his eagerness to know exactly what she did +feel. + +'There's a touch of genius in him,' she answered. 'I don't think looks +matter so much--I mean, with women.' She spoke with a certain restraint, +not deliberately saying less than she thought, but yet keeping back the +entire truth. He suddenly realised a relationship between her and Tony +into which he was not admitted. The distance between them increased +visibly before his very eyes. + +And again, out of a hundred things he wanted to say, he said--as though +compelled to--another thing. + +'Rather!' he burst out honestly. 'I should hate it if--you hadn't liked +him.' But a week ago he would have phrased this differently--'If _he_ had +not liked you.' + +There were perceptible pauses between their sentences now, pauses that for +him seemed breaking with a suspense that was painful, almost cruel. +He knew worse was coming. He both longed for it yet dreaded it. He felt +at her mercy, in her power somehow. + +'It's odd,' she went on slowly, 'but in England I thought him stupid +rather, whereas out here he's changed into another person.' + +'I think we've all changed--somehow,' Tom filled the pause, and was going +to say more when she interrupted. + +She kept the conversation upon Tony. 'I shall never forget the day he +walked in here first. It was the week I arrived. You'll laugh, Tom, when +I tell you----' She hesitated--almost it seemed on purpose. + +'How was it? How did he look?' The forced indifference of the tone +betrayed his anxiety. + +'Well, he's not impressive exactly--is he?--as a rule. That little +stoop--and so on. But I saw his figure coming up the path before I +recognised who it was, and I thought suddenly of an Egyptian, almost an +old Pharaoh, walking.' + +She broke off with that little significant laugh Tom knew so well. +But, comical though the picture might have been--Tony walking like a +king,--Tom did not laugh. It was not ludicrous, for it was somewhere +true. He remembered the singular inner mental picture he had seen above +the desert fire, and the pain within him seemed the forerunner of some +tragedy that watched too close upon his life. But, for another and more +obvious reason, he could not laugh; for he heard the admiration in her +voice, and it was upon that his mind fastened instantly. His observation +was so mercilessly sharp. He hated it. Where was his usual slowness +gone? Why was his blood so quickly apprehensive? + +She kept her eyes fixed steadily on his, saying what followed gently, +calmly, yet as though another woman spoke the words. She stabbed him, +noting the effect upon him with a detached interest that seemed +indifferent to his pain. Something remote and ancient stirred in her, +something that was not of herself To-day, something half primitive, half +barbaric. + +'It may have been the blazing light,' she went on, 'the half-savage effect +of these amazing sunsets--I cannot say,--but I saw him in a sheet of gold. +There was gold about him, I mean, as though he wore it--and when he came +close there was that odd, faint perfume, half of the open desert and half +of ambra, as we call it----' Again she broke off and hesitated, leaving +the impression there was more to tell, but that she could not say it. +She kept back much. Into the distance now established between them Tom +felt a creeping sense of cold, as of the chill desert wind that follows +hard upon the sunset. Her eyes still held him steadily. He seemed more +and more aware of something merciless in her. + +He sat and gazed at her--at a woman he loved, a woman who loved him, but a +woman who now caused him pain deliberately because something beyond +herself compelled. Her tenderness lay inactive, though surely not +forgotten. She, too, felt the pain. Yet with her it was in some odd +way--impersonal. . . . Tom, hopelessly out of his depth, swept onward by +this mighty wave behind all three of them, sat still and watched her-- +fascinated, even terrified. Her eyelids were half closed again. +Another look stole up into her face, driving away the modern beauty, +replacing its softness, tenderness with another expression he could not +fathom. Yet this new expression was somehow, too, half recognisable. +It was difficult to describe--a little sterner, a little wilder, a faint +emphasis of the barbaric peering through it. It was darker. She looked +eastern. Almost, he saw her visibly change--here in the twilight of the +little Luxor garden by his side. Distance increased remorselessly between +them. She was far away, yet ever close at the same time. He could not +tell whether she was going away from him or coming nearer. The shadow of +tragedy fell on him from the empty sky. . . . + +In his bewilderment he tried to hold steady and watch, but the soul in him +rushed backwards. He felt, but could not think. The wave surged under +him. Various impulses urged him into a pouring flood of words; yet he +gave expression to none of them. He laughed a little dry, short laugh. +He heard himself saying lightly, though with apparent lack of interest: +'How curious, Lettice, how very odd! What made him look like that?' + +But he knew her answer would mean pain. It came just as he expected: + +'He _is_ wonderful--out here--quite different----' Another minute and she +would have added 'I'm different, too.' But Tom interrupted hurriedly: + +'Do you always see him--like that--now? In a sheet of gold--with beauty?' +His tongue was so hot and dry against his lips that he almost stammered. + +She nodded, her eyelids still half closed. She lay very quiet, peering +down at him. 'It lasts?' he insisted, turning the knife himself. + +'You'll laugh when I tell you something more,' she went on, making a +slight gesture of assent, 'but I felt such joy in myself--so wild and +reckless--that when I got to my room that night I danced--danced alone +with all my clothes off.' + +'Lettice!' + +'The spontaneous happiness was like a child's--a sort of freedom feeling. +I _had_ to shake my clothes off simply. I wanted to shake off the walls +and ceiling too, and get out into the open desert. Tom--I felt out of +myself in a way--as though I'd escaped--into--into quite different +conditions----' + +She gave details of the singular mood that had come upon her with the +arrival of Tony, but Tom hardly heard her. Only too well he knew the +explanation. The touch of ecstasy was no new thing, although its +manifestation may have been peculiar. He had known it himself in his own +lesser love affairs. But that she could calmly tell him about it, that +she could deliberately describe this effect upon her of another man--! +It baffled him beyond all thoughts or words. . . . Was the self-revelation +an unconscious one? Did she realise the meaning of what she told him? +The Lettice he had known could surely not say this thing. In her he felt +again, more distinctly than before, another person--division, conflict. +Her hesitations, her face, her gestures, her very language proved it. +He shrank, as from some one who inflicted pain as a child, unwittingly, to +see what the effect would be. . . . He remembered the incident of the +insect in the sand. . . . + +'And I feel--even now--I could do it again,' her voice pierced in across +his moment of hidden anguish. The knife she had thrust again into his +breast was twisted then. + +It was time that he said something, and a sentence offered itself in time +to save him. The desire to hide his pain from her was too strong to be +disobeyed. He wanted to know, yet not, somehow, to prevent. He seized +upon the sentence, keeping his voice steady with an effort that cut his +very flesh: 'There's nothing impersonal exactly in _that_, Lettice!' he +exclaimed with an exaggerated lightness. + +'Oh no,' she agreed. 'But it's only in England, perhaps, that I'm +impersonal, as you call it. I suppose, out here, I've changed. +The beauty, the mystery,--this fierce sunshine or something--stir----' +She hesitated for a fraction of a second. + +'The woman in you,' he put in, turning the knife this time with his own +fingers deliberately. The words seemed driven out by their own impetus; +he did not choose them. A faint ghastly hope was in him--that she would +shake her head and contradict him. + +She waited a moment, then turned her eyes aside. 'Perhaps, Tom. +I wonder. . . .!' + +And as she said it, Tom knew suddenly another thing as well. It stood out +clearly, as with big printed letters that violent advertisements use upon +the hoardings. Her new joy and excitement, her gaiety and zest for life-- +all had been caused, not by himself, but by another. Heavens! how blind +he had been! He understood at last, and a flood of freezing water +drenched him. His heart stopped beating for a moment. He gasped. +He could not get his breath. His accumulating doubts hitherto +unexpressed, almost unacknowledged even, were now confirmed. + +He got up stiffly, awkwardly, from his cushions, and moved a few steps +towards the house, for there stole upon her altered face just then the +very expression of excitement, of radiant and spontaneous joy, he had +believed until this moment were caused by himself. Tony was coming up the +darkened drive. He was exactly in her line of sight. And a severe, +embittered struggle then took place in a heart that seemed strangely +divided against itself. He felt as though a second Tom, yet still +himself, battled against the first, exchanging thrusts of indescribable +torture. The complexity of emotions in his heart was devastating beyond +anything he had ever known in his thirty-five years of satisfied, +self-centred life. Two voices spoke in clear, sharp sentences, one +against the other: + +'Your suspicions are unworthy, shameful. Trust her. She's as loyal and +true and faithful as yourself!' cried the first. + +And the second: + +'Blind! Can't you see what's going on between them? It has happened to +other men, why not to you? She is playing with you; she has outgrown your +love.' It was the older voice that used the words. + +'Impossible, ridiculous!' the first voice cried. 'There's something wrong +with me that I can have such wretched thoughts. It's merely innocence and +joy of life. No one can take _my_ place.' + +To which, again, the second Tom made bitter answer. 'You are too old for +her, too dull, too ordinary! You hold the loving mother still, but a +younger man has waked the woman in her. And you must let it come. +You dare not blame. Nor have you the right to interfere.' + +So acute, so violent was the perplexity in him that he knew not what to +say or do at first. Unable to come to a decision, he stood there, waving +his hand to Tony with a cry of welcome. His first vehement desire to be +alone, to make an excuse, to get to his room and think, had passed: +a second, a maturer attitude, conquered it: to take whatever came, to face +it, in a word to know the worst. . . . And the extraordinary pain he hid +by an exuberance of high spirits that surprised himself. It was, of +course, the suppressed emotional energy finding another outlet. A similar +state had occurred that 'Karnak night' of a long ten days ago, though he +had not understood it then. Behind it lay the misery of loneliness that +he knew in his very bones was coming. + +'Tony! So it is. I was afraid he'd change his mind and leave us in the +lurch.' + +Tom heard the laugh of happiness as she said it; he heard the voice +distinctly--the change of tone in it, the softness, the half-caressing +tenderness that crept unconsciously in, the faint thrill of womanly +passion. Unconsciously, yes! he was sure, at least, of that. She did not +know quite yet, she did not realise what had happened. Honest to the +core, he felt her. His love surged up tumultuously. He could face pain, +loss, death--or, as he put it, 'almost anything,' if it meant happiness to +her. The thought, at any rate, came to him thus. . . . And Tom believed +it. + +At the same moment he heard her voice, close behind him this time. +She had left her chair, meaning to go indoors and prepare for supper +before Tony actually arrived. 'Tom, dear boy,' her hand upon his shoulder +a moment as she passed, 'you're tired or something. I can see it. +I believe you're worrying. There's something you haven't told me--isn't +there now?' She gave him a loving glance that was of purest gold. +'You shall tell me all about it when we're alone. You must tell me +everything.' + +The pain and joy in him were equal then. He was a boy of eighteen, aching +over his first love affair; and she was divinely mothering him. It was +extraordinary; it was past belief; another minute, had they been alone, he +could almost have laid his head upon her breast, complaining in anguish to +the mother in her that the woman he loved was gone: 'I feel you're +slipping from me! I'm losing you . . .!' + +Instead he stammered some commonplace unreality about his work at Assouan +and heard her agree with him that he certainly must not neglect it--and +she was gone into the house. The swinging curtains of dried grasses hid +her a few feet beyond, but between them, he felt, stretched five thousand +years and half a dozen continents as well. + + + +'Tom, old chap, did you get my letter? You promised to read it. Is it +all right, I mean? I wouldn't for all the world let anything----' + +Tom stopped him abruptly. He wished to read the letter for himself without +foreknowledge of its contents. + +'Eh? No--that is, I got it,' he said confusedly, 'but I haven't read it +yet. I slept all the afternoon.' + +An expression of anxiety in Tony's face came and vanished. 'You can tell +me to-morrow--frank as you like, mind,' he replied, to which Tom said +quite eagerly, 'Rather, Tony: of course. I'll read your old letter the +moment I get back to-night.' And Tony, merry as a sandboy, changed the +subject, declaring that he had only one desire in life just then, and that +was--food. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The conflict in Tom's puzzled heart sharpened that evening into dreadful +edges that cut him mercilessly whichever way he turned. One minute he +felt sure of Lettice, the next the opposite was clear. Between these two +certainties he balanced in secret torture, one factor alone constant--that +his sense of security was shaken to the foundations. + +Belief in his own value had never been thus assailed before; that he was +indispensable had been an ultimate assurance. His vanity and self-esteem +now toppled ominously. A sense of inferiority crept over him, as on the +first day of his arrival at Alexandria. There seemed the flavour of some +strange authority in her that baffled all approach to the former intimacy. +He hardly recognised himself, for, the foundations being shaken, all that +was built upon them trembled too. + +The insecurity showed in the smallest trifles--he expressed himself +hesitatingly; he felt awkward, clumsy, ineffective; his conversation +became stupid for all the false high spirits that inflated it, his very +manners gauche; he said and did the wrong things; he was boring. Being +ill at ease and out of harmony with himself, he found it impossible to +play his part in the trio as of old; the trio, indeed, had now divided +itself--one against two. + +That is, keenly, and in spite of himself, he watched the other two; he +watched them as a detective does, for evidence. He became uncannily +observant. And since Tony was especially amusing that evening, Lettice, +moreover, apparently absorbed in his stimulating talk, Tom's alternate +gaucheries and silence passed unnoticed, certainly uncommented. +In schoolboy phraseology, Tom felt out of it. His presence was +tolerated--as by favour. The two enjoyed a mutual understanding from +which he was excluded, a private intimacy that was spiritual, mental,-- +physical. + +He even found it in him for the first time to marvel that Lettice had ever +cared for him at all. Beside Tony's brilliance he felt himself cheaper, +almost insignificant. He felt old. . . . His pain, moreover, was +twofold: his own selfish sense of personal loss produced one kind of +anguish, but the possibility that _she_ was playing false produced +another. The first was manageable: the second beyond words appalling. + +Against this background of emotional disturbance he watched the evening +pass. It developed as the hours moved. Tony, he noticed, though so full +of life, betrayed a certain malaise towards himself and avoided that +direct meeting of the eye that was his characteristic. More and more, +especially when Mrs. Haughstone had betaken herself to bed, and the trio +sat in the cooler garden alone, Tom became aware of a subtle intimacy +between his companions that resented all his efforts to include him too. +It was, moreover--his heart warned him now,--an affectionate, a natural +intimacy, built upon many an hour of intercourse while he was yet in +England, and, worst of all, that it was secret. But more--he realised +that the missing part of her was now astir, touched into life by another, +and a younger, man. It was ardent and untamed. It had awakened from its +slumber. He even fancied that something of challenge flashed from her, +though without definite words or gesture. + +With a degree of acute perception wholly new to him, he watched the +evidence of inner proximity, yet watched it automatically and certainly +not meanly nor with slyness. The evidence that was sheer anguish thrust +itself upon him. His eyes had opened; he could not help himself. + +But he watched himself as well. Only at moments was he aware of this--a +kind of higher Self, detached from shifting moods, looked on calmly and +took note. This Self, placed high above the stage, looked down. +It was a Self that never acted, never wept or suffered, never changed. +It was secure, superb, it was divine. Its very existence in him hitherto +had been unknown. He was now vividly aware of it. It was the Onlooker. + +The explanation of his mysterious earlier moods offered itself with a +clarity that was ghastly. Watching the happiness of these two, he +recalled a hundred subconscious hints he had disregarded: the empty letter +at Alexandria, her dislike of being alone with him, the increasing +admiration for his cousin, a thousand things she had left unsaid, above +all, the exuberance and radiant joy that Tony's presence woke in her. +The gradual but significant change, the singular vision in the desert, his +own foretaste of misery as he watched the Theban Hills from the balcony of +his bedroom--all, all returned upon him, arranged in a phalanx of +neglected proofs that the new Tom offered cruelly to the old. But it was +her slight exasperation, her evasion when he questioned her, that capped +the damning list. And her silence was the culminating proof. + +Then, inexplicably, he shifted to the other side that the old, the normal +Tom presented generously to the new. While this reaction lasted he +laughed away the evidence, and honestly believed he was exaggerating +trifles. The new zest that Egypt woke in her--God bless her sweetness and +simplicity!--was only natural; if Tony stimulated the intellectual side of +her, he could feel only pleasure that her happiness was thus increased. +She was innocent. He could not possibly doubt or question, and shame +flooded him till he felt himself the meanest man alive. Suspicion was no +normal part of him. He crushed it out of sight, scotched as he thought to +death. To lose belief in her would mean to lose belief in everybody. +It was inconceivable. Every instinct in him repelled the vile suggestion. +And while this reaction lasted his security returned. + +Only it did _not_ last; it merged invariably into its opposite again; and +the alternating confidence and doubt produced a state of confused emotion +that contained the nightmare touch in its most essential form. The Wave +hung, poised above him--but would not fall--quite yet. + + + +It was later in the evening that the singular intensity introduced itself +into all they said and did, hanging above them like a cloud. It came +curiously, was suddenly there--without hint or warning. Tom had the +feeling that they moved amid invisible dangers, almost as though +explosives lay hidden near them, ready any moment to bring destruction +with a sudden crash--final destruction of the happy pre-existing +conditions. The menace of a thunder-cloud approached as in his +childhood's dream; disaster lurked behind the quiet outer show. +The Wave was rising almost audibly. + +For upon their earlier mood of lighter kind that had preceded Mrs. +Haughstone's exit, and then upon the more serious talk that followed in +the garden, there descended abruptly this uncanny quiet that one and all +obeyed. The contrast was most marked. Tom remembered how their voices +hushed upon a given moment, how they looked about them during the brief +silence following, peering into the luminous darkness as though some one +watched them--and how Madame Jaretzka, remarking on the chilly air, then +rose suddenly and led the way into the house. Both she and Tony, he +remembered, had been restless for some little time. 'It's chilly. We +shall be cosier indoors,' she said lightly, and moved away, followed by +his cousin. + +Tom lingered a few minutes, watching them pass along the verandah to the +room beyond. He did not like the change. In the open air, the intimacy +he dreaded was less suggested than in the friendly familiarity of a room, +her room; out of doors it was more diffused; he preferred the remoteness +that the garden lent. At the same time he was glad of a moment by +himself--though a moment only. He wanted to collect his thoughts and face +things as they were. There should be no 'shuffling' if he possibly could +prevent it. + +He lingered with his cigarette behind the others. A red moon hung above +the mournful hills, and the stars shone in their myriads. Both lay +reflected in the quiet river. The night was very peaceful. No wind +stirred. . . . And he strove to force the exquisite Egyptian silence upon +the turmoil that was in his soul--to gain that inner silence through which +the voice of truth might whisper clearly to him. The poise he craved lay +all about him in the solemn stillness, in stars and moon and desert; the +temple columns had it, the steadfast, huge Colossi waiting for the sun, +the bleak stone hills, the very Nile herself. Something of their +immemorial resolution and resistance he might even borrow for his little +tortured self . . . before he followed his companions. For it came to him +that within the four walls of her room all that he dreaded must reveal +itself in such concentrated, visible form that he no longer would be able +to deny it: the established intimacy, the sweetness, the desire, and--the +love. + +He made this effort, be it recorded in his favour, and made it bravely; +while every minute that he left his companions undisturbed was a +long-drawn torment in his heart. For he plainly recognised now a danger +he knew not how he might adequately meet. Here was the strangeness of it: +that he did _not_ distrust Lettice, nor felt resentment against Tony. +Why this was so, or what the meaning was, he could not fathom. He felt +vaguely that Lettice, like himself, was the plaything of greater forces +than she knew, and that her perplexing conduct was based upon disharmony +in herself beyond her possible control. Some part of her, long hidden, +had emerged in Egypt, brought out by the deep mystery and passion of the +climate, by its burning, sensuous splendour: its magic drove her along +unconsciously. There were two persons in her. + +It may have been absurd to divide the woman and the mother as he did; +probably it was false psychology as well; where love is, mother and woman +blend divinely into one. He did not know: it seemed, as yet, they had not +blended. He was positive only that while part of her was going from him, +if not already gone, the rest, and the major part, was true and loyal, +loving and marvellously tender. The conflict of these certainties left +hopeless disorder in every corner of his being. . . . + +Tossing away his cigarette, he moved slowly up the verandah steps. +The Wave was never more sensibly behind, beneath him, than in that moment. +He rose upon it, it was under him, he felt its lift and irresistible +momentum; almost it bore him up the steps. For he meant to face whatever +came; deliberately he welcomed the hurt; it had to come; beyond the +suffering beckoned some marvellous joy, pure as the dawn beyond the cruel +desert. There was in him that rich, sweet pain he knew of old. +It beckoned and allured him even while he shrank. Alone the supreme Self +in him looked calmly on, seeming to lessen the part that trembled and knew +fear. + +Then, as he neared the room, a sound of music floated out to meet him-- +Tony was singing to his own accompaniment. Lettice, upon a sofa in the +corner, looked up and placed a finger on her lips, then closed her eyes +again, listening to the song. And Tom was glad she closed her eyes, glad +also that Tony's back was towards him, for as he crossed the threshold a +singular impulse took possession of his legs and he was only just able to +stop a ridiculous movement of shuffling with his feet upon the matting. +Quickly he gained a sofa by the window and dropped down upon it, watching, +listening. Tony was singing softly, yet with deep expression half +suppressed: + + We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise, + And the door stood open at our feast, + When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes, + And a man with his back to the East. + + O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast, + The loudest voice was still. + The jest died away on our lips as they passed, + And the rays of July struck chill. + +He sang the words with an odd, emphatic slowness, turning to look at +Lettice between the phrases. He was not yet aware that Tom had entered. +The tune held all the pathos and tragedy of the world in it. 'Both going +the same way together,' he said in a suggestive undertone, his hands +playing a soft running chord; 'the man and the woman.' He again leaned in +her direction. 'It's a pregnant opening, don't you think? The music I +found in the very depths of me somewhere. Lettice, I believe you're +asleep!' he whispered tenderly after a second's pause. + +She opened her eyes then and looked meaningly at him. Tom made no sound, +no movement. He saw only her eyes fixed steadily on Tony, whose last +sentence, using the Christian name so softly, rang on inside him like the +clanging of a prison bell. + +'Sing another verse first,' said Madame Jaretzka quietly, 'and we'll pass +judgment afterwards. But I wasn't asleep, was I, Tom?' And, following +the direction of her eyes, Tony started, and turned round. 'I shut my +eyes to listen better,' she added, almost impatiently. 'Now, please go +on; we want to hear the rest.' + +'Of course,' said Tom, in as natural a tone as possible. 'Of course we +do. What is it?' he asked. + +'Mary Coleridge--the words,' replied Tony, turning to the piano again. +'In a moment of aberration I thought I could write the music for it----' +The softness and passion had left his voice completely. + +'Oh, the tune is yours?' + +His cousin nodded. There was a little frown between the watching eyes +upon the sofa. 'Tom, you mustn't interrupt; it spoils the mood--the +rhythm,' and she again asked Tony to go on. The difference in the two +tones she used was too obvious to be missed by any man who heard them--the +veiled exasperation and--the tenderness. + +Tony obeyed at once. Striking a preliminary chord as the stool swung +round, he said for Tom's benefit, 'To me there's tragedy in the words, +real tragedy, so I tried to make the music fit it. Madame Jaretzka +doesn't agree.' He glanced towards her; her eyes were closed again; her +face, Tom thought, was like a mask. Tony did not this time use the little +name. + +The next verse began, then suddenly broke off. The voice seemed to fail +the singer. 'I don't like this one,' he exclaimed, a suspicion of +trembling in his tone. 'It's rather too awful. Death comes in, the bread +at the feast turns black, the hound falls down--and so on. There's +general disaster. It's too tragic, rather. I'll sing the last verse +instead.' + +'I want to hear it, Tony. I insist,' came the command from the sofa. +'I want the tragic part.' + +To Tom it seemed precisely as though the voice had said, 'I want to see +Tom suffer. He knows the meaning of it. It's right, it's good, it's +necessary for him.' + +Tony obeyed. He sang both verses: + + The cups of red wine turned pale on the board, + The white bread black as soot. + The hound forgot the hand of his lord, + She fell down at his foot. + + Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies, + Ere I sit me down again at a feast, + When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes, + And a man with his back to the East. + +The song stopped abruptly, the music died away, there was an interval of +silence no one broke. Tom had listened spellbound, haunted. He was no +judge of poetry or music; he did not understand the meaning of the words +exactly; he knew only that both words and music expressed the shadow of +tragedy in the air as though they focussed it into a tangible presence. +A woman and a man were going in the same direction; there was an +onlooker. . . . A spontaneous quality in the words, moreover, proved that +they came burning from the writer's heart, and in Tony's music, whether +good or bad, there was this same proof of genuine feeling. Judge or no +judge, Tom was positive of that. He felt himself the looker-on, an +intruder, almost a trespasser. + +This sense of exclusion grew upon him as he listened; it passed without +warning into the consciousness of a mournful, freezing isolation. +These two, sitting in the room, and separated from him by a few feet of +coloured Persian rug, were actually separated from him by unbridgeable +distance, wrapped in an intimacy that kept him inexorably outside--because +he did not understand. He almost knew an objective hallucination--that +the sofa and the piano drew slightly nearer to one another, whereas his +own chair remained fixed to the floor, immovable--outside. + +The intensity of his sensations seemed inexplicable, unless some reality, +some truth, lay behind them. The bread at the feast turned black before +his very eyes. But another line rang on with a sound of ominous and +poignant defeat in his heart, now lonely and bereft: 'Low let me lie, +where the dead dog lies . . .' To the onlooker the passing of the pair +meant death. . . . + +Then, through his confusion, flashed clearly this bitter certitude: Tom +suddenly realised that after all he knew nothing of her real, her inner +life; he knew her only through himself and in himself--knew himself in +her. Tony, less self-centred, less rigidly contained, had penetrated her +by an understanding sympathy greater than his own. She was unintelligible +to him, but not to Tony. Tony had the key. . . . He had touched in her +what hitherto had slept. + +As the music wailed its dying cadences into this fateful silence, Tom met +her eyes across the room. They were strong, and dark with beauty. He met +them with no outer quailing, though with a sense of drenching tears +within. They seemed to him the eyes of the angel gazing through the gate. +He was outside. . . . + +He was the first to break a silence that had grown unnatural, oppressive. + +'What was it?' he asked again abruptly. 'Has it got a name, I mean?' +His voice had the cry of a wounded creature in it. + +Tony struck an idle chord from the piano as he turned on his stool, +'Oh, yes, it's got a name. It's called "Unwelcome." And Tom, aware that +he winced, was also aware that something in his life congealed and stopped +its normal flow. + +'Tony, you _are_ a genius,' broke in quickly the voice from the other side +of the room; 'I always said so. Do you know, that's the most perfect +accompaniment I ever heard.' She spoke with feeling, her tone full of +admiration. + +Tony made no reply. He strummed softly, swaying to the rhythm of what he +played. + +'I meant the setting,' explained Lettice, 'the music. It expresses the +emotion of the words too, _too_ exactly. It's wonderful!' + +'I didn't know you composed,' put in Tom stupidly. He had to say +something. He saw them exchange a glance. She smiled. 'When did you do +it?' + +'Oh, the other day in a sudden fit,' said Tony, without turning. +'While you were at Assouan, I think.' + +'And the words, Tom; don't you think they're wonderful, too, and strange?' +asked Lettice. 'I find them really haunting.' + +'Y-es,' he agreed, without looking at her. He realised that the lyric, +though new to him, was not new to them; they had discussed it together +already; they felt the same emotion about it; it had moved and stirred +them before, moved Tony so deeply that he had found the music for it in +the depths of himself. It was an enigmatical poem, it now became +symbolic. It embodied the present situation somehow for him. Tom did not +understand its meaning as they did; to him it was a foreign language. +But they knew the language easily. It betrayed their deep emotional +intimacy. + +'You didn't hear the first part?' said Tony. + +'Not quite. You had just started--when I came in.' Tom easily read the +meaning in the question. And in his heart the name of the poem repeated +itself with significant insistence: _Unwelcome_! It had come like a blow +in the face when Tony mentioned it, bruising him internally. He was +bleeding. . . . He watched the big, dark hands upon the keys as they +moved up and down. It suddenly seemed they moved towards himself. +There was power, menace in them--there was death. He felt as if they +seized--choked him. . . . They grew stained. . . . + +The voices of his companions came to him across great distance; there was +a gulf between them, they on that side, he on this: he was aware of +antagonism between himself and Tony, and between himself and Lettice. +It was very dreadful; his feet and hands were cold; he shivered. But he +gave no outer sign that he was suffering, and a desperate pride--though he +knew it was but a sham, a temporary pride--came to his assistance. Yet at +the same time--he saw red. He felt like a boy at school again. + +In imagination, then, he visualised swiftly a definite scene: + +'Tony,' he heard himself say, 'you're coming between us. It means all the +world to me, to you it means only a passing game. If it means more, it's +time for you to say so plainly--and let _her_ decide.' + +The situation seemed all cleared up; the clouds of tragedy dissipated, the +dreadful accumulation of emotion, suspense, and hidden pain, too long +suppressed, too intense to be borne another minute, discharged itself in +an immense relief. Lettice at last spoke freely and explained: Tony +expressed regret, laughing it all away with his accustomed brilliance and +irresponsibility. + +Then, horribly, he heard Tony give a different answer that was far more +possible and likely: + +'I knew you were great friends, but I did not guess there was anything +more between you. You never told me. I'm afraid I--I _am_ desperately +fond of her, and she of me. We must leave it--yes, to her. There is no +other way.' + +He was lounging on his sofa by the window, his eyes closed, while these +thoughts flashed through him. He had never known such insecurity before; +he felt sure of nothing; the foundations of his being seemed sliding into +space. . . . For it came to him suddenly that he was a slave and that she +was set upon a throne far, far beyond his reach. . . . + +Across the room, lit only by a single lamp upon the piano, the voices of +his companions floated to him, low pitched, a ceaseless murmuring stream. +He had been listening even while busy with his own reflections, intently +listening. They were still talking of the poem and the music, exchanging +intimate thoughts in the language he could not understand. They had +passed on to music and poetry at large--dangerous subjects by whose means +innocent words, donning an easy mask, may reveal passionate states of +mental and physical kind--and so to personal revelations and confessions +the apparently innocent words interpreted. He heard and understood, yet +could not wholly follow because the key was missing. He could not take +part, much less object. It was all too subtle for his mind. +He listened. . . . + +The moonlight fell upon his stretched-out figure, but left his face in +shadow; opening his eyes, he could see the others clearly; the intent +expression upon _her_ face fascinated him as he watched. Yet before his +eyes had opened, the feeling again came to him that they had changed their +positions somehow, and the verification of this feeling was the first +detail he then noticed. Tony's stool was nearer to the bass keys of the +piano, while the sofa Lettice lay upon had certainly been drawn up towards +him. And Tony leaned over as he talked, bringing their lips within +whispering distance. It was all done with that open innocence which +increased the cruelty of it. Tom saw and heard and felt all over his +body. He lay very still. He half closed his eyes again. + +'I do believe Tom's dropped asleep,' said Lettice presently. 'No, don't +wake him,' as Tony half turned round, 'he's tired, poor boy!' + +But Tom could not willingly listen to a private conversation. + +'I'm not asleep,' he exclaimed, 'not a bit of it,' and noticed that they +both were startled by the suddenness and volume of his voice. 'But I +_am_ tired rather,' and he got up, lit a cigarette, wandered about the +room a minute, and then leaned out of the open window. 'I think I shall +slip off to bed soon--if you'll forgive me, Lettice.' + +He said it on impulse; he did not really mean to go; to leave them alone +together was beyond his strength. She merely nodded. The woman he had +felt so proudly would put Tony in his place--nodded consent! + +'I must be going too in a moment,' Tony murmured. He meant it even less +than Tom did. He shifted his stool towards the middle of the piano and +began to strum again. + +'Sing something more first, Tony; I love your ridiculous voice.' + +Tom heard it behind his back; it was said half in banter, half in earnest; +yet the tone pierced him. She used the private language she and Tony +understood. The little sentence was a paraphrase that, being interpreted, +said plainly: 'He'll go off presently; then we can talk again of the +things we love together--the things he doesn't understand.' + +With his face thrust into the cold night air Tom felt the blood go +throbbing in his temples. He watched the moonlight on the sandy garden +paths. The leaves were motionless, the river crept past without a murmur, +the dark hills rose out of the distant desert like a wave. There was +faint fragrance as of wild flowers, very tiny, very soft. But he kept his +eyes upon the gliding river rather than on those dark hills crowded with +their ancient dead. For he felt as if some one watched him from their dim +recesses. It almost seemed that from those bleak, lonely uplands, silent +amid the stream of hurrying life to-day, came his pain, his agony. +He could not understand it; the strange, sinister mood he had known +already once before stole out from the desolate Theban hills and mastered +him again. Any moment, if he looked up, he would meet eyes--eyes that +gazed with dim yet definite recognition into his own across the night. +They would gaze up at him, for somehow he was placed above them. . . . +He had known all this before, this very situation, these very actors--he +now looked down upon it all, a scene mapped out below him. There were two +pictures that yet were one. + +'What shall it be?' the voice of Tony floated past him through the open +window. + +'The gold and ambra one--I like best of all,' her voice followed like a +sigh across the air. 'But only once--it makes me cry.' + +To Tom, as he heard it, came the shattering conviction that the words were +not in English, and that it was neither Lettice nor his cousin who had +used them. Reality melted; he felt himself--brain, heart, and body-- +dropping down through empty space as though towards the speakers. +This was another language that they spoke together. _He_ had forgotten +it. . . . They were themselves, yet different. Amazement seized him. +A familiarity, intense with breaking pain, came with it. +Where, O where . . .? + +He heard the music steal past him towards these Theban hills. + +His heart was no longer beating; it was still. Life paused, as it were, +to let the voice insert itself into another setting, out of due place, yet +at the same time true and natural. An intolerable sweetness in the music +swept him. But there was anguish too. The pain and pleasure were but one +sensation. . . . All the melancholy blue and gold of Egypt's beauty +passed in that singing before his soul, and something of transcendant +value he had lost, something ancient it seemed as those mournful Theban +hills, rose with it. It was offered to him again. He saw it rise within +his reach--once more. Upon this tide of blue and of gold it floated to +his hand, could he but seize it. . . . Emotion then blocked itself +through sheer excess; the tide receded, the vision dimmed, the gold turned +dull and faded, the music and the singing ceased. Yet an instant, above +the pain, Tom had caught a flush of inexplicable happiness. Beyond the +anguish he felt joy breaking upon him like the dawn. . . . + +'Joy cometh in the morning,' he remembered, with a feeling as of some +modern self and sanity returning. He had been some one else; he now was +Tom again. The pain belonged to that 'some one else.' It must be faced, +for the final outcome would be joy. . . . He turned round into the room +now filled with tense silence only. + +'Tony,' he asked, 'what on earth was it?' His voice was low but did not +tremble. The atmosphere seemed drawn taut before him as though it must +any instant split open upon a sound of crying. He saw Lettice on her +sofa, the lamplight in her wide-open eyes that shone with moisture. +She looked at Tony, not at him. There was no decipherable expression on +her face. That elusive Eastern touch hung mysteriously about her. It was +all half fabulous. + +Without turning Tony answered shortly: 'Oh, just a little native Egyptian +song--very old--dug up somewhere, I believe,' and he strummed softly to +himself as though he did not wish to talk more about it. + +Lettice watched him for several minutes, then fixed her eyes on Tom; +they stared at each other across the room; her expression was enigmatical, +yet he read resolution into it, a desire and a purpose. He returned her +gaze with a baffled yearning, thinking how mysteriously beautiful she +looked, frail, elusive, infinitely desirable, yet hopelessly beyond his +reach. . . . And then he saw the eyelids lower slightly, and a shadowy +darkness like a veil fall over her. A smile stole down towards the lips. +Terror and fascination caught him; he turned away lest she should reach +his secret and communicate her own. She looked right through him. +Words, too, were spoken, ordinary modern words, though he did not hear +them properly: 'You're tired out . . . you know. There's no need to be +formal where I'm concerned . . .' or something similar. He listened, but +he did not hear; they were remote, unreal, not audible quite; they were +far away in space. He was only aware that the voice was tender and the +tone was very soft. . . . + +He made no answer. The pain in her leaped forth to clasp his own, it +seemed. For in that instant he knew that the joy divined a little while +before was _her_, but also that he must wade through intolerable pain to +reach it. + + + +The spell was broken. The balance of the evening, a short half-hour at +the most, was uninspired, even awkward. There was strain in the +atmosphere, cross-purposes, these purposes unfulfilled, each word and +action charged with emotion that was unable to express itself. +A desultory talk between Tony and his hostess seemed to struggle through +clipped sentences that hung in the air as though afraid to complete +themselves. The unfinished phrases floated, but dared not come to earth; +they gathered but remained undelivered. Tom had divined the deep, +essential intimacy at last, and his companions knew it. + +He lay silent on his sofa by the window, or nearly silent. The moonlight +had left him, he lay in shadow. Occasionally he threw in words, asked a +question, ventured upon a criticism; but Lettice either did not hear or +did not feel sufficient interest to respond. She ignored his very +presence, though readily, eagerly forthcoming to the smallest sign from +Tony. She hid herself with Tony behind the shadowy screen of words and +phrases. + +Tony himself was different too, however. There was acute disharmony in +the room, where a little time before there had been at least an outward +show of harmony. A heaviness as of unguessed tragedy lay upon all three, +not only upon Tom. Spontaneous gaiety was gone out of his cousin, whose +attempts to be his normal self became forced and unsuccessful. He sought +relief by hiding himself behind his music, and his choice, though natural +enough, seemed half audacious and half challenging--the choice of a +devious soul that shirked fair open fight and felt at home in subterfuge. +From Grieg's _Ich liebe Dich_ he passed to other tender, passionate +fragments Tom did not recognise by name yet understood too well, realising +that sense of ghastly comedy, and almost of the ludicrous, which ever +mocks the tragic. + +For Tony certainly acknowledged by his attitude the same threatening sense +of doom that lay so heavy upon his cousin's heart. There was presentiment +and menace in every minute of that brief half-hour. Never had Tom seen +his gay and careless cousin in such guise: he was restless, silent, +intense and inarticulate. 'He gives her what I cannot give,' Tom faced +the situation. 'They understand one another. . . . It's not _her_ +fault. . . . I'm old, I'm dull. She's found a stronger interest. . . . +The bigger claim at last has come!' + +They brewed their cocoa on the spirit-lamp, they munched their biscuits, +they said good-night at length, and Tom walked on a few paces ahead, +impatient to be gone. He did not want to go home with Tony, while yet he +could not leave him there. He longed to be alone and think. Tony's hotel +was but a hundred yards away. He turned and called to him. He saw them +saying goodnight at the foot of the verandah steps. Lettice was looking +up into his cousin's face. . . . + +They went off together. 'Night, night,' cried Tony, as he presently +turned up the path to his own hotel. 'See you in the morning.' + +And Tom walked down the silent street alone. On his skin he still felt +her fingers he had clasped two minutes before. But his eyes saw only--her +face and figure as she stood beside his cousin on the steps. For he saw +her looking up into his eyes as once before on the lawn of her English +bungalow four months ago. And Tony's two great hands were laid upon her +arm. + +'Lettice, poor child . . .!' he murmured strangely to himself. For he +knew that her suffering and her deep perplexity were somewhere, somehow +almost equal to his own. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +He walked down the silent street alone. . . . How like a theatre scene it +was! Supers dressed as Arabs passed him without a word or sign; the Nile +was a painted back-cloth; the columns of the Luxor Temple hung on canvas. +The memory of a London theatre flitted through his mind. . . . He was +playing a part upon the stage, but for the second time, and this second +performance was better than the first, different too, a finer +interpretation as it were. He could not manage it quite, but he must play +it out in order to know joy and triumph at the other end. + +This sense of the theatre was over everything. How still and calm the +night was, the very stars were painted on the sky, the lights were low, +there lay a hush upon the audience. In his heart, like a weight of metal, +there was sadness, deep misgiving, sense of loss. His life was fading +visibly; it threatened to go out in darkness. Yet, like Ra, great deity +of this ancient land, it would suffer only a temporary eclipse, then rise +again triumphant and rejuvenated as Osiris. . . . + +He walked up the sweep of sandy drive to the hotel and went through the +big glass doors. The huge brilliant building swallowed him. Crowds of +people moved to and fro, chattering and laughing, the women gaily, +fashionably dressed; the band played with that extravagant abandon hotels +demanded. The contrast between the dark, quiet street and this busy +modern scene made him feel it was early in the evening, instead of close +on midnight. + +He was whirled up to his lofty room above the world. He flung himself +upon his bed; no definite thought was in him; he was utterly exhausted. +There was a vicious aching in his nerves, his muscles were flaccid and +unstrung; a numbness was in his brain as well. But in the heart there was +vital energy. For his heart seemed alternately full and empty; all the +life he had was centred there. + +And, lying on his bed in the darkened room, he sighed, as though he +struggled for breath. The recent strain had been even more tense than he +had guessed--the suppressed emotion, the prolonged and difficult effort at +self-control, the passionate yearning that was denied relief in words and +action. His entire being now relaxed itself; and his physical system +found relief in long, deep sighs. + +For a long time he lay motionless, trying vainly not to feel. He would +have welcomed instantaneous sleep--ten hours of refreshing, dreamless +sleep. If only he could prevent himself thinking, he might drop into +blissful unconsciousness. It was chiefly forgetfulness he craved. +A few minutes, and he would perhaps have slipped across the border--when +something startled him into sudden life again. He became acutely wakeful. +His nerves tingled, the blood rushed back into the brain. He remembered +Tony's letter--returned from Assouan. A moment later he had turned the +light on and was reading it. It was, of course, several days old +already:-- + + Savoy Hotel, + Luxor. + + Dear old Tom--What I am going to say may annoy you, but I think it best + that it should be said, and if I am all wrong you must tell me. I have + seldom liked any one as much as I like you, and I want to preserve our + affection to the end. + + The trouble is this:--I can't help feeling--I felt it at the Bungalow, + in London too, and even heard it _said_ by some one--whom, possibly, + you may guess--that you were very fond of her, and that she was of you. + Various little things said, and various small signs, have strengthened + this feeling. Now, instinctively, I have a feeling also that she and I + have certain things in common, and I think it quite possible that I + might have a bad effect on her. + + I do not suppose for one moment that she would ever care for me, but, + from one or two signs in her, I do see possibilities of a sort of + playing with fire between us. One _feels_ these things without + apparent cause; and all I can say is that, absurd as it may sound, + I scent danger. To put it quite frankly, I can imagine myself becoming + sufficiently excited by her to lose my head a little, and to introduce + an element of sex into our friendship which might have some slight + effect on us both. I don't mean anything serious, but, given the + circumstances, I can imagine myself playing the fool; and the only + serious thing is that I can picture myself growing so fond of her that + I would not think it playing the fool at the time. + + Now, if I am right in thinking that you love her, it is obvious that I + must put the matter before you, Tom, as I am here doing. I would + rather have your friendship than her possible excitement--and I repeat + that, absurd as it may seem, I do scent the danger of my getting worked + up, and, to some extent, infecting her. You see, I know myself and + know the wildness of my nature. I don't fool about with women at all, + but I have had affairs in my life and can judge of the utter madness of + which I am capable, madness which, to my mind, _must_ affect and + stimulate the person towards whom it is directed. + + On my word of honour, Tom, I am not in love with her now at all, and it + will not be a bit hard for me to clear out if you want me to. So tell + me quite straight: shall I make an excuse, as, for example, that I want + to avoid her for fear of growing too fond of her, and go? Or can we + meet as friends? What I want you to do is to be with us if we are + together, so that we may try to make a real trinity of our friendship. + I enjoy talking to her; and I prefer you to be with me when I am with + her--really, believe me, I do. + + Words make things sound so absurd, but I am writing like this because I + feel the presence of clouds, almost of tragedy, and I can't for the + life of me think why. I want her friendship and 'motherly' care + badly. I want your affection and friendship exceedingly. But I feel + as though I were unconsciously about to trouble your life and hers; and + I can only suppose it is that hard-working subconsciousness of mine + which sees the possibility of my suddenly becoming attracted to her, + suddenly losing control, and suddenly being a false friend to you both. + + Now, Tom, old chap, you must prevent that--either by asking me to keep + away, or else by making yourself a definite part of my friendship with + her. + + I want you to say no word to her about this letter, and to keep it + absolutely between ourselves; and I am very hopeful--I feel sure, in + fact--that we shall make the jolliest trio in the world.--Yours ever, + Tony. + +Tom, having read it through without a single stop, laid it down upon his +table and walked round the room. In doing so, he passed the door. He +locked it, then paused for a moment, listening. 'Why did I lock it? +What am I listening for?' he asked himself. He hesitated. 'Oh, I know,' +he went on, 'I don't want to be disturbed. Tony knows I shall read this +letter to-night. He might possibly come up--' He walked back to the +table again slowly. 'I couldn't _see_ him,' he realised; 'it would be +impossible!' If any one knocked, he would pretend to be asleep. +His face, had he seen it in the glass, was white and set, but there was a +curious shining in his eyes, and a smile was on the lips, though a smile +his stolid features had never known before. '_I_ knew it,' said the +Smile, '_I_ knew it long ago.' + +His hand stretched out and picked the letter up again. But at first he +did not look at it; he looked round the room instead, as though he felt +that he was being watched, as though somebody were hiding. And then he +said aloud, but very quietly: + +'Light-blue eyes, by God! _The_ light-blue eyes!' + +The sound startled him a little. He repeated the sentence in a whisper, +varying the words. The voice sounded like a phonograph. + +'Tony's got light-blue eyes!' + +He sat down, then got up again. + +'I never, never thought of it! I never noticed. God! I'm as blind as a +bat!' + +For some minutes he stood motionless, then turned and read the letter +through a second time, lingering on certain phrases, and making curious +unregulated gestures as he did so. He clenched his fists, he bit his +lower lip. The feeling that he was acting on a stage had left him now. +This was reality. + +He walked over to the balcony and drew the cold night air into his lungs. +He remembered standing once before on this very spot, that foreboding of +coming loneliness so strangely in his heart. 'It's come,' he said dully +to himself. 'It's justified. I understand at last.' And then he +repeated with a deep, deep sigh: 'God--how blind I've been! He's taken +her from me! It's all confirmed. He's wakened the woman in her!' + +It seemed, then, he sought a mitigation, an excuse--for the man who wrote +it, his pal, his cousin, Tony. He wanted to exonerate, if it were +possible. But the generous impulse remained frustrate. The plea escaped +him--because it was not there. The falseness and insincerity were too +obvious to admit of any explanation in the world but one. He dropped into +a chair, shocked into temporary numbness. + +Gradually, then, isolated phrases blazed into prominence in his mind, +clearest of all--that what Tony pretended might happen in the future had +already happened long ago. 'I can picture myself growing too fond of +her,' meant 'I am already too fond of her.' That he might lose his head +and 'introduce an element of sex' was conscience confessing that it had +been already introduced. He 'scented danger . . . tragedy' because both +were in the present--now. + +Tony hedged like any other coward. He had already gone too far, he felt +shamed and awkward, he had to put himself right, as far as might be, with +his trusting, stupid cousin, so he warned him that what had already taken +place in the past _might_ take place--he was careful to mention that he +had no self-control--in the future. He begged the man he had injured to +assist him; and the method he proposed was that old, well-proved one of +assuring the love of a hesitating woman--'I'll tell her I'm too fond of +her, and go!' + +The letter was a sham and a pretence. Its assurance, too, was +unmistakable: Tony felt certain of his own position. 'I'm sorry, old +chap, but we love each other. Though I've sometimes wondered, you never +definitely told me that _you_ did.' + +He read once again the cruellest phrase of all: 'From one or two signs in +her, I do see possibilities of a sort of playing with fire between us.' +It was cleverly put, yet also vilely; he laid half the burden of his +treachery on her. The 'introduction of sex' was gently mentioned three +lines lower down. Tony already had an understanding with her--which meant +that she had encouraged him. The thought rubbed like a jagged file +against his heart. Yet Tom neither thought this, nor definitely said it +to himself. He felt it; but it was only later that he _knew_ he felt it. + +And his mind, so heavily bruised, limped badly. The same thoughts rose +again and again. He had no notion what he meant to do. There was an odd, +half-boyish astonishment in him that the accumulated warnings of these +recent days had not shown him the truth before. How could he have known +the Eyes of his Dream for months, have lived with them daily for three +weeks--the light-blue eyes--yet have failed to recognise them? It passed +understanding. Even the wavy feeling that had accompanied Tony's arrival +in the Carpathians--the Sound heard in his bedroom the same night--had +left him unseeing and unaware. It seemed as if the recognition had been +hidden purposely; for, had he recognised it, he would have been prepared, +he might even have prevented. It now dawned upon him slowly that the +inevitable may not be prevented. And the cunning of it baffled him +afresh: it was all planned consummately. + +Tom sat for a long time before the open window in a state of half stupor, +staring at the pictures his mind offered automatically. A deep, vicious +aching gnawed without ceasing at his heart: each time a new picture rose a +fiery pang rose with it, as though a nerve were bared. . . . + +He drew his chair closer into the comforting darkness of the night. +All was silent as the grave. The stars wheeled overhead with their +accustomed majesty; he could just distinguish the dim river in its ancient +bed; the desert lay watchful for the sun, the air was sharp with perfume. +Countless human emotions had these witnessed in the vanished ages, +countless pains and innumerable aching terrors; the emotions had passed +away, yet the witnesses remained, steadfast, unchanged, indifferent. +Moreover, his particular emotion _now_ seemed known to them--known to +these very stars, this desert, this immemorial river; they witnessed now +its singular repetition. He was to experience it unto the bitter end +again--yet somehow otherwise. He must face it all. Only in this way +could the joy at the end of it be reached. . . . He must somehow accept +and understand. . . . This confused, unjustifiable assurance strengthened +in him. + +Yet this last feeling was so delicate that he scarcely recognised its +intense vitality. The cruder sensations blinded him as with thick, bitter +smoke. He was certain of one thing only--that the fire of jealousy burned +him with its atrocious anguish . . . an anguish he had somewhere known +before. + +Then presently there was a change. This change had begun soon after he +drew his chair to the balcony, but he had not noticed it. The effect upon +him, nevertheless, had been gradually increasing. + +The psychological effects of sound, it would seem, are singular. +Even when heard unconsciously, the result continues; and Tom, hearing this +sound unconsciously, did not realise at first that another mood was +stealing over him. Then hearing became conscious hearing--listening. +The sound rose to his ears from just below his balcony. He listened. +He rose, leaned over the rail, and stared. The crests of three tall palms +immediately below him waved slightly in the rising wind. But the fronds +of a palm-tree in the wind produce a noise that is unlike the rustle of +any other foliage in the world. It was a curious, sharp rattling that he +heard. It was _the_ Sound. + +His entire being was at last involved--the Self that used the separate +senses. His thoughts swooped in another direction--he suddenly fixed his +attention upon Lettice. But it was an inner attention of a wholesale +kind, not of the separate mind alone. And this entire Self included +regions he did not understand. Mind was the least part of it. +The 'whole' of him that now dealt with Lettice was far above all minor and +partial means of knowing. For it did not judge, it only saw. It was, +perhaps, the soul. + +For it seemed the pain bore him upwards to an unaccustomed height. +He stood for a moment upon that level where she dwelt, even as now he +stood on this balcony looking down upon the dim Egyptian scene. She was +beside him; he gazed into her eyes, even as now he gazed across to the +dark necropolis among the Theban hills. But also, in some odd way, he +stood outside himself. He swam with her upon the summit of the breaking +Wave, lifted upon its crest, swept onward irresistibly. . . . No halt was +possible . . . the inevitable crash must come. Yet she was with him. +They were involved together. . . . The sea! . . . + +The first bitterness passed a little, the sullen aching with it. He was +aware of high excitement, of a new reckless courage; a touch of the +impersonal came with it all, one Tom playing the part of a spectator to +another Tom--an onlooker at his own discomfiture, at his own suffering, at +his own defeat. + +This new exalted state was very marvellous; for while it lasted he +welcomed all that was to come. 'It's right and necessary for me,' he +recognised; 'I need it, and I'll face it. If I refuse it I prove myself a +failure--again. Besides . . . _she needs it too_!' + +For the entire matter then turned over in his mind, so that he saw it from +a new angle suddenly. He looked at it through a keyhole, as it were--the +extent was large yet detailed, the picture distant yet very clearly +focussed. It lay framed within his thoughts, isolated from the rest of +life, isolated somehow even from the immediate present. There was +perspective in it. This keyhole was, perhaps, his deep, unalterable love, +but cleansed and purified. . . . + +It came to him that she, and even Tony, too, in lesser fashion, were, like +himself, the playthings of great spiritual forces that made alone for +good. The Wave swept all three along. The attitude of his youth +returned; the pain was necessary, yet would bring inevitable joy as its +result. There had been cruel misunderstanding on his part somewhere; that +misunderstanding must be burned away. He saw Lettice and his cousin +helping towards this exquisite deliverance somehow. It was like a moment +of clear vision from a pinnacle. He looked down upon it. . . . + +Lettice smiled into his eyes through half-closed eyelids. Her smile was +strangely distant, strangely precious: she was love and tenderness +incarnate; her little hands held both of his. . . . Through these very +eyes, this smile, these little hands, his pain would come; she would +herself inflict it--because she could not help herself; she played her +inevitable role as he did. Yet he kissed the eyes, the hands, with an +absolute self-surrender he did not understand, willing and glad that +they should do their worst. He had somewhere dreadfully misjudged her; +he must, he would atone. This passion burned within him, a passion of +sacrifice, of resignation, of free, big acceptance. He felt joy at +the end of it all--the joy of perfect understanding . . . and forgiveness +. . . on both sides. . . . + +And the moment of clear vision left its visible traces in him even after +it had passed. If he felt contempt for his cousin, he felt for Lettice a +deep and searching pity--she was divided against herself, she was playing +a part she had to play. The usual human emotions were used, of course, to +convey the situation, yet in some way he was unable to explain she was-- +_being_ driven. In spite of herself she must inflict this pain. . . . +It was a mystery he could not solve. . . . + +His exaltation, naturally, was of brief duration. The inevitable reaction +followed it. He saw the situation again as an ordinary man of the world +must see it. . . . The fires of jealousy were alight and spreading. +Already they were eating away the foundations of every generous feeling he +had ever known. . . . It was not, he argued, that he did not trust her. +He did. But he feared the insidious power of infatuation, he feared the +burning glamour of this land of passionate mirages, he feared the deluding +forces of sex which his cousin had deliberately awakened in her blood--and +other nameless things he feared as well, though he knew not exactly what +they were. For it seemed to him that they were old as dreams, old as the +river and the menace of these solemn hills. . . . From childhood up, his +own trust in her truth and loyalty had remained unalterably fixed, +ingrained in the very essence of his being. It was more than his relations +with a woman he loved that were in danger: it was his belief and trust in +Woman, focussed in her self symbolically, that were threatened. . . . +It was his belief in Life. + +With Lettice, however, he felt himself in some way powerless to deal; he +could watch her, but he could not judge . . . least of all, did he dare +prevent. . . . _Her_ attitude he could not know nor understand. . . . + +There was a pink glow upon the desert before he realised that a reply to +Tony's letter was necessary; and that pink was a burning gold when he +knew his answer must be of such a kind that Tony felt free to pursue his +course unchecked. Tom held to his strange belief to 'Let it all come,' he +would not try to prevent; he would neither shirk nor dodge. He doubted +whether it lay in his power now to hinder anything, but in any case he +would not seek to do so. Rather than block coming events, he must +encourage their swift development. It was the best, the only way; it was +the right way too. He belonged to his destination. He went into his own +background. . . . + +The sky was alight from zenith to horizon, the Nile aflame with sunrise, +by the time the letter was written. He read it over, then hurriedly +undressed and plunged into bed. A long, dreamless sleep took instant +charge of him, for he was exhausted to a state of utter depletion. + + Dear Tony--I have read your letter with the greatest sympathy--it was + forwarded from Assouan. It cost you a good deal, I know, to say what + you did, and I'm sure you mean it for the best. I feel it like that + too--for the best. + + But it is easier for you to write than for me to answer. + Her position, of course, is an awfully delicate one; and I feel-- + no doubt you feel too--that her standard of conduct is higher than + that of ordinary women, and that any issue between us--if there is + an issue at all!--should be left to her to decide. + + Nothing can touch my friendship with her; you needn't worry about + _that_. But if you can bring any added happiness into her life, it can + only be welcomed by all three of us. So go ahead, Tony, and make her + as happy as you can. The important things are not in our hands to + decide in any case; and, whatever happens, we both agree on one + thing--that her happiness is the important thing.--Yours ever, + Tom. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +He was wakened by the white-robed Arab housemaid with his breakfast. +He felt hungry, but still tired; sleep had not rested him. On the tray an +envelope caught his eye--sent by hand evidently, since it bore no stamp. +The familiar writing made the blood race in his veins, and the instant the +man was gone he tore it open. There was burning in his eyes as he read +the pencilled words. He devoured it whole with a kind of visual gulp--a +flash; the entire meaning first, then lines, then separate words. + + Come for lunch, or earlier. My cousin is invited out, and Tony has + suddenly left for Cairo with his friends. I shall be lonely. + How beautiful and precious you were last night. I long for you to + comfort me. But don't efface yourself again--it gave me a horrid, + strange presentiment--as if I were losing you--almost as if you no + longer trusted me. And don't forget that I love you with all my heart + and soul. I had such queer, long dreams last night--terrible rather. + I must tell you. _Do_ come.--Yours, L. + + P.S. Telephone if you can't. + +Sweetness and pain rose in him, then numbness. For his mind flung itself +with violence upon two sentences: he was 'beautiful and precious'; she +longed for him to 'comfort' her. Why, he asked himself, was his conduct +beautiful and precious? And why did she need his comfort? The words were +like vitriol in the eyes. + +Long before reason found the answer, instinct--swift, merciless +interpreter--told him plainly. While the brain fumbled, the heart already +understood. He was stabbed before he knew what stabbed him. + +And hope sank extinguished. The last faint doubt was taken from him. +It was not possible to deceive himself an instant longer, for the naked +truth lay staring into his eyes. + +He swallowed his breakfast without appetite . . . and went downstairs. +He sighed, but something wept inaudibly. A wall blocked every step he +took. The devastating commonplace was upon him--it was so ordinary. +Other men . . . oh, how often he had heard the familiar tale! He tried to +grip himself. 'Others . . . of course . . . but _me_!' It seemed +impossible. + +In a dream he crossed the crowded hall, avoiding various acquaintances +with unconscious cunning. He found the letter-box and--posted his letter +to Tony. 'That's gone, at any rate!' he realised. He told the porter to +telephone that he would come to lunch. 'That's settled too!' +Then, hardly knowing what blind instinct prompted, he ordered a +carriage . . . and presently found himself driving down the hot, familiar +road to--Karnak. For some faultless impulse guided him. He turned to the +gigantic temple, with its towering, immense proportions--as though its +grandeur might somehow protect and mother him. + +In those dim aisles and mighty halls brooded a Presence that he knew could +soothe and comfort. The immensities hung still about the fabulous ruin. +He would lose his tortured self in something bigger--that beauty and +majesty which are Karnak. Before he faced Lettice, he must forget a +moment--forget his fears, his hopes, his ceaseless torment of belief and +doubt. It was, in the last resort, religious--a cry for help, a prayer. +But also it was an inarticulate yearning to find that state of safety +where he and she dwelt secure from separation--in the 'sea.' For Karnak +is a spiritual experience, or it is nothing. There, amid the deep silence +of the listening centuries, he would find peace; forgetting himself a +moment, he might find--strength. + +Then reason parsed the sentences that instinct already understood +complete. For Lettice--the tender woman of his first acquaintance--had +obviously experienced a moment of reaction. She realised he was wounded +at her hands. She felt shame and pity. She craved comfort and +forgiveness--his comfort, his forgiveness. Conscience whispered. +As against the pain she inflicted, he had been generous, long-suffering-- +therefore his conduct was 'beautiful and precious.' Tony, moreover, had +hidden himself until his letter should be answered--and she was 'lonely.' + +With difficulty Tom suppressed the rising bitterness of contempt and anger +in him. His cousin's obliquity was a sordid touch. He forgot a moment +the loftier point of view; but for a short time only. The contempt merged +again in something infinitely greater. The anger disappeared. _Her_ +attitude occupied him exclusively. The two phrases rang on with insistent +meaning in his heart, as with the clang of a fateful sentence of exile, +execution--death: + +'How beautiful you were last night, and precious . . . I long for you to +comfort me. . . .' + +While the carriage crawled along the sun-baked sand, he watched the Arab +children with their blue-black hair, who ran beside it, screaming for +bakshish. The little faces shone like polished bronze; they held their +hands out, their bare feet pattered in the sand. He tossed small coins +among them. And their cries and movements fell into the rhythm of the +song, whose haunting refrain pulsed ever in his blood: 'We were young, we +were merry, we were very very wise. . . .' + +They were soon out-distanced, the palm-trees fell away, the soaring temple +loomed against the blazing sky. He left the _arabyieh_ at the western +entrance and went on foot down the avenue of headless rams. The huge +Khonsu gateway dropped its shadow over him. Passing through the Court +with its graceful colonnades, and the Chapel, flanked by cool, dark +chambers, where the Sacred Boat floated on its tideless sea beyond the +world, he moved on across the sandy waste of broken stone again, and +reached in a few minutes the towering grey and reddish sandstone that was +Amon's Temple. + +This was the goal of his little pilgrimage. Sublimity closed round him. +The gigantic pylon, its shoulders breaking the sky four-square far +overhead, seemed the prodigious portal of another world. Slowly he passed +within, crossed the Great Court where the figures of ancient Theban +deities peered at him between the forest of broken monoliths and lovely +Osiris pillars, then, moving softly beneath the second enormous pylon, +found himself on the threshold of the Great Hypostyle Hall itself. + +He caught his breath, he paused, then stepped within on tiptoe, and the +hush of four thousand years closed after him. Awe stole upon him; he +felt himself included in the great ideal of this older day. +The stupendous aisles lent him their vast shelter; the fierce sunlight +could not burn his flesh; the air was cool and sweet in these dim recesses +of unremembered time. He passed his hand with reverence over the +drum-shaped blocks that built up the majestic columns, as they reared +towards the massive, threatening roof. The countless inscriptions and +reliefs showered upon his sight bewilderingly. + +And he forgot his lesser self in this crowded atmosphere of ancient +divinities and old-world splendour. He was aware of kings and queens, of +princes and princesses, of stately priests, of hosts and conquests; +forgotten gods and goddesses trooped past his listening soul; his heart +remembered olden wars, and the royalty of golden days came back to him. +He steeped himself in the long, long silence in which an earlier day lay +listening with ears of stone. There was colour; there was spendthrift +grandeur, half savage, half divine. His imagination, wakened by Egypt, +plunged backwards with a sense of strange familiarity. Tom easily found +the mightier scale his aching heart so hungrily desired. It soothed his +personal anguish with a sense of individual insignificance which was +comfort. . . . + +The peace was marvellous, an unearthly peace; the strength unwearied, +inexhaustible. The power that was Amon lingered still behind the tossed +and fabulous ruin. Those soaring columns held up the very sky, and their +foundations made the earth itself swing true. The silence, profound, +unalterable, was the silence in the soul that lies behind all passion and +distress. And these steadfast qualities Tom absorbed unconsciously +through his very skin. . . . The Wave might fall indeed, but it would +fall into the mothering sea where levels must be restored again, secure +upon unshakable foundations. . . . And as he paced these solemn aisles, +his soul drank in their peace and stillness, their strength of calm +resistance. Though built upon the sand, they still endured, and would +continue to endure. They pointed to the stars. + +And the effect produced upon him, though the adjective was not his, seemed +spiritual. There was a power in the mighty ruin that lifted him to an +unaccustomed level from which he looked down upon the inner drama being +played. He reached a height; the bird's-eye view was his; he saw and +realised, yet he did not judge. The vast structure, by its harmony, its +power, its overmastering beauty, made him feel ashamed and mortified. +A sense of humiliation crept into him, melting certain stubborn elements +of self that, grown out of proportion, blocked his soul's clear vision. +That he must stand aside had never occurred to him before with such stern +authority; it occurred to him now. The idea of sacrifice stole over him +with a sweetness that was deep and marvellous. It seemed that Isis +touched him. He looked into the eyes of great Osiris, . . . and that part +of him that ever watched--the great Onlooker--smiled. + +His being, as a whole, remained inarticulate as usual; no words came to +his assistance. It was rather that he attained--as once before, in +another moment of deeper insight--that attitude towards himself which is +best described as impersonal. Who was _he_, indeed, that he should claim +the right to thwart another's happiness, hinder another's best +self-realisation? By what right, in virtue of what exceptional personal +value, could he, Tom Kelverdon, lay down the law to this other, and say, +'Me only shall you love . . . because I happen to love you . . .?' + +And, as though to test what of strength and honesty might lie in this +sudden exaltation of resolve, he recognised just then the very pylon +against whose vast bulk _they_ had rested together that moonlit night a +few short weeks before . . . when he saw two rise up like one +person . . . as he left them and stole away into the shadows. + +'So I knew it even then--subconsciously,' he realised. 'The truth was in +me even then, a few days after my arrival. . . . And they knew it too. +She was already going from me, if not already gone . . .!' + +He leaned against that same stone column, thinking, searching in his mind, +feeling acutely. Reactions caught at him in quick succession. Doubt, +suspicion, anger clouded vision; pain routed the impersonal conception. +Loneliness came over him with the cool wind that stirred the sand between +the columns; the patches of glaring sunshine took on a ghastly whiteness; +he shivered. . . . But it was not that he lost belief in his moment of +clear vision, nor that the impersonal attitude became untrue. It was +another thing he realised: that the power of attainment was not yet in +him . . . quite. He could renounce, but not with complete +acceptance. . . . + +As he drove back along the sandy lanes of blazing heat a little later, it +seemed to him that he had been through some strenuous battle that had +taxed his final source of strength. If his position was somewhat vague, +this was due to his inability to analyse such deep interior turmoil. +He was sure, at least, of one thing--that, before he could know this final +joy awaiting him, he must first find in himself the strength for what +seemed just then an impossible, an ultimate sacrifice. He must forget +himself--if such forgetfulness involved the happiness of another. +He must slip out. The strength to do it would come presently. And his +heart was full of this indeterminate, half-formed resolve as he entered +the shady garden and saw Lettice lying in her deck-chair beneath the +trees, awaiting him. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Events, however slight, which involve the soul are drama; for once the +soul takes a hand in them their effects are permanent and reproductive. +Not alone the relationship between individuals are determined this way or +that, but the relationships of these individuals towards the universe are +changed upon a scale of geometrical progression. The results are of the +eternal order. Since that which persists--the soul--is radically +affected, they are of ultimate importance. + +Had the strange tie between Tom and Lettice been due to physical causes +only, to mental affinity, or to mere sympathetic admiration of each +other's outward strength and beauty, a rupture between them could have +been of a passing character merely. A pang, a bitterness that lasted for +a day or for a year--and the gap would be filled again by some one else. +They had idealised; they would get over it; they were not indispensable to +one another; there were other fish in the sea, and so forth. + +But with Tom, at any rate, there was something transcendental in their +intimate union. Loss, where she was concerned, involved a permanent and +irremediable bereavement--no substitute was conceivable. With him, this +relationship seemed foreordained, almost prenatal--it had come to him at +the very dawn of life; it had lasted through years of lonely waiting; no +other woman had ever threatened its fixed security, and the sudden meeting +in Switzerland had seemed to him reunion rather than discovery. Moreover, +he had transferred his own sense of security to her; had always credited +her with similar feelings; and the suspicion now that he had deceived +himself in this made life tremble to the foundations. It was a terrible +thought that robbed him of every atom of self-confidence. It affected his +attitude to the entire universe. + +The intensity of this drama, however, being interior, caused little +outward disturbance that casual onlookers need have noticed. He waved his +hat as he walked towards the corner where she lay, greeting her with a +smile and careless word, as though no shadow stood between them. +A barrier, nevertheless, was there he knew. He _felt_ it almost sensibly. +Also--it had grown higher. And at once he was aware that the Lettice who +returned his smile with a colourless 'Good morning, Tom, I'm so glad you +could come,' was not the Lettice who had known a moment's reaction a +little while before. He told by her very attitude that now there was +lassitude, even weariness in her. Her eyes betrayed none of the +excitement and delight that another could wake in her. His own presence +certainly no longer brought the thrill, the interest that once it did. +She was both bored and lonely. + +And, while an exquisite pain ran through him, he made a prodigious effort +to draw upon the strength he had felt in Karnak a short half-hour ago. +He struggled bravely to forget himself. 'So Tony's gone!' he said +lightly, 'run off and left us without so much as a word of warning or +good-bye. A rascally proceeding, I call it! Rather sudden, too, wasn't +it?' + +He sat down beside her and began to smoke. She need not answer unless she +wanted to. She did answer, however, and at once. She did not look at +him; her eyes were on the golden distance. It had to be said; she said +it. 'He's only gone for two or three days. His friends suddenly changed +their minds, and he couldn't get out of it. He said he didn't want to +go--a bit.' + +How did she know it, Tom wondered, glancing up over his cigarette? +And how had she read his mind so easily? + +'He just popped in to tell me,' she added, 'and to say good-bye. He asked +me to tell you.' She spoke without a tremor, as if Tom had no right to +disapprove. + +'Pretty early, wasn't it?' It was not the first time either. 'He comes +at such unusual hours'--he remembered Mrs. Haughstone's words. + +'I was only just up. But there was time to give him coffee before the +train.' + +She offered no further comment; Tom made none; he sat smoking there beside +her, outwardly calm and peaceful as though no feeling of any kind was in +him. He felt numb perhaps. In his mind he saw the picture of the +breakfast-table beneath the trees. The plan had been arranged, of course, +beforehand. + +'Miss de Lorne's coming to lunch,' she mentioned presently. 'She's to +bring her pictures--the Deir-el-Bahri ones. You must help me criticise +them.' + +So they were not to be alone even, was Tom's instant thought. Aloud he +said merely, 'I hope they're good.' She flicked the flies away with her +horse-hair whisk, and sighed. He caught the sigh. The day felt empty, +uninspired, the boredom of cruel disillusion in it somewhere. But it was +the sigh that made him realise it. Avoiding the subject of Tony's abrupt +departure, he asked what she would like to do that afternoon. He made +various proposals; she listened without interest. 'D'you know, Tom, I +don't feel inclined to do anything much, but just lie and rest.' + +There was no energy in her, no zest for life; expeditions had lost their +interest; she was listless, tired. He felt impatience in him, sharp +disappointment too; but there was an alert receptiveness in his mind that +noted trifles done or left undone. She made no reference, for instance, +to the fact that they might be frequently alone together now. A faint +hope that had been in him vanished quickly. . . . He wondered when she +was going to speak of her letter, of his conduct the night before that was +'beautiful and precious,' of the 'comfort' she had needed, or even of the +dreams that she had mentioned. But, though he waited, giving various +openings, nothing was forthcoming. That side of her, once intimately +precious and familiar, seemed buried, hidden away, perhaps forgotten. +This was not Lettice--it was some one else. + +'You had dreams that frightened you?' he enquired at length. 'You said +you'd tell them to me.' He moved nearer so that he could watch her face. + +She looked puzzled for a second. 'Did I?' she replied. She thought a +moment. 'Oh yes, of course I did. But they weren't much really. +I'd forgotten. It was about water or something. Ah, I remember now--we +were drowning, and you saved us.' She gave a little unmeaning laugh as +she said it. + +'Who were drowning?' + +'All of us--me and you, I think it was--and Tony----' + +'Oh, of course.' + +She looked up. 'Tom, why do you say "of course" like that?' + +'It was your old idea of the river and the floating faces, I meant,' he +answered. 'I had the feeling.' + +'You said it so sharply.' + +'Did I!' He shrugged his shoulders slightly. 'I didn't mean to.' +He noticed the beauty of her ear, the delicate line of the nostrils, the +long eyelashes. The graceful neck, with the firm, slim line of the breast +below, were exquisite. The fairy curve of her ankle was just visible. +He could have knelt and covered it with kisses. Her coolness, the touch +of contempt in her voice made him wild. . . . But he understood his role; +and--he remembered Karnak. + +A little pause followed. Lettice made one of her curious gestures, half +impatience, half weariness. She stretched; the other ankle appeared. +Tom, as he saw it, felt something in him burst into flame. He came +perilously near to saying impetuously a hundred things he had determined +that he must not say. He felt the indifference in her, the coolness, +almost the cruelty. Her negative attitude towards him goaded, tantalised. +He was full of burning love, from head to foot, while she lay there within +two feet of him, calm, listless, unresponsive, passionless. The bitter +pain of promises unfulfilled assailed him acutely, poignantly. Yet in +ordinary life the situation was so commonplace. The 'strong man' would +face her with it, have it out plainly; he would be masterful, forcing a +climax of one kind or another, behaving as men do in novels or on the +stage. + +Yet Tom remained tongue-tied and restrained; he seemed unable to take the +lead; an inner voice cried sternly No to all such natural promptings. +It would be a gross mistake. He must let things take their course. +He must not force a premature disclosure. With a tremendous effort, he +controlled himself and smothered the rising fires that struggled towards +speech and action. He would not even ask a single question. Somehow, in +any case, it was impossible. + +The subject dropped; Lettice made no further reference to the letter. + +'When you feel like going anywhere, or doing anything, you'll let me +know,' he suggested presently. 'We've been too energetic lately. +It's best for you to rest. You're tired.' The words hurt and stung him +as though he were telling lies. He felt untrue to himself. The blood +boiled in his veins. + +She answered him with a touch of impatience again, almost of exasperation. +He noticed the emphasis she used so needlessly. + +'Tom, I'm _not_ tired--not in the way _you_ mean. It's just that I feel +like being quiet for a bit. _Really_ it's not so remarkable! Can't you +understand?' + +'Perfectly,' he rejoined calmly, lighting another cigarette. 'We'll have +a programme ready for later--when Tony gets back.' The blood rushed from +his heart as he said it. + +Her face brightened instantly, as he had expected--dreaded; there was no +attempt at concealment anywhere; she showed interest as frankly as a +child. 'It was stupid of him to go, just when we were enjoying everything +so,' she said again. 'I wonder how long he'll stay----' + +'I'll write and tell him to hurry up,' suggested Tom. He twirled his +fly-whisk energetically. + +'Tell him we can't get on without our _dragoman_,' she added eagerly with +her first attempt at gaiety; and then went on to mention other things he +was to say, till her pleasure in talking about Tony was so obvious that +Tom yielded to temptation suddenly. It was more than he could bear. +'I strongly suspect a pretty girl in the party somewhere,' he observed +carelessly. + +'There is,' came the puzzling reply, 'but he doesn't care for her a bit. +He told me all about her. It's curious, isn't it, how he fascinates them +all? There's something very remarkable about Tony--I can't quite make it +out.' + +Tom leaned forward, bringing his face in front of her own, and closer to +it. He looked hard into her eyes a moment. In the depths of her steady +gaze he saw shadows, far away, behind the open expression. There was +trouble in her, but it was deep, deep down and out of sight. The eyes of +some one else, it seemed, looked through her into his. An older world +came whispering across the sunlight and the sand. + +'Lettice,' he said quietly, 'there's something new come into your life +these last few weeks--isn't there?' His voice grated--like machinery +started with violent effort against resistance. 'Some new, big force, I +mean? You seem so changed, so different.' He had not meant to speak like +this. It was forced out. He expressed himself badly too. He raged +inwardly. + +She smiled, but only with her lips. The shadows from behind her eyes drew +nearer to the surface. But the eyes themselves held steady. That other +look peered out of them. He was aware of power, of something strangely +bewitching, yet at the same time fierce, inflexible in her . . . and a +kind of helplessness came over him, as though he was suddenly out of his +depth, without sure footing. The Wave roared in his ears and blood. + +'Egypt probably--old Egypt,' she said gently, making a slow gesture with +one hand towards the river and the sky. 'It must be that.' The gesture, +it seemed to him, had royalty in it somewhere. There was stateliness and +dignity--an air of authority about her. It was magnificent. He felt +worship in him. The slave that lies in worship stirred. He could yield +his life, suffer torture for days to give her a moment's happiness. + +'I meant something personal, rather,' he prevaricated. + +'You meant Tony. I know it. Didn't you, Tom?' + +His breath caught inwardly. In spite of himself, and in spite of his +decision, she drew his secret out. Enchantment touched him deliciously, +an actual torture in it. + +'Yes,' he said honestly, 'perhaps I did.' He said it shamefacedly rather, +to his keen vexation. 'For it _has_ to do with Tony somehow.' + +He got up abruptly, tossed his cigarette over the wall into the river, +then sat down again. 'There's something about it--strange and big. +I can't make it out a bit.' He faltered, stammered over the words. +'It's a long way off--then all at once it's close.' He had the feeling +that he had put a match to something. 'I've done it now,' he said to +himself like a boy, as though he expected that something dramatic must +happen instantly. + +But nothing happened. The river flowed on silently, the heat blazed down, +the leaves hung motionless as before, and far away the lime-stone hills +lay sweltering in the glare. But those hills had glided nearer. He was +aware of them,--the Valley of the Kings,--the desolate Theban Hills with +their myriad secrets and their deathless tombs. + +Lettice gave her low, significant little laugh. 'It's odd you should say +that, Tom--very odd. Because I've felt it too. It's awfully remote and +quite near at the same time----' + +'And Tony's brought it,' he interrupted eagerly, half passionately. +'It's got to do with him, I mean.' + +It seemed to him that the barrier between them had lowered a little. +The Lettice he knew first peered over it at him. + +'No,' she corrected, 'I don't feel that he's brought it. He's _in_ it +somehow, I admit, but he has not brought it exactly.' She hesitated a +moment. 'I think the truth is he can't help himself--any more than we-- +you or I--can.' + +There was a caressing tenderness in her voice as she said it, but whether +for himself or for another he could not tell. In his heart rose a frantic +impulse just then to ask--to blurt it out: 'Do you love Tony? Has he +taken you from me? Tell me the truth and I can bear it. Only, for +heaven's sake, don't hide it!' But, instead of saying this absurd, +theatrical thing, he looked at her through the drifting cigarette smoke a +moment without speaking, trying to read the expression in her face. +'Last night, for instance,' he exclaimed abruptly; 'in the music room, I +mean. Did you feel _that_?--the intensity--a kind of ominous feeling?' + +Her expression was enigmatical; there were signs of struggle in it, he +thought. It was as if two persons fought within her which should answer. +Apparently the dear Lettice of his first acquaintance won--for the moment. + +'You noticed it too!' she exclaimed with astonishment. 'I thought I was +the only one.' + +'We all--all three of us--felt it,' he said in a lower tone. +'Tony certainly did----' + +Lettice raised herself suddenly on her elbow and looked down at him with +earnestness. Something of the old eagerness was in her. The barrier +between them lowered perceptibly again, and Tom felt a momentary return of +the confidence he had lost. His heart beat quickly. He made a +half-impetuous gesture towards her--'What is it? What does it all mean, +Lettice?' he exclaimed. 'D'you feel what _I_ feel in it--danger +somewhere--danger for _us_?' There was a yearning, almost a cry for mercy +in his voice. + +She drew back again. 'You amaze me, Tom,' she said, as she lay among her +cushions. 'I had no idea you were so observant.' She paused, putting her +hand across her eyes a moment. 'N-no--I don't feel danger exactly,' she +went on in a lower tone, speaking half to herself and half to him; +'I feel--' She broke off with a little sigh; her hand still covered her +eyes. 'I feel,' she went on slowly, with pauses between the words, +'a deep, deep something--from very far away--that comes over me at times-- +only at times, yes. It's remote, enormously remote--but it has to be. +I've never given you all that I ought to give. We have to go through with +it----' + +'You and I?' he whispered. He was listening intently. The beats of his +heart were most audible. + +She sighed. 'All three of us--somehow,' she replied equally low, and +speaking again more to herself than to him. 'Ah! Now my dream comes back +a little. It was _the_ river--my river with the floating faces. And the +thing I feel comes--from its source, far, far away--its tiny source among +the hills----' She sighed again, more deeply than before. Her breast +heaved slightly. 'We must go through it--yes. It's necessary for us-- +necessary for you--and me----' + +'Lettice, my precious, my wonderful!' Tom whispered as though the breath +choked and strangled him. 'But we stay together through it? We stay +together _afterwards_? You love me still?' He leaned across and took her +other hand. It lay unresistingly in his. It was very cold--without a +sign of response. + +Her faint reply half staggered him: 'We are always, always together, you +and I. Even if you married, I should still be yours. He will go out----' + +Fear clashed with hope in his heart as he heard these words he could not +understand. He groped and plunged after their meaning. He was bewildered +by the reference to marriage--his marriage! Was she, then, already aware +that she might lose him? . . . But there was confession in them too, the +confession that she _had_ been away from him. That he felt clearly. +Now that the dividing influence was removed, she was coming back perhaps! +If Tony stayed away she would come back entirely; only then the thing that +had to happen would be prevented--which was not to be thought of for a +moment. . . . 'Poor Lettice. . . .' He felt pity, love, protection that +he burned to give; he felt a savage pain and anger as well. In the depths +of him love and murder sat side by side. + +'Oh, Lettice, tell me everything. Do share with me--share it and we'll +meet it together.' He drew her cold hand towards him, putting it inside +his coat. 'Don't hide it from me. You're my whole world. _My_ love can +never change. . . . Only don't hide anything!' The words poured out of +him with passionate entreaty. The barrier had melted, vanished. He had +found her again, the Lettice of his childhood, of his dream, the true and +faithful woman he had known first. His inexpressible love rose like a +wave upon him. Regardless of where they were he bent over to take her in +his arms--when she suddenly withdrew her hand from his. She removed the +other from her eyes. He saw her face. And he realised in an instant that +his words had been all wrong. He had said precisely again what he ought +not to have said. The moment in her had passed. + +The sudden change had a freezing effect upon him. + +'Tom, I don't understand quite,' she said coldly, her eyes fixed on his +almost with resentment in them. 'I'm not _hiding_ anything from you. +Why do you say such things? I'm true--true to myself.' + +The barrier was up again in an instant, of granite this time, with jagged +edges of cut glass upon it, so that he could not approach it even. +It was not Lettice that spoke then: + +'I don't know what's come over you out here,' she went on, each word she +uttered increasing the distance between them; 'you misunderstand +everything I say and criticise all I do. You suspect my tenderest +instincts. Even a friendship that brings me happiness you object to and-- +and exaggerate.' + +He listened till she ceased; it was as if he had received a blow in the +face; he felt disconcerted, keenly aware of his own stupidity, helpless. +Something froze in him. He had seen her for a second, then lost her +utterly. + +'No, no, Lettice,' he stammered, 'you read all that into me--really, you +do. I only want your happiness.' + +Her eyes softened a little. She sighed wearily and turned her face away. + +'We were only talking of this curious, big feeling that's come----' he +went on. + +'You were speaking of Tony--that's what you really meant, Tom,' she +interrupted. 'You know it perfectly well. It only makes it harder--for +_me_?' + +He felt suddenly she was masquerading, playing with him again, playing +with his very heart and soul. The devil tempted him. All the things he +had decided he would not say rose to the tip of his tongue. The worst of +them--those that hurt him most--he managed to force down. But even the +one he did suffer to escape gave him atrocious pain: + +'Well, Lettice, to tell the truth, I do think Tony has a bad--a curious +influence on you. I do feel he has come between us rather. And I do +think that if you would only share with me----' + +The sudden way she turned upon him, rising from her chair and standing +over him, was so startling that he got up too. They faced each other, he +in the blazing sunshine, she in the shade. She looked so different that +he was utterly taken aback. She wore that singular Eastern appearance he +now knew so well. Expression, attitude, gesture, all betrayed it. +That inflexible, cruel thing shone in her eyes. + +'Tom, dear,' she said, but with a touch of frigid exasperation that for a +moment paralysed thought and utterance in him, 'whatever happens, you must +realise this--that I am myself and that I can never allow my freedom to be +taken from me. If you're determined to misjudge, the fault is yours, and +if our love, our friendship, cannot understand _that_, there's something +wrong with it.' + +The word 'friendship' was like a sword thrust. It went right through him. +'I trust you,' he faltered, 'I trust you wholly. I know you're true.' +But the words, it seemed, gave expression to an intense desire, a fading +hope. He did not say it with conviction. She gazed at him for a moment +through half-closed eyelids. + +'_Do_ you, Tom?' she whispered. + +'Lettice . . .!' + +'Then believe at least--' her voice wavered suddenly, there came a little +break in it--'that I am true to you, Tom, as I am to myself. Believe in +that . . . and--Oh! for the love of heaven--help me!' + +Before he could respond, before he could act upon the hope and passion her +last unexpected words set loose in him--she turned away to go into the +house. Voices were audible behind them, and Miss de Lorne was coming up +the sandy drive with Mrs. Haughstone. Tom watched her go. She moved with +a certain gliding, swaying walk as she passed along the verandah and +disappeared behind the curtains of dried grass. It almost seemed--though +this must certainly have been a trick of light and shadow--that she was +swathed from head to foot in a clinging garment not of modern kind, and +that he caught the gleam of gold upon the flesh of dusky arms that were +bare above the elbow. Two persons were visible in her very physical +appearance, as two persons had just been audible in her words. Thence +came the conflict and the contradictions. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +A few minutes later Lettice was presiding over her luncheon table as +though life were simple as the sunlight in the street outside, and no +clouds could ever fleck the procession of the years. She was quiet and +yet betrayed excitement. Tom, at the opposite end of the table, watched +her girlish figure, her graceful gestures. Her eyes were very bright, no +shadows in their depths; she returned his gaze with untroubled frankness. +Yet the set of her little mouth had self-mastery in it somewhere; +there was no wavering or uncertainty; her self-possession was complete. +But above his head the sword of Damocles hung. He saw the thread, taut +and gleaming in the glare of the Egyptian sunlight. . . . He waited upon +his cousin's return as men once waited for the sign thumbs up, thumbs +down. . . . + +'Molly has sent me her album,' mentioned Mrs. Haughstone when the four of +them were lounging in the garden chairs; 'she wonders if you would write +your name in it. It's her passion--to fill it with distinguished names.' +And when the page was found, she pointed to the quotation against his +birthday date with the remark, in a lowered voice: 'It's quite +appropriate, isn't it? For a man, I mean,' she added, 'because when a +man's unhappy he's more easily tempted to suspicion than a woman is.' + +'What is the quotation?' asked Lettice, glancing up from her deck chair. + +Tom was carefully inscribing his 'distinguished' name in the child's +album, as Mrs. Haughstone read the words aloud over his shoulder: + +'"Whatever the circumstances, there is no man so miserable that he need +not be true." It's anonymous,' she added, 'but it's by some one very +wise.' + +'A woman, probably,' Miss de Lorne put in with a laugh. + +They discussed it, while Tom laboriously wrote his name against it with a +fountain pen. His writing was a little shaky, for his sight was blurred +and ice was in his veins. + +'There's no need for you to hurry, is there?' said Lettice presently. +'Won't you stay and read to me a bit? Or would you rather look in--after +dinner--and smoke?' The two selves spoke in that. It was as if the +earlier, loving Lettice tried to assert itself, but was instantly driven +back again. How differently she would have said it a few months +ago. . . . He made excuses, saying he would drop in after dinner if he +might. She did not press him further. + +'I _am_ tired a little,' she said gently. 'I'll sleep and rest and write +letters too, then.' + +She was invariably tired now, Tom soon discovered--until Tony returned +from Cairo. . . . + +And that evening he escaped the invitations to play bridge, and made his +way back, as in a dream, to the little house upon the Nile. He found her +bending over the table so that the lamp shone on her abundant coils of +hair, and as he entered softly he saw the address on the envelope beside +her writing pad, several pages of which were already covered with her +small, fine writing. He read the name before he could turn his eyes away. + +'I was writing to Tony,' she said, looking up with an untroubled smile, +'but I can finish later. And you've come just in time to take my part. +Ettie's been scolding me severely again.' + +She blotted the lines and put the paper on one side, then turned with a +challenging expression at her cousin who was knitting by the open window. +The little name sounded so incongruous; it did not suit the big gaunt +woman who had almost a touch of the monstrous in her. Tom stared a moment +without speaking. The playful challenge had reality in it. Lettice +intended to define her position openly. She meant that Tom should support +her too. + +He smiled as he watched them. But no words came to him. Then, +remembering all at once that he had not kept his promise, he said quietly: +'I must send a line as well. I quite forgot.' + +'You can write it now,' suggested Lettice, 'and I'll enclose it in mine.' +And she pointed to the envelopes and paper before him on the table. + +There was a moment of acute and painful struggle in him; pride and love +fought the old pitched battle, but on a field of her own bold choosing! +Tom knew murder in his heart, but he knew also that strange rich pain of +sacrifice. It was theatrical: he stood upon the stage, an audience +watching him with intent expectancy, wondering upon his decision. +Mrs. Haughstone, Lettice and another part of himself that was Onlooker +were the audience; Mrs. Haughstone had ceased knitting, Lettice leaned +back in her chair, a smile in the eyes, but the lips set very firmly +together. The man in him, with scorn and anger, seemed to clench his +fists, while that other self--as with a spirit's voice from very far +away--whispered behind his pain: 'Obey. You must. It has to be, so why +not help it forward!' + +To play the game, but to play it better than before, flashed through +him. . . . Half amazed at himself, yet half contented, he sat down +mechanically and scribbled a few lines of urgent entreaty to his cousin to +come back soon. . . . 'We want you here, it's dull, we can't get on +without you . . .' knowing that he traced the sentences of his own +death-warrant. He folded it and passed it across to Lettice, who slipped +it unread into her envelope. 'That ought to bring him, you think?' she +observed, a happy light in her eyes, yet with a faint sigh half +suppressed, as though she did a thing which hurt her too. + +'I hope so,' replied Tom. 'I think so.' + +He knew not what she had written to Tony; but whatever it was, his own +note would appear to endorse it. He had perhaps placed in her hand the +weapon that should hasten his own defeat, stretch him bleeding on the +sand. And yet he trusted her; she was loyal and true throughout. +The quicker the climax came, the sooner would he know the marvellous joy +that lay beyond the pain. In some way, moreover, she knew this too. +Actually they were working together, hand in hand, to hasten its +inevitable arrival. They merely used such instruments as fate offered, +however trivial, however clumsy. They were _being_ driven. They could +neither choose nor resist. He found a germ of subtle comfort in the +thought. The Wave was under them. Upon its tumultuous volume they swept +forward, side by side . . . striking out wildly. + +'And will you also post it for me when you go?' he heard. 'I'll just add +a line to finish up with.' Tom watched her open the writing-block again +and trace a hurried sentence or two; she did it openly; he saw the neat, +small words flow from the nib; he saw the signature: 'Lettice.' + +'Fasten it down for me, Tom, will you? It's such an ugly thing for a +woman to do. It's absurd that science can't invent a better way of +closing an envelope, isn't it?' He was oddly helpless; she forced him to +obey out of some greater knowledge. And while he did the ungraceful act, +their eyes met across the table. It was the other person in her--the +remote, barbaric, eastern woman, set somehow in power over him--who +watched him seal his own discomfiture, and smiled to know his obedience +had to be. It was, indeed, as though she tortured him deliberately, yet +for some reason undivined. + +For a passing second Tom felt this--then the strange exaggeration +vanished. They played a game together. All this had been before. +They looked back upon it, looked down from a point above it. . . . Tom +could not read her heart, but he could read his own. + +In a few minutes at most all this happened. He put the letter in his +pocket, and Lettice turned to her cousin, challenge in her manner, an air +of victory as well. And Tom felt he shared that victory somehow too. +It was a curious moment, charged with a subtle perplexity of emotions none +of them quite understood. It held such singular contradictions. + +'There, Ettie!' she exclaimed, as much as to say 'Now you can't scold me +any more. You see how little Mr. Kelverdon minds!' + +While she flitted into the next room to fetch a stamp, Mrs. Haughstone, +her needles arrested in mid-air, looked steadily at Tom. Her face was +white. She had watched the little scene intently. + +'The only thing I cannot understand, Mr. Kelverdon,' she said in a low +tone, her voice both indignant and sympathetic, 'is how my cousin can give +pain to a man like _you_. It's the most heartless thing I've ever seen.' + +'Me!' gasped Tom. 'But I don't understand you!' + +'And for a creature like that!' she went on quickly, as Lettice was heard +in the passage; 'a libertine,'--she almost hissed the word out--'who thinks +every pretty woman is made for his amusement--and false into the +bargain----' + +Tom put the stamp on. A few minutes later he was again walking along the +narrow little Luxor street, the sentences just heard still filling the +silent air about him, emotions charging wildly, each detail of the +familiar little journey associated already with present pain and with +prophecies of pain to come. The bewilderment and confusion in him were +beyond all quieting. One moment he saw the picture of a slender foot that +deliberately crushed life into the dust, the next he gazed into gentle, +loving eyes that would brim with tears if a single hair of his head were +injured. + +A cold and mournful wind blew down the street, ruffling the darkened +river. The black line of hills he could not see. Mystery, enchantment +hung in the very air. The long dry fingers of the palm trees rattled +overhead, and looking up, he saw the divine light of the starry +heavens. . . . Surely among those comforting stars he saw her radiant +eyes as well. . . . + +A voice, asking in ridiculous English the direction to a certain house, +broke his reverie, and, turning round, he saw the sheeted figure of an +Arab boy, the bright eyes gleaming in the mischievous little face of +bronze. He pointed out the gateway, and the boy slipped off into the +darkness, his bare feet soundless and mysterious on the sand. +He disappeared up the driveway to the house--her house. Tom knew quite +well from whom the telegram came. Tony had telegraphed to let her know of +his safe arrival. So even that was necessary! 'And to-morrow morning,' +he thought, 'he'll get my letter too. He'll come posting back again the +very next day.' He clenched his teeth a moment; he shuddered. Then he +added: 'So much the better!' and walked on quickly up the street. +He posted _her_ letter at the corner. + +He went up to his bedroom. His sleepless nights had begun now. . . . + +What was the use of thinking, he asked himself as the hours passed? +What good did it do to put the same questions over and over again, to pass +from doubt to certainty, only to be flung back again from certainty to +doubt? Was there no discoverable centre where the pendulum ceased from +swinging? How could she be at the same time both cruel and tender, both +true and false, frank and secretive, spiritual and sensual? Each of these +pairs, he realised, was really a single state of which the adjectives +represented the extremes at either end. They were ripples. The central +personality travelled in one or other direction according to +circumstances, according to the pull or push of forces--the main momentum +of the parent wave. But there was a point where the heart felt neither +one nor other, neither cruel nor tender, false nor true. Where, on the +thermometer, did heat begin and cold come to an end? Love and hate, +similarly, were extremes of one and the same emotion. Love, he well knew, +could turn to virulent hatred--if something checked and forced it back +upon the line of natural advance. Could, then, _her_ tenderness be thus +reversed, turning into cruelty. . . . Or was this cruelty but the +awakening in her of another thing? . . . + +Possibly. Yet at the centre, that undiscovered centre at present beyond +his reach, Lettice, he knew, remained unalterably steadfast. There he +felt the absolute assurance she was his exclusively. His centre, +moreover, coincided with her own. They were in the 'sea' together. +But to get back into the sea, the Wave now rolling under them must first +break and fall. . . . + +The sooner, then, the better! They would swing back with it together +eventually. + +He chose, that is--without knowing it--a higher way of moulding destiny. +It was the spiritual way, whose method and secret lie in that subtle +paradox: Yield to conquer. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Yes, she was always 'tired' now, though the 'always' meant but three days +at most. It was the starving sense of loneliness, the aching sense of +loss, the yearning and the vain desire that made it seem so long. +Lettice evaded him with laughter in her eyes, or with a tired smile. +But the laughter was for another. It was merciless and terrible--so +slightly, faintly indicated, yet so overwhelmingly convincing. + +The talk between them rarely touched reality, as though a barrier deadened +their very voices. Even her mothering became exasperating; it was so +unforced and natural; it seemed still so right that she should show +solicitude for his physical welfare. And therein lay the anguish and the +poignancy. Yet, while he resented fiercely, knowing this was all she had +to offer now, he struggled at the same time to accept. One moment he +resisted, the next accepted. One hour he believed in her, the next he +disbelieved. Hope and fear alternately made tragic sport of him. + +Two personalities fought for possession of his soul, and he could not +always keep back the lower of the two. They interpenetrated--as, +at Dehr-el-Bahri, two scenes had interpenetrated, something very, very old +projected upon a modern screen. + +Lettice too--he was convinced of it--was undergoing a similar experience +in herself. Only in her case just now it was the lower, the primitive, +the physical aspect that was uppermost. She clung to Tony, yet struggled +to keep Tom. She could not help herself. And he himself, knowing he must +shortly go, still clung and hesitated, hoping against hope. More and more +now, until the end, he was aware that he stood outside his present-day +self, and above it. He looked back--looked down--upon former emotions and +activities; and hence the confusing alternating of jealousy and +forgiveness. + +There were revealing little incidents from time to time. On the following +afternoon he found her, for instance, radiant with that exuberant +happiness he had learned now to distrust. And for a moment he half +believed again that the menace had lifted and the happiness was for him. +She held out both hands towards him, while she described a plan for going +to Edfu and Abou Simbel. His heart beat wildly for a second. + +'But Tony?' he asked, almost before he knew it. 'We can't leave him out!' + +'Oh, but I've had a letter.' And as she said it his eye caught sight of a +bulky envelope lying in the sand beside her chair. + +'Good,' he said quietly, 'and when is he coming back? I haven't heard +from him.' The solid ground moved beneath his feet. He shivered, even in +the blazing heat. + +'To-morrow. He sends you all sorts of messages and says that something +you wrote made him very happy. I wonder what it was, Tom?' + +Behind her voice he heard the north wind rattling in the palms; he heard +the soft rustle of the acacia leaves as well; there was the crashing of +little waves upon the river; but a deep, deep shadow fell upon the sky and +blotted out the sunshine. The glory vanished from the day, leaving in its +place a painful glare that hurt the eyes. The soul in him was darkened. + +'Ah!' he exclaimed with assumed playfulness, 'but that's my secret!' +Men do smile, he remembered, as they are led to execution. + +She laughed excitedly. 'I shall find it out----' + +'You will,' he burst out significantly, 'in the end.' + +Then, as she passed him to go into the house, he lost control a moment. +He whispered suddenly: + +'Love has no secrets, Lettice, anywhere. We're in the Sea together. +I shall _never_ let you go.' The intensity in his manner betrayed him; he +adored her; he could not hide it. + +She turned an instant, standing two steps above him; the sidelong downward +glance lent to her face a touch of royalty, half pitying, half imperious. +Her exquisite, frail beauty held a strength that mocked the worship in his +eyes and voice. Almost--she challenged him: + +'Soothsayer!' she whispered back contemptuously. 'Do your worst!'--and +was gone into the house. + +Desire surged wildly in him at that moment; impatience, scorn, fury even, +raised their heads; he felt a savage impulse to seize her with violence, +force her to confess, to have it out and end it one way or the other. +He loathed himself for submitting to her cruelty, for it was intentional +cruelty--she made him writhe and suffer of set purpose. And something +barbaric in his blood leaped up in answer to the savagery in her +own . . . when at that instant he heard her calling very softly: + +'Tom! Come indoors to me a moment; I want to show you something!' + +But with it another sentence sprang across him and was gone. Like a +meteor it streaked the screen of memory. Seize it he could not. It had +to do with death--his death. There was a thought of blood. Outwardly +what he heard, however, was the playful little sentence of to-day. +'Come, I want to show you something.' + +At the sound of her voice so softly calling all violence was forgotten; +love poured back in a flood upon him; he would go through fire and water +to possess her in the end. In this strange drama she played her +inevitable part, even as he did; there must be no loss of self-control +that might frustrate the coming climax. There must be no thwarting. +If he felt jealousy, he must hide it; anger, scorn, desire must veil their +faces. + +He crossed the passage and stood before her in the darkened room, afraid +and humble, full of a burning love that the centuries had not lessened, +and that no conceivable cruelty of pain could ever change. Almost he +knelt before her. Even if terrible, she was utterly adorable. + +For he believed she was about to make a disclosure that would lay him +bleeding in the dust; singularly at her mercy he felt, his heart laid bare +to receive the final thrust that should make him outcast. Her little foot +would crush him. . . . + +The long green blinds kept out the glare of the sunshine; and at first he +saw the room but dimly. Then, slowly, the white form emerged, the +broad-brimmed hat, the hanging violet veil, the yellow jacket of soft, +clinging silk, the long white gauntlet gloves. He saw her dear face +peering through the dimness at him, the eyes burning like two dark +precious stones. A table stood between them. There was a square white +object on it. A moment's bewilderment stole over him. Why had she +called him in? What was she going to say? Why did she choose this +moment? Was it the threat of Tony's near arrival that made her +confession--and his dismissal--at last inevitable? + +Then, suddenly, that night in the London theatre flashed back across his +mind--her strange absorption in the play, the look of pain in her face, +the little conversation, the sense of familiarity that hung about it all. +He remembered Tony's words later: that another actor was expected with +whose entry the piece would turn more real--turn tragic. + +He waited. The dimness of the room was like the dimness of that theatre. +The lights were lowered. They played their little parts. The audience +watched and listened. + +'Tom, dear,' her voice came floating tenderly across the air. 'I didn't +like to give it you before the others. They wouldn't understand--they'd +laugh at us.' + +He did not understand. Surely he had heard indistinctly. He waited, +saying nothing. The tenderness in her voice amazed him. He had expected +very different words. Yet this was surely Lettice speaking, the Lettice +of his spring-time in the mountains beside the calm blue lake. He stared +hard. For the voice _was_ Lettice, but the eyes and figure were +another's. He was again aware of two persons there--of perplexing and +bewildering struggle. But Lettice, for the moment, dominated as it +seemed. + +'So I put it here,' she went on in a low gentle tone, 'here, Tommy, on the +table for you. And all my love is in it--my first, deep, fond love--our +childhood love.' She leaned down and forward, her face in her hands, her +elbows on the dark cloth; she pushed the square, white packet across to +him. 'God bless you,' floated to him with her breath. + +The struggle in her seemed very patent then. Yet in spite of that other, +older self within her, it was still the voice of Lettice. . . . + +There was a moment's silence while her whisper hung, as it were, upon the +air. His entire body seemed a single heart. Exactly what he felt he +hardly knew. There was a simultaneous collapse of several huge emotions +in him. . . . But he trusted her. . . . He clung to that beloved voice. +For she called him 'Tommy'; she was his mother; love, tenderness, and pity +emanated from her like a cloud of perfume. He heard the faint rustle of +her dress as she bent forward, but outside he heard the dry, harsh rattle +of the palm trees in the northern wind. And in that--was terror. + +'What--what is it, Lettice?' The voice sounded like a boy's. It was +outrageous. He swallowed--with an effort. + +'Tommy, you--don't mind? You _will_ take it, won't you?' And it was as +if he heard her saying 'Help me . . .' once again, 'Trust me as I trust +you. . . .' + +Mechanically he put his hand out and drew the object towards him. He knew +then what it was and what was in it. He was glad of the darkness, for +there was a ridiculous moisture in his eyes now. A lump _was_ in his +throat! + +'I've been neglecting you. You haven't had a thing for ages. You'll take +it, Tommy, won't you--dear?' + +The little foolish words, so sweetly commonplace, fell like balm upon an +open wound. He already held the small white packet in his hand. +He looked up at her. God alone knows the strain upon his will in that +moment. Somehow he mastered himself. It seemed as if he swallowed blood. +For behind the mothering words lurked, he knew, the other self that any +minute would return. + +'Thank you, Lettice, very much,' he said with a strange calmness, and his +voice was firm. Whatever happened he must not prevent the delivery of +what had to be. Above all, that was clear. The pain must come in full +before the promised joy. + +Was it, perhaps, this strength in him that drew her? Was it his moment of +iron self-mastery that brought her with outstretched, clinging arms +towards him? Was it the unshakable love in him that threatened the +temporary ascendancy of that other in her who gladly tortured him that joy +might come in a morning yet to break? + +For she stood beside him, though he had not seen her move. She was close +against his shoulder, nestling as of old. It was surely a stage effect. +A trap-door had opened in the floor of his consciousness; his first, early +love sheltered in his aching heart again. The entire structure of the +drama they played together threatened to collapse. + +'Tom . . . you love me less?' + +He held her to him, but he did not kiss the face she turned up to his. +Nor did he speak. + +'You've changed somewhere?' she whispered. 'You, too, have changed?' + +There was a pause before he found words that he could utter. He dared not +yield. To do so would be vain in any case. + +'N--no, Lettice. But I can't say what it is. There is pain. . . . +It has turned some part of me numb . . . killed something, brought +something else to life. You will come back to me . . . but not quite +yet.' + +In spite of the darkness, he saw her face clearly then. For a moment--it +seemed so easy--he could have caught her in his arms, kissed her, known +the end of his present agony of heart and mind. She would have come back +to him, Tony's claim obliterated from her life. The driving power that +forced an older self upon her had weakened before the steadfast love he +bore her. She was ready to capitulate. The little, childish present in +his hands was offered as of old. . . . Tears rose behind his eyes. + +How he resisted he never understood. Some thoroughness in him triumphed. +If he shirked the pain to-day, it would have to be faced to-morrow--that +alone was clear in his breaking heart. To be worthy of the greater love, +the completer joy to follow, they must accept the present pain and see it +through--experience it--exhaust it once for all. To refuse it now was +only to postpone it. She must go her way, while he went his. . . . + +Gently he pushed her from him, released his hold; the little face slipped +from his shoulder as though it sank into the sea. He felt that she +understood. He heard himself speaking, though how he chose the words he +never knew. Out of new depths in himself the phrases rose--a regenerated +Tom uprising, though not yet sure of himself: + +'You are not wholly mine. I must first--oh, Lettice!--learn to do without +you. It is you who say it.' + +Her voice, as she answered, seemed already changed, a shade of something +harder and less yielding in it: + +'That which you can do without is added to you.' + +'A new thing . . . beginning,' he whispered, feeling it both belief and +prophecy. His whisper broke in spite of himself. He saw her across the +room, the table between them again. Already she looked different, +'Lettice' fading from her eyes and mouth. + +She said a marvellous, sweet thing before that other self usurped her +then: + +'One day, Tom, we shall find each other in a crowd. . . .' + +There was a yearning cry in him he did not utter. It seemed she faded +from the atmosphere as the dimness closed about her. He saw a darker +figure with burning eyes upon a darker face; there was a gleam of gold; a +faint perfume as of ambra hung about the air, and outside the palm leaves +rattled in the northern wind. He had heard awful words, it seemed, that +sealed his fate. He was forsaken, lonely, outcast. It was a sentence of +death, for she was set in power over him. . . . + + + +A flood of dazzling sunshine poured into the room from a lifted blind, as +the others looked in from the verandah to say that they were going and +wanted to say good-bye. A moment later all were discussing plans in the +garden, Tom as loudly and eagerly as any of them. He held his square +white packet. But he did not open it till he reached his room a little +later, and then arranged the different articles in a row upon his table: +the favourite cigarettes, the soap, the pair of white tennis socks with +his initial neatly sewn on, the tie in the shade of blue that suited him +best . . . the writing-pad and the dates! + +A letter from Tony next caught his eye and he opened it, slowly, calmly, +almost without interest, knowing exactly what it would say: + + ' . . . I was delighted, old chap, to get your note,' he read. + 'I felt sure it would be all right, for I felt somehow that I _had_ + exaggerated your feeling towards her. As you say, what one has to + think of with a woman in so delicate a position is her happiness more + than one's own. But I wouldn't do anything to offend you or cause + you pain for worlds, and I'm awfully glad to know the way is clear. + To tell you the truth, I went away on purpose, for I felt uneasy. + I wanted to be quite sure first that I was not trespassing. She made + me feel I was doing you no wrong, but I wanted your assurance + too. . . .' + +There was a good deal more in similar vein--he laid the burden upon +_her_--ending with a word to say he was coming back to Luxor immediately. +He would arrive the following day. + +As a matter of fact Tony was already then in the train that left Cairo +that evening and reached Luxor at eight o'clock next morning. Tom, who +had counted upon another twenty-four hours' respite, did not know this; +nor did he know till later that another telegram had been carried by a +ghostly little Arab boy, with the result that Tony and Lettice enjoyed +their hot rolls and coffee alone together in the shady garden where the +cool northern wind rattled among the palm trees. Mrs. Haughstone +mentioned it in due course, however, having watched the _tete-a-tete_ +from her bedroom window, unobserved. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +And next day there was one more revealing incident that helped, yet also +hindered him, as he moved along his _via dolorosa_. For every step he +took away from her seemed also to bring him nearer. They followed +opposing curves of a circle. They separated ever more widely, back to +back, yet were approaching each other at the same time. They would meet +face to face. . . . + +He found her at the piano, practising the song that now ran ever in his +blood; the score, he noticed, was in Tony's writing. + +'Unwelcome!' he exclaimed, reading out the title over her shoulder. + +'Tom! How you startled me! I was trying to learn it.' She turned to +him; her eyes were shining. He was aware of a singular impression-- +struggle, effort barely manageable. Her beauty seemed fresh made; he +thought of a wild rose washed by the dew and sparkling in the sunlight. + +'I thought you knew it already,' he observed. + +She laughed significantly, looking up into his face so close he could have +kissed her lips by merely bending his head a few inches. 'Not quite-- +yet,' she answered. 'Will you give me a lesson, Tom?' + +'Unpaid?' he asked. + +She looked reproachfully at him. 'The best services are unpaid always.' + +'I'm afraid I have neither the patience nor the knowledge,' he replied. + +Her next words stirred happiness in him for a moment; the divine trust he +fought to keep stole from his heart into his eyes: 'But you would never, +never give up, Tom, no matter how difficult and obstinate the pupil. +You would always understand. _That_ I know.' + +He moved away. Such double-edged talk, even in play, was dangerous. +A deep weariness was in him, weakening self-control. Sensitive to the +slightest touch just then, he dared not let her torture him too much. +He felt in her a strength far, far beyond his own; he was powerless before +her. Had Tony been present he could not have played his part at all. +Somehow he had a curious feeling, moreover, that his cousin was not very +far away. + +'Tony will be here later, I think,' she said, as she followed him outside. +'But, if not, he's sure to come to dinner.' + +'Good,' he replied, thinking that the train arrived in time to dress, and +in no way surprised that she divined his thoughts. 'We can decide our +plans then.' He added that he might be obliged to go back to Assouan, but +she made no comment. Speech died away between them, as they sat down in +the old familiar corner above the Nile. Tom, for the life of him, could +think of nothing to say. Lettice, on the other hand, wanted to say +nothing. He felt that she _had_ nothing to say. Behind, below the +numbness in him, meanwhile, her silence stabbed him without ceasing. +The intense yearning in his heart threatened any minute to burst forth in +vehement speech, almost in action. It lay accumulating in him +dangerously, ready to leap out at the least sign--the pin-prick of a look, +a word, a gesture on her part, and he would smash the barrier down between +them and--ruin all. The sight of Tony, for instance, just then must have +been as a red rag to a bull. + +He traced figures in the sand with his heel, he listened to the wind above +them, he never ceased to watch her motionless, indifferent figure +stretched above him on the long deck-chair. A book peeped out from behind +the cushion where her head rested. Tom put his hand across and took it +suddenly, partly for something to do, partly from curiosity as well. +She made a quick, restraining gesture, then changed her mind. And again +he was conscious of battle in her, as if two beings fought. + +'The Mary Coleridge Poems,' she said carelessly. 'Tony gave it me. +You'll find the song he put to music.' + +Tom vigorously turned the leaves. He had already glanced at the +title-page with the small inscription in one corner: 'To L. J., from +A. W.' There was a pencil mark against a poem half-way through. + +'He's going to write music for some of the others too,' she added, +watching him; 'the ones he has marked.' Her voice, he fancied, wavered +slightly. + +Tom nodded his head. 'I see,' he murmured, noticing a cross in pencil. +A sullen defiance rose in his blood, but he forced it out of sight. +He read the words in a low voice to himself. It was astonishing how the +powers behind the scenes forced a contribution from the commonest +incidents: + + The sum of loss I have not reckoned yet, + I cannot tell. + For ever it was morning when we met, + Night when we bade farewell. + +Perhaps the words let loose the emotion, though of different kinds, pent +up behind their silence. The strain, at any rate, between them tightened +first, then seemed to split. He kept his eyes upon the page before him; +Lettice, too, remained still as before; only her lips moved as she spoke: + +'Tom. . . .' The voice plunged into his heart like iron. + +'Yes,' he said quietly, without looking up. + +'Tom,' she repeated, 'what are you thinking about so hard?' + +He found no answer. + +'And all to yourself?' + +The blood rushed to his face; her voice was so soft. + +He met her eyes and smiled. 'The same as usual, I suppose,' he said. + +For a moment she made no reply, then, glancing at the book lying in his +hand, she said in a lower voice: 'That woman had suffered deeply. +There's truth and passion in every word she writes; there's a marvellous +restraint as well. Tom,' she added, gazing hard at him, 'you feel it, +don't you? You understand her?' For an instant she knit her brows as if +in perplexity or misgiving. + +'The truth, yes,' he replied after a moment's hesitation; 'the restraint +as well.' + +'And the passion?' + +He nodded curtly by way of agreement. He turned the pages over very +rapidly. His fingers were as thick and clumsy as rigid bits of wood. +He fumbled. + +'Will you read it once again?' she asked. He did so . . . in a low voice. +With difficulty he reached the end. There was a mist before his eyes and +his voice seemed confused. He dared not look up. + +'There's a deep spiritual beauty,' he went on slowly, making an enormous +effort, 'that's what I feel strongest, I think. There's renunciation, +sacrifice----' + +He was going to say more, for he felt the words surge up in his throat. +This talk, he knew, was a mere safety valve to both of them; they used +words as people attacked by laughter out of due season seize upon +anything, however far-fetched, that may furnish excuse for it. The flood +of language and emotion, too long suppressed, again rose to his very +lips--when a slight sound stopped his utterance. He turned. Amazement +caught him. Her frozen immobility, her dead indifference, her boredom +possibly--all these, passing suddenly, had melted in a flood of tears. +Her face was covered by her hands. She lay there sobbing within a foot of +his hungry arms, sobbing as though her heart must break. He saw the drops +between her little fingers, trickling. + +It was so sudden, so unexpected, that Tom felt unable to speak or act at +first. Numbness seized him. His faculties were arrested. He watched +her, saw the little body heave down its entire length, noted the small +convulsive movements of it. He saw all this, yet he could not do the +natural thing. It was very ghastly. . . . He could not move a muscle, +he could not say a single word, he could not comfort her--because he knew +those tears were the tears of pity only. It was for himself she sobbed. +The tenderness in her--in 'Lettice'--broke down before his weight of pain, +the weight of pain she herself laid upon him. Nothing that _he_ might do +or say could comfort her. Divining what the immediate future held in +store for him, she wept these burning tears of pity. In that poignant +moment of self-revelation Tom's cumbersome machinery of intuition did not +fail him. He understood. It was a confession--the last perhaps. He saw +ahead with vivid and merciless clarity of vision. Only another could +comfort her. . . . Yet he could help. Yes--he could help--by going. +There was no other way. He must slip out. + +And, as if prophetically just then, she murmured between her +tight-pressed fingers: 'Leave me, Tom, for a moment . . . please go +away . . . I'm so mortified . . . this idiotic scene. . . . Leave me a +little, then come back. I shall be myself again presently. . . . It's +Egypt--this awful Egypt. . . .' + +Tom obeyed. He got up and left her, moving without feeling in his legs, +as though he walked in his sleep, as though he dreamed, as though he +were--dead. He did not notice the direction. He walked mechanically. +It felt to him that he simply walked straight out of her life into a world +of emptiness and ice and shadows. . . . + +The river lay below him in a flood of light. He saw the Theban Hills +rolling their dark, menacing wave along the far horizon. In the +blistering heat the desert lay sun-drenched, basking, silent. Its faint +sweet perfume reached him in the northern wind, that pungent odour of the +sand, which is the odour of this sun-baked land etherealised. + +A fiery intensity of light lay over it, as though any moment it must burst +into sheets of flame. So intense was the light that it seemed to let +sight through to--to what? To a more distant vision, infinitely remote. +It was not a mirror, but a transparency. The eyes slipped through it +marvellously. + +He stood on the steps of worn-out sandstone, listening, staring, feeling +nothing . . . and then a little song came floating across the air towards +him, sung by a boatman in mid-stream. It was a native melody, but it had +the strange, monotonous lilt of Tony's old-Egyptian melody. . . . And +feeling stole back upon him, alternately burning and freezing the currents +of his blood. The childhood nightmare touch crept into him: he saw the +wave-like outline of the gloomy hills, he heard the wind rattling in the +leaves behind him, to his nostrils came the strange, penetrating perfume +of the tawny desert that encircles ancient Thebes, and in the air before +him hung two pairs of eyes, dark, faithful eyes, cruel and at the same +time tender, true yet merciless, and the others--treacherous, false, light +blue in colour. . . . He began to shuffle furiously with his feet. . . . +The soul in him went under. . . . He turned to face the menace coming up +behind . . . the falling Wave. . . . + +'Tom!' he heard--and turned back towards her. And when he reached her +side, she had so entirely regained composure that he could hardly believe +it was the same person. Fresh and radiant she looked once more, no sign +of tears, no traces of her recent emotion anywhere. Perhaps the interval +had been longer than he guessed, but, in any case, the change was swift +and half unaccountable. In himself, equally, was a calmness that seemed +unnatural. He heard himself speaking in an even tone about the view, the +river, the gold of the coming sunset. He wished to spare her, he talked +as though nothing had happened, he mentioned the deep purple colour of the +hills--when she broke out with sudden vehemence. + +'Oh, don't speak of those hills, those awful hills,' she cried. 'I dread +the sight of them. Last night I dreamed again--they crushed me down into +the sand. I felt buried beneath them, deep, deep down--_buried_.' +She whispered the last word as though to herself. She hid her face. + +The words amazed him. He caught the passing shiver in her voice. + +'"Again"?' he asked. 'You've dreamed of them before?' He stood close, +looking down at her. The sense of his own identity returned slowly, yet +he still felt two persons in him. + +'Often and often,' she said in a lowered tone, 'since Tony came. I dream +that we all three lie buried somewhere in that forbidding valley. +It terrifies me more and more each time.' + +'Strange,' he said. 'For they draw me too. I feel them somehow known-- +familiar.' He paused. 'I believe Tony was right, you know, when he +said that we three----' + +How she stopped him he never quite understood. At first he thought the +curious movement on her face portended tears again, but the next second he +saw that instead of tears a slow strange smile was stealing upon her-- +upwards from the mouth. It lay upon her features for a second only, but +long enough to alter them. A thin, diaphanous mask, transparent, swiftly +fleeting, passed over her, and through it another woman, yet herself, +peered up at him with a penetrating yet somehow distant gaze. A shudder +ran down his spine; there was a sensation of inner cold against his heart; +he trembled, but he could not look away. . . . He saw in that brief +instant the face of the woman who tortured him. The same second, so +swiftly was it gone again, he saw Lettice watching him through half-closed +eyelids. He heard her saying something. She was completing the sentence +that had interrupted him: + +'We're too imaginative, Tom. Believe me, Egypt is no place to let +imagination loose, and I don't like it.' She sighed: there was exhaustion +in her. 'It's stimulating enough without _our_ help. Besides--' she used +a curious adjective--'it's dangerous too.' + +Tom willingly let the subject drop; his own desire was to appear natural, +to protect her, to save her pain. He thought no longer of himself. +Drawing upon all his strength, forcing himself almost to breaking-point, +he talked quietly of obvious things, while longing secretly to get away to +his own room where he could be alone. He craved to hide himself; like a +stricken animal his instinct was to withdraw from observation. + +The arrival of the tea-tray helped him, and, while they drank, the sky let +down the emblazoned curtain of a hundred colours lest Night should bring +her diamonds unnoticed, unannounced. There is no dusk in Egypt; the sun +draws on his opal hood; there is a rush of soft white stars: the desert +cools, and the wind turns icy. Night, high on her spangled throne, +watches the sun dip down behind the Libyan sands. + +Tom felt this coming of Night as he sat there, so close to Lettice that he +could touch her fingers, feel her breath, catch the lightest rustle of her +thin white dress. He felt night creeping in upon his heart. Swiftly the +shadows piled. His soul seemed draped in blackness, drained of its +shining gold, hidden below the horizon of the years. It sank out of +sight, cold, lost, forgotten. His day was past and over. . . . + +They had been sitting silent for some minutes when a voice became audible, +singing in the distance. It came nearer. Tom recognised the +tune--'We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise,'; and +Lettice sat up suddenly to listen. But Tom then thought of one thing +only--that it was beyond his power just now to meet his cousin. +He knew his control was not equal to the task; he would betray himself; +the role was too exacting. He rose abruptly. + +'That must be Tony coming,' Lettice said. 'His tea will be all cold!' +Each word was a caress, each syllable alive with interest, sympathy, +excited anticipation. She had become suddenly alive. Tom saw her eyes +shining as she gazed past him down the darkening drive. He made his +absurd excuse. 'I'm going home to rest a bit, Lettice. I played tennis +too hard. The sun's given me a headache. We'll meet later. You'll keep +Tony for dinner?' His mind had begun to work, too; the evening train from +Cairo, he remembered, was not due for an hour or more yet. A hideous +suspicion rushed like fire through him. + +But he asked no question. He knew they wished to be alone together. +Yet also he had a wild, secret hope that she would be disappointed. +He was speedily undeceived. + +'All right, Tom,' she answered, hardly looking at him. 'And mind you're +not late. Eight o'clock sharp. I'll make Tony stay.' + +He was gone. He chose the path along the river bank instead of going by +the drive. He did not look back once. It was when he entered the road a +little later that he met Mrs. Haughstone coming home from a visit to some +friends in his hotel. It was then she told him. . . . + +'What a surprise you must have had,' Tom believes he said in reply. +He said something, at any rate, that he hoped sounded natural and right. + +'Oh, no,' Mrs. Haughstone explained. 'We were quite prepared. Lettice +had a telegram, you see, to let her know.' + +She told him other things as well. . . . + + + +PART IV + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Tony had come back. The Play turned very real. + +The situation _a trois_ thenceforward became, for Tom, an acutely +afflicting one. He found no permanent resting-place for heart or mind. +He analysed, asked himself questions without end, but a final decisive +judgment evaded him. He wrote letters and tore them up again. +He hid himself in Assouan with belief for a companion, he came back and +found that companion had been but a masquerader--disbelief. +Suspicion grew confirmed into conviction. Vanity persuaded him against +the weight of evidence, then left him naked with his facts. He wanted to +kill, first others, then himself. He laughed, but the same minute he +could have cried. Such complicated tangles of emotion were beyond his +solving--it amazed him; such prolonged and incessant torture, so +delicately applied--he marvelled that a human heart could bear it without +breaking. For the affection and sympathy he felt for his cousin refused +to die, while his worship and passion towards an unresponsive woman +increasingly consumed him. + +He no longer recognised himself, his cousin, Lettice; all three, indeed, +were singularly changed. Each duplicated into a double role. +Towards their former selves he kept his former attitude--of affection, +love, belief; towards the usurping selves he felt--he knew not what. +Therefore he drifted. . . . Strange, mysterious, tender, unfathomable +Woman! Vain, primitive, self-sufficing, confident Man! In him the +masculine tried to reason and analyse to the very end; in her the feminine +interpreted intuitively: the male and female attitudes, that is, held true +throughout. The Wave swept him forward irresistibly, his very soul, it +seemed, went shuffling to find solid ground. . . . + +Meanwhile, however, no one broke the rules--rules that apparently had made +themselves: subtle and delicate, it took place mostly out of sight, as it +were, inside the heart. Below the mask of ordinary surface-conduct all +agreed to wear, the deeper, inevitable intercourse proceeded, a Play +within a Play, a tragedy concealed thinly by general consent under the +most commonplace comedy imaginable. All acted out their parts, rehearsed, +it seemed, of long ago. For, more and more, it came to Tom that the one +thing he must never lose, whatever happened, was his trust in her. +He must cling to that though it cost him all--trust in her love and truth +and constancy. This singular burden seemed laid upon his soul. +If he lost that trust and that belief, the Wave could never break, +she could never justify that trust and that belief. + +This 'enchantment' that tortured him, straining his whole being, was +somehow a test indeed of his final worthiness to win her. +Somehow, somewhence, he owed her this. . . . He dared not fail. +For if he failed the Wave that should sweep her back into the 'sea' with +him would not break--he would merely go on shuffling with his feet to the +end of life. Tony and Lettice conquered him till he lay bleeding in the +sand; Tom played the role of loss--obediently almost; the feeling that +they were set in power over him persisted strangely. It dominated, at any +rate, the resistance he would otherwise have offered. He must learn to do +without her in order that she might in the end be added to him. Thus, and +thus alone, could he find himself, and reach the level where she lived. +He took his fate from her gentle, merciless hands, well knowing that it +had to be. In some marvellous, sweet way the sacrifice would bring her +back again at last, but bring her back completed--and to a Tom worthy of +her love. The self-centred, confident man in him that deemed itself +indispensable must crumble. To find regeneration he must risk +destruction. + +Events--yet always inner events--moved with such rapidity then that he +lost count of time. The barrier never lowered again. He played his +ghastly part in silence--always inner silence. Out of sight, below the +surface, the deep wordless Play continued. With Tony's return the drama +hurried. The actor all had been waiting for came on, and took the centre +of the stage, and stayed until the curtain fell--a few weeks, all told, of +their short Egyptian winter. + +In the crowded rush of action Tom felt the Wave--bend, break, and smash +him. At its highest moment he saw the stars, at its lowest the crunch of +shifting gravel filled his ears, the mud blinded sight, the rubbish choked +his breath. Yet he had seen those distant stars. . . . Into the +mothering sea, as he sank back, the memory of the light went with him. +It was a kind of incredible performance, half on earth and half in the +air: it rushed with such impetuous momentum. + +Amid the intensity of his human emotions, meanwhile, he lost sight of any +subtler hints, if indeed they offered: he saw no veiled eastern visions +any more, divined no psychic warnings. His agony of blinding pain, +alternating with briefest intervals of shining hope when he recovered +belief in her and called himself the worst names he could think of--this +seething warfare of cruder feelings left no part of him sensitive to the +delicate promptings of finer forces, least of all to the tracery of +fancied memories. He only gasped for breath--sufficient to keep himself +afloat and cry, as he had promised he would cry, even to the bitter end: +'I'll face it . . . I'll stick it out . . . I'll trust. . . .!' + +The setting of the Play was perfect; in Egypt alone was its production +possible. The brilliant lighting, the fathomless, soft shadows, deep +covering of blue by day, clear stars by night, the solemn hills, and the +slow, eternal river--all these, against the huge background of the Desert, +silent, golden, lonely, formed the adequate and true environment. +In no other country, in England least of all, could the presentation have +been real. Tony, himself, and Lettice belonged, one and all, it seemed, +to Egypt--yet, somehow, not wholly to the Egypt of the tourist hordes and +dragoman, and big hotels. The Onlooker in him, who stood aloof and held a +watching brief, looked down upon an ancient land unvexed by railways, +graciously clothed and coloured gorgeously, mapped burningly mid fiercer +passions, eager for life, contemptuous of death. He did not understand, +but that it was thus, not otherwise, he knew. . . . + +Her beauty, too, both physical and spiritual, became for him strangely +heightened. He shifted between moods of worship that were alternately +physical and spiritual. In the former he pictured her with darker +colouring, half barbaric, eastern, her slender figure flitting through a +grove of palms beyond a river too wide for him to cross; gold bands +gleamed upon her arms, bare to the shoulder; he could not reach her; +she was with another--it was torturing; she and that other disappeared +into the covering shadows. . . . In the latter, however, there was no +unworthy thought, no faintest desire of the blood; he saw her high among +the little stars, gazing with tender, pitying eyes upon him, calling +softly, praying for him, loving him, yet remote in some spiritual +isolation where she must wait until he soared to join her. + +Both physically and spiritually, that is, he idealised her--saw her +divinely naked. She did not move. She hung there like a star, waiting +for him, while he was carried past her, swept along helplessly by a tide, +a flood, a wave, though a wave that was somehow rising up to where she +dwelt above him. . . . + +It was a marvellous experience. In the physical moods he felt the fires +of jealousy burn his flesh away to the bare nerves--resentment, rage, a +bitterness that could kill; in the alternate state he felt the uplifting +joy and comfort of ultimate sacrifice, sweet as heaven, the bliss of +complete renunciation--for her happiness. If she loved another who could +give her greater joy, he had no right to interfere. + +It was this last that gradually increased in strength, the first that +slowly, surely died. Unsatisfied yearnings hunted his soul across the +empty desert that now seemed life. The self he had been so pleased with, +had admired so proudly with calm complacence, thinking it indispensable-- +this was tortured, stabbed and mercilessly starved to death by slow +degrees, while something else appeared shyly, gently, as yet unaware of +itself, but already clearer and stronger. In the depths of his being, +below an immense horizon, shone joy, luring him onward and brightening as +it did so. + +Love, he realised, was independent of the will--no one can will to love: +she was not anywhere to blame, a stronger claim had come into life and +changed her. She could not live untruth, pretending otherwise. +He, rather, was to blame if he sought to hold her to a smaller love she +had outgrown. She had the inalienable right to obey the bigger claim, if +such it proved to be. Personal freedom was the basis of their contract. +It would have been easier for him if she could have told him frankly, +shared it with him; but, since that seemed beyond her, then it was for him +to slip away. He must subtract himself from an inharmonious three, +leaving a perfect two. He must make it easier for _her_. + + + +The days of golden sunshine passed along their appointed way as before, +leaving him still without a final decision. Outwardly the little party _a +trois_ seemed harmonious, a coherent unit, while inwardly the accumulation +of suppressed emotion crept nearer and nearer to the final breaking point. +They lived upon a crater, playing their comedy within sight and hearing of +destruction: even Mrs. Haughstone, ever waiting in the wings for her cue, +came on effectively and filled her role, insignificant yet necessary. +Its meanness was its truth. + +'Mr. Winslowe excites my cousin too much; I'm sure it isn't good for her-- +in England, yes, but not out here in this strong, dangerous climate.' + +Tom understood, but invariably opposed her: + +'If it makes her happy for a little while, I see no harm in it; life has +not been too kind to her, remember.' + +Sometimes, however, the hint was barbed as well: 'Your cousin _is_ a +delightful being, but he can talk nonsense when he wants to. +He's actually been trying to persuade me that you're jealous of him. +He said you were only waiting a suitable moment to catch him alone in the +Desert and shoot him!' + +Tom countered her with an assumption of portentous gravity: 'Sound travels +too easily in this still air,' he reminded her; 'the Nile would be the +simplest way.' After which, confused by ridicule, she renounced the hint +direct, indulging instead in facial expression, glances, and innuendo +conveyed by gesture. + +That there was some truth, however, behind this betrayal of her hostess +and her fellow-guest, Tom felt certain; it lied more by exaggeration than +by sheer invention: he listened while he hated it; ashamed of himself, he +yet invited the ever-ready warnings, though he invariably defended the +object of them--and himself. + +Alternating thus, he knew no minute of happiness; a single day, a single +hour contained both moods, trust ousted suspicion, and suspicion turned +out trust. Lettice led him on, then abruptly turned to ice. In the +morning he was first and Tony nowhere, the same afternoon this was +reversed precisely--yet the balance growing steadily in his cousin's +favour, the evidence accumulating against himself. It was not purposely +contrived, it was in automatic obedience to deeper impulses than she knew. +Tom never lost sight of this amazing duality in her, the struggle of one +self against another older self to which cruelty was no stranger--or, as +he put it, the newly awakened Woman against the Mother in her. + +He could not fail to note the different effects he and his cousin produced +in her--the ghastly difference. With himself she was captious, easily +exasperated; her relations with Tony, above all, a sensitive spot on which +she could bear no slightest pressure without annoyance; while behind this +attitude, hid always the faithful motherly care that could not see him in +distress. That touch of comedy lay in it dreadfully:--wet feet, cold, +hungry, tired, and she flew to his consoling! Towards Tony this side of +her remained unresponsive; he might drink unfiltered water for all she +cared, tire himself to death, or sit in a draught for hours. It could +have been comic almost but for its significance: that from Tony she +_received_, instead of gave. The woman in her asked, claimed even--of the +man in him. The pain for Tom lay there. + +His cousin amused, stimulated her beyond anything Tom could offer; she +sought protection from him, leant upon him. In his presence she blossomed +out, her eyes shone the moment he arrived, her voice altered, her spirits +became exuberant. The wholesome physical was awakened by him. He could +not hope to equal Tony's address, his fascination. He never forgot that +she once danced for happiness. . . . Helplessness grew upon him--he had +no right to feel angry even, he could not justly blame herself or his +cousin. The woman in her was open to capture by another; so far it had +never belonged to him. In vain he argued that the mother was the larger +part; it was the woman that he wanted with it. Having separated the two +aspects of her in this way, the division, once made, remained. + +And every day that passed this difference in her towards himself and Tony +grew more mercilessly marked. The woman in her responded to another touch +than his. Though neither lust nor passion, he knew, dwelt in her pure +being anywhere, there were yet a thousand delicate unconscious ways by +which a woman betrayed her attraction to a being of the opposite sex; they +could not be challenged, but equally they could not be misinterpreted. +Like the colour and perfume of a rose, they emanated from her inmost +being. . . . In this sense, she was sexually indifferent to Tom, and +while passion consumed his soul, he felt her, dearly mothering, yet cold +as ice. The soft winds of Egypt bent the full-blossomed rose into +another's hand, towards another's lips. . . . Tony had entered the garden +of her secret life. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +And so the fires of jealousy burned him. He struggled hard, smothering +all outward expression of his pain, with the sole result that the +suppression increased the fury of the heat within. For every day the +tiniest details fed its fierceness. It was inextinguishable. He lost his +appetite, his sleep, he lost all sense of what is called proportion. +There was no rest in him, day and night he lived in the consuming flame. + +His cousin's irresponsibility now assumed a sinister form that shocked +him. He recognised the libertine in his careless play with members of the +other sex who had pleased him for moments, then been tossed aside. +He became aware of grossness in his eyes and lips and bearing. +He understood, above all, his--hands. + +Against the fiery screen of his emotions jealousy threw violent pictures +which he mistook for thought . . ., and there burst through this screen, +then, scattering all lesser feelings, the flame of a vindictive anger that +he believed was the protective righteous anger of an outraged man. +'If Tony did her wrong,' he told himself, 'I would kill him.' + +Always, at this extravagant moment, however, he reached a climax, then +calmed down again. A sense of humour rose incongruously to check loss of +self-restraint. The memory of her daily tenderness swept over him; and +shame sent a blush into his cheeks. He felt mortified, ungenerous, a +foolish figure even. While the reaction lasted he forgave, felt her above +reproach, cursed his wretched thoughts that had tried to soil her, and +lost the violent vindictiveness that had betrayed him. His affection for +his cousin, always real, and the sympathy between them, always genuine, +returned to complete his own discomfiture. His mood swayed back to the +first, happy days when the three of them had laughed and played together. + +And to punish himself while this reaction lasted, he would seek her out +and see that she inflicted the punishment itself. He would hear from her +own lips how fond she was of Tony, fighting to convince himself, while he +listened, that she was above suspicion, and that his pain was due solely +to unworthy jealousy. He would be specially nice to Tony, making things +easier for him, even urging him, as it were, into her very arms. + +These moments of generous reaction, however, seemed to puzzle her. +The exalted state of emotion was confined, perhaps, to himself. +At any rate, he produced results the very reverse of what he intended; +Tony became more cautious, Lettice looked at himself with half-questioning +eyes. . . . There was falseness in his attitude, something unnatural. +It was not the part he was cast for in the Play. He could not keep it up. +He fell back once more to watching, listening, playing his proper role of +a slave who was forced to observe the happiness of others set somehow over +him, while suffering in silence. The inner fires were fed anew thereby. +He knew himself flung back, bruised and bleeding, upon his original fear +and jealousy, convinced more than ever before that this cruelty and +torture had to be, and that his pain was justified. To resist was only to +delay the perfect dawn. + + The sum of loss I have not reckoned yet, + I cannot tell + For ever it was morning when we met, + Night when we bade farewell. + +He changed the pronouns in the last two lines, for always it was morning +when _they_ met, night when _they_ bade farewell. + +Mrs. Haughstone, meanwhile, neglected no opportunity of dotting the vowel +for his benefit; she crossed each _t_ that the writing of the stars +dropped fluttering across her path. 'Mr. Winslowe has emotions,' she +mentioned once, 'but he has no heart. If he ever marries and settles +down, his wife will find it out.' + +'My cousin is not the kind to marry,' Tom replied. 'He's too changeable, +and he knows it.' + +'He's young,' she said, 'he hasn't found the right woman yet. He will +improve--a woman older than himself with the mother strong in her might +hold him. He needs the mother too. Most men do, I think; they're all +children really.' + +Tom laughed. 'Tony as father of a family--I can't imagine it.' + +'Once he had children of his own,' she suggested, 'he would steady +wonderfully. Those men often make the best husbands--don't you think?' + +'Perhaps,' Tom replied briefly. 'Provided there's real heart beneath.' + +'In the woman, yes,' returned the other quietly. 'Too much heart in the +man can so easily cloy. A real man is always half a savage; that's why +the woman likes him. It's the woman who guards the family.' + +Tom, knowing that her words veiled other meanings, pretended not to +notice. He no longer rose to the bait she offered. He detected the +nonsense, the insincerity as well, but he could not argue successfully, +and generalisations were equally beyond him. Too polite to strike back, +he always waited till she had talked herself out; besides he often +acquired information thus, information he both longed for yet disliked +intensely. Such information rarely failed: it was, indeed, the desire to +impart it with an air of naturalness that caused the conversation almost +invariably. It appeared now. It was pregnant information, too. +She conveyed it in a lowered tone: there was news from Warsaw. +The end, it seemed, was expected by the doctors; a few months at most. +Lettice had been warned, however, that her appearance could do no good; +the sufferer mistook her for a relative who came to persecute him. +Her presence would only hasten the end. She had cabled, none the less, to +say that she would come. This was a week ago; the answer was expected in +a day or two. + +And Tom had not been informed of this. + +'Mr. Winslowe thinks she ought to go at once. I'm sure his advice is +wise. Even if her presence can do no good, it might be an unceasing +regret if she was not there. . . .' + +'Your cousin alone can judge,' he interrupted coldly. 'I'd rather not +discuss it, if you don't mind,' he added, noticing her eagerness to +continue the conversation. + +'Oh, certainly, Mr. Kelverdon--just as you feel. But in case she asks +your advice as well--I only thought you'd like to know--to be prepared, +I mean.' + +Only long afterwards did it occur to him that Tony's informant was +possibly this jealous parasite herself, who now deliberately put the +matter in another light, hoping to sow discord to her own eventual +benefit. All he realised at the moment was the intolerable pain that +Lettice should tell him nothing. She looked to Tony for help, advice, +possibly for consolation too. + +There were moments of another kind, however, when it seemed quite easy to +talk plainly. His position was absurd, undignified, unmanly. It was for +him to state his case and abide by the result. Hearts rarely break in +two, for all that poets and women might protest. + +These moments, however, he did not use. It was not that he shrank from +hearing his sentence plainly spoken, nor that he decided he must not +prevent something that had to be. The reason lay deeper still:--it was +impossible. In her presence he became tongue-tied, helpless. His own +stupidity overwhelmed him. Silence took him. He felt at a hopeless +disadvantage, ashamed even. No words of his could reach her through the +distance, across the barrier, that lay between them now. He made no +single attempt. His aching heart, filled with an immeasurable love, +remained without the relief of utterance. He had lost her. But he loved +now something in her place beyond the possibility of loss--an +indestructible ideal. + +Words, therefore, were not only impossible, they were vain. And when the +final moment came they were still more useless. He could go, but he could +not tell her he was going. Before that moment came, however, another +searching experience was his: he saw Tony jealous--jealous of himself! +He actually came to feel sympathy with his cousin who was his rival! +It was his faithful love that made that possible too. + +He realised this suddenly one day at Assouan. + +He had been thinking about the long conversations Tony and Lettice enjoyed +together, wondering what they found to discuss at such interminable +length. From that his mind slipped easily into another question--how she +could be so insensible to the pain she caused him?--when, all in a flash, +he realised the distance she had travelled from him on the road of love +towards Tony. The moment of perspective made it abruptly clear. She now +talked with Tony as once, at Montreux and elsewhere, she had talked with +himself. He saw his former place completely occupied. As an accomplished +fact he saw it. + +The belief that Tony's influence would weaken deserted him from that +instant. It had been but a false hope created by desire and yearning. + +There was a crash. He reached the bottom of despair. That same evening, +on returning to his hotel from the Works, he found a telegram. It had +been arranged that Lettice, Tony, Miss de Lorne and her brother should +join him in Assouan. The telegram stated briefly that it was not possible +after all:--she sent an excuse. + +The sleepless night was no new thing to him, but the acuteness of new +suffering was a revelation. Jealousy unmasked her amazing powers of +poisonous and devastating energy. . . . He visualised in detail. +He saw Lettice and his cousin together in the very situations he had +hitherto reserved imaginatively for himself, both sweets hoped for and +delights experienced, but raised now a hundredfold in actuality. +Like pictures of flame they rose before his inner eye; they seared and +scorched him; his blood turned acid; the dregs of agony were his to drink. +The happiness he had planned for himself, down to the smallest minutiae of +each precious incident, he now saw transferred in this appalling way--to +another. Not deliberately summoned, not morbidly evoked--the pictures +rose of their own accord against the background of his mind, yet so +instinct with actuality, that it seemed he had surely lived them, too, +himself with her, somewhere, somehow . . . before. There was that same +haunting touch of familiarity about them. + +In the long hours of this particular night he reached, perhaps, the acme +of his pain; imagination, whipped by jealousy, stoked the furnace to a +heat he had not known as yet. He had been clinging to a visionary hope. +'I've lost her . . . lost her . . . lost her,' he repeated to himself, +as though with each repetition the meaning of the phrase grew clearer. +Numbness followed upon misery; there were long intervals when he felt +nothing at all, periods when he thought he hated her, when pride and anger +whispered he could do without her. . . . A state of negative +insensibility followed. . . . On the heels of it came a red and violent +vindictiveness; next--resignation, complete acceptance, almost peace. +Then acute sensitiveness returned again--he felt the whole series of +emotions over and over without one omission. This numbness and +sensitiveness alternated with a kind of rhythmic succession. . . . +He reviewed the entire episode from beginning to end, recalled every word +she had uttered, traced the gradual influence of Tony on her, from its +first faint origin to its present climax. He saw her struggles and her +tears . . . the mysterious duality working to possess her soul. It was +all plain as daylight. No justification for any further hope was left to +him. He must go. . . . It was the thunder, surely, of the falling Wave. + +For Tony, he realised at last, had not merely usurped his own place, but +had discovered a new Lettice to herself, and setting her thus in a new, a +larger world, had taught her a new relationship. He had achieved--perhaps +innocently enough so far as his conscience was concerned?--a new result, +and a bigger one than Tom, with his lesser powers, could possibly have +effected. + +There was no falseness, no duplicity in her. 'She still loves me as +before, the mother still gives me what she always gave,' Tom put it to +himself, 'but Tony has ploughed deeper--reached the woman in her. +He loves a Lettice I have never realised. It is this new Lettice that +loves him in return. . . . What right have I, with my smaller claim, to +stand in her way a single moment? . . . I must slip out.' + +He had lost the dream that Tony but tended a blossom, the fruit of which +would come sweetly to his plucking afterwards. The intense suffering +concealed all prophecy, as the jealousy killed all hope. He spent that +final night of awful pain on his balcony, remembering how weeks before in +Luxor the first menacing presentiment had come to him. He stared out into +the Egyptian wonder of outer darkness. The stillness held a final menace +as of death. He recalled a Polish proverb: 'In the still marshes there +are devils.' The world spread dark and empty like his life; the Theban +Hills seemed to have crept after him, here to Assouan; the stars, +incredibly distant, had no warmth or comfort in them; the river roared +with a dull and lonely sound; he heard the palm trees rattling in the +wind. The pain in him was almost physical. . . . + + + +Dawn found him in the same position--yet with a change. Perhaps the +prolonged agony had killed the ache of ceaseless personal craving, or +perhaps the fierceness of the fire had burned it out. Tom could not say; +nor did he ask the questions. A change was there, and that was all he +knew. He had come at last to a decision, made a final choice. He had +somehow fought his battle out with a courage he did not know was courage. +Here at Assouan, he turned upon the Wave and faced it. He saw _her_ +happiness only, fixed all his hope and energy on that. A new and loftier +strength woke in him. There was no shuffling now. + +He would give her up. In his heart she would always remain his dream and +his ideal--but outwardly he would no longer need her. He would do without +her. He forgave--if there was anything to forgive--forgave them +both. . . . + +Something in him had broken. + +He could not explain it, though he felt it. Yet it was not her that he +had given up--it was himself. + +The first effect of this, however, was to think that life lay in ruins +round him, that, literally, the life in him was smothered by the breaking +wave. . . . + + + +And yet he did not break--he did not drown. + +For, as though to show that his decision was the right, inevitable one, +small outward details came to his assistance. Fate evidently approved. +For Fate just then furnished relief by providing another outlet for his +energies: the Works went seriously wrong: Tom could think of nothing else +but how he could put things right again. Reflection, introspection, +brooding over mental and spiritual pain became impossible. + +The lieutenants he trusted had played him false; sub-contracts of an +outrageous kind, flavoured by bribery, had been entered into; the cost of +certain necessaries had been raised absurdly, with the result that the +profits of the entire undertaking to the Firm must be lowered +correspondingly. And the blame, the responsibility was his own; he had +unwisely delegated his powers to underlings whose ambitions for money +exceeded their sense of honour. But Tom's honour was involved as well. +He had delegated his powers in writing. He now had to pay the price of +his prolonged neglect of duty. + +The position was irremediable; Tom's neglect and inefficiency were +established beyond question. He had failed in a position of high trust. +And to make the situation still less pleasant, Sir William, the Chairman +of the Company--Tom's chief, the man to whom he owed his partnership and +post of trust--telegraphed that he was on the way at last from Salonika. +One way alone offered--to break the disastrous contracts by payments made +down without delay. Tom made these payments out of his own pocket; they +were large; his private resources disappeared in a single day. . . . +But, even so, the delay and bungling at the Works were not to be +concealed. Sir William, shrewd, experienced man of business, stern of +heart as well as hard of head, could not be deceived. Within half an hour +of his arrival, Tom Kelverdon's glaring incompetency--worse, his +unreliability, to use no harsher word--were all laid bare. His position +in the Firm, even his partnership, perhaps, became untenable. Resignation +stared him in the face. + +He saw his life go down in ruins before his very eyes; the roof had fallen +long ago. The pillars now collapsed. The Wave, indeed, had turned him +upside down; its smothering crash left no corner of his being above water; +heart, mind, and character were flung in a broken tangle against the cruel +bottom as it fell to earth. + +But, at any rate, the new outlet for his immediate energies was offered. +He seized it vigorously. He gave up his room at Luxor, and sent a man +down to bring his luggage up. He did not write to Lettice. He faced the +practical situation with a courage and thoroughness which, though too +late, were admirable. Moreover, he found a curious relief in the new +disaster, a certain comfort even. There was compensation in it +somewhere. Everything was going to smash--the sooner, then, the better! +This recklessness was in him. He had lost Lettice, so what else mattered? +His attitude was somewhat devil-may-care, his grip on life itself seemed +slipping. + +This mood could not last, however, with a character like his. It seized +him, but retained no hold. It was the last cry of despair when he touched +bottom, the moment when weaker temperaments think of the emergency exit, +realise their final worthlessness--proving themselves worthless, indeed, +thereby. + +Tom met the blow in other fashion. He saw himself unworthy, but by no +means worthless. Suicide, whether of death or of final collapse, did not +enter his mind even. He faced the Wave, he did not shuffle now. He sent +a telegram to Lettice to say he was detained; he wrote to Tony that he had +given up his room in the Luxor hotel, an affectionate, generous note, +telling him to take good care of Lettice. It was only right and fair that +Tony should think the path for himself was clear. Since he had decided to +'slip out' this attitude towards his cousin was necessarily involved. +It must not appear that he had retired, beaten and unhappy. He must do no +single thing that might offer resistance to the inevitable fate, least of +all leave Tony with the sense of having injured him. True sacrifice +forbade; renunciation, if real, was also silent--the smiling face, the +cheerful, natural manner! + +Tom, therefore, fixed his heart more firmly than ever upon one single +point: her happiness. He fought to think of that alone. If he knew her +happy, he could live. He found life in her joy. He lived in that. +By 'slipping out,' no word of reproach, complaint, or censure uttered, he +would actually contribute to her happiness. Thus, vicariously, he almost +helped to cause it. In this faint, self-excluding bliss, he could live-- +even live on--until the end. That seemed true forgiveness. + +Meanwhile, not easily nor immediately, did he defy the anguish that, +day and night, kept gnawing at his heart. His one desire was to hide +it, and--if the huge achievement might lie within his powers-- +to change it sweetly into a source of strength that should redeem him. +The 'sum of loss,' indeed, he had not 'reckoned yet,' but he was +beginning to add the figures up. Full measurement lay in the long, long +awful years ahead. He had this strange comfort, however--that he now +loved something he could never lose because it could not change. +He loved an ideal. In that sense, he and Lettice were in the 'sea' +together. His belief and trust in her were not lost, but heightened. +And a hint of mothering contentment stole sweetly over him behind this +shadowy yet genuine consolation. + +The childhood nightmare was both presentiment and memory. The crest of +the falling Wave was reflected in its base. + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +Tom took his passage home; he also told Sir William that his resignation, +whether the Board accepted it or not, was final. His reputation, so far +as the Firm was concerned, he knew was lost. His own self-respect had +dwindled dangerously too. He had the feeling that he wanted to begin all +over again from the very bottom. It seemed the only way. The prospect, +at his age, was daunting. He faced it. + +At the very moment in life when he had fancied himself most secure, most +satisfied mentally, spiritually, materially--the entire structure on which +self-confidence rested had given way. Even the means of material support +had vanished too. The crash was absolute. This brief Egyptian winter +had, indeed, proved the winter of his loss. The Wave had fallen at last. + +During the interval at Assouan--ten days that seemed a month!--he heard +occasionally from Lettice. 'To-day I miss you,' one letter opened. +Another said: 'We wonder when you will return. We _all_ miss you very +much: it's not the same here without you, Tom.' And all were signed +'Your ever loving Lettice.' But if hope for some strange reason refused +to die completely, he did not allow himself to be deceived. His task--no +easy one--was to transmute emotion into the higher, self-less, ideal love +that was now--oh, he knew it well enough--his only hope and safety. +In the desolate emptiness of desert that yawned ahead, he saw this single +tree that blossomed, and offered shade. Beauty and comfort both were +there. He believed in her truth and somehow in her faithfulness as well. + + + +Tom sent his heavy luggage to Port Said, and took the train to Luxor. +He had decided to keep his sailing secret. He could mention honestly that +he was going to Cairo. He would write a line from there or, better still, +from the steamer itself. + +And the instinct that led to this decision was sound and wise. The act +was not as boyish as it seemed. For he feared a reaction on her part that +yet could be momentary only. His leaving so suddenly would be a shock, it +might summon the earlier Lettice to the surface, there might be a painful +scene for both of them. She would realise, to some extent at any rate, +the immediate sense of loss; for she would surely divine that he was +going, not to England merely, but out of her life. And she would suffer; +she might even try to keep him--the only result being a revival of pain +already almost conquered, and of distress for her. + +For such reaction, he divined, could not be permanent. The Play was over; +it must not, could not be prolonged. He must go out. There must be no +lingering when the curtain fell. A curtain that halts in its descent upon +the actors endangers the effect of the entire Play. + +He wired to Cairo for a room. He wired to her too: 'Arrive to-morrow, +_en route_ Cairo. Leave same night.' He braced himself. The strain +would be cruelly exacting, but the worst had been lived out already; the +jealousy was dead; the new love was established beyond all reach of +change. These last few hours should be natural, careless, gay, no hint +betraying him, flying no signals of distress. He could just hold out. +The strength was in him. And there was time before he caught the evening +train for a reply to come: 'All delighted; expect you breakfast. +Arranging picnic expedition.--Lettice.' + +And that one word 'all' helped him unexpectedly to greater steadiness. +It eliminated the personal touch even in a telegram. + + + +In the train he slept but little; the heat was suffocating; there was a +Khamsin blowing and the fine sand crept in everywhere. At Luxor, however, +the wind remained so high up that the lower regions of the sky were calm +and still. The sand hung in fog-like clouds shrouding the sun, dimming +the usual brilliance. But the heat was intense, and the occasional stray +puffs of air that touched the creeping Nile or passed along the sweltering +street, seemed to issue from the mouth of some vast furnace in the +heavens. They dropped, then ceased abruptly; there was no relief in them. +The natives sat listlessly in their doorways, the tourists kept their +rooms or idled complainingly in the hotel halls and corridors. +The ominous touch was everywhere. He felt it in his heart as well--the +heart he thought broken beyond repair. + +Tom bathed and changed his clothes, then drove down to the shady garden +beside the river as of old. He felt the gritty sand between his teeth, it +was in his mouth and eyes, it was on his tongue. . . . He met Lettice +without a tremor, astonished at his own coolness and self-control; he +watched her beauty as the beauty of a picture, something that was no +longer his, yet watched it without envy and, in an odd sense, almost +without pain. He loved the fairness of it for itself, for her, and for +another who was not himself. Almost he loved their happiness to come--for +_her_ sake. Her eyes, too, followed him, he fancied, like a picture's +eyes. She looked young and fresh, yet something mysterious in the +following eyes. The usual excited happiness was less obvious, he thought, +than usual, the mercurial gaiety wholly absent. He fancied a cloud upon +her spirit somewhere. He imagined tiny, uncertain signs of questioning +distress. He wondered. . . . This torture of a last uncertainty was also +his. + +Yet, obviously, she was glad to see him; her welcome was genuine; she came +down the drive to meet him, both hands extended. Apparently, too, she was +alone, Mrs. Haughstone still asleep, and Tony not yet arrived. It was +still early morning. + +'Well, and how did you get on without me--all of you?' he asked, adding +the last three words with emphasis. + +'I thought you were never coming back, Tom; I had the feeling you were +bored here at Luxor and meant to leave us.' She looked him up and down +with a curious look--of admiration almost, an admiration he believed he +had now learned to do without. 'How lean and brown and well you look!' +she went on, 'but thin, Tom. You've grown thinner.' She shook her finger +at him. Her voice was perilously soft and kind, a sweet tenderness in her +manner, too. 'You've been over-working and not eating enough. You've not +had me to look after you.' + +He flushed. 'I'm awfully fit,' he said, smiling a little shyly. +'I may be thinner. That's the heat, I suppose. Assouan's a blazing +place--you feel you're in Africa.' He said the banal thing as usual. + +'But was there no one there to look after you?' She gave him a quick +glance. 'No one at all?' + +Tom noticed the repeated question, wondering a little. But there was no +play in him; in place of it was something stern, unyielding as iron, +though not tested yet. + +'The Chairman of my Company, nine hundred noisy tourists, and about a +thousand Arabs at the Works,' he told her. 'There was hardly a soul I +knew besides.' + +She said no more; she gave a scarcely audible sigh; she seemed unsatisfied +somewhere. To his surprise, then, he noticed that the familiar little +table was only laid for two. + +'Where's Tony?' he asked. 'And, by the by, how is he?' + +He thought she hesitated a moment. 'Tony's not coming till later,' she +told him. 'He guessed we should have a lot to talk about together, so he +stayed away. Nice of him, wasn't it?' + +Behind the commonplace sentences, the hidden wordless Play also drew on +towards its Curtain. + +'Well, it is my turn rather for a chat, perhaps,' he returned presently +with a laugh, taking his cup of steaming coffee from her hand. 'I can see +him later in the day. You've arranged something, I'm sure. Your wire +spoke of a picnic, but perhaps this heat--this beastly Khamsin----' + +'It's passing,' she mentioned. 'They say it blows for three days, for six +days, or for nine, but as a matter of fact, it does nothing of the sort. +It's going to clear. I thought we might take our tea into the Desert.' + +She went on talking rapidly, almost nervously, it seemed to Tom. Her mind +was upon something else. Thoughts of another kind lay unexpressed behind +her speech. His own mind was busy too--Tony, Warsaw, the long long +interval he had been away, what had happened during his absence, and so +forth? Had no cable come? What would she feel this time to-morrow when +she knew?--these and a hundred others seethed below his quiet manner and +careless talk. He noticed then that she was exquisitely dressed; she +wore, in fact, the very things he most admired--and wore them purposely: +the orange-coloured jacket, the violet veil, the hat with the little roses +on the brim. It was his turn to look her up and down. + +She caught his eye. Uncannily, she caught his thought as well. +Tom steeled himself. + +'I put these on especially for you, you truant boy,' she said deliciously +across the table at him. 'I hope you're sensible of the honour done you.' + +'Rather, Lettice! I should think I am, indeed!' + +'I got up half an hour earlier on purpose too. Think what that means to a +woman like me.' She handed him a grape-fruit she had opened and prepared +herself. + +'My favourite hat, and my favourite fruit! I wish I were worthy of them!' +He stammered slightly as he said the stupid thing: the blood rushed up to +his very forehead, but she gave no sign of noticing either words or blush. +The strong sunburn hid the latter doubtless. There was a desperate +shyness in him that he could not manage quite. He wished to heaven the +talk would shift into another key. He could not keep this up for long; +it was too dangerous. Her attitude, it seemed, had gone back to that of +weeks ago; there was more than the mother in it, he felt: it was almost +the earlier Lettice--and yet not quite. Something was added, but +something too was missing. He wondered more and more . . . he asked +himself odd questions. . . . It seemed to him suddenly that her mood was +assumed, not wholly natural. The flash came to him that disappointment +lay behind it, yet that the disappointment was not with--himself. + +'You're wearing a new tie, Tom,' her voice broke in upon his moment's +reverie. 'That's not the one _I_ gave you.' + +It was so unexpected, so absurd. It startled him. He laughed with +genuine amusement, explaining that he had bought it in Assouan in a moment +of extravagance--'the nearest shade I could find to the blue you gave me. +How observant you are!' Lettice laughed with him. 'I always notice +little things like that,' she said. 'It's what you call the mother in me, +I suppose.' She examined the tie across the table, while they smoked +their cigarettes. He looked aside. 'I hope it was admired. It suits +you.' She fingered it. Her hand touched his chin. + +'Does it? It's your taste, you know.' + +'But _was_ it admired?' she insisted almost sharply. + +'That's really more than I can say, Lettice. You see, I didn't ask Sir +William what he thought, and the natives are poor judges because they +don't wear ties.' He was about to say more, talking the first nonsense +that came into his head, when she did a thing that took his breath away, +and made him tremble where he sat. Regardless of lurking Arab servants, +careless of Mrs. Haughstone's windows not far behind them, she rose +suddenly, tripped round the little table, kissed him on his cheek--and was +back again in her chair, smoking innocently as before. It was a +repetition of an earlier act, yet with a difference somewhere. + +The world seemed unreal just then; things like this did not happen in real +life, at least not quite like this; nor did two persons in their +respective positions talk exactly thus, using such banal language, such +insignificant phrases half of banter, half of surface foolishness. +The kiss amazed him--for a moment. Tom felt in a dream. And yet this +very sense of dream, this idle exchange of trivial conversation cloaked +something that was a cruel, an indubitable reality. It was not a dream +shot through with reality, it was a reality shot through with dream. +But the dream itself, though old as the desert, dim as those grim Theban +Hills now draped with flying sand, was also true and actual. + +The hidden Play had broken through, merging for an instant with the upper +surface-life. He was almost persuaded that this last, strange action had +not happened, that Lettice had never really left her chair. So still and +silent she sat there now. She had not stirred from her place. It was the +burning wind that touched his cheek, a waft of heated atmosphere, lightly +moving, that left the disquieting trail of perfume in the air. +The glowing heavens, luminous athwart the clouds of fine, suspended sand, +laid this ominous hint of dream upon the entire day. . . . The recent act +became a mere picture in the mind. + +Yet some little cell of innermost memory, stirring out of sleep, had +surely given up its dead. . . . For a second it seemed to him this heavy, +darkened air was in the recesses of the earth, beneath the burden of +massive cliffs the centuries had piled. It was underground. In some +cavern of those mournful Theban Hills, some one--had kissed him! For over +his head shone painted stars against a painted blue, and in his nostrils +hung a faint sweetness as of ambra. . . . + +He recovered his balance quickly. They resumed their curious masquerade, +the screen of idle talk between significance and emptiness, like sounds of +reality between dream and waking. + +And the rest of that long day of stifling heat was similarly a dream shot +through with incongruous touches of reality, yet also a reality shot +through with the glamour of some incredibly ancient dream. Not till he +stood later upon the steamer deck, the sea-wind in his face and the salt +spray on his lips, did he awake fully and distinguish the dream from the +reality--or the reality from the dream. Nor even then was the deep, +strange confusion wholly dissipated. To the end of life, indeed, it +remained an unsolved mystery, labelled a Premonition Fulfilled, without +adequate explanation. . . . + + + +The time passed listlessly enough, to the accompaniment of similar idle +talk, careless, it seemed to Tom, with the ghastly sense of the final +minutes slipping remorselessly away, so swiftly, so poignantly unused. +For each moment was gigantic, brimmed full with the distilled essence, as +it were, of intensest value, value that yet was not his to seize. +He never lost the point of view that he watched a picture that belonged to +some one else. His own position was clear; he had already leaped from a +height; he counted, as he fell, the blades of grass, the pebbles far +below; slipping over Niagara's awful edge, he noted the bubbles in the +whirlpools underneath. They talked of the weather. . . .! + +'It's clearing,' said Lettice. 'There'll be sand in our tea and thin +bread and butter. But anything's better than sitting and stifling here.' + +Tom readily agreed. 'You and I and Tony, then?' + +'I thought so. We don't want too many, do we?' + +'Not for our la--not for a day like this.' He corrected himself just in +time. 'Tony will be here for lunch?' he asked. + +She nodded. 'He said so, at any rate, only one never quite knows with +Tony.' And though Tom plainly heard, he made no comment. He was puzzled. + +Most of the morning they remained alone together. Tom had never felt so +close to her before; it seemed to him their spirits touched; there was no +barrier now. But there was distance. He could not explain the paradox. +A vague sweet feeling was in him that the distance was not of height, as +formerly. He had risen somehow; he felt higher than before; he saw over +the barrier that had been there. Pain and sacrifice, perhaps, had lifted +him, raised him to the level where she dwelt; and in that way he was +closer. A new strength was in him. At the same time, behind her outer +quietness and her calm, he divined struggle still. In her atmosphere was +a hint of strain, disharmony. He was positive of this. From time to time +he caught trouble in her eyes. Could she, perhaps, discern--foreknow--the +shadow of the dropping Curtain? He wondered. . . . He detected something +in her that was new. + +If any weakening of resolve were in himself, it disappeared long before +Tony's arrival on the scene. A few private words from Mrs. Haughstone +later banished it effectually. 'Your telegram, Mr. Kelverdon, came as a +great surprise. We had planned a three-day trip to the Sphinx and +Pyramids. Mr. Winslowe had written to you; he hoped to persuade you to +join us. Again you left Assouan before the letter arrived. It's a habit +with you!' + +'Apparently.' + +The poison no longer fevered him; he was immune. + +'Mr. Winslowe--I had better warn you before he comes--was disappointed.' + +'I'm sorry I spoilt the trip. It was most inconsiderate of me. But you +can make it later when I'm gone--to Cairo, can't you?' + +Mrs. Haughstone watched him somewhat keenly. Did she discover anything, +he wondered? Was she aware that he was no longer within reach of her +little shafts? + +'It's all for the best, I think,' she went on in a casual tone. +'Lettice was too easily persuaded--she didn't really want to go without +you. She said so. And Mr. Winslowe soon gets over his sulks----' + +Tom interrupted her, turning sharply round. 'Oh,' he laughed, 'was that +why he wouldn't come to breakfast, then?' And whether it was pain or +pleasure that he felt, he did not know. The moment's anguish--he verily +believed it--was for Lettice. And for Tony? Something akin to sympathy +perhaps! If Tony should ever suffer pain like his--even +temporarily. . . .! + +The other shrugged her angular shoulders a little. 'It's all passed now,' +she observed; 'he's forgotten it, I'm sure. You needn't notice anything, +by the way,' she added, 'if--if he seems ungracious.' + +'Not for worlds,' replied Tom, throwing stones into the sullen river +below. 'I'm far too tactful.' + +Mrs. Haughstone looked away. There was a moment's expression of +admiration on her face. 'You're big, Mr. Kelverdon, very big. I wish all +men were as generous.' She spoke hurriedly below her breath. 'I saw this +coming before you arrived. I wish I could have saved you. You've got the +hero in you.' + +Tom changed the subject, and presently moved away: it was time for lunch +for one thing, and for another he wanted to hide his face from her too +peering eyes. He was not quite sure of himself just then; his lips +trembled a little; he could not altogether control his facial muscles. +Tony jealous! Lettice piqued! Was this the explanation of her new +sweetness towards himself! The position tried him sorely, testing his new +strength from such amazing and unexpected angles. It was all beyond him +somehow, the reversal of roles so afflicting, tears and laughter so oddly +mingled. Yet the sheet-anchor--his self-less love--held fast and true. +There was no dragging, no shuffling where he stood. + +Nor was there any weakening of resolution in him, any dimming of the new +dawn within his heart. He felt sure of something that he did not +understand, aware of a radiant promise some one whispered marvellously in +his ear. He was alone, yet not alone, outcast yet companioned sweetly, +bereft of all the world holds valuable, yet possessor of riches that the +world passed by. He felt a conqueror. The pain was somehow turning into +joy. He seemed above the earth. Only one thing mattered--that his ideal +love should have no stain upon it. + +The lunch he dreaded passed smoothly and without alarm. Tony was gay, +light-hearted as usual, belying Mrs. Haughstone's ominous prediction. +They smoked together afterwards, walking up and down the garden +arm-in-arm, Tony eagerly discussing expeditions, picnics, birds, anything +and everything that offered, with keen interest as of old; he even once +suggested coming back to Assouan with his cousin--alone . . . Tom made no +comment on the adverb. Nor was his sympathy mere acting; he genuinely +felt it; the affection for Tony somehow was not dead. . . . The joy in +him grew, meanwhile, brighter, clearer, higher. It was alive. Some +courage of the sun was in him. There seemed a great understanding with +it, and a greater forgiveness. + +Of one thing only did he feel uncertain. He caught himself sharply +wondering more than once. For he had the impression--the conviction +almost--that something had happened during his absence at Assouan--that +there was a change in _her_ attitude to Tony. It was a subtle change; it +was beginning merely; but it was there. Her behaviour at breakfast was +not due to pique, not solely due to pique, at any rate. It had a deeper +origin. Almost he detected signs of friction between herself and Tony. +Very slight they were indeed, if not imagined altogether. His perception +was still exceptionally alert, its acuteness left over, apparently, from +the earlier days of pain and jealousy. Yet the result upon him was +confusing chiefly. + +In very trivial ways the change betrayed itself. The talk between the +three of them remained incongruously upon the surface always. The play +and chatter went on independently of the Play beneath, almost ignoring it. +In that Wordless Play, however, the change was registered. + +'Tom, you've got the straightest back of any man I ever saw,' Lettice +exclaimed once, eyeing them critically with an amused smile as they came +back towards her chair. 'I've just been watching you both.' + +They laughed, while Tony turned it wittily into fun. 'It's always safer +to look a person in the face,' he observed. If he felt the comparison was +made to his disadvantage he did not show it. Tom, wondering what she +meant and why she said it, felt that the remark annoyed him. For there +was disparagement of Tony in it. + +'I can read your soul from your back alone,' she added. + +'And mine!' cried Tony, laughing: 'what about my back too? Or have I got +no soul misplaced between my shoulder-blades?' + +Tom laid his hand between those slightly-rounded shoulders then--and +rather suddenly. + +'It's bent from too much creeping after birds,' he exclaimed. 'In your +next life you'll be on all fours if you're not careful.' + +The Arab appeared to say the donkeys and sand-cart were waiting in the +road, and Tony went indoors to get cameras and other paraphernalia +essential to a Desert picnic. Lettice continued talking idly to Tom, who +stood beside her, smoking. . . . The feeling of dream and reality were +very strong in him at the moment. He hardly realised what the nonsense +was he had said to his cousin. There was a slight sense of discomfort in +him. The little, playful conversation just over had meaning in it. +He missed that meaning. Somehow the comparison in his favour was +disagreeable--he preferred to hear his cousin praised, but certainly not +belittled. Perhaps vanity was wounded there--that his successful rival +woke contempt in her was unendurable. . . . And he thought of his train +for the first time with a vague relief. + +'Birds,' she was saying, half to herself, the eyes beneath the big sun-hat +looking beyond him, 'that reminds me, Tom--a dream I had. A little bird +left its nest and hopped about to try all the other branches, because it +thought it ought to explore them--had to, in a way. And it got into all +sorts of danger, and ran fearful risks, and couldn't fly or use its wings +properly,--till finally----' + +She stopped, and her eyes turned full upon his own. The love in his face +was plain to read, though he was not conscious of it. He waited in +silence: + +'Till finally it crept back up into its own nest again,' she went on, +'and found its wings lying there all the time. It had forgotten them! +And it got in, felt warm and safe and cosy--and fell asleep.' + +'Whereupon you woke and found it was all a dream,' said Tom. His tone, +though matter-of-fact, was lower than usual, but it was firm. No sign of +emotion now was visible in his face. The eyes were steady, the lips +betrayed no hint. Her little dream, the way of telling it rather, +perplexed him. + +'Yes,' she said, 'but I found somehow that the bird was me.' She sighed a +little. + +It flashed upon him suddenly that she was exhausted, wearied out; that her +heart was beating with some interior stress and struggle. She seemed on +the point of giving up, some long long battle in her ended. There was +something she wished to say to him--he got this impression too--something +she could not bring herself to say, unless he helped her, unless he asked +for it. The duality was ending, perhaps fused into unity again? . . . +The intense and burning desire to help her rose upon him, the desire to +protect. And the word 'Warsaw' fled across his mind . . . as though it +fell through the heated air into his mind . . . from hers. + +'Tony declares,' she was saying, 'that our memories are packed away under +pressure like steam in a boiler, and the dream is their safety-valve . . . +I wonder. . . . He read it somewhere. It's not his own, of course. +But Tony never explains--because he doesn't really know. He's flashy--not +the depth we thought--the truth . . . _Tom!_' + +She called his name with emphasis, as if annoyed that he showed so little +interest. There was an instant's cloud upon her face; the eyes wavered, +then looked away; he felt again there was disappointment somewhere in her +--with himself or with Tony, he did not know. . . . He kept silent. +He could think of nothing by way of answer--nothing appropriate, nothing +safe. + +She waited, keeping silent too. The Curtain was lowering, its shadow +growing on the air. + +'I dream so little,' he stammered at length, 'I can't say.' It enraged +him that he faltered. He turned away. . . . Tony at that moment arrived. +The cart and animals were ready, everything was collected. He announced +it loudly, urging them with a certain impatience, as though they caused +the delay. He stared keenly at them a moment. . . . They started. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +How trivial, yet how significant of the tension of interior forces--the +careless words, the foolish little dream, the playful allusion to one +man's stoop and to another's upright carriage, how easy to read, how +obvious! Yet Tom, too intensely preoccupied, perhaps, with keeping his +own balance, was unaware of revelation. His mind perceived the delicate +change, yet attached a wrong direction to it. Perplexity and discomfort +in him deepened. He was relieved when Tony interrupted; he felt glad. +The shifting of values was disturbing to him. It was as though the +falling Curtain halted. . . . + +The hours left to him were few; they both rushed and lingered. +The afternoon seemed gone so quickly, while yet the moments dragged, each +separate instant too intense with feeling to yield up its being willingly. +The minutes lingered; it was the hours that rushed. + +Subconsciously, it seemed, Tom counted them in his heart. . . . +Subconsciously, too, he stated the position, as though to do so steadied +him: Three persons, three friends, were off upon a picnic. At a certain +moment they would turn back; at a certain moment two of them would say +good-bye; at a certain moment a final train would start--his eyes would no +longer see _her_. . . . It seemed impossible, unreal; it could not +happen. . . . He could so easily prevent it. No question had been asked +about his going to Cairo; it was taken for granted that he went on +business and would return. He could cancel his steamer-berth, no +explanation necessary, nor any asked. + +But having weighed the sacrifice against the joy, he was not wanting. + +They mounted their lusty donkeys; Lettice climbed into her sand-cart; the +boys came clattering after them down the street of Thebes with the +tea-things and the bundles of clover for the animals. Across the belt of +brilliant emerald green, past clover-fields and groves of palms, they +followed the ancient track towards the desert. They were on the eastern +bank, the Theban Hills far behind them on the horizon. Towards the Red +Sea they headed, though Tom had no notion of their direction, aware only +that while they went further and further from those hills, the hills +themselves somehow came ever nearer. The gaunt outline followed them; +each time he looked back the shadow cast was closer than before, almost +upon their heels. But for the assurance of his senses he could have +believed they headed towards these yellow cliffs instead of the reverse. +He could not shake off the singular impression that their weight was on +his back; he felt the oppression of those ancient tombs, those crowded +corridors, that hidden subterranean world. No mummy, he remembered, but +believed it would one day unwind again when the soul, cleansed and +justified, came back to claim it. Regeneration was inevitable. +A glorious faith secure in ultimate joy! + +They hurried vainly; the distance between them, instead of increasing, +lessened. The hills would not let them go. + +The burning atmosphere, the motionless air caused doubtless the optical +illusion. The glare was blinding. Tom did not draw attention to it. +He tugged his obstinate donkey into line with the slower sand-cart, riding +for several minutes in silence, close beside Lettice, aware of her +perfume, her flying veil almost across his eyes from time to time. +Tony was some way ahead. + +'Tom,' he heard suddenly, 'must you really go to Cairo to-night?' + +'I'm afraid so. It's important.' But after a pause he added 'Why?' +He said it because his sentence sounded otherwise suspiciously incomplete. +Above all, he must seem natural. 'Why do you ask?' + +The answer made him regret that extra word: + +'There's something I want to tell you.' + +'_Very_ important?' He asked it laughingly, busy with the reins +apparently. + +'Far more important than your going to Cairo. I want your advice and +help.' + +'I must,' he said slowly. 'Won't it keep?' He tugged violently at the +reins, though the donkey was behaving admirably. + +'How long will you stay?' she asked. + +'One night only, Lettice. Not longer.' + +They were on soft and yellow sand by now; the desert shone with a luminous +glow; Tom could not hear the sound of his donkey's hoofs, nor the +crunching of the sand-cart. He heard nothing but a voice singing beside +him in the burning air. But the air had grown radiant. He realised that +he was beating the donkey without the slightest reason. + +'When you come back, then--I'll tell you when you come back,' he heard. + +And a sudden inspiration came to his assistance. 'Couldn't you write it?' +he asked calmly. 'The Semiramis Hotel will find me--in case anything +happened. I should have time to think it over--I like that best--if it's +really so important. My mind, you know, works slowly.' + +Her reply had a curious effect upon him. She needed help--his help. +'Perhaps, Tom. But one can depend so upon your judgment.' + +He knew that she was watching his face. With an effort he turned to meet +her gaze. He saw her against the background of the hills, whose following +mass towered menacingly above her little outline. And as he looked he was +suddenly transfixed, he dropped his reins, he stared without a word. +Two pairs of eyes, two smiles, two human physiognomies once again met his +arrested gaze. He knew them, of course, well enough by now, but never +before had he caught the two expressions so vividly revealed, so +distinctly marked; clear as a composite picture, one face painted in upon +another that lay beneath it. There was the darker face--and there was +Lettice; and each struggled for complete possession of her features. +There was conflict, sharp and dreadful; one second, the gleam of cruelty +flashed out, a yellow of amber in it, as though gold shone reflected +faintly--the next, an anguish of tenderness, as though love brimmed her +eyes with the moisture of divine compassion. The conflict was desperate, +amazing, painful beyond words. Then the darker aspect slowly waned, +withdrawing backwards, melting away into the shadows of the hills behind-- +as though it first had issued thence--as though almost it belonged there. +Alive and true, yet vanquished, it faded out. . . . He saw at last the +dear, innocent eyes of--Lettice only. It was this Lettice who had spoken. + +His donkey stumbled--it was natural enough, seeing that the reins hung +loose and his feet had somehow left the stirrups. Tom pitched forward +heavily, saving himself and his animal from an ignominious accident just +in the nick of time. There were cries and laughter. The sand-cart +swerved aside at the same moment, and Tony, from a distance, came +galloping back towards them. + +Tom recovered his balance and told his donkey in honest English what he +thought of it. 'But it was your fault, you careless boy,' cried Lettice; +'you let go the reins and whacked it at the same time. Your eyes were +popping out of your head. I thought you'd seen a ghost.' + +Tom glanced at her. 'I was nearly off,' he said. 'Another second and it +would have been a case of "Low let me lie where the dead dog----"' + +She interrupted him with surprising vehemence: + +'Don't, don't, Tom. I hate it! I hate the words and the tune and +everything. I won't hear it . . .!' + +Tony came clattering up and the incident was over, ended as abruptly as +begun. But, as Tom well realised, another hitch had occurred in the +lowering of the Curtain. The actors, for a moment, had stood there in +their normal fashion, betrayed, caught in the act, a little foolish even. +It was the hand of a woman this time that delayed it. + +'Did you hurt yourself anywhere, Tom?' Her question rang in his head like +music for the next mile or two. He kept beside the sand-cart until they +reached their destination. It was absurd--yet he could not ride in front +with Tony lest some one driving behind them should notice--yes, that was +the half-comical truth--notice that Tony was round-shouldered--oh, very, +very slightly so--whereas his own back was straight! It was ridiculously +foolish, yet pathetic. At the same time, it was poignantly +dramatic. . . . + +And their destination was a deep bay of yellow sand, soft and tawny, +ribbed with a series of lesser troughs the wind had scooped out to look +like a shore some withdrawing ocean had left exposed below the westering +sun. A solitary palm tree stood behind upon a dune. + +The afternoon, the beating hotness of the air, the clouds of high, +suspended sand, the stupendous sunset--as if the world caught fire and +burned along the whole horizon--it was all unforgettable. The yellow sand +about them blazed and shone, scorching their bare hands; the Desert was +empty, silent, lonely. Only the western heavens, where the sun sank in a +red mass of ominous splendour, was alive with energy. Coloured shafts +mapped the vault from horizon to zenith like the spokes of a prodigious +wheel of fire. Any minute the air and the sand it pressed upon might +burst into a sea of flame. The furnace where the Khamsin brewed in +distant Nubia sent its warnings in advance; it was slowly travelling +northward. And hence, possibly, arose the disquieting sensation that +something was gathering, something that might take them unawares. +The sand lay listening, waiting, watching. There was whispering among the +very grains. . . . + +It was half way through tea when the first stray puffs of wind came +dropping abruptly, sighing away in tiny eddies of dust beyond the circle. +Three human atoms upon the huge yellow carpet, that ere long would shake +itself across five hundred miles and rise, whirling, driving, suffocating +all life within its folds--three human beings noted the puffs of heated +air and reacted variously to the little change. Each felt, it seemed, a +slight uneasiness, as though of trouble coming that was yet not entirely +atmospherical. Nerves tingled. They looked into each other's faces. +They looked back. + +'We mustn't stay too late,' said Tony, filling a basket for the +donkey-boys in their dune two hundred yards away. 'We've a long way to +go.' He examined the portentous sky. 'It won't come till night,' he +added, 'still--they're a bit awkward, these sandstorms, and one never +knows.' + +'And I've got a train to catch,' Tom mentioned, 'absurd as it sounds in a +place like this.' He was scraping his lips with a handkerchief. +'I've eaten enough bread-and-sand to last me till dinner, anyhow.' +He helped his cousin with the Arabs' food. 'They probably don't mind it, +they're used to it.' He straightened up from his stooping posture. +Lettice, he saw, was lying with a cigarette against the bank of sloping +sand that curved above them. She was intently watching them. She had not +spoken for some time; she looked almost drowsy; the eyelids were half +closed; the cigarette smoke rose in a steady little thread that did not +waver. . . . There was perhaps ten yards between them, but he caught the +direction of her gaze, and throwing his own eyes into the same line of +sight, he saw what she saw. Instinctively, he took a quick step forward-- +hiding Tony from her immediate view. + +It was certainly curious, this desire to screen his cousin, to prevent his +appearing at a disadvantage. He was impelled, at all costs and in the +smallest details, to help the man she admired, to increase his value, to +minimise his disabilities, however trivial. It pained him to see Tony +even at a physical disadvantage; Tony must show always at his very best; +and at this moment, bending over the baskets, the attitude of the +shoulders was disagreeably emphasised. + +Tom did not laugh, he did not even smile. Gravely, as though it were of +importance, he moved forward so that Lettice should not see the detail of +the rounded shoulders which, he knew, compared unfavourably with his own +straighter carriage. Yet almost the next minute, when he looked back +again, he saw that the cigarette had fallen from her fingers, the eyes +were closed, her body had slipped into a more recumbent angle, she seemed +actually asleep. + +'Give a shout, Tom, and the boys will come to fetch it,' said Tony, when +at length the basket was ready. He put his hands to his own mouth to +coo-ee across the dunes. Tom stopped him at once. 'Hush! Lettice has +dropped off,' he explained, 'you'll wake her. It's the heat. I'll carry +the things over to them.' He noticed Tony's hands as he held them to his +lips. And again he felt a touch of sympathy, almost pity. Had _she_, so +observant, so discerning in her fastidious taste--had she failed to notice +the small detail too? + +'No, let me take it,' Tony was saying, seizing the hamper from his cousin. +Tom suggested carrying it between them. They tried it, laughing and +struggling together with the awkward burden, but keeping their voices low. +They lost the direction too; for all the sand-dunes were alike, and the +boys were hidden in a hollow. It ended in Tony going off in triumph with +the basket under one arm, guided at length by the faint neighing of a +donkey in the distance. + +Some little time had passed, perhaps five minutes, perhaps longer, when +Tom went back to the tea-place across the soft sand, stepping cautiously +so as not to disturb the sleeper. And another five minutes, perhaps +another ten, had slipped by before Tony's head reappeared above a +neighbouring dune. A boy had come to meet him, shortening his journey. + +But Fate calculated to a nicety, wasting no seconds one way or the other. +There had been time--just time before Tony's return--for Tom to have +stretched himself at her feet, to have lit a cigarette, and to have smoked +sufficient of it for the first ash to fall. He was very careful to make +no sound, even lighting the match softly inside his hat. But his hand was +trembling. For Lettice slept, and in her sleep made little sounds of +pain. + +He watched her. There was a tiny frown between the eyebrows, the lips +twitched from time to time, she moved uneasily upon the bank of sliding +sand; and, as she made these little broken sounds of pain, from beneath +the closed eyelids two small tears crept out upon her cheeks. + +Tom stared, making no sound or movement. The tears rolled down and fell +into the sand. The suffering in the face made his heart beat irregularly. +Something transfixed him. She wore the expression he had seen in the +London theatre. For a moment he felt terror--a terror of something +coming, something going to happen. He stared, trembling, holding his +breath. She was dreaming, as a person even in a three-minute sleep can +dream--deeply, vividly. He waited. He had the amazing sensation that he +knew what she was dreaming--that he took part in it with her almost. . . . +Unable, finally, to restrain himself another instant, he moved--and the +noise wakened her. She sighed. The eyes opened of their own accord. +She stared at him in a dazed way for a moment. Then she looked over his +shoulder across the desert. + +'You've been asleep, Lettice,' he whispered, 'and actually dreaming--all +in five minutes.' + +She rubbed her eyes slowly, as though sand was in them. She stared into +his face a moment before she spoke. + +'Yes, I dreamed,' she answered with a little frightened sigh. 'I dreamed +of you----There was a tent--the flap lifted suddenly--oh, it was so vivid! +Then there was a crowd and awful drums were beating--and my river with the +floating faces was there and I plunged in to save one--it was yours, +_Tom_, yours----' + +She paused for a fraction of a second, while his heart went thumping +against his ribs. He did not speak. He waited. + +'Then somehow you were taken from me,' she went on; 'you left me, Tom.' +Her voice sank. 'And it broke my heart in two.' + +'Lettice . . .!' + +He made a sudden movement in the sand--at which moment, precisely, Tony's +head appeared above the neighbouring dune, the rest of his body following +it immediately. + +And it seemed to Tom that his cousin came upon them out of the heart of a +dream, out of the earth, out of a sandy tomb. His very existence, for +those minutes, had been utterly forgotten, obliterated. He rose from the +dead and came towards them over the hot, yellow desert. The distant +hills--the Theban Hills above the Valley of the Kings--disgorged him. +And, as once before, he looked dreadful, threatening, his great hands held +out in front of him. He came gliding down the yielding slope. He caught +them! + +In that second--it was but the fraction of a second actually--the +impression upon Tom's mind was acute and terrible. Speech and movement +were not in him anywhere; he could only sit and stare, both terrified and +fascinated. Between himself and Lettice stretched an interval of six feet +certainly, and into this very gap, the figure of his cousin, followed and +preceded by heaps of moving sand, descended now. It was towards Lettice +that Tony came so swiftly gliding. + +It _was_ his cousin surely . . .? + +He saw the big hands outspread, he saw the slightly stooping shoulders, he +saw the face and eyes, the light blue eyes. But also he saw strange, +unaccustomed raiment, he saw a sheet of gold, he smelt the soft breath of +ambra. . . . And the face was dark and menacing. There were words, too, +careless, playful words, uttered undoubtedly by Tony's familiar voice: +'Caught you both asleep! Well, I declare! You _are_ a couple . . .!' +followed by something else about its being 'time to pack up and go because +the sand was coming. . . .' Tom heard the words distinctly, but far away, +tiny with curious distance; they were half smothered, half submerged, it +seemed, behind an acute inner hearing that caught another set of words he +could not understand--in a language he both remembered and forgot. +And the deep sense of dread passed swiftly then into a blinding jealous +rage; he saw red; a fury of wrath that could kill and stab and strangle +rushed over him in a flood of passionate emotion. He lost control. He +rushed headlong. + +Seconds dragged out incredibly into minutes, as though time halted. . . . +An intense, murderous hatred blazed in his heart. + +From where he sat, both figures were above him, sheltered halfway up the +long sliding slope. At the base of the yellow dune he crouched; he looked +up at them. His eyes perhaps were blinded by the red tempest in his +heart; or perhaps the tiny particles of flying sand drove against his +eyeballs. He saw, at any rate, the figures close together, as if the man +came gliding straight into her arms. He rose-- + +At the same moment a draught of sudden, violent wind broke with a pouring +rush across the desert, and the entire crest of the undulating dune behind +them rose to meet it in a single whirling eddy. As a gust of sea-wind +tosses the spray into the air, this burst of scorching desert-wind drew +the ridge up after it, then flung it in a blinding swirl against his face +and skin. + +The dune rose in a Wave of glittering yellow sand, drowning them from head +to foot. He saw the glint and shimmer of the myriad particles in the +sunset; he saw them drifting by the thousand, by the million through the +whirling mass of it; he saw the two figures side by side above him, caught +beneath the toppling crest of this bending billow that curved and broke +against the fiery sky; he smelt the faint perfume of the desert underneath +the hollow arch; he heard the thin, metallic grating of the countless +grains in friction; he heard the palm leaves rattling; he saw two pairs of +eyes . . . his feet went shuffling. It was The Wave--of sand. . . . + +And the nightmare clutch laid hold upon his heart with giant pincers. +The fiery red of insensate anger burst into flames, filled his throat to +choking, set his paralysed muscles free with uncontrollable energy. +This savage lust of murder caught him. The shuffling went faster, +faster. . . . He turned and faced the eyes. He would kill--rather than +see her touched by those great hands. It seemed he made the leap of a +wild animal upon its prey. . . . + +Fire flashed . . . then passed, before he knew it, from red to shining +amber, from sullen crimson into purest gold, from gold to the sheen of +dazzling whiteness. The change was instantaneous. His leap was arrested +in mid-air. The red wrath passed amazingly, forgotten or transmuted. +With a miraculous swiftness he was aware of understanding, of sympathy, of +forgiveness. . . . The red light melted into white--the white of glory. +The murder faded from his heart, replaced by a deep, deep glow of peace, +of love, of infinite trust, of complete comprehension. . . . He accepted +something marvellously. . . He forgot--himself. . . . + +The eyes faded, the gold, the raiment, the perfume vanished, the sound +died away. He no longer shuffled upon yielding sand. There was solid +ground beneath his feet. . . . He was standing alert and upright, his +arms outstretched to save--Tony from collapse upon the sliding dune. +And the sandy wind drove blindingly against his face and skin. + +The three of them stood side by side, holding to each other, laughing, +choking, spluttering, heads bent and eyes closed tightly. Tom found his +cousin's hand in his own, clutching it firmly to keep his balance, while +behind himself--against his 'straight back,' he realised, even while he +choked and laughed--Lettice clung for shelter. Tom, therefore, actually +_had_ leaped forward--but to protect and not to kill. He protected both +of them. This time, however, it was to himself that Lettice clung, +instead of to another. + +The violent gust passed on its way, the flying cloud of sand subsided, +settling down on everything. For a moment they stood there rubbing their +eyes, shaking their clothing free; then raising their heads cautiously, +they looked about them. The air was still and calm again, but in the +distance, already a mile away and swiftly travelling across the luminous +waste, they saw the miniature whirlwind driving furiously, leaping from +ridge to ridge. It swept over the innumerable dunes, lifting the series, +one crest after another, into upright waves upon a yellow shimmering sea, +then scattering them in a cloud that shone and glinted against the fiery +sunset. Its track was easily marked. They watched it. . . . + +Tony was the first to recover breath. + +'Whew!' he cried, still spluttering, 'but that was sudden! It took me +clean off my feet for a moment. I got your hand, Tom, only just in time +to save myself!' He shook himself, the sand was down his back and in his +hair, his shoes were full of it. 'There'll be another any minute now-- +another whirlwind--we'd better be starting.' He began packing up busily, +shouting as he did so to the donkey-boys. 'By Jove!' he cried the next +second, 'look what's happened to our dune!' + +Tom, who was on his knees, helping Lettice shake her skirts free, rose to +look. The high, curving bank of sand where they had sheltered had indeed +changed its shape; the entire ridge had been flattened by the wind; the +crest had been lifted and carried away, scattered in all directions. +The wave-outline of two minutes before no longer existed, it had broken, +fallen over, melted back into the surrounding sea of desert whence it +rose. . . . + +'It's disappeared!' exclaimed Tom and Lettice in the same breath. + + + +The boys arrived with the animals and sand-cart; the baskets were quickly +arranged, Tony mounted, Tom helped Lettice in. She leaned heavily on his +arm and shoulder. It was in this moment's pause before the actual start +that Lettice turned her head suddenly as though listening. The air, +motionless again, extraordinarily heated, hung in a dull and yet +transparent curtain between them and the sinking sun. The entire heavens +seemed to form a sounding-board, the least vibration resonant beneath its +stretch. + +'Listen!' she exclaimed. She had uttered no word till now. She looked +down at Tom, then looked away again. + +They turned their heads in the direction where she pointed, and Tom caught +a faint, distant sound as of little strokes that fell thudding on the +heavy air. Tony declared he heard nothing. The sound repeated itself +rapidly, but at rhythmic intervals; it was unpleasant somewhere, a hint of +alarm and menace in the throbbing note--ominous as though it warned. +In the pulse of the blood it seemed, like the beating of the heart, Tom +thought. It came to him almost through the pressure of her hand upon his +shoulder, although his ear told him it came from the horizon where the +Theban Hills loomed through the coming dusk, just visible, but shadowy. +The muttering died away, then ceased, but not before he suddenly recalled +an early morning hour beside a mountain lake, when months ago the thud of +invisible paddle-wheels had stolen upon him through the quiet air. . . . + +'A drum,' he heard Lettice murmur. 'It's a native drum in Thebes. +My little dream! How the sound travels too! And how it multiplies!' +She peered at Tom through half-closed eyelids. 'It must be at least a +dozen miles away . . .!' She smiled faintly, then dropped her eyes +quickly. + +'Or a dozen centuries,' he replied, not knowing quite why he said it. +'And more like a thousand drums than only one!' He smiled too. +For another part of him, beyond capture somehow, knew what he meant, knew +also why he smiled--knew also that _she_ knew. + +'It frightens me! It's horrible. It sounds like death!' And though she +whispered the words, more to herself than to the others, Tom heard each +syllable. + +The sound died away into the distance, and then ceased. + +Then Tony, watching them both, but, unable to hear anything himself, +called out again impatiently that it was time to start, that Tom had a +train to catch, that any minute the real, big wind might be upon them. +The hand slowly, half lingeringly, left Tom's shoulder. They started +rapidly with a kind of flourish. In a thin, black line the small +procession crept across the immense darkening desert, like a strip of life +that drifted upon a shoreless ocean. . . . + +The sun sank down below the Libyan sands. But no awful wind descended. +They reached home safely, exhausted and rather silent. The two hours +seemed to Tom to have passed with a dream-like swiftness. The stars were +shining as they clattered down the little Luxor street. In a dream, too, +he went to the hotel to change, and fetch his bag; in a dream he stood +upon the platform, held Tony's hand, held the soft hand of Lettice, said +good-bye . . . and watched the station lights glide past as he left them +standing there together, side by side. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +One incident, however,--trivial, yet pregnant with significant +revelation,--remained vividly outside the dream. The Play behind broke +through, as it were; an actor forgot his role, and involved another actor; +for an instant the masquerade tripped up, and merged with the commonplace +reality of daily life. Explicit disclosure lay in the trifling matter. + +They supplied a touch of comedy, but of rather ghastly comedy, ludicrous +and at the same time painful--those smart, new yellow gloves that Tony put +on when he climbed into the sand-cart and took the reins. His donkey had +gone lame, he abandoned it to the boys behind, he climbed in to drive with +Lettice. Tom, riding beside the cart, witnessed the entire incident; he +laughed as heartily as either of the others; he felt it, however, as _she_ +felt it--a new sudden spiritual proximity to her proved this to him. +Both shrank--from something disagreeable and afflicting. The hands looked +somehow dreadful. + +For the first time Tom realised the physiognomy of hands--that hands, +rather than faces, should be photographed; not merely that they seemed now +so large, so spread, so ugly, but that somehow the glaring canary yellow +subtly emphasised another aspect that was distasteful and unpleasant--an +undesirable aspect in their owner. The cotton was atrocious. So obvious +was it to Tom that he felt pity before he felt disgust. The obnoxious +revelation was so palpable. He was aware that he felt ashamed--for +Lettice. He stared for a moment, unable to move his eyes away. +The next second, lifting his glance, he saw that she, too, had noticed it. +With a flash of keen relief, he was aware that she, like himself, shrank +visibly from the distressing half-sinister revelation that was betrayal. + +The hands, cased in their ridiculous yellow cotton, had physiognomy. +Upon the pair of them, just then, was an expression not to be denied: +of furtiveness, of something sly and unreliable, a quality not to be +depended on through thick and thin, able to grasp for themselves but not +to hold--for others; eager to take, yet incompetent to give. The hands +were selfish, mean and unprotective. It was a remarkable disclosure of +innate duality hitherto concealed. Their physiognomy dropped a mask the +face still wore. The hands looked straight at Lettice; they assumed a +sensual leer; they grinned. + +'One second,' Tony cried, 'the reins hurt my fingers,'--and had drawn from +his pocket the gloves and quickly slipped them on--canary yellow--cotton! + +'Oh, oh!' exclaimed Lettice, 'but how can you! It's ghastly . . . for a +man . . .!' She stared a moment, as though fascinated, then turned her +eyes away, flicking the whip in the air and laughing--a trifle nervously. + +Why the innocent, if vulgar, scraps of clothing should have been so +revealing was hard to say. That they were incongruous and out of place in +the Desert was surely an inconsiderable thing, that they were possibly in +bad taste was of even less account. It was something more than that. +It came in a second of vivid intuition--so, at least, it seemed to Tom, +and therefore perhaps to Lettice too--that he saw his cousin's soul behind +the foolish detail. Tony had put his soul upon his hands--and the hands +were somewhere cheap and worthless. + +So difficult was it to catch the elusive thought in language, that Tom +certainly used none of the adjectives that flashed unbidden across his +mind; he assuredly thought neither of 'coarse,' 'untrustworthy,' nor of +'false' or 'nasty'--yet the last named came probably nearest to expressing +the disquieting sensation that laid its instant pressure upon his nerves, +then went its way again. It was disturbing in a very searching way; he +felt uneasy for _her_ sake. How could he leave her with the owner of +those hands, the wearer of those appalling yellow cotton gloves! +The laughter in him was subtle mockery. For, of course, he laughed at +himself for such an absurd conclusion. . . . Yet, somehow, those gloves +revealed the man, betrayed him mercilessly! The hands were naked--they +were stained. + +It was just then that her exclamation of disapproval interrupted Tom's +curious sensations. It came with welcome. 'Thank Heavens!' a voice cried +inside him. . . . 'She feels it too!' + +'But my sister sent them to me,' Tony defended himself, 'sent them from +London. They're the latest thing at home!' He was laughing at himself. +At the same time he was shifting the responsibility as usual. + +Lettice laughed with him then, though her laughter held another note that +was not merriment. He felt disgust, resentment in her. There was no +pity there. Tony had missed a cue--the entire Play was blocked. +The 'hero' stirred contempt in place of admiration. But more--the +incident confirmed, it seemed, much else that had preceded it. Her eyes +were opened. + +The conflict of pain and joy in Tom was most acute. His entire +sacrifice--for an instant--trembled in a hair-like balance. For the +capital role stood gravely endangered in her eyes. + +'Take them off, Tony! Put them away! Hide them! I couldn't trust you to +drive me with such things on your hands. A man in yellow canary cotton!' + +All three laughed together, and Tom, watching the trivial incident, as he +rode beside them, saw her seize one hand and pull the glove off by the +fingers. It seemed she tore a mask from one side of his face--the face +beneath was disfigured. The glove fell into the bottom of the cart, then +caught the loose rein and was jerked out upon the sand. The next second, +something of covert fury in the gesture, Tony had taken off the other and +tossed it to keep company with the first. Both hands showed naked: the +entire face was bare. Tom looked away. + +'They _are_ hideous rather, I admit,' exclaimed Tony. 'The donkey boys can +pick them up and wear them.' And there was mortification in his tone and +manner; almost--he was found out. + + + +It was the memory of this pregnant little incident that held persistently +before Tom's mind now, as the train bore him the long night through +between the desert and the river that were Egypt. The bigger crowding +pictures, scenes and sentences, thronged panorama of the recent weeks, lay +in hiding underneath; but it was the incident of those yellow gloves that +memory tossed up for ever before his eyes. He clung to it in spite of +himself. Imagination played its impish pranks. What did it portend? +Removing gloves was the first act in undressing, it struck him. Tony had +dressed up for the Play, the Play was over, he must put off, piece by +piece, the glamour he had worn so successfully for his passionate role. +Once off the stage, the enchantment of the limelight, the scenery, the +raiment of gold that left a perfume of ambra in the air--all the assumed +allurements he had borrowed must be discarded. The Tony of the Play +withdrew, the real Tony stood discovered, undressed--by no means +admirable. No longer on the boards, walking like a king, with the regal +fascination of an older day, he would pass along the busy street +unnoticed, unadorned, bereft of the high distinction that imagination, so +strangely stirred, had laid upon him for a little space. . . . The yellow +gloves lay now upon the desert sand; perhaps the whirling tempest tossed +them to and fro, perhaps it buried them; perhaps the Arab boys, proud of +the tinsel they mistook for gold, now wore them in their sleep, lying on +beds of rushes beneath the flat-roofed houses of sun-baked clay. . . . + +This vivid detail kept the heavier memories back at first; somehow the +long review of his brief Egyptian winter blocked each time against a pair +of stooping shoulders and a pair of yellow cotton gloves. + +During the voyage of four days, however, followed then the inevitable +cruel aftermath of doubt, suspicion, jealousy he had fancied long since +overthrown. A hundred incidents and details forced themselves upon him +from the past--glances, gestures, phrases, such little things and yet so +pregnant with delayed or undelivered meaning. The meanings rose +remorselessly to the surface now. + +All belonged to the first days in Egypt before he noticed anything; the +mind worked backwards to their gleaning. They had escaped his attention +at the time, yet the mind had registered them none the less. He did not +seek their recovery, but the series offered itself, compelling him to +examine one and all, demanding that he should pass judgment. He forced +them back, they leaped up again on springs; the resilience was due to +their life, their truth; they were not to be denied. There was no +escape. . . . + +All pointed to the same conclusion: the month spent alone with Tony had +worked the mischief before his own arrival--by the time he came upon the +scene the new relationship was in full swing beyond her power to stop it. +Heavens, he had been blind! Ceaselessly, endlessly, he made the circle of +alternate pain and joy, of hope and despair, of doubt and confidences--yet +the ideal in him safe beyond assault. He believed in her, he trusted, and +he--hoped. + +The most poignant test, however, came when port was reached and the +scented land-wind met his nostrils with the--Spring. He saw the harbour +with its white houses shining in the early April sunshine; the blue sea +recalled a wide-shored lake among the mountains: he saw the sea-gulls, +heard the lapping of the waves against the shipping. . . . + +He took the train to a little town along the coast, meaning to stay there +a day or two before facing London, where the dismantling of the Brown Flat +and the search for work awaited him. And there the full-blooded spring of +this southern climate took him by the throat. The haze, the sweet moist +air, the luscious fields, the woods and flowery roads, above all the +singing birds--this biting contrast with the dry, blazing desert skies of +tawny Egypt was dislocating. The fierce glare of perpetual summer seemed +a nightmare he had left behind; he came back to the sweet companionship of +friendly life in field and tree and flower. + +The first soft shower of rain, the first long twilight, the singing of the +thrushes after dark, the light in the little homestead windows--he felt +such intimate kindness in it all that the tears rose to his eyes. +He longed to share it with her . . . there was no joy in life without +her. . . . Egypt lay behind him with its awful loneliness, its stern, +forbidding emptiness, its nightmare sunsets, its cruel desert, its +appalling vastness in which everything had already happened. Thebes was a +single, enormous tomb; his past lay buried there; from the solemn, +mournful, desolate hills he had escaped. . . . He emerged into a smiling +land of running streams and flowers. His new life was beginning like the +Spring. It gushed everywhere, reminding him of another Spring he had +known among the mountains. . . . The 'sum of loss' he counted minute by +minute, hour by hour, day by day. He began the long, long +reckoning. . . . + +He felt intolerably alone. The hunger and yearning in his heart seemed +more than he could bear. This beauty . . . without her beside him, +without her to share the sweet companionship of the earth . . . was too +much to bear. For one minute with her beside him in the meadows, picking +flowers, listening to the birds, her blue veil flying in the wet mountain +wind--he would have given all his life, his past, his future, everything +that mind and heart held precious. . . . In the middle of which and at +its darkest moment came the certain knowledge with a joy that broke in +light and rapture on his soul--that she _was_ beside him because she was +within him. . . . He approached the impersonal, selfless attitude to +which the attainment of an ideal alone is possible. She had been added to +him. . . . + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +The silence, meanwhile, was like the silence that death brings. +He clung tenaciously to his ideal, yet he thought of her daily, nightly, +hourly. She was really never absent from his thoughts. He starved, yet +perhaps he did not know he starved. . . . The days grew into weeks with a +grinding, dreadful slowness. He had written from the steamer, explaining +briefly that he was called to England. He had written a similar line to +Tony too. No answers came. + +Yet the silence was full of questions. The mystery of her Egyptian +infatuation remained the biggest one of all perhaps. But there were +others, equally insistent. Did he really possess her in a way that made +earthly companionship unnecessary? Had he lasting joy in this ideal +possession? Was it true that an ideal once attained, its prototype +becomes unsatisfying? Did he deceive himself? And had not her strange +experience after all but ripened and completed her nature, provided +something she had lacked before, and blended the Mother and the Woman into +the perfect mate his dream foretold and his heart's deep instinct +prophesied? + +He heard many answers to these questions; his heart made one, his reason +made another. It was the soft and urgent Spring, however, with its +perfumed winds, its singing birds, its happy message breaking with +tumultuous life--it was the Spring on those wooded Mediterranean shores +that whispered the compelling truth. He needed her, he yearned. +An ideal, on this earth, to retain its upward lure, must remain--an ideal. +Attainment in the literal sense destroys it. His arms were hungry and his +heart was desolate. Then one day he knew the happy yet unhappy feeling +that she suffered too. He felt her thoughts about him like soft +birds. . . . + +And he wrote to her: 'I should just like to know that you are well--and +happy.' He addressed it to the Bungalow. The same day, chance had it, he +received word from her, forwarded from the Semiramis Hotel in Cairo. +She wrote two lines only: 'Tom, the thing I had to tell you about was-- +Warsaw. It is over. As you said, it is better written, perhaps, than +told. Yours, L.' + +Egypt came flooding through the open window as he laid the letter down; +the silence, the desert spaces, the perfume and the spell. He saw one +thing clearly in that second, for he saw it in a flash. The secret of her +trouble that last day in Luxor was laid bare--the knowledge that within a +few hours she would be free. To Tom she could not easily tell it; +delicacy, modesty, pride forbade. Her long, painful duty, faithfully +fulfilled these many years, was over. Her world had altered, opened out. +Values, of course, had instantly altered too; she saw what was real and +what ephemeral; she looked at Tony and she looked at--himself. She could +speak to Tony--it was easier, it did not matter--but she could not so +easily speak to Tom. The yellow gloves of cotton! . . . His heart leaped +within him. . . . + +He stared out of the window across the blue Mediterranean with its +dancing, white-capped waves; he saw the white houses by the harbour; he +watched the whirling sea-gulls and tasted the fresh, salt air. +How familiar it all was! Of her whereabouts at that moment he had no +knowledge; she might be on the steamer, gazing at the same dancing waves; +she might be in Warsaw or in London even; she might pass by the windows of +the Brown Flat. . . . + +He turned aside, closing the window. Egypt withdrew, the glamour waned, +the ancient spell seemed lifted. He thought of those Theban Hills without +emotion. Yet something in him trembled; he yearned, he ached, he longed +with all the longing of the Spring. He wavered--oh, deliciously . . .! +He was glad, radiantly glad, that she had written. Only--he dared not, he +could not answer. . . . + +Yet big issues are decided sometimes by paltry and ignoble influences +when sturdier considerations produce no effect. It is the contrast +that furnishes the magic. It was contrast, doubtless, that swayed +Tom's judgment in the very direction he had decided was prohibited. +His surroundings at the moment supplied the contrast, for these +surroundings were petty and ignoble--they drove him by the distress of +sheer disgust into the world of larger values he had known with her. +Probably, he did not discover this consciously for himself: the result, in +any case, was logical and obvious. Values changed suddenly for him, too, +both in his outlook and his judgment. + +For he was spending a few days with his widowed sister, she who had been +playmate to Lettice years ago; and the conditions of her life and mind +distressed him. He had seen her name in a hotel list of Mentone; he +surprised her with a visit; he was received with inexplicable coldness. +His tie with her was slight, her husband, a clergyman, little to his +liking; he had not been near them for several years. The frigid +reception, however, had a deeper cause, he felt; his curiosity was piqued. + +His sister's chart of existence, indeed, was too remote from his own for +true sympathy to be possible, and her married life had not improved her. +They had drifted apart without openly acknowledging it. There was no +quarrel, but there was a certain bitterness between them. She had a +marked _faiblesse_, strange in one securely born, for those nominally in +high places that, while disingenuous enough, jarred painfully always on +her brother. God was unknown to her, although her husband preached most +familiarly concerning Him. She had never seen the deity, but an Earl was +a living reality, and often very useful. This banal weakness, he now +found, had increased in widowhood. Tom hid his extreme distaste--and +learned the astonishing reason for her coldness. It was Mrs. Haughstone. +It took his breath away. He was too amazed to speak. + +How clearly he understood her conduct now in Egypt! For Mrs. Haughstone +had spread stories of the Bungalow, pernicious stories of an incredible +kind, yet with just sufficient basis of apparent truth to render them +plausible--plausible, that is, to any who were glad of an excuse to +believe them against himself. These stories by a round-about way, +gathering in circumstantial detail as they travelled, had reached his +sister. She wished to believe them, and she did. Certain relatives, +moreover, of meagre intelligence but highly placed in the social world, +and consequently of great importance in her life, were remotely affected +by the lurid tales. A report in full is unnecessary, but Mary held that +the family honour was stained. It was an incredible imbroglio. Tom was +so overwhelmed by this revelation of the jealous woman's guile, and the +light it threw upon her role in Egypt, that he did not even trouble to +defend himself. He merely felt sorry that his sister could believe such +tales--and forgave her without a single word. He saw in it all another +scrap of evidence that the Wave had indeed fallen, that his life +everywhere, and from the most unlikely directions, was threatened, that +all the most solid in the structure he had hitherto built up and leaned +upon, was crumbling--and must crumble utterly--in order that it might rise +secure upon fresh foundations. + +He faced it, but faced it silently. He washed his hands of all concerned; +he had learned their values too; he now looked forward instead of behind; +that is, he forgot, and at the same time utterly--forgave. + +But the effect upon him was curious. The stagnant ditch his sister lived +in had the result of flinging him headlong back into the larger stream he +had just left behind him; in that larger world things happened indeed, +things unpleasant, cruel, mysterious, amazing--but yet not little things. +The scale was vaster, horizons wider, beauty and wonder walked hand in +hand with love and death. The contrast shook him; the trivial blow had +this immense effect, that he yearned with redoubled passion for the region +in which bigger ideals with their prototypes, however broken, existed side +by side. + +This yearning, and the change involved, remained subtly concealed, +however. He was not properly conscious of it. Other very practical +considerations, it seemed, influenced him; his money was getting low; he +had luckily sublet the flat, but the question of work was becoming +insistent. There was much to be faced. . . . A month had slipped by, it +was five weeks since he had left Egypt. He decided to go to London. +He telegraphed to the Club for his letters--he expected important ones--to +be sent to Paris, and it was in a small high room on the top floor of a +second-rate hotel across the Seine that he found them waiting for him. +It was here, in this dingy room, that he read the wondrous words. +The letter had lain at his Club three days, it was dated Switzerland and +the postmark was Montreux. It was in pencil, without beginning and +without end; his name, the signature did not appear: + + Your little letter has come--yes, I am well, but happy I am not. + I went to the Semiramis and found that you had sailed, sailed without + even a good-bye. I have come here, here to familiar little Montreux + by the blue lake, where we first knew the Spring together. + I can't say anything, I can't explain anything. You must never ask + me to explain; Egypt changed me--brought out something in me I was + helpless to resist. It was something perhaps I needed. + I struggled--perhaps you can guess how I struggled, perhaps you + can't. I have suffered these past weeks, I believe that I have + expiated something. The power that drove me is exhausted, and that + is all I know. I have worked it out. I have come back. There is + no blame for others--for any one; I can't explain. Your little + letter has come, and so I write. Help me, oh, help me in years to + find my respect again, and try to love the woman you once knew--knew + here in Montreux beside the lake, long ago in our childhood days, + further back still, perhaps, though where I do not know. And, Tom-- + tell me how you are. I must know that. Please write and tell me + that. I can bear it no longer. If anything happened to you I should + just turn over and die. You have been true and very big, oh, so true + and big. I see it now. . . . + +Tom did not answer. He took the night train. He was just in time to +catch the Simplon Express from the Gare de Lyon. He reached Montreux at +seven o'clock, when the June sun was already high above the Dent du Midi +and the lake a sheet of sparkling blue. He went to his old hotel. He saw +the swans floating like bundles of dry paper, he saw the whirling +sea-gulls, he obtained his former room. And spring was just melting into +full-blown summer upon the encircling mountains. + +It was still early when he had bathed and breakfasted, too early for +visitors to be abroad, too early to search. . . . He could settle to +nothing; he filled the time as best he could; he smoked and read an +English newspaper that was several days old at least. His eyes took in +the lines, but his mind did not take in the sense--until a familiar name +caught his attention and made him keenly alert. The name was Anthony +Winslowe. He remembered suddenly that Tony had never replied to his +letter. . . . The paragraph concerning his cousin, however, dealt with +another matter that sent the blood flaming to his cheeks. He was +defendant in the breach of promise suit brought by a notorious London +actress, then playing in a popular revue. The case had opened; the +letters were already produced in court--and read. The print danced before +his eyes. The letters were dated last October and November, just before +Tony had come out to Egypt, and with crimson face Tom read them. It was +more than distressing, it was afflicting--the letters tore an established +reputation into a thousand pieces. He could not finish the report; he +only prayed that another had not seen it. . . . + +It was eleven o'clock when he went out and joined the throng of people +sunning themselves on the walk beside the lake. The air was sweet and +fresh, there were sailing-boats upon the water, the blue mountains lifted +their dazzling snow far, far into the summer sky. He leaned over the rail +and watched the myriads of tiny fishes, he watched the swans, he saw the +dim line of the Jura hills in the hazy distance, he heard the muffled beat +of a steamer's paddle-wheels a long way off. And then, abruptly, he was +aware that some one touched him; a hand in a long white glove was on his +arm; there was a subtle perfume; two dark eyes looked into his; and he +heard a low familiar voice: + +'One day we shall find each other in a crowd.' + +Tom was amazingly inarticulate. He just turned and looked down at her, +moving a few inches closer as he did so. She wore a black boa; the fur +touched his cheek. + +'You have come back,' he said. + +There was a new wonder in her face, a soft new beauty. The woman in her +glowed. . . . He saw the suffering plainly too. + +'We have both found out,' she said very low, 'found out what we are to one +another.' + +Tom's supply of words failed completely then. He looked at her--looked +all the language in the world. And she understood. She lowered her eyes. +'I feel shy,' he thought he heard. It was murmured only. The next minute +she raised her eyes again to his. He saw them dark and beautiful, tender +as his mother's, true and faithful, as in his boyhood's dream of years +ago. But they were now a woman's eyes. + +'I never really left you, Tom . . .' she said with absolute conviction. +'I never could. I went aside . . . to fetch something--to give to you. +That was all!' + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wave, by Algernon Blackwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAVE *** + +***** This file should be named 33876.txt or 33876.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/8/7/33876/ + +Produced by Lionel Sear + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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