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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:31:48 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:31:48 -0700 |
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diff --git a/8569-h/8569-h.htm b/8569-h/8569-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0bbdf6f --- /dev/null +++ b/8569-h/8569-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16132 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Far Horizon, by Lucas Malet +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 4% } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.contents {text-indent: -3%; + margin-left: 5% } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 4em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Far Horizon, by Lucas Malet + +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 Far Horizon + +Author: Lucas Malet + +Posting Date: April 14, 2014 [EBook #8569] +Release Date: July, 2005 +First Posted: July 24, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAR HORIZON *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Danny Wool, Lorna Hanrahan, +Mary Musser, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1> +<br /><br /><br /> +THE FAR HORIZON +</h1> + +<p class="t3b"> +BY +</p> + +<p class="t2"> +LUCAS MALET +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +(MRS. MARY ST. LEGER HARRISON) +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY THE SAME AUTHOR +<br /><br /> +<i>The Wages of Sin</i> +<br /> +<i>A Counsel of Perfection</i> +<br /> +<i>Colonel Enderby's Wife</i> +<br /> +<i>Little Peter</i> +<br /> +<i>The Carissima</i> +<br /> +<i>The Gateless Barrier</i> +<br /> +<i>The History of Sir Richard Calmady</i> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="quote"> +"Ask for the Old Paths, where is the Good Way, and walk therein, and ye +shall find rest."—JEREMIAS. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="quote"> +"The good man is the bad man's teacher; the bad man is the material +upon which the good man works. If the one does not value his teacher, +if the other does not love his material, then despite their sagacity +they must go far astray. This is a mystery of great import."—FROM THE +SAYINGS OF LAO-TZU. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="quote"> +..."Cherchons à voir les choses comme elles sont, et ne voulons pas +avoir plus d'esprit que le bon Dieu! Autrefois on croyait que la canne +à sucre seule donnait le sucre, on en tire à peu près de tout +maintenant. Il est de même de la poésie. Extrayons-la de n'importe +quoi, car elle git en tout et partout. Pas un atome de matière qui ne +contienne pas la poésie. Et habituons-nous à considerer le monde comme +un oeuvre d'art, dont il faut reproduire les procédées dans nos +oeuvres."—GUSTAVE FLAUBERT. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER I +</h3> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias stood watching while the lingering June twilight +darkened into night. He was tired in body, but his mind was eminently, +consciously awake, to the point of restlessness, and this was unusual +with him. He had raised the lower sash of each of the three tall, +narrow windows to its extreme height, since the first-floor +sitting-room, though of fair proportions, appeared close. His thought +refused the limits of it, and ranged outward over the expanse of +Trimmer's Green, the roadway and houses bordering it, to the far +northwest, that region of hurried storm, of fierce, equinoctial passion +and conflict, now paved with plaques of flat, dingy, violet cloud +opening on smoky rose-red wastes of London sunset. All day thunder had +threatened, but had not broken. And, even yet, the face of heaven +seemed less peaceful than remonstrant, a sullenness holding it as of +troops in retreat denied satisfaction of imminent battle. +</p> + +<p> +Otherwise the outlook was wholly pacific, one of middle-class suburban +security. The Green aforesaid is bottle-shaped, the neck of it +debouching into a crowded westward-wending thoroughfare; while Cedar +Lodge, from the first-floor windows of which Mr. Iglesias contemplated +the oncoming of night, being situate in the left shoulder, so to speak, +of the bottle, commanded, diagonally, an uninterrupted view of the +whole extent of it. Who Trimmer was, how he came by a Green, and why, +or what he trimmed on it, it is idle at this time of day to attempt to +determine. Whether, animated by a desire for the public welfare, he +bequeathed it in high charitable sort; or whether, fame taking a less +enviable turn with him, he just simply was hanged there, has afforded +matter of heated controversy to the curious in questions of suburban +nomenclature and topography. But in this case, as in so many other and +more august ones, the origins defy discovery. Suffice it, therefore, +that the name remains, as does the open space—the latter forming one +of those minor "lungs of London" which offer such amiable oases in the +great city's less aristocratic residential districts. Formerly the +Green boasted a row of fine elms, and was looked on by discreetly +handsome eighteenth-century mansions and villas, set in spacious +gardens. But of these, the great majority—Cedar Lodge being a happy +exception—has vanished under the hand of the early Victorian +speculative builder; who, in their stead, has erected full complement +of the architectural platitudes common to his age and taste. Dignity +has very sensibly given place to gentility. Nevertheless the timid red, +or sickly yellow-grey, brick of the existing houses is pleasingly +veiled by ivy and Virginia creeper, while no shop front obtrudes +derogatory suggestion of retail trade. The local authorities, moreover, +some ten years back girdled the Green with healthy young balsam-poplar +and plane trees and enclosed the grass with iron hurdles—to rescue it +from trampling into unsightly pathways—thus doing a well-intentioned, +if somewhat unimaginative, best to safeguard the theatre of long ago +Trimmer's beneficence or infamy from greater spoliation. +</p> + +<p> +Hence it follows that, certain inherent limitations admitted, the scene +upon which Dominic Iglesias' eyes rested was not without elements of +attraction. And of this fact, being a person of an excellent temperance +of expectation, he was gratefully aware. His surroundings, indeed, +constituted, so it appeared to him, the maximum of comfort and +advantage which could be expected by a middle-aged gentleman, of +moderate fortune, in the capacity of a "paying guest." Not only in word +but in thought—for in acknowledgment of obligation he was scrupulously +courteous. He frequently tendered thanks to his neighbour and old +school-fellow, Mr. George Lovegrove, first for calling his attention to +Mrs. Porcher's advertisement, and subsequently for reassuring him as to +its import. For, though incapable of forming so much as a thought to +her concrete disparagement, Mr. Iglesias was not without a quiet sense +of humour, or of that instinct of self-protection common to even the +most chivalrous of mankind. He was, therefore, perfectly sensible that +"the widow of a military officer," who describes herself in print as +"bright, musical and thoroughly domesticated," while offering "a +cheerful and refined home at the West End, within three minutes of Tube +and omnibus"—"noble dining and recreation rooms, bath h. and c." +thrown in—to unmarried members of the stronger sex, must of necessity +be a lady whose close acquaintance it would be foolhardy to make +without a trifle of preliminary scouting. +</p> + +<p> +Happily not only George Lovegrove, but his estimable wife was at hand. +The latter hastened to prosecute inquiries, beginning with a visit to +the Anglican vicar of the parish, the Rev. Giles Nevington. He reported +Mrs. Porcher an evening communicant at the greater festivals, and a not +ungenerous donor to parochial charities; adding that a former curate +had resided under her roof with perfect impunity. Mrs. Lovegrove +terminated her researches by an interview with the fishmonger, who +assured her that "Cedar Lodge always took the best cuts," sternly +refused fish or poultry which had suffered cold storage, and paid its +housebooks without fail before noon on Thursday. She ascertained, +further, from a source socially intermediate between clergyman and +tradesman, that Mrs. Porcher's husband, some time veterinary surgeon of +a crack regiment, had died in the odour of alcohol rather than in that +of sanctity, leaving his widow—in addition to his numerous and heavy +debts—but a fraction of the comfortable fortune to procure the +enjoyment of which he had so considerately married her. The solid +Georgian mansion was her freehold; and it was to secure sufficient +means for continued residence in it that the poor lady started a +boarding-house, or in the politer language of the present day, had +decided to receive paying guests. +</p> + +<p> +Encouraged by the satisfactory nature of the above information, Mr. +Iglesias—shortly after his mother's death, now nearly eight years +ago—had become a member of Mrs. Porcher's household. He had never, so +far, had reason to regret that step. And it was with a consciousness of +well-being and repose that he returned daily—after hours of strenuous +work in the well-known city banking house of Messrs. Barking Brothers & +Barking—to this square first-floor sitting-room, to its dimly white +panelled and painted walls, its nice details of carved work in +chimney-piece and ceiling, and the outlook from its tall, narrow +windows. A touch of old-world stateliness in its aspect satisfied his +latent pride of race. To certain natures not obscurity or slender +means, but the pretentious vulgarity which, in English-speaking +countries, too often goes along with these constitutes the burden and +the offence. +</p> + +<p> +To-night, however, things were different. Material objects remained the +same; but the conditions of existence had taken on a strange +appearance, and with that appearance Iglesias was bound to reckon, +being uncertain as yet whether it was destined to prove that of a +friend or of an enemy. In furtherance of such reckoning, he had +declined dining at the public table, in company with his hostess, Miss +Eliza Hart, her devoted friend and companion, and the three +gentlemen—Mr. de Courcy Smyth, Mr. Farge, and Mr. Worthington—who +shared with him the hospitalities of Cedar Lodge. He had dined here, +upstairs, solitary; and Frederick, the German-Swiss valet, had just +finished clearing the table and departed. Usually under such +circumstances Iglesias would have taken a favourite book from the +carved Spanish mahogany bookcase containing his small library; and, +reading again that which he had often read before, would have found +therein the satisfaction of friendship, along with the soothing +influences of familiarity. But to-night neither Gibbon's <i>Rome</i>—a +handsome early edition in many volumes—<i>The Travels of Anacharsis</i>, +Evelyn's <i>Diary</i>, Napier's <i>Peninsular War</i>, John Stuart Mill's +<i>Logic</i>, Byron's <i>Poems</i>, nor those of Calderon, nor of that so-called +"prodigy of nature," Lope de Vega, not even the dear and immortal <i>Don +Quixote</i> himself, served to attract him. His own thoughts, his own +life, filled his whole horizon, leaving no space for the thoughts or +lives of others. He found himself a prey to a certain mental +incoherence, a bewildering activity of vision. More than once before in +the course of his laborious, monotonous, and, as men go, very virtuous +life had this same thing happened to him—the tides of the obvious and +accustomed suddenly receding and leaving him stranded, as on some +barren sand-bank, uncertain whether the ship of his individual fate +would lie there wind-swept and sun-bleached till rusty rivets fell out +and planks parted, disclosing the ribs of her in unsightly nakedness, +or whether the kindly tide, rising, would float her off into blue water +and she would sail hopefully once again. +</p> + +<p> +It was inevitable that this present experience should recall these +other happenings, evoking memories poignant enough. The first time the +ship of his fate thus stranded was when, as a lad of seventeen, he left +school. Living alone with his mother in a quaint little house in +Holland Street, Kensington, eagerly ambitious to make his way in the +world and to obtain, it had dawned on him that there was something +strange, unhappy, and not as it was wont to be with that, to him, most +beautiful and beloved of women. The mere suspicion was as a blasphemy +against which his young loyalty revolted. For Dominic, with the +inherent pieties of his Latin and Celtic blood, had none of that +contemptuous superiority in regard of his near relations so common to +male creatures of the Protestant persuasion and Anglo-Saxon race. He +took his parents quite seriously; it never having occurred to him that +fathers and mothers are given us merely for purposes of discipline, or +as helot-like examples of what to avoid. He was simple-minded enough +indeed to regard them as sacred, altogether beyond the bounds of +legitimate criticism—and this, as destiny would have it, with intimate +and life-long results. +</p> + +<p> +Vaguely, through the mists of infancy, he could remember a hurried +exodus—after sound of cannon and sight of blood—from Spain, the +fierce and pious country of his birth. Since then, while his mother +lived—namely, till he was a man of over forty—always and only the +house in the Kensington side street, with its crooked creaking +stairways, its high wainscots—behind which mice squeaked and +scampered—its clinging odour of ancient woodwork, its low ceilings, +and uneven floors. At the back of it was a narrow strip of garden, +glorious for one brief week in early summer, with the gold of a big +laburnum; and fragrant later thanks to faithful effort on the part of +the white jasmine clothing its enclosing walls. In fair weather the +morning sun lay warm there; while the sky showed all the bluer overhead +for the dark lines of the adjacent housetops, and upstanding +deformities in the matter of zinc cowls and chimney-pots. Frequented by +cats, boasting in the centre a rockery of gas clinkers and chalk flints +surmounted by a stumpy fluted column bearing a stone basin—in which, +after rain, sparrows disported themselves with much conversation and +fluttering of sooty wings—the garden was, to little Dominic, a place +of wonder and delight. He peopled it with beings of his own fancy, +lovely or terrific, according to his passing humour. Granted a measure +of imagination, the solitary child is often the happiest child, since +the social element, with its inevitable materialism, is absent, and the +dear spirit of romance is unquenched by vulgar comment. +</p> + +<p> +His father, grave and preoccupied, whose arrivals after long periods of +absence had in them an effect of secrecy and haste, was to the small +boy a being, august, but remote. During his brief sojourns at home the +quiet house awoke to greater fulness of life, with much coming and +going of other grave personages, strange of dress, and with a certain +effect of hardly restrained violence in their aspect. A spirit of fear +seemed to enter with them, demanding an unnatural darkening of windows +and closing of doors. Before Dominic they were of few words; but became +eloquent enough, in sonorous foreign speech, as his ears testified when +he was banished from their rather electric presence to the solitude of +the nursery above. And so it came about that a sense of mystery, of +large issues, of things at once strong and hidden, impenetrable to his +understanding and concerning which no questions might be asked, +encircled Dominic's childhood and passed into the very fabric of his +thought. While through it all his mother moved, to him tender and +wholly exquisite, but with the reticence of some deep-seated enthusiasm +silently cherished, some far-reaching alarm silently endured, always +upon her. And this resulted in an atmosphere of seriousness and +responsibility which inevitably reacted on the boy, making him sober +beyond his years, tempering his natural vivacity with watchfulness, and +pitching even his laughter in a minor key. +</p> + +<p> +Only many years later, when after his mother's death it became his duty +to read letters exchanged between his parents during this period, did +Dominic Iglesias touch the key to the riddle, and fully measure the +public danger, the private strain and stress which had surrounded his +childhood and early youth. For his father, a man of far from ignoble +nature, but of narrow outlook and undying hatreds, was deeply involved +in revolutionary intrigue of the most advanced type—a victim of that +false passion of humanity which takes its rise not in honest desire for +the welfare of mankind, but in blind rebellion against all forms of +authority. His self-confidence was colossal; all rule being abominable +to him—save his own—all rulers hideous, save himself. The anarchist, +rightly understood, is merely the autocrat, the tyrant, turned inside +out. And this man, as Dominic gathered from the perusal of those old +letters, to whom the end so justified the means that red-handed crime +took on the fair colours of virtue, his mother had loved, even while +she feared him, with all the faithfulness and pure passion of her Irish +blood. Pathetic combination, the patience and resignation of the one +ever striving to temper the flaming zeal of the other, as though the +spindrift of the Atlantic, sweeping inland from the dim sadness of far +western coasts, should strive with relentless fierceness of sunglare +outpoured on some high-lying walled city of arid central Spain! Mist is +but a weak thing as against rock and fire; and what his mother must +have suffered in moral and spiritual conflict, let alone all question +of active dread, was to her son almost too cruel to contemplate, +although it explained and justified much. +</p> + +<p> +In 1860, when Dominic was a schoolboy of fourteen, his father left home +on one of those sudden journeys the object and objective of which were +alike concealed. For about a year letters arrived at irregular +intervals, hailing from Paris, Naples, Prague, and finally Petersburg. +Then followed silence, broken only by rumours furtively conveyed by a +former associate, one Pascal Pelletier—an angel-faced, long-haired, +hysteric creature, inspired by an impassioned enthusiasm for infernal +machines and wholesale slaughter in theory, and, in practice, by a +gentle doglike devotion to Mrs. Iglesias and young Dominic. He would +arrive depressed and shadowy in the shadowy twilights. But, once in the +presence of the beings whom he loved, he became effervescent. His +belief was unlimited in the Head Centre, the Chief, in his demonic +power and fertility of resource. That any evil should befall +him!—Pascal snapped his thin fingers; while, with the inalienable +optimism of the born fanatic, he proceeded to state hopeful conjecture +as established fact, thereby doing homage to the spirit of delusion +which so conspicuously ruled him even to his inmost thought. But a +spell of cold weather in the winter of 1862 struck a little too +shrewdly through Pascal's seedy overcoat, causing that tender-hearted +subverter of society to cough his life out, with all possible despatch, +in the third-floor back of a filthy lodging-house off Tottenham Court +Road. +</p> + +<p> +This was the end as far as information went, whether authentic or +apocryphal. But Dominic, his horizon still bounded by the world of +school, greedy of distinction both in learning and in games, away all +day and eagerly, if somewhat sleepily, busy over the preparation of +lessons at night, was very far from realising that. Poor voluble +kind-eyed Pascal he mourned with all his heart; yet the months of his +father's absence accumulated into years almost unnoticed. The same +thing had so often happened before; and then, at an unlooked-for +moment, the wanderer had returned. Moreover, the old habit of obedience +was still strong in him. It was understood that concerning his father's +occupations and movements no comment might be made, no questions might +be asked. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the small house in Holland Street was ever more still, more +unfrequented. As he grew older Dominic became increasingly sensible of +this—sensible of a sort of hush falling on him as he crossed the +threshold, so that instinctively he left much of his wholesome young +animality outside, while his voice took on softer tones in speech, and +his quick light footsteps became more scrupulously noiseless as he ran +up the little crooked stairs. +</p> + +<p> +"When your father comes home we must decide what profession you shall +follow, my Dominic," it had been his mother's habit to declare. But, +even before the time for such decision arrived the boy had begun to +understand he must see to all that unaided. For his mother was ill, how +deeply and in what manner he could not tell. He shrank, indeed, from +all clear thought, let alone speech, on the subject, as from something +indelicate, in a way irreverent. Her beauty remained to her, +notwithstanding a gradual wasting as of fever. A peculiar, very +individual grace of dress and of bearing remained to her likewise. But +she was uncertain in mood, the victim of strange fancies, a being +almost alarmingly far removed from the interests of ordinary life. Long +ago, in submission to her husband's anti-clerical prejudices, she had +ceased to practise her religion, so that the services of the Church no +longer called her forth in beneficent routine of sacred obligation. Now +she never left the house, living, since poor Pascal Pelletier's death, +in complete seclusion. Little wonder then that a hush fell on Dominic +crossing the threshold, since so doing he passed from the world of +healthy action to that of acquiescent sickness, from vigorous +hoarse-voiced realities to the intangible sadness of unrelated dreams! +The effect was one of rather haunting melancholy; and it was +characteristic of the lad that he did not resent it, though rejoicing +in the reputation at school of being high-spirited enough, impatient of +restraint or of any frustration of purpose. His mother had always been +sacred. She remained so, even though her sympathies had become +imperfect, and she moved in regions which his sane young imagination +failed to penetrate. One thing was perfectly plain to him, though it +cut at the root of ambition—namely, that he could not leave her. So, +in that matter of a profession, he must find work which would permit of +his continuing to live at home; and, since her income was narrow, the +work in question must make no heavy demand in respect of preliminary +expense. +</p> + +<p> +Here was a problem more easy of statement than of solution, in face of +Dominic's pride, inexperience, and the singular isolation of his +position! There followed dreary months wherein his evenings were spent +in studying and answerings advertisements; and his days, till late +afternoon, in walking the town from end to end for the interviewing of +possible employers and the keeping of fruitless appointments. He would +set forth full of hope and courage in the morning, only to return full +of the dejection of failure at night. And it was then London began to +reveal herself to him in her solidarity, under the cloud of dun-blue +coal smoke—it was wintertime—which, at once hanging over and +penetrating her immensity, adds the majesty of mystery to the majesty +of mere size. He noted how, in the chill twilights, London grew +strangely and feverishly alive. Lamps sprang into clearness along the +pavements. A dazzling glitter of shop windows marked the great +thoroughfares, while often the angry glare of a fire pulsed along the +sky-line. When night comes in the country, so Dominic told himself, the +land sinks into peaceful repose. But in cities it is otherwise. There +the light leaves heaven for earth; and walks the streets, with much +else far from celestial, until the small hours move towards the dawn +and usher in the decencies of day. +</p> + +<p> +Never before had he seen London thus and understood it in all its +enormous variety, yet as a unit, a whole. How much he actually beheld +with his bodily eyes, how much through the working of a rather exalted +condition of imagination induced by loneliness and bodily fatigue, he +could never subsequently determine. But the great city presented +herself to him in the guise of some prodigious living creature, +breathing, feeding, suffering, triumphing, above all mating and +breeding, terrible in her power and vitality, age old, yet still +unspent. Presented herself to him as horribly prolific, ever outpassing +her own unwieldy limits, sending forth her children, year after year, +all the wide world over by shipping or by rail; receiving some tithe of +them back, proud with accomplished fortune to enhance her glory, or, +disgraced and broken, slinking homeward to the cover of her fog and +darkness merely to swell the numbers of the nameless who rot and die. +He thought of those others, too—and this touched his young ardour with +a quick shudder of personal fear—whom she never sends forth at all; +but holds close in bondage all their lives long, enslaved to her +countless and tyrant activities by their own poverty, or by their +fellow-creatures' misfortune, cruelties, and sins. Was it thus she was +going to deal with him, Dominic Iglesias? Was he to be among the great +city's bondmen through the coming years, better acquainted with the +very earthly light which walks her streets by night, than with the +heavenly light which gladdens the sweet face of day in the open country +and upon the open sea? And for a moment the boy's heart rebelled, +hungry for pleasure, hungry for wide experience, hungry even for +knowledge of those revolutionary intrigues which, as he was beginning +to understand, had surrounded his childhood, and, as he was beginning +to fear, had cost his mother her reason and his father both liberty and +life. Thus did the ship of poor Dominic's fate appear to be stranded or +ever it had fairly set sail at all. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, if London claimed him, she did so in very cynical fashion, +mocking his willingness to labour, refusing to feed him even while she +refused to let him go. Everything, he feared, was against him—his +youth, his foreign name, his limited acquaintance, the impossibility of +giving definite information regarding his father's past occupations or +present whereabouts. Moreover, his spare young figure, his thin shapely +hands and feet, his blue-black Irish eyes and black hair, his energetic +colourless face, his ready yet reticent speech—all these marked him as +unusual and exotic. And for the unusual and exotic the British employer +of labour—of whatever sort—has, it must be conceded, but little use. +He is half afraid, half contemptuous of it, instinctively disliking +anything more alert and alive than his own most stolid self. But while +men, distrusting the distinctness of his personality and his good +looks, refused to give Dominic work, women, relishing them, were only +too ready to give him enjoyment—of a kind. The boy, in those solitary +wanderings, ran the gauntlet of many temptations; and was +presented—did he care to accept it—with the freedom of the city on +very liberal lines. Happily, inherent cleanliness of nature saved him +from much; and reverent shame at the thought of entering the hushed and +silent house where his mother lived—spotless, amid pathetic memories +and delicate dreams—with the soil of licence upon him, saved him from +more. Crime might have come close to him in his childhood, but vice +never; and the influences of vice are far more insidious, and +consequently more damaging, than those of crime. +</p> + +<p> +Still, one way and another, the boy came very near touching the +confines of despair. Then the tide rose and the stranded ship of his +fate began to lift a little. By means of a series of accidents—the +illness of his former school-fellow, the already mentioned George +Lovegrove, whose post he offered temporarily to fill—he drifted into +connection with the banking house of Messrs. Barking Brothers & +Barking. There his knowledge of modern languages, his industry, and a +certain discreet aloofness commended him to his superiors. A minor +clerkship fell vacant; it was offered to him. And from thenceforth, for +Dominic Iglesias, the monotony of fixed routine and steady labour, +until the day when, as a man of past fifty, restless and somewhat +distrustful both of the present and the future, he watched the dying of +the sullen sunset over Trimmer's Green from the windows of the +first-floor sitting-room of Cedar Lodge. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER II +</h3> + +<p> +That which had in point of fact happened was not, as Iglesias felt, +without a pretty sharp edge of irony. For to-day, London, so long his +task-mistress and gaoler, had assumed a new attitude towards him. +Suddenly, unexpectedly, she had cast him off, given him his freedom. It +was amazing, a thing to take your breath away for the moment. And +agitated and hurt—for his pride unquestionably had suffered in the +process—Iglesias asked himself what in the world he should do with +this gift of freedom, what he should do, indeed, with that which +remained to him of life? +</p> + +<p> +It had come about thus. Seeking an interview that morning with Sir Abel +Barking, in the latter's private room at the bank, he had made certain +statements regarding his own health in justification of a request for +some weeks' rest and holiday now, rather than later, in September, when +his yearly vacation would fall due. +</p> + +<p> +"So you find yourself unequal to dealing satisfactorily with the +increasing intricacy of our financial operations, become confused by +the multiplicity of detail, suffer from pains in the head?" Sir Abel +had commented, with a certain largeness of manner. "I own, my good +friend, I was not wholly unprepared for this announcement." +</p> + +<p> +"My work has not so far, I believe, suffered in any respect," Iglesias +put in quietly. "Directly I had reason to fear it might suffer I——" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, of course. I make no complaint—none. I go further. I admit +that the area of our undertakings is enlarged, enormously enlarged, +thanks to the remarkable personal energy and strenuous transatlantic +business methods introduced by my nephew Reginald. I grant you all +that——" +</p> + +<p> +Sir Abel cleared his throat. Seduced by the charms of his own +eloquence, he was ready to mount the platform at the shortest possible +notice, even in private life. He loved exposition. He loved periods. +His critics—for what public man is without these, their strictures +naturally inspired by envy?—had been known to add that he also loved +platitudes. Be this as it may, certain it is that he loved an +audience—even of one. He had been considerably ruffled this morning by +communications made to him by his good-looking and somewhat scapegrace +youngest son. Those who fail to rule their own households often find +solace in attempting to rule the households of others. Speech and +patronage consequently tended to the restoration of self-complacency. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt this expansion, these modern methods, constitute a tax upon +your capacity, my good friend, you having acquired your training under +a less exacting system. I am not surprised. I confess"—he leaned back +in his chair, with an indulgent smile, as one who should say, "the gods +themselves do not wholly escape"—"I confess," he repeated, "it is +something of a tax upon the capacity of a veteran financier such as +myself. But then strain in some form or other, as I frequently remind +myself, is the very master-note of our modern existence. We all +experience it in our degree. And there are those men, such as myself, +for instance, who from their position, their vast interests and heavy +responsibilities, from the almost incalculable issues dependent on +their judgment and their action, are called upon to endure this strain +in its most exhausting manifestations, who are compelled to subordinate +personal case, even health itself, to public obligation. In the end +they pay, incontestable they pay, for their self-abnegation, for their +unswerving obedience to the trumpet-call of public duty." +</p> + +<p> +He paused and mused a while, his head raised, his right hand +resting—it was noticeably podgy and squat—on the highly polished +surface of the extensive writing-table, his left hand dropped, with a +rather awkward negligence, over the arm of his chair. Meanwhile he +gazed, as pensively as his caste of countenance permitted, at a +portrait of himself, in the self-same attitude, which adorned the +opposite wall. It had been presented to him by the electors of his late +constituency. It was life-size and full-length. It had been painted by +a well-known artist whose appreciation of the outward as a revelation +of the inward man is slightly diabolic in its completeness. The +portrait was very clever; it was also very like. Looking upon it no +sane observer could stand in doubt of Sir Abel's eminent respectability +or eminent wealth. His appearance exuded both. Unluckily nature had +been niggardly in the bestowal of those more delicate marks of breeding +which, both in man and beast, denote distinction of personality and +antiquity of race. Pursy, prolific, Protestant, a commonness pervaded +the worthy gentleman's aspect, causing him, as compared with his head +clerk, Dominic Iglesias—standing there patiently awaiting his further +utterance—to be as is a cheap oleograph to a fine sketch in pen and +ink. It may be taken as an axiom that, in body and soul alike, to be +deficient in outline is a sad mistake. But of all these little facts +and the result of them, Sir Abel was, needless to relate, sublimely +ignorant. +</p> + +<p> +"With you, my good friend, it is otherwise," he remarked presently, +reluctantly removing his gaze from the portrait of himself. "A +beneficent Providence has devised the law of compensation. And we may +remark the workings of it everywhere with instruction and +encouragement. Hence social obscurity has its compensating advantages. +You, for example, are affected by none of those considerations of +public obligation binding upon myself. You are so situated that you can +avoid the more trying consequences of this universal overstrain. If the +demands of the position you now fill are too much for you, you can +retire. I congratulate you, Iglesias. For some of us it is impossible, +it is forbidden to retire." +</p> + +<p> +The speaker paused, as when in addressing a political or charitable +meeting he paused for well-merited applause, secure of having made a +telling point. Dominic Iglesias, however, had not applauded. To tell +the truth, his back was stiffening a little. He had a very just +appreciation of the relative social positions of himself and his +employer; still it did not occur to him, somehow, that applause was +necessarily in the part. +</p> + +<p> +"You have the redress in your own hands," Sir Abel went on, not without +a hint of annoyance. "If you need amusement, leisure, rest, they are +all within your reach." +</p> + +<p> +Still Iglesias did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +"See now, my good friend, consider. To be practical"—Sir Abel raised +his finger and wagged it, with a heavy attempt at <i>bonhomie</i>. "You have +no family to provide for?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Mr. Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"You are, in short, not married?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Sir Abel," he said again. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, no obstacle presents itself. But let us pause a moment, +for I must guard myself against misconception. In the interests of both +public and private morality I am a staunch advocate of marriage." Again +he cleared his throat. The platform was conspicuous by its presence—in +idea. "I hold matrimony to be among the primary duties, nay, to be the +primary duty of the Christian and the citizen. We owe it to the race, +we owe it to ourselves, we owe it to the opposite sex. Let us be quite +clear on this point. Yet, since I deprecate all bigotry, I admit that +there may be exceptional cases in which absence of the marital +relation, though arguing some emotional callousness, may prove +advantageous to the individual." +</p> + +<p> +A queer light had come into Dominic Iglesias' eyes. The corners of his +mouth worked a little. He stood quite still and rather noticeably erect. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not deny this," Sir Abel continued. "I repeat, I do not deny it. +And yours, my good friend, may be, I am prepared to acknowledge, a case +in point. I take for granted, by the way, that you have saved, since +your salary has been a liberal one?" +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Clearly we need discuss this matter no further then." The speaker +became impressive, admonitory. "Indeed, it appears to me that your lot +is a most favoured one. You are free of all encumbrances. You can +retire in comfort—retire, moreover, with the assurance that your +departure will cause no inconvenience to myself and my colleagues, +since you make room for men younger and more in touch with modern +methods than yourself." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias permitted himself to smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes!" he said. "Possibly I had not taken that fact sufficiently +into account." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet, clearly, it should augment your satisfaction," Sir Abel Barking +observed, with a touch of severity. "And, by the by, you can draw your +pension. You were entitled, strictly speaking, to do so some years +ago—four, I believe, to be accurate. This was pointed out to you at +the time by my nephew Reginald. He was not at all unwilling that you +should retire then; but you preferred to remain. I had some +conversation, at the time, with my nephew on the subject. I insisted +upon the fact that your service had been exemplary. I finally succeeded +in overruling his objection to your retaining your post." +</p> + +<p> +"I am evidently under a heavy obligation to you, Sir Abel," said +Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't mention it—don't mention it," the great man answered nobly. +"Those in power should try to exercise it to the benefit of their +subordinates. It has always been my effort not only to be just, but to +be considerate of the interests and feelings of persons in my +employment." +</p> + +<p> +And with that he again fixed his eyes upon the ironical portrait +adorning the opposite wall, wholly blind to the fact that it at once +revealed his weaknesses and mocked at them, conscious only of an +agreeable conviction that he had treated his head clerk with generosity +and spoken to him with the utmost good-feeling and tact. +</p> + +<p> +With the proud it is ever a question whether to spoil the Egyptians, or +to fling back even the best-earned wages, payable by Egyptians, full in +the said Egyptians' face. For the firm of Barking Brothers & Barking, +in the abstract, Iglesias had the loyalty of long-established habit. It +had been as the rising tide, setting the ship of his fate and fortune +honourably afloat in the dismal days of that early stranding. Its +service had eaten up the best years of his life, it is true. But, even +in so doing, by mere force of constant association, the interests of +the great banking house had come to be his own, its schemes and secrets +his excitement, its successes his satisfaction. Fortunately the human +mind is so constituted that it is possible to have an esteem, amounting +to enthusiasm, for a body corporate, while entertaining but scanty +admiration for the individuals of whom that body is +composed—fortunately indeed, since otherwise what government, secular +or sacred, would long continue to subsist? Hence, to Iglesias, this +matter of the pension was decidedly difficult. Pride said, "This man, +Abel Barking has been offensive; both he and his nephew have been +ungrateful; reject it with contempt." Justice said, "You have no +quarrel with the firm as a whole; accept it." Common sense, pricked up +by anger, said, "Claim your own, take every brass farthing of it." +While personal dignity, winding up the case, admonished, "By no means +give yourself away. Make no impetuous demonstration. Go home and think +it quietly over." And with the advice of personal dignity Mr. Iglesias +fell in. +</p> + +<p> +Yet he was still very sore, the heat of anger past, but the smart of it +remaining, when he journeyed back from the city later in the day. And +not only that after-smart, but a perplexity held him. For two strange +faces had looked into his during the last few hours—those of +Loneliness and Freedom. He had taken for granted, in a general sort of +way, that such personages existed and exercised a certain jurisdiction +in human affairs. But in all the course of his laborious life they had +never before come close, personally claiming him. He had had no time +for them. But they are patient, they only wait. They had time for +him—plenty of it. Suddenly he understood that; and it perplexed him, +for his estimate of his own importance was modest. He even felt +apologetic towards them, as one at whose door distinguished guests +alight for whose entertainment he has made no adequate provision. He +was embarrassed, his sense of hospitality reproaching him. +</p> + +<p> +It so happened that, on this same return journey, he occupied the seat +on the right, immediately behind that of the driver. The sky was +covered, the atmosphere close. The horses, grey ones, showed a thick +yellowish lather where the collar rubbed their necks and the traces +their flanks. They were slack and heavy, and the omnibus hugged the +curb. Within it was empty, and on the top boasted but three passengers +besides Iglesias himself. It followed that, carrying insufficiency of +ballast, the great red-painted vehicle lumbered, and jerked, and swayed +uneasily; while the lighter traffic swept past it in a glittering +stream, the dominant note of which was black as against the dirty drab +of the recently watered wood-pavement. And the character of that +traffic was new to Dominic Iglesias, though he had travelled the +Hammersmith Road, Kensington High Street and Kensington Gore, +Knightsbridge and Piccadilly, back and forth daily, these many years. +For the exigencies of business demanding that the hours of his +journeying should be early and late, always the same, it came about +that the aspect of these actually so-familiar thoroughfares was novel, +as beheld in the height of the season at three o'clock in the afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +At first Iglesias saw without seeing, busy with his own uncheerful +thoughts. But after a while he began to speculate idly on the scene +around him, turning to the outward and material for distraction, if not +for actual comfort. And so the stream of carriages and hansoms, and the +conspicuously well-favoured human beings occupying them, began to +intrigue his attention. He questioned whom they might be and whither +wending, decked forth in such brave array. They seemed to suggest +something divorced from, yet native to, his experience; something he +had never touched in fact, yet the right to which was resident in his +blood. And with this he ceased, in instinct, to be merely the highly +respected and respectable head clerk of Messrs. Barking Brothers & +Barking—now superannuated and laid on the shelf. A gayer, fiercer, +simpler life, quick with violences of vivacious sound and vivid colour, +the excitement of it heightened by clear shining southern sunshine and +blue-black shadow—a life undreamed of by conventional, slow-moving, +rather vulgar middle-class London—to which, on the face of it, he +appeared as emphatically to belong—awoke and cried in Dominic Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +It was a surprising little experience, causing him to straighten up his +lean yet shapely figure; while the burden of his years, and the long +monotony of them, seemed strangely lifted off him. Then, with the air +of courtly reserve—at once the joke and envy of the younger clerks, +which had earned him the nickname of "the old Hidalgo"—he leaned +forward and addressed the omnibus driver. The latter upraised a broad, +moist and sleepy countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Polo at Ranelagh," he answered, in a voice thickened by dust and the +laying of that dust by strong waters. "Club team plays 'Undred and +First Lancers." +</p> + +<p> +The words had been to the inquirer pretty much as phrases from the +liturgy of an unknown cult. But it was Iglesias' praiseworthy +disposition not to be angry with that which he did not happen to +understand, so much as angry with himself for not understanding it. +</p> + +<p> +"Only an additional proof, were it needed, of the prodigious extent of +my ignorance!" he reflected in stoically humorous self-contempt. His +eyes dwelt, somewhat wistfully, on the glittering stream of traffic, +once again those two unbidden guests, Loneliness and Freedom—for whose +entertainment he had made inadequate provision—sitting, as it seemed, +very close on either side of him. Then that happened which altered all +the values. Dominic Iglesias suddenly saw a person whom he knew. +</p> + +<p> +He had seen that same person about three hours previously in the bank +in Threadneedle Street, while waiting for admittance to Sir Abel's +private room. Rumour accredited this handsome young gentleman—Sir +Abel's youngest son—with tastes expensive rather than profitable, +liberal socially, rather than estimable ethically, declaring him to be +distinctly of the nature of the proverbial thorn in the banker's +otherwise very prosperous side. He had, so said rumour, the fortune or +misfortune, as you chose to take it, of being at once a considerably +bad boy and a distinctly charming one. Be all that as it might, the +young man had certainly presented a grimly anxious countenance when, +without so much as a nod of recognition, he had stalked past Mr. +Iglesias in the dim light of the glass and mahogany-walled corridor. +But now, as the latter noted, his expression had changed, and that very +much for the better. The young man's face was flushed and eager, and +his teeth showed white and even under his reddish brown moustache. If +anxieties still pursued him they were in subjection to one main +anxiety, the anxiety to please, which of all anxieties is the most +engaging and grace-begetting. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the traffic was held up, thus enabling Iglesias from his +perch on the 'bustop to receive a more than fleeting impression. Two +ladies were seated opposite the young man in the carriage. In them +Iglesias recognised persons of very secure social standing. The elder +he supposed to be Lady Sokeington—Alaric Barking's half-sister—to +whom, on the occasion of her marriage, twelve or thirteen years ago, he +had had the expensive honour of presenting, in his own name and that of +his colleagues, a costly gift of plate. The other lady, so it appeared +to him, was eminently sweet to look upon. She was very young. She +leaned a little forward, and in the pose of her delicate figure and the +carriage of her pretty head—under its burden of pale pink and grey +feathers, flowers, and lace—he detected further example of that +engaging anxiety to please. They made a delightful young couple, the +fair seeming of this life and riches of it very much on their side. Mr. +Iglesias' chivalrous heart went out to them in silent sympathy and +benediction; while, the block being over, his gaze continued to follow +them as long as the young girl's slender white-clad back and the young +man's flushed and eager face remained distinguishable. Then he started, +for he was aware that his unbidden companions had received unexpected +reinforcement. A third guest had arrived, and looked hard and +critically at him. It's name was Old Age, and he found something +sardonic in its glance. With all his gentleness of soul, all his innate +self-restraint, there remained fighting blood in Dominic Iglesias. +Therefore, for the moment, recognising with whom he had to deal, a +light anything but mild visited his eyes, and a rigidity the straight +lines of his chin and lips. Old Age is a sinister visitant even to +those who are moderate in demand and clean of life. For it gives to +drink of the cup not of pleasure, but merely of patience, of physical +loss and intellectual humiliation; and, once it has laid its spell upon +you, you are past all remedy save the supreme remedy of death. And so, +at first sight, Iglesias rebelled—as do all men—turning defiant. +Then, being very sane, he gave in to the relentless logic of fact. +Silently, yet with all courtesy, he acknowledged the newcomer, and bade +it be seated along with the rest. While, after brief pause to rally his +pride, and that courage which is the noblest attribute of pride, he +turned to things concrete and material once more, finally addressing +himself to the omnibus driver: +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me; polo, as I understand, is a species of game?" +</p> + +<p> +The broad moist countenance was again uplifted, a hint of patronage now +tempering its good-natured apathy. +</p> + +<p> +"Sort'er 'ockey on 'orseback." +</p> + +<p> +"That must be sufficiently dangerous," Mr. Iglesias remarked. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless you, yes. Players breaks their backs pretty frequent, and cuts +the ponies about most cruel—" +</p> + +<p> +He ceased speaking abruptly, jammed the brake down with his heel in +response to the conductor's bell, and drew the sweating horses up short +to permit the ingress of fresh passengers. This accomplished, the +omnibus lumbered onwards while Dominic Iglesias fell into further +meditation. +</p> + +<p> +The explanation vouchsafed him was still far from explicit; yet this +much of illumination he gained from it, namely, the assurance that all +these goodly personages, Alaric Barking and his sweet companion among +them, were on pleasure bent. One and all they fared forth, on this +heavy summer afternoon, in search of amusement—in search of that +intangible yet very powerful factor in human affairs to which it is +given to lift the too great weight of seriousness from mortal life, +cheating perception of relentless actualities, helping to restore the +balance, helping men to hope, to laugh, and to forget. Perceiving all +which, conscious moreover of the near neighbourhood of Loneliness on +the right hand and Old Age on the left, Iglesias began to bestow on +these votaries of pleasure a more earnest attention, recognising in +them the possessors of a secret which it greatly behoved him to enter +into possession of likewise. In what, he asked himself, did it actually +consist, this to him practically unknown quantity, amusement? How was +the spirit of it cultivated, the enjoyment of it consciously attained? +How far did it reside in inward attitude, how far in outward +circumstance? In a word, how did they all do it? It was very incumbent +upon him to learn, and he admitted a ridiculous ignorance. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER III +</h3> + +<p> +Thus had the chapter of labour ended, and that of leisure opened. And +it was with the sadness of things terminated very strongly upon him +that, as Frederick, the German-Swiss valet, finished clearing the +dinner-table and departed, Mr. Iglesias looked forth over the neatly +protected verdure of Trimmer's Green in the evening quiet. The smugly +pacific aspect of the place irritated him. He was aware of a great +emptiness. And very certainly the scene before him offered no solution +of the problem of the filling of that emptiness. And somehow or other +it had to be filled—Iglesias knew that, knew it through every fibre of +him—or life would be simply insupportable. Meanwhile from the public +drawing-room below came sounds of revelry, innocent enough yet hardly +calculated to soothe over-strained nerves. Little Mr. Farge—whose thin +and reedy tenor carried as does a penny whistle—gave forth the refrain +of a song just then popular in metropolitan music-halls. +</p> + +<p> +"They're keeping latish hours at the Convalescent Home," piped Mr. +Farge; while his friend and devout admirer, Albert Edward Worthington, +tore at the banjo strings and the ladies tittered. +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias listened in a somewhat grim spirit of endurance. On the far +side of the Green he could see the gaslights in the Lovegroves' +dining-room. These appeared to watch him rather uncomfortably, as with +three supplicating and reproachful eyes. He debated whether he would +not take his hat, step across, and tell his old friend what had +happened—it would at least relieve him of the sound of little Farge's +serenading. But his pride recoiled somehow. Good souls, man and wife, +they would be full of solicitude and kindness; but they would say the +wrong thing. They would not understand. How, indeed, should they, being +wholly at one with their surroundings—unimaginative, domestic, British +middle-class, with its virtues and limitations aggressively in +evidence? George Lovegrove would suggest some minor municipal office, +or membership of the local borough council, as a crown of consolation. +His wife would skirt round the subject of matrimony. She had done so +before now; and Iglesias, while presenting a dignified front to the +enemy, had inwardly shuddered. She was an excellent, estimable woman; +but when ponderously arch, when extensively sly! Oh, dear no! It didn't +do. Her gambols were too sadly suggestive of those of a skittish +hippopotamus. Dominic Iglesias was conscious that he had a skin too +little to-night; he could not witness them with philosophy. The +kindliest intention, the best-meant words, might cause him extravagant +annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +He turned away from the window and took a turn the length of the +room—a tall, distinct, and even stately figure in the thickening dusk. +He felt rather horribly desolate. He was fairly frightened by the +greatness of the emptiness, within and about him, engendered by absence +of employment. He had little to reproach himself with. His record was +cleaner than most men's—he could not but know that. He had sacrificed +personal ambition, personal happiness, to the service of one supremely +dear to him. Not for a moment did he regret it. Had it to be done all +over again, without hesitation he would do it. Still there was no +blinking facts. Here was the nemesis, not of ill living, but of +good—namely, emptiness, loneliness, homelessness, Old Age here at his +elbow, Death waiting there ahead. +</p> + +<p> +"The routine has gone on too long," he said to himself bitterly. "I +have lost my pliability, lost my humanity. I am a machine now, not a +man. To the machine, work is life. Work over, life is over; and the +machine is just so much lumber—better broken up and sent to the rag +and bottle shop, where it may fetch the worth of its weight as +scrap-iron." +</p> + +<p> +He turned, came back to the open window again and stood there, rather +carefully avoiding the three reproachful eyes of the Lovegroves' +dining-room gaselier, and fixing his gaze on that sullen fierceness of +sunset still hanging in the extreme northwest. +</p> + +<p> +"Unluckily there is no rag and bottle shop where superannuated bank +clerks of five-and-fifty have even the very modest market value of +scrap-iron!" he went on. "Of all kinds of uselessness, that of we +godlike human beings is the most utterly obvious when our working day +is past. Mental decay and bodily corruption as the ultimate. And, this +side of it, a few years of increasing degradation, a mere senseless +killing of time until the very unpleasing goal is reached—along with a +growing selfishness, and narrowness of outlook; along, possibly, with +some development of senile sensuality, the more detestable because it +lacks the provocations of hot blood. Oh! Dominic Iglesias, Dominic +Iglesias, is that the ugly road you are doomed to travel—a toothless +greed for filling your belly with fly-blown dainties off the +refuse-heap?" +</p> + +<p> +And through the open window, in sinister accompaniment to little Mr. +Farge's sophisticated and unpastoral pipings, came the voice of the +great city herself in answer—low, multitudinous, raucous, without +emphasis but without briefest relief of interval or of pause. And this +laid hold strongly of Iglesias' imagination, reminding him of all the +intimate wretchedness of that first stranding of the ship of his fate. +Reminding him of his long and fruitless trampings in search of +employment—good looks, energy, youth itself, seeming but an added +handicap—when London revealed herself to him in her solidarity, +revealed herself as a prodigious living creature, awful in her +mysterious vigour, ever big with impending birth, merciless with +impending death. As she showed herself to him then, with life all +untried before him, so she showed herself still when, in the blackness +of his present humour, all life worth the name appeared over and +passed. He had changed, so he believed, to the point of nullity and +final ineptitude. She remained strong, active, relentless as ever. As +long ago, so now, she struck him as monstrous. Yet now, though all the +conditions were changed, he had, as long ago, an instinct that from her +there was no escape. +</p> + +<p> +"I have served you honestly enough all these years," he said—since she +had voice to speak, she had also ears to hear, mayhap—"and you have +taken much and given little. To-day you have turned me off, told me to +quit. But where, I ask you, can I go? I am too stiffened by work, +unskilled in travel, too unadaptable to begin again elsewhere. +Moreover, you hold the record of my experience, all my glad and +sorrowful memories. I might try to leave you, but it's no use. I am +planted and rooted in you, monstrous mother that you are. If I know +myself, I should go only to come back." +</p> + +<p> +For the moment the calm of long self-control was broken up within him. +Dominic Iglesias dwelt, consciously and sensibly, in the horror of the +Outer Darkness—which horror is known only to that small and somewhat +suspect minority of human beings who are also capable, by the operation +of the divine mercy, of dwelling in the glory of the Uncreated Light. +The swing of the pendulum is equal to right as to left. He was +staggered by the misery of his own isolation—a stranger, as he +suddenly realised, by temperament and ideals, as well as by race! Then +resolutely he turned his back on this, with an instinct of +self-preservation directing his thought to things practical and average. +</p> + +<p> +For example, that question of the pension—concerning which he now +found, to his slight surprise, he was no longer the least in doubt. +This money was his by right. The hard strain in his nature was +dominant—to the full he would claim his rights. And since in moments +of despair the human mind invariably requires a human victim, be it +merely a simulacrum, a waxen image of a man to melt in the fires of its +humiliation and revolt, Iglesias remembered, with much contemptuous +satisfaction, the ironical portrait of Sir Abel Barking adorning the +wall of the latter's private room at the bank. He hailed the diabolic +talent of the artist who had laid bare with such subtle skill the +flatulence of his sitter. It was a pretty revenge, very assuaging just +now to Iglesias. For the real man, as he reflected, was not the man who +sat heavily self-complacent in a library chair, exuding platitudes and +pride of patronage; but the man who hung upon the wall forever +ridiculous while paint and canvas should last. Thus would he go down to +posterity! And to Dominic Iglesias, just now, it seemed very excellent +that posterity should know him for the wind-bag hypocrite he +essentially was. Securely entrenched behind his own large prosperity, +uxoriousness, paternity, had he not counted his, Iglesias', blessings +to him; counselling amusement, rest, congratulating him on just all +that which made for his present distress—namely, his obscure position, +his enforced idleness, his absence of human ties, the general +meagreness of his state in life? The more he thought of the incident, +the more it filled him with indignation and disgust. Therefore, very +certainly he would claim his pension; claim an infinitesimal but actual +fraction of this man's great wealth; would live long so as to claim it +as long as possible, till the paying of it, indeed, should become a +weariness to the payer. And he would spend it, too, unquestionably he +would. Mr. Iglesias' rare and gracious smile had an almost cruel edge +to it. +</p> + +<p> +"The machine shall become a man again," he said. "And the man shall +amuse himself. How, I don't yet know, but I will find out. Work has +made me dull and inept." +</p> + +<p> +He straightened himself up, tired, yet unbroken, defiant, aware—though +the horror of the Outer Darkness was yet upon him—of purpose still +militant and unspent. +</p> + +<p> +"Play may make me the reverse of dull and inept. I have always been +diligent and methodical. I will continue to be so. This enterprise +admits of no delay. I will begin at once, begin to-morrow, to amuse +myself." +</p> + +<p> +It is characteristic of the Latin to see things written in fire and +blood, which the slower-brained Anglo-Saxon only sees written in red +paint—if, indeed, he ever arrives at seeing them written at all. +To-night the Latin held absolute sway in Dominic Iglesias. With freedom +had come a curious reversion to type. His humour, like his smile, was a +trifle cruel. He observed, criticised, judged, condemned unsparingly, +all mental courtesies in abeyance. When, therefore, at this juncture +the three eyes of the Lovegroves' dining-room gaselier winked slowly, +and closed their lids—so to speak—ceasing to watch and to supplicate, +he suffered no self-reproach. The good, simple couple were shutting up +house and going to bed, he supposed. They sought repose betimes; and, +unless supper had been more aggressively cold and heavy than usual, +slept, till broad day, a dreamless sleep. Decidedly it was well he had +not taken his hat and stepped across to visit them, for, beyond all +question, they would not have understood! The voice of London, for +instance, meant nothing to them. They had no notion London had a voice. +Still less had they any notion she was a prodigious living creature. +London was the place where they resided—that was all, and, since the +streets are admittedly noisy and dusty, they had taken a house in this +genteel and convenient suburb. Of the tremendous life and force of +things, miscalled man-made and inanimate, they had no faintest +conception. Small wonder they went to bed betimes and slept a dreamless +sleep! Thinking of which—notwithstanding their kindness and +affection—they became, just now, to Iglesias as truly astonishing +phenomena in their line as Sir Abel Barking in his. He saw in them +merely specimens, though good ones, of the great majority of the +British public, a public so overlaid and permeated by convention, so +parochial in outlook, so hidebound by social tradition and insular +prejudice, that it is really less in touch with everlasting fact than +the animals it pets, demoralises, and eats. These at least have +instinct, and so are at one with universal nature. In perception, in +spontaneity of action, good Mrs. Lovegrove was as an infant compared to +her parrot or her pug. So was little Mr. Farge with his sophisticated +warblings—so, for that matter, were all the other persons among whom +his, Iglesias', lot was cast. His sense of isolation deepened. If +amusement was his object, most certainly the society of Trimmer's Green +would not supply it. He must look further afield for all that. +</p> + +<p> +In the far northwest the last of the sunset had faded; only the cloud +remained. Yet the horizon, above the broken line of the house-roofs and +chimney-pots, pulsed with light—the very earthly light which, in great +cities, flares out when the light of heaven dies, to walk the streets, +with much else of doubtful loveliness, till it is shamed by the cold +chastity of dawn. And along with that outflaring, a certain +meretricious element introduced itself into the aspect of Trimmer's +Green. Across the roadway, the gaslamps showed cones of vivid yet +sickly brightness, bringing at regular intervals the sharply indented +leaves of the plane trees and the shivering silver of the +balsam-poplars into an arresting and artificial distinctness. Between +were spaces of vacancy and gloom. And from out such a space, +immediately opposite, slowly emerged a shambling and ungainly figure, +in which Dominic Iglesias recognised the third of his fellow-lodgers, +Mr. de Courcy Smyth. His acquaintance with the said lodger was of the +slightest, since the latter had but recently entered into residence and +rarely appeared at meals. Mrs. Porcher habitually referred to him with +a pitying respect as "a gentleman very influential in literary and +professional circles, but unfortunate in his married life"; ending with +a sigh and upward glance of her still fine eyes, as one who could +sympathise, having herself been through that gate. Influential or not, +it occurred to Iglesias that the man presented a sorry spectacle +enough. For a minute or so he stood aimlessly in the full glare of a +gaslamp. His thin, creasy Inverness cape was thrown back, displaying +evening dress. He carried a soft grey felt hat in one hand. His whole +aspect was seedy, disappointed, dejected; his face pale and puffy, his +sparse reddish hair and beard but indifferently trimmed. It was borne +in upon Iglesias, moreover, that the man was hungry, that he had +not—and that for some time—had enough to eat. Voluntary poverty is +among the most beautiful, involuntary poverty among the ugliest, sights +upon earth; and to which order of poverty that of de Courcy Smyth +belonged, Mr. Iglesias was in no doubt. This was a sordid sight, a +sight of discouragement, adding the last touch to the melancholy which +oppressed him. The seedy figure crossed the road, fumbled for a minute +with a latchkey. Then nerveless footsteps ascended the stairs, passed +the door, and took their joyless way up and onward to the +bed-sitting-room immediately above. +</p> + +<p> +Down below the music had ceased, while sounds arose suggestive of a +little playfulness on the part of the two young men in bidding their +hostess and Miss Eliza Hart good-night. Very soon the house became +silent. But Dominic Iglesias, though tired, was in no humour for sleep. +He drew forward a leather-covered armchair and sat near the open +window, in at which came a breathing of night wind. This was soothing, +touching his forehead as with delicate pressure of a cool and +sympathetic hand; so that, without any sense of surprising transition, +he found himself in the garden of the little house in Holland Street, +Kensington, once again. The laburnum was in full blossom, and the +breeze uplifted the light drooping branches of it, making all their +golden glory dance in the sunshine. There must have been rain in the +night, too, for the stone basin was full of water, in which the +sparrows were busy washing, sending up tiny iridescent jets and +fountains from their swiftly fluttering wings. It was delicious to +Dominic. He felt very safe, very gay. Only a heavy ill-favoured tabby +cat came from nowhere. It had designs upon the sparrows. Twice it +climbed stealthily up the broken bricks and gas clinkers. Twice the +little boy drove it away. It was not a nice cat. It had a broad white +face, deceitful little eyes, and grey whiskers. It declared it only +caught sparrows for their good and for the good of the community. It +assured Dominic he was guilty of a grave error of judgment in +attempting to interfere. It said a great deal about moral +responsibility and the heavy obligations persons of wealth and position +owe to themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Just then Pascal Pelletier, carrying a square Huntley Palmer's biscuit +tin, containing an infernal machine, under his arm, his angelic +countenance radiant in the sunshine, came down the steps from the +dining-room window. And, while Dominic ran to greet him, the cat crept +back again—its face was the face of Sir Abel Barking, and it made a +spring at the sparrows. But the pillar broke and the basin toppled +over, pinning it, across the loins, down on to the clinkers under the +edge of the stone lip. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! you've spoilt my garden, you've spoilt my garden!" Dominic cried. +"The basin has fallen. The sparrows will never wash in it any more." +</p> + +<p> +But Pascal Pelletier patted him on the head tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not weep over the fallen basin, very dear one," he said. "Rather +sing aloud Te Deum in praise of the glorious goddess of Social +Revolution who has delivered the enemy of the people into our hands. +This is no affair of cat and bird, but of the capitalist and the +proletariat on which he battens. So for a little space let the unholy +creature lie there writhing. Let it understand what it is to have a +back broken by the weight of an impossible burden. Let it try vainly to +drag its limbs from beneath an immovable load. Observe it, let it +suffer. Very soon we will finish with it, and explode the iniquitous +system it represents. See, in the name of humanity, of labour, of the +unknown and unnumbered millions of the martyred poor, I set a match to +this good little fuse, and, with the rapidity of thought, blow +blasphemous tyrant Capital into a thousand fragments of reeking flesh +and splintered bone!" +</p> + +<p> +But to the little boy, words and spectacle alike had become unendurably +painful. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, Pascal, you cannot cure everything that way. It is not just," +he cried. And running forward with all his strength he lifted the stone +basin off the wounded creature—cat, man, beast of prey, modern +financier, be it what it might. He stopped to gather it up in his arms, +and, repulsive though it was, to comfort and protect it. But just then +came a thunderous rattle and crash knocking him senseless. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias sat bolt upright in his chair, uncertain of his identity +and surroundings, shaken and bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +Upstairs, de Courcy Smyth—spent and stupefied by the writing of a +would-be smart critique on the first-night performance of a screaming +farce, for one of to-morrow's evening papers—had stumbled, upsetting +the fire-irons, as he slouched across his room to bed. Iglesias heard +the creak of the wire-wove mattress as the man flung himself down; and +that familiar sound restored his sense of actualities. Yet all his mood +was changed and softened. The return to childhood had made a strange +impression upon him, filling him with a great nostalgia for things +apparently lost, but exquisite; and which, having once been, might, +though he knew not by what conceivable alchemy of time or chance, once +again be. Meanwhile, he must have slept long, for the wind had grown +chill. The voice of London, the monstrous mother, had grown weak and +intermittent. And the earthly light, pulsing along the horizon, had +grown faint, humbled and chastened by the whiteness of approaching dawn. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER IV +</h3> + +<p> +A quarter-mile range of high unpainted oak paling, well seasoned, well +carpentered, innocent of chink or shrinkage, impervious to the human +eye. Visible above it the domed heads of enormous elm trees steeped in +sunshine, rising towards the ample curve of the summer sky. At +intervals, with tumultuous rush and scurry, the thud of the hoofs of +unseen horses, galloping for all they are worth over grass. The suck +and rub of breeches against saddle-flaps, the rattle of a curb chain or +the rings of a bit. A call, a challenge, smothered exclamations. The +long-drawn swish of the polo stick through the air, and the whack of +the wooden head of it against ball, or ground, or something unluckily +softer and more sentient. A pause, broken only by distant voices, and +the sound, or rather sense, of men and horses in quiet and friendly +movement; followed by the tumultuous rush and scurry, and all the +moving incidents of the heard, yet unwitnessed, drama over again. +</p> + +<p> +For here it was that gallant and costly game beloved of Oriental +princes—rather baldly described to Mr. Iglesias yesterday by the +driver of the Hammersmith 'bus as a "kind of hockey on horseback"—in +very full swing no doubt. Only unfortunately Iglesias found himself on +the wrong side of the palings. And, since he had learned, indirectly, +from the observations of the monumental police-sergeant—directing the +stream of carriages at the entrance gates—to other would-be +spectators, that to the polo ground, as to so much else obviously +desirable in this world, there is "no admission except by ticket," on +the wrong side of these same palings he recognised he was fated to +stay. It was a disappointment, not to say an annoyance. For he had come +forth, in accordance with his determination, to make observations and +inquiries regarding that same matter of amusement. And, since the +influence of that which is to be acts upon us almost, if not quite, as +strongly as the influence of that which has been, the handsome, eager +countenance of young Alaric Barking and the graceful figure of his fair +companion, as seen from the 'bustop, occurred very forcibly in this +connection to Dominic Iglesias' mind. He would go forth and behold that +which they had gone forth to behold. He would witness the sports of the +well-born and rich. From these he elected, somewhat proudly, to take +his first lessons in the fine art of amusement. So here he was; and +here, too—very much here—were the palings, spelling failure and +frustration of purpose. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately unwonted exercise and the pure invigorating atmosphere +tended to generate placidity, and agreeable harmony of the mental and +physical being. It followed that active annoyance was short-lived. For +a minute or two Mr. Iglesias loitered, listening to the moving music of +the unseen game. Then, walking onward to the end of the enclosure, +where the palings turn away sharply at the left, he crossed the road +and made for a wooden bench just there amiably presenting itself. It +was pleasant to rest. The walk had been a long one; but it now appeared +to him that the labour of it had not been wholly in vain. For around +him stretched a breezy common, broken by straggling bramble and furze +brakes, and dotted with hawthorn bushes, upon the topmost branches of +which the crowded pinkish-white blossoms still lingered. From one to +another small birds flitted with a pretty dipping flight, uttering +quick detached notes as in merry question and answer. Through the rough +turf the bracken pushed upward, uncurling sturdy croziers of brownish +green. Away to the right, beyond the railway line, rose the densely +wooded slopes of Roehampton and Sheen; while, against the purple-green +gloom of them, the home signals of Barnes Station—hard white lines and +angles tipped with scarlet and black—stood out in high relief like the +gigantic characters of some strange alphabet. Down the wide road motors +ground and snorted; and carriages moved slowly, two abreast, the +menservants sitting at ease, talking and smoking while waiting to take +up at the police-guarded gate, back there towards the heat and smoke of +London, when the polo match should be played out. +</p> + +<p> +But immediately London, the heat, and smoke, and raucous voice of it, +seemed far enough away, the wholesome charm of the country very +present. For a while Dominic Iglesias yielded himself up to it. +Receptive, quiescent, contented, he basked in the sunshine, his mind +vacant of definite thought. But for a while only. For as physical +fatigue wore off, definite thought returned; and with it the sense of +his own loneliness, the oppression of a future empty of work, the +bitterness of this enhanced by the little disappointment he had lately +suffered. He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees, +looking at the bracken croziers pushing bravely upward through the +rough turf to air and light. Even these blind and speechless things +worked, in a sense, fulfilling the law of their existence. He went back +on the dream of last night, on his own childhood, the happiness, yet +haunting unspoken anxiety of it, his father's fanaticism, fierce +revolutionary propaganda, and mysteriously uncertain fate. +</p> + +<p> +"And to think that was the pit out of which I, of all men, was digged!" +he said to himself. "Have I done something to restore the family +balance in respect of right reason, or is the shame of incapacity upon +me? Have I sacrificed myself, or cowardly have I merely shirked living? +Heaven knows—I don't, only——" +</p> + +<p> +But here his uncheerful meditations were broken in on by a voice, +imperative in tone, yet perceptibly shaken by laughter. +</p> + +<p> +"Cappadocia!" it called. "Cappadocia! Do you hear? Come here, you +little reprobate." +</p> + +<p> +Then Dominic Iglesias perceived that he had ceased to be sole occupant +of the bench. A dog, a tiny toy spaniel, sat beside him. It sidled very +close, gazing at him with foolishly prominent eyes. Its ears, black +edged with tan, soft and lustrous as floss silk, hung down in long +lappets on either side its minute and melancholy face. The tip of its +red tongue just showed. It was abnormally self-conscious and solemn. It +planted one fringed paw upon Iglesias' arm and it snored. +</p> + +<p> +"Cappadocia!—well, of all the cheeky young beggars——" +</p> + +<p> +This time the voice broke in unmistakable merriment, wholly +spontaneous, as of relief, even of mischievous triumph; and Mr. +Iglesias, looking up, found himself confronted by a young woman. She +advanced slowly, her trailing string-coloured lace skirts gathered up +lazily in one hand. About her shoulders she wore a long blue-purple +silk scarf, embroidered with dragons of peacock, and scarlet, and gold. +These rather violent colours found repetition in the nasturtium leaves +and flowers that crowned her lace hat, the wide brim of which was tied +down with narrow strings of purple velvet, gipsy fashion, beneath her +chin. Under her arm she carried another tiny spaniel, the creature's +black morsel of a head peeping out quaintly from among the forms of the +embroidered dragons, which last appeared to writhe, as in the heat of +deadly conflict, as their wearer moved. Her face was in shadow owing to +the breadth of the brim of her hat. Otherwise the sunshine embraced her +whole figure, conferring on it a glittering yet singularly +unsubstantial effect, as though a column of pale windswept dust were +overlaid, here and there, with splendour of rich enamel. +</p> + +<p> +And it was just this effect of something unsubstantial, in a way +fictitious and out of relation to sober fact, which struck Dominic +Iglesias, robbing him for the moment of his dignified courtesy. Frankly +he stared at this appearance, so strangely at variance with the +realities of his own melancholy thought. Meanwhile the little dog +snuggled up yet closer against him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—pray don't disturb yourself," the young lady went on volubly +"It's too bad, I know, to intrude on you like this. But as Cappadocia +refuses to come to me, it is clear I have to come after Cappadocia. +It's simply disgraceful the way she carries on when one takes her out, +making acquaintances like this, casually, all over the place. The maids +flatly refuse to air her, even on a string. They say it becomes a +little too compromising. But, as I explain to them, she's not a bit the +modern woman. She belongs to a stage of social development when pretty +people infinitely preferred being compromised to being squelched." The +speaker laughed again quietly. "I'm not altogether sure they weren't +right. When you are squelched, finished, done for, it matters precious +little whether you've been compromised first or not. Don't you agree? +Any way, Cappadocia's not going to be squelched if she can help it. +She's horribly scared, or pretends to be, at motors. Let one toot and +she forgets all her fine-lady manners, and just skips to anybody for +protection. She'll take refuge in the most unconventional places to +escape." +</p> + +<p> +The part of wisdom, in face of this very forthcoming young person, +would have been no doubt to arise and withdraw. But to Dominic +Iglesias, just then, dogs, woman, conversation, were alike so remote +and unreal, part merely of the scene which he had been contemplating, +that he failed to take them seriously. Divorced from routine, he was +divorced, in a way, from habitual modes of mind and conduct. He neither +consented nor refused, but just let things happen, attaching little or +no meaning to them. If this feminine being chose to prattle—well, let +her do so. Really he did not care. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not very modern myself," he said, with a shade of weariness. "So +perhaps your small dog had some intuition of a kindred spirit when +taking refuge with me." +</p> + +<p> +"All the same, you hardly date from the social era of Charles II., I +fancy," the young lady answered quickly. +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke she raised her chin with a slightly impudent movement, +thus bringing her countenance into the sunlight. For the first time +Iglesias clearly saw her face. It was small, the features +insignificant, the skin smooth and fine in texture, but sallow. Her +hair, black and very massive, was puffed out and dressed low, hiding +her ears. Her lips were rather positively red, and the tinge of colour +on either cheek, though slight, was not wholly convincing in tone. Even +to a person of Mr. Iglesias' praiseworthy limitation of experience in +such matters, her face was vaguely suggestive of the footlights—would +have been distinctly so but for her eyes. These were curiously at +variance with the rest of her appearance. They belonged to a quite +other order of woman, so to speak—a woman of finer physique, of higher +intelligence, possibly of nobler purposes. They were arrestingly large +in size, thereby helping to dwarf the proportions of her face. In +colour they were a rather light warm hazel, with a slight film over +both iris and pupil, and a noticeably bluish shade in the whites of +them. In these last particulars they were like a baby's eyes; but very +unlike in the reflective intensity of their observation as she fixed +them upon Dominic Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"Cappadocia may be a fool about motors," she remarked, "but she's +uncommonly shrewd in reading character. She seems to like you, to have +taken you on, don't you know; and she's generally right. So I'll sit +down, please. Oh! no, no, come along now"—this as Mr. Iglesias rose +and made a movement to depart—"why, dear man, the very point of the +whole show is that you should sit down, too." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<p> +And so it came about that the Lady of the Windswept Dust sat at one end +of the flat bench and Dominic Iglesias at the other, with the two +absurd and exquisite little dogs in between. And the lady chattered. +Her voice was sweet and full, with plaintive tones and turns of +laughter in it; and, though the vowel sounds were not wholly +impeccable, having the tang in them common to the speech of the cockney +bred, the aspirates happily remained inviolate. And Iglesias listened, +still with a curious indifference, as, sitting in the body of the +house, he might have listened to patter from the other side of the +footlights. It passed the time. Presently he would get up, taking the +whole of his rather sorrowful personality along with him, and go out by +the main entrance, while she left by the stage door—and so vanished, +little dogs and all. +</p> + +<p> +"It's my habit to play fair," she announced. "If I'm going to ask +personal questions at the finish, I always lead up to them by supplying +personal information at the start. It's mean to induce other people to +give themselves away unless you give yourself away first—also, I +observe it is usually quite unsuccessful. Well, then, to begin with, +his name"—she gently poked the tiny spaniel beside her, causing it to +wriggle uneasily all the length of its satiny back—"is Onions. +Graceful and distinguished, isn't it? But I give you my word I couldn't +help myself. Cappadocia's so duchessy that I had to knock the conceit +out of her somehow, or it would not have been possible to live with +her. She was altogether too smart for me—used to look at me as if I +was a cockroach. So I consulted a friend of mine about it; for it's a +little too much to be made to feel like a black-beetle in your own +house, and by a thing of that size, too! And he—my friend—said there +is nothing to compare with a <i>mésalliance</i> for taking the stuffing out +of anyone. I own I was not exactly off my head about that speech of +his. In a way it was rather a facer; but when I got cool I saw he was +right. After all, he knew, and I knew—and he knew that I knew——" +</p> + +<p> +The lady paused. Her voice had taken on a plaintive inflection. She +looked away at the domed heads of the enormous elm trees above the +range of oak palings. +</p> + +<p> +"For the life of me I can't imagine why you're here," she exclaimed, +"instead of inside there with all the rest of them! However, we haven't +got as far as that yet. I was telling you about my King Charleses. So +my friend brought me this one"—again she poked the little dog gently. +"His pedigree's pretty fair, but of course it's not a patch on +Cappadocia's. Her prizes and the puppies—you don't mind my alluding +quite briefly to the puppies—are a serious source of income to me. But +I believe she would have ignored the defective pedigree. He is rather +nice-looking, you see, and Cappadocia is rather superficial. It is the +name that worries her—Onions, Willie Onions, that's where the real +trouble comes in. Not like it? I believe you. She's capable of saving +up all her pocket-money to buy him a foreign title, as a rich, ugly +woman I once knew did who married a man called Spittles. He was a bad +lot when she married him, and he stayed so. But as the Comte d'Oppitale +it didn't matter. Vices became merely quaint little eccentricities. If +he beat her it was with an umbrella with a coronet on the handle, and +that made all the difference. Everything for the shop window, you see, +with a nature like hers or Cappadocia's. But I don't rub it in, I +assure you I don't. I only remind Cappadocia of the fact by calling her +Mrs. W. O. when she's a pest and a terror. And that's better than +smacking her, anyhow, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +To this proposition Mr. Iglesias gravely assented. The lady drew her +blue-purple scarf a little closer about her shoulders, causing the +embroidered dragons to writhe as in the heat of conflict, while the +sunlight glinted on the gold thread of their crests and claws, and +glittered in their jewelled eyes. She gazed at the elm trees again. +</p> + +<p> +"It's quite nice to hear you speak, you know," she remarked +parenthetically. "The conversation has been a little one-sided so far. +I was beginning to be afraid you might be bored. But now it's all +right. I flourish on encouragement! So, to go on, my name is +Poppy—Poppy St. John—Mrs. St. John. Rather good, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Distinctly so," said Mr. Iglesias. Her unblushing effrontery began to +entertain him somewhat. And then he had sallied forth in search of +amusement. This was not the form of amusement he would have selected; +but—since it presented itself? +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad you like it," she returned. "I've always thought it rather +telling myself—an improvement on Mrs. Willie Onions, anyhow. Oh! yes, +a vast improvement," she repeated. "My friend was quite right. I tell +you it's an awful handicap to have a name which gives you away +socially. The man, the husband, I mean, may be the best of the good. +Still, it's difficult to forgive him for labelling you with some +stupidity like that. There's no getting away from it. You feel like a +bottle of pickles, or boot-polish, or a tin of insecticide whenever a +servant announces you. Everybody knows where you do—and don't—come +in. But, to go on, I am barely three—only I fancy you are the sort of +person who is rather rough on lying, aren't you? Well, in that case, +quite between ourselves—I am just turned nine-and-twenty." +</p> + +<p> +She faced round on Dominic Iglesias, fixing on him those curiously +arresting eyes, which at once emphasised and redeemed the commonness of +her face, as the sweetness of her voice emphasised and redeemed the +commonness of her accent, and the quietude of her manner and movements +mitigated the impertinence of her words and vulgarity of her diction. +</p> + +<p> +"And really that's about all it is necessary for you to know at +present," she asserted. "We shall see later, if we keep it up—if +Cappadocia keeps it up, I mean, of course. She is fearfully gone on you +now, that's clear; and she may be capable of a serious attachment. I +can't tell. An unfortunate marriage has been known to turn that way +before now. Anyhow, we'll give her the benefit of the doubt." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy laughed softly, leaning forward and still looking at Mr. Iglesias +from under the shadow of her wide-brimmed hat. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," she said, "come along. I've shown you I play fair all round, +even to a stuck-up little monkey of a thing like Cappadocia. It's your +turn to stand and deliver. I had been watching you and speculating for +ever so long before our introduction. Tell me, who on earth are you?" +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias' figure stiffened a little; but it was impossible to be +annoyed with her. To begin with, she was too unreal, too unsubstantial +a being. And, to go on with, invincible good-temper is so very +disarming. +</p> + +<p> +"Who am I? Nobody," he answered gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless us, here's a find!" Poppy cried, apparently addressing the +little dogs. "Hasn't he so much of a name even as Willie Onions? +Where's it gone to? It must be nearly as awkward for him as it was for +the man who had no shadow. Come, though," she added in tones of +remonstrance, "you must play fair. Cards on the table and no +humbugging. To put it another way, what do you do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Since yesterday, nothing," he answered. +</p> + +<p> +The young lady regarded him with increasing interest. +</p> + +<p> +"But, my gentle lunatic," she said, "you didn't exactly begin your +acquaintance with this planetary sphere yesterday—couldn't, you know, +though you are very beautiful to look at. So, if you don't very +particularly much mind, we'll hark back to before yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias' gravity gave way slightly. He smiled in spite of his +natural pride and reticence. +</p> + +<p> +"For over thirty-five years I was a clerk in a city bank." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw!" Poppy cried hotly. "And pray what variety of congenital idiot +do you take me for? If you are going to decline upon fiction, please +let it be of a higher order than that. I tell you it's unworthy of you!" +</p> + +<p> +She pursed up her lips and moved her head slowly from side to side in +high disgust. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be childish," she said. "Don't be transparently silly. If you +want to gas, do put a little more intelligence into it. You—you—out +of sight the most distinguished-looking man I've ever met except +Lord—well, we won't name names, it sounds showy—you a clerk in a city +bank! There, excuse me, but simply—" Poppy snapped her fingers like a +pair of castanets, making the little dogs start and whimper. "Fiddle!" +she cried; "tell it to a bed-ridden spinster in a blind +asylum!—Fiddle-de-dee!" +</p> + +<p> +And for the life of him Dominic Iglesias could not help laughing. It +was a new sensation. It occurred to him that he had not laughed for +years—hardly since the days of poor Pascal Pelletier and the little +garden in Holland Street, Kensington. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy watched him, her eyes dancing. Her expression was very charming, +wholly unselfconscious, in a way maternal, just then. But Iglesias was +hardly sensible of it. +</p> + +<p> +"That's good," she said. "Now you'll feel a lot better. I saw there was +something wrong with you from the start which needed breaking up. Now, +suppose you quit inadequate inventions and just tell the truth." +</p> + +<p> +"Unfortunately, I have done so already," Mr. Iglesias said. +</p> + +<p> +The lady paused a moment, her face full of inquiry and doubt. +</p> + +<p> +"Honest injun?" +</p> + +<p> +The term was not familiar to her hearer, but he judged it to be of the +nature of an asseveration, and assented. +</p> + +<p> +"And do you mean to tell me that for all those years you went through +that drudgery every day?" +</p> + +<p> +"I had my Sundays," Iglesias answered; "and, since their invention, my +bank holidays. Latterly I got three weeks' holiday in the summer, +formerly a fortnight." +</p> + +<p> +Laughter had speedily evaporated; and, his harsher mood returning upon +him, Iglesias found a certain bitter enjoyment in setting forth the +extreme meagreness of his life before this light-hearted, unsubstantial +piece of womanhood. Again he classed her with the absurd and exquisite +little dogs as something superfluous, out of relation to sad and sober +realities. +</p> + +<p> +"And yet you manage to look as you do! It beats me," Poppy declared. "I +tell you it knocks me out of time completely. For, if you'll excuse my +being personal, there is an air about you not usually generated by an +office stool—at least, in my experience. Where do you get it from? You +can't be English?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am a Spaniard by extraction," Mr. Iglesias said, with a slight lift +of the head. +</p> + +<p> +"There now, my dear man, don't you go and freeze up again. We were just +beginning to get along so nicely," Poppy put in quickly. "I am having a +capital good time, and you're not having an altogether bad one, are +you? But, tell me, how long ago were you extracted?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very long ago. I was brought to England as a baby child." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I didn't mean it that way," she returned. "I was not touching on +the unpardonable subject of age; not that it would matter much in your +case, for you are one of the lucky sort with whom age does not count. I +only meant are you an all-round foreigner?" +</p> + +<p> +"Practically—my mother was partly Irish." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias looked away to those densely wooded slopes of Sheen +and Roehampton, against the purple-green gloom of which the home +signals of Barnes Station—hard white lines and angles tipped with +scarlet and black—stood out like the gigantic characters of some +strange alphabet. The air was sweet with the scent of new-mown hay. The +birds flirted up and down the hawthorn bushes and furze brakes. It was +all very charming; yet that same emptiness and distrust of the future +were very present to Iglesias. He forgot all about his companion, aware +only that those two unbidden guests, Old Age and Loneliness, stood +close beside him, claiming harbourage and entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! your mother," Poppy said slowly, with the slightest perceptible +inflection of mockery. "And she is alive still?" +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias turned upon the poor Lady of the Windswept Dust +fiercely. She had come too close, come from her proper place—were not +her lips painted?—behind the footlights, and laid her hands upon that +which was holy. He was filled with unreasoning anger towards her—anger +towards himself, too, that he should have departed from his habitual +silence and reticence, submitted to be cross-questioned, and listened +to her feather-headed patter so long. He rose to his feet, for the +moment young, alert, full of a pride at once militant and protective. +</p> + +<p> +"God forbid!" he said sternly. "Dear saint and martyr, she is safe from +all misreading at last. She is dead." +</p> + +<p> +He stood a moment trying to choke down his anger before addressing her +again. +</p> + +<p> +"It is time I should go," he said presently. "I think we have talked +enough." +</p> + +<p> +But Poppy St. John presented a singular appearance. All the audacity +had departed from her. She sat huddled together, looking very small and +desolate; her eyes—the one noble feature of her face—swimming with +tears. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no; don't go," she cried in tones of childlike entreaty. "Why +should you go? I like you, and I meant no harm. I've had the beastliest +day, and meeting you was a let-up. You did me good somehow. Cappadocia +was quite right in taking to you. I only wanted to know about you +because—well, you are different. Pshaw, don't tell me. I know what I +am talking about. You're straight. You're good right through." +</p> + +<p> +The words were poured forth so rapidly that Iglesias hardly gathered +the exact purport of them. But one thing was clear to him—namely, that +this frivolous and meretricious being must be human after all, since +she could suffer. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't go," she repeated. "I'm miserable. I'll explain. I'll tell you. +Just sit down again. It would be awfully kind. You see, I've been +expecting a friend. It was all-important I should see him to-day, +because there were things to be said. I've been awake half the night +screwing up my courage to saying them. And then he never turned up. I +got nerves waiting hour after hour—anybody would, waiting like that. +And I began to imagine every kind of pestilent disaster." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy swallowed a little and dabbed her pocket-handkerchief against her +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be all right in a minute," she went on. "Do sit down, please. +You say you're nobody and have nothing to do, so you can't very well be +in a hurry. I am like this sometimes. It's awfully silly, but I can't +help it. Some rotten trifle sets me off, and then I can't stop myself. +I begin to go over all my worst luck.—Doesn't it occur to you there's +no earthly good in standing? It obliges me to talk loud, and it's +stupid to take all Barnes Common into our confidence. Thanks; that's +very nice of you.—Well, you see when I'm like his, the flood-gates of +memory are opened—which sounds pretty enough, but the prettiness is +strictly limited to the sound for most of us, at least as far as my +experience goes. The water is generally a bit dirty, and there are too +many dead things floating about in it; and, when they reel by, as the +current takes them, they turn and seem to struggle and come half alive." +</p> + +<p> +She paused, hitching the embroidered dragons up about her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"That is why I put on this scarf to-day. It was given me by a man who +was awfully fond of me before—I married. He bought it in the bazaar at +Peshawur, and sent it home to me just as he was starting on one of +those little frontier wars the accounts of which they keep out of the +English papers. And he was killed, poor dear old boy, in some footy +little skirmish. And this is all I've got left of him." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy spread out the ends of the scarf for Mr. Iglesias' inspection. +</p> + +<p> +"It must have cost a lot of money. The stones are real, you see; and +that gold thread is tremendously heavy. Just feel the weight. It was +all his people's doing. They didn't consider me smart enough for +him—or rather for themselves. They weren't anybody in particular, but +they were climbing. The society microbe had bitten them badly. So they +bundled him off to India. What another pair of shoes it would have been +for me if he'd lived! At least it seems so to me when I'm down on my +luck, as I am to-day. But after all, I don't know." Poppy began to be +impudent, to laugh again, though somewhat brokenly. "Sometimes I don't +believe one can count on any of you men till you are well dead, and +then you're not much use, you know, faithful or unfaithful." +</p> + +<p> +She dabbed her eyes once more and looked at Mr. Iglesias, smiling +ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +"Life's a pretty rotten business, at times, all round, isn't it?" she +said. "You must have found it so with that thirty years' drudgery in a +city bank. By the way, what bank was it?" +</p> + +<p> +And Dominic Iglesias, touched by that very human story, attracted, in +spite of himself, by the frankness of his companion, a little shaken by +the novelty of the whole situation, answered mechanically: +</p> + +<p> +"The bank? Oh, yes! Messrs. Barking Brothers & Barking of Threadneedle +Street." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Poppy sat silent, her mouth round as an O. Then she drew +her open hand down sharply behind poor Willie Onions, and shot the +small dog, in a sitting position, off the bench on to the rough grass. +His fringed legs stuck out stiff as sticks, while his enormous lappets +of ears flew up and back, giving him the most wildly demented +appearance during this brief inglorious flight through space. +</p> + +<p> +"Catch birds!" she cried, "catch birds, I tell you! Think of your +figure. My good child, take exercise or you'll be as round as a tub!" +</p> + +<p> +She clapped her hands encouragingly, but the little animal, +half-scared, half-offended, came closer, fawning upon her trailing +string-coloured skirts. Poppy leaned down, resting her elbows upon her +knees, and napped at the unhappy Onions with her handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +"Go away, you silly billy. Have a little decent pride, can't you? Don't +bestow attentions when they're unwelcome." Then she addressed herself +to Mr. Iglesias, but without looking up. "I beg your pardon, all this +must seem rather abrupt. But sometimes one's duty to one's family takes +one on the jump, as you may say; and one repairs neglect right away +also on the jump. But—but—there's one thing I should like to +know—when I told you my name just now—Poppy St. John, Mrs. St. +John—you remember?" +</p> + +<p> +"I remember," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, didn't it convey—didn't it mean anything special to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid not," Iglesias answered. "You must pardon my ignorance, +since I have lived very much out of the world. I know nothing of +society." +</p> + +<p> +"So much the better. The world is a vastly overrated place, and society +is about the biggest fraud going." She left off teasing the little dog, +sat bolt upright, and looked full at Dominic Iglesias, her eyes +serious, redeeming all the insignificance of her features and those +little doubtful details of the general effect of her. "Don't make any +mistake about either of them," she said. "Let the world and society +alone as you value your peace of mind and independence. They're dead +sea fruit to all outsiders such as—well—you and me. I hate them; only +they've got me, and will have me in some form or other till the end, I +suppose. But you are different, and I warn you"—Poppy's voice took on +an odd inflection of mingled bitterness and tenderness—"they are not a +bit adapted for a beautiful, innocent, uncrowned king like you." +</p> + +<p> +She got up as she spoke, gathering her trailing skirts about her, and +called sharply to the little dogs. +</p> + +<p> +"The dew is rising," she said, "and Cappadocia's a regular cry-baby if +she gets her feet wet. I must take her home. There's my card. You see +the address? You can come when you like, only let me know the day +beforehand, because I should be sorry to have people with me or to be +out. Cappadocia 'll want you. So shall I. You do me good. I'll play +quite fair, I promise you. Good-night." +</p> + +<p> +The sun stood in a triumph of crimson and gold, which passed into the +fine blue of a belt of earth mist. Eastward the sky blushed, too, but +with brazen blushes, tarnished by the breath of the great city—the +pure blue of the earth mist exchanged for the murk of coal smoke and +the thousand and one exhalations of steaming streets, public-houses and +restaurants. Poppy St. John walked slowly along the footpath, her +figure dyed by the effulgence of the skies to the crimson and gold of +her name. About her shoulders the embroidered dragons glittered as she +moved, while the two tiny spaniels trotted humbly at her heels. For a +brief space she showed absolutely resplendent. Then suddenly an +interposing terrace of smart much-be-balconied and beflowered little +houses shut off the sunset; and in their rather vulgar shadow Dominic +Iglesias, watching, beheld her transformed into the unsubstantial, in a +way fictitious, Lady of the Windswept Dust and of the footlights once +again. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VI +</h3> + +<p> +That weekly ceremony—well known to Trimmer's Green—Mrs. Lovegrove's +afternoon at-home, was in progress. She wore her black satin gown, and +her white Maltese lace fichu, just to give it a touch of summer +lightness. It must be added that she was warm and uncomfortable, having +conscientiously superintended preparations in respect of commissariat +in the overheated atmosphere of the basement; hurried upstairs—the +imagined tinkle of the front-door bell perpetually in her ears—to pull +her stays in at the waist and project herself into the aforementioned +official garments—a very trying process on a June day to a person of +ample contours and what may be described as the fluidic temperament. +Later she had cooled off, or tried so to cool—for on such occasions +there is invariably some window-blind, ornament, or piece of furniture +actively in need of straightening—sitting in her somewhat fog-stained +and sun-faded drawing-room during that evil period of waiting in which +the intending hostess first suffers acute mortification because she is +"quite sure nobody will come," and then gets hot all over from the +equally agitating certainty that everybody she has ever known will +appear simultaneously, and that there will be neither cakes nor +conversation enough to go round. +</p> + +<p> +But this disquieting and oft-repeated preface to the afternoon's +festivity was now happily over. And the good lady, oblivious of +discomfort and a slightly disorganised complexion, sat purring with +satisfaction upon her best Chesterfield sofa, Dr. Giles Nevington +beside her. "Pleasure, not business, to-day, Mrs. Lovegrove. For once I +am going to make no demands on my faithful and able coadjutor. This +call is a purely friendly one—no subscription lists of any sort or +description in my pocket," the clergyman had said in his resonant bass +when clasping her hand.—A large, dark, clean-shaven man of forty, a +studied effect of geniality and benevolence about him, slightly +tempered, perhaps, by cold and watchful blue-grey eyes, fixed—so said +his detractors—with unswerving determination upon the shovel-hat, +apron, and gaiters of the Anglican episcopate. +</p> + +<p> +Rhoda Lovegrove, however, was very far from being among the detractors. +She relished this gracious speech enormously. She also approved the +attitude of her husband at this juncture; since, with praiseworthy +tact, he engaged the attention of her two other guests, a Mrs. Ballard +and her daughter. These ladies were rich, the younger had pretensions +both to beauty and fashion; but their present was, alas! stained by +Noncomformity, their past contaminated by association with retail +trade. At the entrance of the vicar, remembering these sad defects, +George Lovegrove rose to the occasion. Gently, but firmly, he pranced +round them heading them towards the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are those?" Dr. Nevington inquired, with some interest. "Not +parishioners, I fancy." +</p> + +<p> +"Not in any true sense," Mrs. Lovegrove replied. "Dissenters, and I am +sorry to say rather spiteful against the Church." +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman leaned back and crossed his legs comfortably. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! well, poor human nature! A touch of jealousy perhaps," he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lovegrove beamed. +</p> + +<p> +"Very likely—still I should be just as well pleased not to continue +their acquaintance. I don't like to hear things that are disrespectful. +I should have ceased to call, but relatives of theirs are old friends +of Mr. Lovegrove's mother's family." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so, quite so," the other returned. Even when silent the sound of +him seemed to encompass him, as the roll of a drum seems to salute you +when merely beholding that instrument. His speech filled all the room, +flowing forth into every corner, sweeping upward in waves to the very +cornice. The feminine members of his congregation found this most +beautiful; having, indeed, been known to declare that did he preach in +Chinese, they would still receive edification and spiritual +benefit.—"Quite so," he repeated, "the breaking of old family ties is +certainly to be avoided. And then, moreover, we should always guard +against any appearance of harshness or illiberality in dealing with +Christians from whom we have reason to differ in minor questions of +doctrine or practice. We must never forget that the Nonconformists, +though they went out from us, do remain the brethren of all +right-minded Churchmen in a very special sense, since they have the +great lessons of the Reformation at heart. I could wish that certain +parties within the Church were animated by the same manly and +intelligent intolerance of idolatry and superstition as the majority of +the dissenters whom I meet. Personally I should welcome greater freedom +of intercourse, and a frequent interchange of pulpits." +</p> + +<p> +"We know who'd be the gainers," Mrs. Lovegrove put in gracefully. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! well, I am prepared to believe that the gain might not be +exclusively on one side." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lovegrove folded her fat hands, purring almost audibly. He seemed +to her so very wise and good. +</p> + +<p> +"That's so like you, Dr. Nevington," she said. "As I always tell Mr. +Lovegrove, we have a great responsibility in having you for our pastor +and friend. You are a standing rebuke to many of us, being so +wide-minded yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Hardly that, hardly that," he answered with becoming modesty. "In my +humble way I do strive towards unity, that is all. Even towards the +Church of Rome I would extend a friendly and helpful hand. We cannot, +of course, go to her, yet she should never be discouraged from coming +to us.—But here is your good husband back again—ceased to be unevenly +yoked with the unbeliever, eh, Lovegrove?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was glad you took them away, Georgie," Mrs. Lovegrove put in. "Still +I'm sorry for you, for the vicar's been talking so nobly. You've missed +such a lot." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, hardly that. I have merely been giving your dear good wife a +little lecture on Christian charity. How is Mrs. Nevington? Thank you, +wonderfull well, earnest and energetic as ever. I do not know how I +could meet the demands of this large parish without her." +</p> + +<p> +"A true helpmeet," purred Mrs. Lovegrove. +</p> + +<p> +"Truly so—and specially in all questions of organisation. She is +altogether my superior in administrative capacity. Indeed, it is an +understood thing between us that I relieve her of what may be called +the bad third of her marriage vow. If she will love and honour, I +assure her I am ready to obey. A capital working rule for husbands—eh, +Lovegrove?—always supposing they have found the right woman, as you +and I have." +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this delicious badinage the hostess had to rise to +receive further guests. Conflicting emotions struggled within her ample +bosom—namely, regret at leaving that thrice happy sofa, and +satisfaction that others should behold the glory thereon so visibly +enthroned. +</p> + +<p> +"How d'ye do, Mrs. Porcher? How d'ye do, Miss Hart?" she said. "Very +kind of you to come and call. Only a few friends as yet, but perhaps +that's just as pleasant this warm afternoon. Dr. Nevington, as you see, +and at his very best"—she lowered her voice discreetly. "So at home, +so full of great thoughts, and yet so comical—quite a privilege for +all to hear him talk." +</p> + +<p> +Encouraged by recent commendation, George Lovegrove again rose with +praiseworthy tact to the occasion. It may be stated in passing that, in +person, he was below the middle height, a thick oblong man, his figure, +indeed, not unsuggestive of a large carapace, from the four corners of +which sprouted short arms and legs. His face was round, fresh-coloured, +and clean to the point of polish. His yellowish grey hair, well +flattened and shining, grew far back on his forehead. And this, +combined with small blue eyes, clear as a child's, a slight inward +squint to them, produced an effect of permanent and innocent surprise +not devoid of pathos. In character he was guileless and humble-minded. +The spectacle of cruelty or injustice would, however, rouse him to the +belligerent attitude of the proverbial <i>brebis enragé</i>. He believed +himself to be very happy—an added touch of pathos perhaps—and was +pained and surprised if it was brought home to him that others found +life a less comfortable and kindly invention than he himself did. Hence +reports of suicides worried him sadly. He would always have returned a +verdict of temporary insanity, this being to him the only explanation +conceivable of a voluntary exit from our so excellent present form of +existence. Yet George Lovegrove was not without his little secret +sorrow—who indeed is? A deep-seated regret for nonexistent small +Lovegroves possessed him, the instinct of paternity being strong in +him. He loved children, and, when alone, often lingered beside +perambulators in Kensington Gardens fondly observing their contents. +Yet not for ten thousand pounds sterling would he have admitted this +weakness, lest in doing so he should hurt "the wife's feelings." And it +was in obedience to consideration for the said feelings that he now +threw himself gallantly into the breach. For, after acting as +appreciative chorus to an interlude of sonorous trifling on the part of +the clergyman with the newcomers, he adroitly—under promise of showing +her recent additions to his collection of picture postcards—detached +Miss Eliza Hart from the neighbourhood of the sofa and conveyed her to +the farther side of the room. Mrs. Porcher, neat, pensive, and +sentimental, could be trusted to play the part of attentive listener; +but the great Eliza, as he knew by experience, was liable to develop +dangerous energy, to get a little above herself, shake her leonine mane +of upstanding sandy hair, and become altogether too talkative, not to +say loud, for such distinguished company. Personally he had a soft spot +in his heart for Eliza. But, if she put herself forward, he feared for +"the wife's feelings," therefore did he skilfully detach her. +</p> + +<p> +And he had reason to congratulate himself on this manoeuvre, for Eliza +undoubtedly was in a frolicsome humour. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she remarked, contemplating the portrait of a celebrated +actress. "That is very taking and stylish; and it is just what I should +like to have done with my Peachie." This graceful <i>sobriquet</i> was +generally understood to bear testimony to the excellence of Mrs. +Porcher's complexion. "Now, if we wanted a gentleman guest or two more +at any time, a picture postcard of her like this, just slightly tinted, +in answer to inquiries?" +</p> + +<p> +Miss Hart, her head on one side, looked playfully at Mr. Lovegrove. +</p> + +<p> +"What about a subsequent summons for over-crowding?" he chuckled. The +whole breadth of the room, well understood, was between him and the +wife's feelings, not to mention the august presence beside her upon the +sofa. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt that has to be thought of!" Eliza nodded sagely. "But is she +not looking sweeter than ever to-day? Do not pretend you have not +noticed it, Mr. Lovegrove. There's no deceiving me! I know you." +</p> + +<p> +Like all mild and moral men, Lovegrove flushed with delight at any +suggestion that he was a gay dog, a dashing blade. His good, honest +face took on a higher polish than ever. +</p> + +<p> +"You are too clever by half, Miss Hart." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, somebody has to keep their wits about them, with such a love as +Peachie to care for. I dressed her myself to-day. 'The pearl-grey gown +if you like,' I said, 'but not a scrap of black with it. Just a touch +of colour at the throat, please.' 'No, dear Liz,' she said, 'it would +call for remark, since I have never done so since I lost Major +Porcher.' But there, Mr. Lovegrove, I insisted. For why she should go +on wearing complimentary mourning all her life for a wretch that nearly +broke her heart and ruined her, passes me. 'Forget the serpent,' I +said, 'and put on a little turquoise tulle pompom.' Now just look at +her!" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather dangerous for some people, is it not?" Lovegrove inquired quite +slyly. +</p> + +<p> +"Hard on our gentlemen, you mean? Well, perhaps it is. But then they +always have the sight of me to put up with.—No compliments, thank you. +I have my eyesight and my toilet-glass, and they have let me know I was +no Venus ever since I can remember. It would not do to depress our +gentlemen too much. They might leave, and then wherever would Cedar +Lodge be?" +</p> + +<p> +Miss Hart became suddenly serious and confidential. "And that reminds +me," she went on. "I wanted to have a private word with you to-day +about a certain gentleman." +</p> + +<p> +"Who may be?" the good George inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"You can guess, can't you? Your own candidate." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Iglesias?" +</p> + +<p> +The lady nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Peachie must be spared anxiety, therefore I speak, Mr. Lovegrove. +Something is going on, and she is getting worried. You cannot approach +the person to whom we are alluding as you can either of our others. +Rather stand-offish, even now after nearly eight years that he has been +with us. Between you and me and the bedpost, Mr. Lovegrove, I am just a +wee bit nervous of that person. So if you could hint, quite in +confidence, what his plans may be for the future it would' be really +friendly." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear me, dear me! Plans? I do not quite follow you, Miss Hart. Nothing +wrong with him, I trust?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is just what we cannot find out. No spying, of course, Mr. +Lovegrove. Neither Peachie nor I would descend to such meanness. Our +gentlemen have perfect liberty. We would scorn to put questions. But it +is close on a week now since the person we are alluding to has been to +the City." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me! You surprise me. He cannot have left Barking Brothers & +Barking?" +</p> + +<p> +The great Eliza shook her leonine mane. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe that is just exactly what he has done." +</p> + +<p> +"You do surprise me. I can hardly credit it. Nearly a week, and he as +punctual and regular as clockwork! I must run over this evening and +catch him. Something must be wrong. And yet why has he not been here? +Dear me. Miss Hart, you——" +</p> + +<p> +But the end of the sentence was lost in the bass notes issuing from the +presence upon the sofa. +</p> + +<p> +"Truly, the prosperity of the nation," Dr. Nevington was saying, "of +this dear old England of ours that we so love, is wholly bound up with +the prosperity of her national Church. I use the word prosperity in a +plain, manly, straightforward sense. Personally I should rejoice to see +the bonds of Church and State drawn closer. It could not fail to make +for the welfare of both. Then, among other benefits, we should see the +poverty of many members of my cloth, which is now a crying scandal—" +</p> + +<p> +"You do hear very sad tales from the country districts, certainly," +sighed Mrs. Lovegrove. +</p> + +<p> +"The state of affairs is more than sad, it is iniquitous. And therefore +the Church must assert herself. The individual minister must assert +himself, and claim a higher scale of remuneration. Help yourself, show +push and principle, cultivate practical aims—that is what I preach to +young men reading for Holy Orders. We have no place in these days for +visionaries and dreamers. We want men who march with the times, who are +interested in politics, and can make themselves felt." +</p> + +<p> +So did the great voice roll on and outward. Very beautiful to the +listeners in sound—though, in sense, it may be questioned whether it +conveyed very definite ideas to them—but highly embarrassing to the +house-parlourmaid, whose feminine tones quite failed to make headway +against the volume of it. With the consequence that Dominic Iglesias +was left standing in the shadow of the doorway unheeded. +</p> + +<p> +He was aware, and that not without surprise, how much these few days of +freedom and leisure had quickened his perceptions. His mental attitude +had changed. His demand had ceased to be moderate. Hence he suffered a +hundred offences to taste and sensibility hitherto unknown, or at least +unregistered. He knew when a woman was plain, when a conversation was +vapid or vulgar, a manner pretentious, a speech lacking in sincerity. +Consciously he stood aside, no longer out of humility or indifference, +but critically observant, challenging things however familiar, and +passing judgment upon them. For example, the unlovely character of Mrs. +Lovegrove's drawing-room engrossed his attention—the dirty-browns and +tentative watery blues of it, the multiplicity of flimsy, worthless, +little ornaments revealing a most lamentable absence of artistic +perception. In that fine booming clerical voice he detected a kindred +absence of delicate perception, a showiness born of very inadequate +conception of relative values. Indeed, the voice and the sentiments +given forth by it, in as far as he caught the drift of them, raised a +definite spirit of antagonism in him. The voice seemed to trample. +Dominic Iglesias was taken with an inclination—very novel in him—to +trample, too. He crossed the room, an added touch of gravity and +dignity in his aspect and manner. +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman gazed at him with some curiosity, while Mrs. Lovegrove +surged up off the sofa. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Iglesias! Well, of all people! Whoever would have expected to see +you at this early hour of the day?" +</p> + +<p> +"Talk of a certain gentleman and that gentleman appears," Miss Eliza +Hart whispered. Then wagging her finger at her host, "Now don't you +forget that little question of mine. Find out his intentions, just, as +you may say, under the rose. But there's Peachie signalling to go." +</p> + +<p> +In the ensuing interval of farewells, which were slightly protracted +owing to friskiness on the part of the fair Eliza, Iglesias found +himself standing beside the clergyman. The latter still regarded him +with curiosity. But, whatever his faults, not his worst enemy could +accuse Dr. Nevington of being a respecter of persons unless he was well +assured beforehand whom such persons might be. He therefore turned to +Iglesias with the easy air of patronage not uncommon to his cloth, as +one who should say: "My good sir, don't be afraid. I am a man of the +world as well as a Christian. I will handle you gently. I won't hurt +you." +</p> + +<p> +"I think I caught a foreign name," he remarked. "You are paying a visit +to London? I hope our capital makes an agreeable impression upon you." +</p> + +<p> +"The visit has been of such long duration," Iglesias answered, "that +impressions have, I am afraid, become slightly blurred by usage." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! indeed—no doubt that happens in some measure to all of us. I am +to understand that you are a resident?" +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias assented. +</p> + +<p> +"In this district?" +</p> + +<p> +Again he assented. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed. Really, I wish I had known it sooner. It always gives me +pleasure to meet persons of another nationality than my own. +Intercourse with them makes for liberality of view. It often dispels +anti-English prejudice. I am always glad to be helpful to strangers." +</p> + +<p> +"You are very kind," Iglesias said with gravity. +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all—not at all. I hold very practical views not only regarding +the duties of the Englishman to the alien, but of the pastor towards +his flock. But I find it almost impossible, I regret to say, to become +personally acquainted with all my parishioners. My curates are capital +young fellows—earnest, active, go-ahead. But in a large area such as +this there is always a shifting population with which the clergy, +however energetic, find it difficult to keep in touch. We are obliged +to discriminate between dwellers and sojourners. As soon as any person +is proved to be a <i>bona fide</i> dweller my curates pass his or her name +on to me, and either I or my wife call in due course." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias permitted himself to smile. +</p> + +<p> +"An excellent system, no doubt," he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +"I find it works very well on the whole. But no system is infallible. +There must be occasional oversights, and you have been the victim of +one. I mention this to disabuse your mind of the idea of any +intentional neglect. Well, Mrs. Lovegrove, and so our good friends Mrs. +Porcher and Miss Hart have gone—estimable women both of them in their +own line. I ought to be running away, too, and I have just been having +a word with your other guest here, Mr.——" +</p> + +<p> +"Iglesias," Dominic put in coldly. He was in a state of pretty high +displeasure. To hear his name mispronounced might, he felt, precipitate +a catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +"Iglesias?—ah! yes, thank you—I have been explaining to Mr. Iglesias +our system of parochial visiting and quoting our well-known joke about +the dwellers and sojourners. You remember it? He has, I regret to find, +been counted among the latter, while he has qualified as one of the +former. The mistake must be remedied. Well, good-by to you, Mrs. +Lovegrove; I shall see your good husband on my way downstairs. Good-day +to you, Mr. Iglesias. I shall hope to meet you again." +</p> + +<p> +And with that he, and the encompassing sound of him, moved towards the +door. Mrs. Lovegrove subsided upon the sofa. The supreme glory had +departed, yet an afterglow from the effulgence of it remained in her +beaming face as she looked up at Mr. Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"It was a good fairy that brought you in so early to-day," she said. +"Really, I am pleased you should have had the chance to meet Dr. +Nevington. And I could see he was quite taken with you, by the way he +began to talk before I had the chance to introduce you. But that's the +vicar all over! He never is one to stand upon ceremony." +</p> + +<p> +"So I can believe," Dominic said. +</p> + +<p> +"You saw it? Ah, part of his thoughtfulness, wanting to put everybody +at their ease. And I'm sure if there's one thing more disheartening +than another, it is to have two of your friends standing up side by +side, as stiff as a couple of pokers, without so much as a word. I know +I am too ready to enter into conversation with strangers; but if there +is a thing I cannot bear, it's any appearance of coolness." +</p> + +<p> +She passed her handkerchief round her forehead and across her lips. She +was marshalling her energies for a daring effort. +</p> + +<p> +"Very warm, is it not?" she remarked, perhaps superfluously. Then she +came to the point. "I know you are not very much of a churchgoer, Mr. +Iglesias." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid not"—he paused a moment. "You see, I was born and brought +up in another faith." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—so George has told me. But I am sure none of us would ever be so +illiberal as to throw that up against you. The vicar has been talking +so beautifully about Christian charity; and we all know it was a thing +you could not help. It was your misfortune, anybody would understand +that, not your fault. Too, it's all over long ago and forgotten." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic looked rather hard at her; but it was clear her words were +innocent of any intention of offence. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose it is," he said sadly, Old Age and Loneliness laying their +hands upon him, for some reason, very sensibly once again. +</p> + +<p> +"Not that that's anything to be otherwise than thankful for," she +added, with a slightly misplaced effort at consolation. "Of course +anyone must feel how providential it is to be saved from all those +terrible false doctrines and practices—not that I know anything about +them. There's so much, don't you think, it is so much better not to +know anything about. Then one feels more at liberty to speak." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sure that the matter had occurred from exactly that point of +view before." +</p> + +<p> +"Really now, and a clever person like you!" Mrs. Lovegrove passed her +handkerchief across her forehead again. "George has a wonderful opinion +of your cleverness, you know. And that is why I have always wished you +and the vicar could be brought together. I have—yes, I own to it—I +have been afraid sometimes you were a little unsettled about religion, +and that it might unsettle Georgie, too. But I knew if you once met the +vicar that would all be set right. As I often say to George, let +anybody just <i>see</i> Dr. Nevington and then they will begin to have an +inkling of all they miss in not hearing him in the pulpit." +</p> + +<p> +But here, perhaps fortunately, the master of the house trotted back. +He, too, beamed. He was filled with innocent rejoicing. Had he not +successfully protected the wife's feelings, and was not Iglesias—who +remained to him a wonderful being, stirring whatever element of romance +might be resident in his guileless nature—present in person? +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what's the meaning of this, Dominic?" he chuckled. "You've turned +over a new leaf, gadding round to at-home days! Where's Threadneedle +Street? What's come over you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Threadneedle Street and I have agreed to part company." +</p> + +<p> +"What, for good? Never?" this from both husband and wife. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, for good," Iglesias said. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lovegrove ceased to beam. He became anxious again, and consequently +solemn. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you do surprise me," he said. "Nothing gone wrong, I trust? Not +any unpleasantness happened?" +</p> + +<p> +"None," Iglesias answered. In breaking the news to these kindly but +rudimentary souls he had determined to treat it very lightly. "I have +come to the conclusion that I have worked long enough. It is a mistake +to risk dying in harness. You retired, Lovegrove, three years ago. I am +going to look about me a little and see what the rest of the world is +doing." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll miss the bank, and feel a little strange at first. Georgie did, +though he had his home to interest him," Mrs. Lovegrove remarked. +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly George was more fortunate than I am," Iglesias replied, in +his most courtly manner. +</p> + +<p> +"Not but that all that could be easily remedied," she added, with a +touch of archness. Then Mr. Iglesias thought it time to depart. In the +hall his host held him, literally by the buttonhole, looking up with +squinting blue eyes into his face. +</p> + +<p> +"It's all rather sudden, Dominic," he said. "I do not want to intrude +upon your confidence; but if there is anything behind, anything in +which I can help?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, my good old friend," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"The wife's right, you know. You'll miss the bank, the regular hours, +and the occupation. She's quite right. I did at first." +</p> + +<p> +"I know. But already I have pretty well got through that phase, I +think." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, you have a bigger mind than mine. You can rise to a wider view. +Change affects a commonplace man like myself most. I was dreadfully +lost at first—more than the wife knew. Females are very sensitive, and +it would have hurt her to know all I felt. If the Almighty is good +enough to give a man a faithful woman to look after him, he can't be +too scrupulous in sparing her pain—at least, so I think." Suddenly his +tone changed. "But you are not going to leave us, Dominic?—you are not +going to move, I do hope?" +</p> + +<p> +He was mindful of his promise to Eliza Hart, but he was also mindful of +himself. It had occurred to him for how very much in the interest and +pleasure of his life Dominic Iglesias really stood. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, should you regret my going? Should you miss me?" the other asked, +struck by his tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss you," he said, "and after a friendship covering forty years! I +know you are my superior in every way. I know I am not on your level. +All the advantage is on my side in our friendship, always has been. But +that is just where it is. Why, you know, Dominic—next to the wife of +course—all along you have been the best thing I had." +</p> + +<p> +Then it came to Iglesias, looking down at him, that among the many +millions of his fellow-mortals, this whimsical childlike being stood +nearest to him in sympathy and in love. The thought moved him +strangely, at once deepening his sense of isolation and lessening the +load of it. +</p> + +<p> +"In that case I will not move. I will stay here, at Trimmer's Green," +he said. +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Lovegrove reentered the sun-faded drawing-room his wife +greeted him in these words: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I have been thinking it all over, Georgie, and we shall only be +doing our duty by Mr. Iglesias if we send for your cousin Serena. For +my part, I don't trust Mrs. Porcher. Did you see that fly-away blue +bow? Those who seem so soft are often the deepest. And widows have all +sorts of little cunning ways with them." She rose from the thrice happy +sofa. "I was gratified to have Dr. Nevington and Mr. Iglesias meet. But +we certainly will have to send for Serena," she said. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VII +</h3> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias crossed Trimmer's Green in the dusty sunshine. He had +engaged to stay; and, indeed, he asked himself what person, what +objects or interests there were to take him else-whither? Nevertheless, +the promise seemed, somehow, a limiting of possibility and of hope. It +was destiny. London, very evidently, having got him, did not mean to +let him go. And London was not attractive this evening, but blouzy and +jaded from the heat. He passed on into the great thoroughfare and +turned eastward, absorbed in thought. Children cried. A pungent scent +of over-ripe fruit came from barrows in the roadway and open doors of +green-grocers' shops. Tempers appeared to be on edge. Workmen, pouring +out from a big block of flats under construction on the left, jostled +him in passing, not in insolence, but simply in inattention. Their +language was starred with sanguinary adjectives. The noise of the +traffic was loud. Iglesias turned up one of the side streets leading on +to Campden Hill. It was quieter here and the air was a trifle purer. +Halfway up the hill he hesitated. There was a shrine to be visited in +these regions—in it stood an altar of the dead. And above that altar, +in Iglesias' imagination, hung the picture of a woman, beautiful, and, +to him, infinitely sad. +</p> + +<p> +He turned eastward again and made his way into Holland Street. He +rarely had the courage to go back there. He had never reentered the +house. But this evening he was taken by the desire to look on it all +once again. For he was still pursued by the disquieting question as to +whether he had shirked the possibilities of his life, or had sacrificed +them to a higher duty than any duty of personal development. If the +latter, however barren of active happiness both past and present, he +would be in his own eyes justified, and desolation would cease to have +in it any flavour of self-contempt. Perhaps this dwelling-place of his +childhood, youth, and what should have been the best of his manhood, +might help to answer the question and set his doubts at rest. +</p> + +<p> +A board—"To Let"—was up on the narrow iron balcony of the +dining-room. Iglesias rang, and after brief parley with the +caretaker—a neat bald-headed little old man, in carpet slippers and a +well-brushed once-smart brown check suit, altogether too capacious for +his attenuated person—was admitted. +</p> + +<p> +"The place is quite empty save for my bits of sticks in the basement, +sir," he said. "You are at liberty to go where you please. I am +afflicted with the asthma and am glad to avoid mounting the stairs." He +ended up with a husky little cough. So Iglesias passed through the +vacant house unattended. +</p> + +<p> +He received a pathetic yet agitating impression. The rooms were even +smaller than he had supposed. They were gloomy, too, from the worn +paint of the high wainscots and discoloration of the low ceilings. All +the windows were shut and the atmosphere was close and faint. The +corners were thick with crouching shadows, merely awaiting the cover of +night, as it seemed to Iglesias, to take definite shape, stand upright, +and come forth to possess and people all the house. Even now it +belonged so sensibly to them that his own reverent footsteps sounded to +him harshly intrusive upon the bare, uneven floors. At intervals, +downstairs in the basement, he could hear the little old caretaker's +husky cough. +</p> + +<p> +And it was strange to him to consider what those crouching shadows +might represent. Not the ghosts of human beings—in such he had small +belief—but an aftermath of human emotions, purposes, and passions, +formulated or endured in this apparently so innocent place. To his +knowledge the origins of revolution had seethed here. The walls had +listened to details of political intrigue, of projected assassination, +to vehement declarations of undying hate. Of the men who had plotted +and dreamed here, uplifted in spirit by the magic of terrible ideas, +none were left. One by one they had gone out into the silence to meet +death, swift-handed or heartlessly lingering, as the case might be. And +what had they actually accomplished? he asked himself. Had their death, +often as must be surmised of a sufficiently hideous sort, really +advanced the cause of humanity and helped on the birth of that Golden +Age, in which Justice shall reign alongside Peace? Or had these men +merely wasted themselves, adding to the sum total of human confusion +and wrong; and wasted the hearts and happiness of those allied to them +by ties of friendship and of blood, leaving the second generation to +repair, in so far as it might, the ruin which their violence had +worked? Dominic Iglesias could not say. But this at least, though it +savoured of reproach, he could not disguise from himself—namely, that +out of the intemperate heat and fierceness of these men's thought and +action had come, as a necessary consequence, the narrow opportunities +and cold isolation of his own. +</p> + +<p> +"As physically, so morally, spiritually, socially," he said to himself, +"the younger generation pays the debts contracted by the generation +immediately preceding it. Justice, indeed, reigns already, always has +done so—. justice of a rather tremendous sort. But peace?—Peace is +still very much to seek, both for the individual and the race." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias visited his mother's bed-chamber. He visited his former +nursery. Then he visited the drawing-room, the heart of this very +pathetic shrine where the altar of his dead was, almost visibly set up. +To this room, during the many years of his mother's mental illness, he +had come back daily after work; and had ministered to her, suiting his +speech to her passing humour, trying to distract her brooding +melancholy, and to soothe and amuse her as though she was an ailing +child. Thank God, there was nothing ugly to remember regarding her. She +had never been harsh or unlovely in her ways. Still, the strain of +constant intercourse with her had been very great—how great Iglesias +had hardly realised until now, as he stood in the centre of the room +reconstructing its former appearance in thought and replacing its +familiar furnishings. +</p> + +<p> +There to the left of the further window, overlooking the garden, she +had always sat, so that the light might fall upon her needlework—very +fine Irish lace, in the making of which nearly all her waking hours +were spent. She had learned the beautiful art as a young girl in her +convent school; and her skill in it was great. In those sad later years +when her mind was clouded the intricate designs and endless variety of +delicate and ingenious stitches had come to have symbolic meanings for +her full of mystic significance. In them she poured forth her soul, as +another might pour it forth in music, finding there an imaginative +language far surpassing, in its subtlety of suggestion, articulate +speech. There were deserts of net, of spider's web fineness, to be +laboriously traversed; hills of difficulty to be climbed, whence far +horizons disclosed themselves; dainty flower-gardens, crossed by open +paths, and hedged about with curves, sinuous and full of pretty +impediments. And there were, to her, vaguely agitating and even fearful +things in this lacework also—confusions of outline, broken purposes, +multiplicity of opposing intentions, struggle of good and evil powers +in the intricacies of some rich arabesque; or monotonous repetitions of +design which distressed her as with the terrors of imprisonment and of +unescapable fate. She was filled with feverish anxiety until such +portions of her self-imposed task were completed. Then she would be +very glad. And Iglesias, glancing up silently from the pages of his +newspaper or book, would see the sorrow pass out of her face as she +leaned back in her chair and softly laughed. And he would perceive +that, in the achievement of those countless but carefully ordered +stitches, she had also achieved some mysterious victory of the spirit +which, for a time at least, would give her freedom of soul and content. +As a boy he had been rather jealous of her lacemaking, declaring that +it was dearer to her than he himself was. But as he grew more +experienced, more chastened, and, it must be added, more sad, he had +come to understand that it veritably was as speech to her—though +speech which he could but rarely interpret—expressing all that she +could not, or dared not, otherwise express, all the poetry of her +sweet, broken nature, its denied aspirations in religion, its tortured +memories of danger and of love. +</p> + +<p> +Now, standing in the centre of the empty room, and looking at the place +beside the window where she habitually sat, Iglesias seemed to see once +more, as he had so often seen in the past, her fine-drawn profile and +softly waved upturned hair, her head and shoulders draped in a black +mantilla, the lines of which followed those of her figure as she bent +over her work. He could see the long delicate white hands moving +rhythmically, with the assurance of perfected skill, over the web in +its varying degrees of whiteness from the filmy transparency of the net +foundation to the opacity of the closely wrought pattern. Those hands, +in their ceaseless and exquisite industry, had troubled his imagination +at times. For too often it had seemed as though they alone were really +alive, intelligent, sentient, the rest of the woman dead. The +impression was so vivid even yet—though Iglesias knew it to be +subjective only, projected by the vividness of remembrance—that +instinctively he crossed the room, laid his left hand upon the moulding +of the high wainscot, leaned over the vacant space which appeared to +hold her image, and spoke gently to her, so that the moving hands might +find rest for a moment, while she recognised and greeted him, looking +up. +</p> + +<p> +There had always been a pause before the words of greeting came, while +her consciousness travelled back, hesitatingly, to the actual and +material world around her from the world of emotion and phantasy in +which her spirit lived. There was a pause now, a prolonged silence, +broken at last by the husky cough of the little old caretaker +downstairs. The vacant space remained vacant. Nevertheless Dominic +Iglesias received both recognition and greeting, and from these derived +inward assurance that all was well—that he was justified of his past +action, that he had not shirked the possibilities of his life, but +sacrificed them to a higher duty than any individual and private one. +The present might be empty of purpose and pleasure, the future lacking +in promise and in hope; yet to him one perfect thing had been +granted—namely, a human relationship of unsullied beauty, +notwithstanding all its sadness, from first to last. +</p> + +<p> +"And in the strength of that meat, one should surely be able to go many +days!" he said, as he straightened himself up. "Thank God, I never +failed her. How far she realised it or not, is but a small matter. I am +obscure, perhaps as things now stand wholly superfluous, still I have, +at all events, never grasped personal advantage at the expense of a +fellow-creature's heart." +</p> + +<p> +Yet, even so, the longing for sympathy and companionship oppressed him +as never before. The sight of this place had stirred his affections and +his spiritual sense. His soul cried out for some language in which to +express itself—even though it were a language of symbol only, such as +his mother had found in her lacemaking. How barren and vapid a thing +was the exterior life, as all those whom he knew understood and lived +it—his co-lodgers, his fellow-clerks, the good Lovegroves, his late +employer, Sir Abel Barking, even, as he divined, that sonorous +Protestant clergyman whom he had met this afternoon—as against the +interior life, suggestion of which this vacant shadow-haunted house of +innumerable memories presented to his mind! Was there any method by +which the interior and exterior life could be brought into sane and +fruitful relation, so that the former might sensibly permeate and +dignify the latter? +</p> + +<p> +The comfortable inward conviction, just vouchsafed him, that he was +justified of his own past action, merely emphasised his consciousness +that he was still very much adrift, with no definite port to steer for. +He had, perhaps unwisely, promised George Lovegrove that he would stay +on at Trimmer's Green, but what, after all, did that amount to? Even +the exterior life was second-hand enough there; the interior life, as +he judged, practically non-existent. And so his staying must be +ennobled by some purpose beyond that of stepping across to smoke an +after-dinner pipe with the good, affectionate Lovegrove man, or +attending his estimable wife's "at homes." During the last ten days Mr. +Iglesias had striven, with rare, pathetic diligence, to cultivate +amusement. True, the oak palings had shut him out from Ranelagh; but, +with that and a few other exceptions, amusement, as practised in great +cities, is merely a matter of cash. Therefore he had dined at smart +restaurants, had sampled theatres and music halls, had sat in the Park +and watched the world and—in their more decent manifestations—the +flesh and the devil drive by. He had to admit that unfortunately all +this left him cold, had bored rather than entertained him. He had not +felt out of place socially. His natural dignity and detachment of mind +were alike too strong for that; but he had arrived at the conclusion +that you must have learned the rudiments of the art of amusement in +early youth if you are to practise it with satisfaction to yourself in +middle-age. And he very certainly had not learned the rudiments—not, +anyhow, according to the English fashion. He had been aware, during +these social excursions, that he was a good deal stared at and even +commented on. At first he supposed this arose from some peculiarity of +his dress or manner. Then he understood that the cause of this +unsolicited attention bore a more flattering character, and in this +connection certain remarks made by the Lady of the Windswept Dust +occurred to his mind. But, Mr. Iglesias' pride being greatly in excess +of his vanity—when the first moment of half-humorous surprise was +passed—he found that these tributes to his personal appearance +afforded him more displeasure than pleasure. He turned from them with a +movement of annoyance, and turned from those places in which they were +liable to manifest themselves likewise. No, indeed, it was something +other than this he had to find, something lying far deeper in the needs +of human nature, if the emptiness of his days was to be filled and the +hunger of his heart and spirit satisfied! +</p> + +<p> +Pondering which things he went down the creaking stairs of the house in +Holland Street, Kensington, leaving the empty and, to him, sacred rooms +to the crouching shadows. He had had his answer from the one person +whom he had perfectly loved. And surely, in justifying the past, that +answer gave promise of hope for the future? The way would be made +clear, the method would declare itself. Let him have patience, only +patience, as she, his mother, had had when traversing deserts and +climbing Difficulty Hill in her lacework; and to him, also, should far +horizons be disclosed. +</p> + +<p> +In the narrow hall the neat little old caretaker met him, huskily +coughing. +</p> + +<p> +"The rent is low, sir," he said, "and the landlord is asking no +premium. If you should wish further particulars, or to inspect the +offices——" +</p> + +<p> +But Mr. Iglesias put a couple of half-crowns into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he answered, "I do not propose to take the house. Persons who +were dear to me lived here once; and so I wanted to see it. As long as +it is unlet I may come back from time to time." +</p> + +<p> +The old man shuffled his slippered feet upon the bare boards, looking +with mild ecstasy at the coins. +</p> + +<p> +"And you will be most welcome, sir," he said. "Your generosity happens +to be of great assistance to me—not that I wish it repeated. I am not +grasping, sir, but I am grateful. I have a taste in literature which my +reduced circumstances do not allow me to gratify. I see the prospect of +many hours' enjoyment before me. I thank you." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII +</h3> + +<p> +And so it came about that a more tranquil spirit, touched with sober +gladness, possessed Dominic Iglesias as, leaving that house of many +memories, he pursued his way down Church Street and, passing into +Kensington High Street opposite St. Mary Abbot's Church, turned +eastward once again. A few doors short of the gateway leading into +Palace Gardens was an unpretentious Italian restaurant where he +proposed to dine. For it grew late. He had spent longer than he had +supposed in wordless prayer before the altar of his dead. The +remembrance of the book-loving little caretaker's gratitude remained by +him pleasantly, softening his humour towards all his fellow-men. Simple +kindness has great virtue, uplifting to the heart. To Iglesias it +seemed those five shillings had been eminently well invested. +</p> + +<p> +The streets were clearer now; and he walked slowly, enjoying the cooler +air born of the sunset, and drawing from the leafy spaces of Kensington +Gardens and the park. Presently he became aware of a figure, not +altogether unfamiliar, threading its way among the intermittent stream +of pedestrians along the pavement a few paces ahead. His eyes followed +it reluctantly. In his present peaceful humour its aspect struck a +jarring note. Soiled white flannel trousers, a short blue boating coat, +a soft grey felt hat, tennis shoes, a shambling and uncertain gait as +of one who neither knows nor cares whither he is going or why he +goes—the whole effect purposeless, slovenly, inept. +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a little scene which caused Iglesias to further slacken +his pace. For the seedy figure, reaching the open door of the +restaurant, hesitated, standing between the clipped bay trees set in +green tubs which flanked the entrance on either hand. Stepped aside, +craning upward to see over the yellow silk curtains drawn across the +lower half of the windows. Moved back to the door and stood there +undecided. Finally, as a smiling waiter, napkin on arm, came forward, +the man crushed his hat down on his forehead, forced his hands deep +into his trouser pockets and turned away with an audible oath. This +brought him face to face with Mr. Iglesias, who recognised in him his +fellow-lodger, Mr. de Courcy Smyth. +</p> + +<p> +"What, you!" he exclaimed snarlingly, while his pasty face flamed. +"There seems no escape from our dear Cedar Lodge to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Then with an uneasy laugh he made an effort to recover himself. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, I beg your pardon, Mr. Iglesias," he continued, "but my nerves +are villainously on edge. I have just met those two young idiots, Farge +and Worthington, waltzing home arm in arm like a pair of demented +turtle-doves. Having to associate with such third-rate commercial +fellows and witness their ebullitions of mutual admiration makes a man +of education, like myself, utterly sick. I came out this evening to get +free of the whole Cedar Lodge lot. You did the same, I suppose. Pray +don't let me frustrate your purpose. I sympathise with it. I will +remove myself." +</p> + +<p> +The splotchy red had died out of the speaker's face. Notwithstanding +the warmth of the evening he stood with his shoulders raised and his +knees a little bent, as a poorly clad man stands in a chill wind on a +wintry day. Iglesias observed his attitude, and in his present mood it +influenced him more than the surly greeting had done. +</p> + +<p> +"I intended to dine here," he said quietly. "So, I fancy, did you." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I have changed my mind, thank you," Smyth answered. +</p> + +<p> +"In consequence of my arrival, I am afraid?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I had other reasons." +</p> + +<p> +"In any case I should be very glad if you would reconsider your +decision and remain," Dominic said. "I am, as you see, alone, and I +have not often the pleasure of meeting you. I shall be very happy if +you will stay and dine with me, as my guest." +</p> + +<p> +Smyth gave an odd, furtive look at the open door of the restaurant and +the row of white tables within. A light had come into his pale blue +eyes, making them uncomfortably like those of some half-starved animal. +</p> + +<p> +"I am at a loss to know why I should accept hospitality from you," he +remarked, at once cringingly and insolently. +</p> + +<p> +"Simply because you would give me pleasure by doing so. I should value +your society." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not in evening dress." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor am I," Dominic answered, with admirable seriousness. There was +something pitiful to him in the conflict, obviously going forward in +the other's mind, between hunger and reluctance to incur an obligation. +He cut it short with gentle authority. "There is a vacant table in the +corner where we can talk free from interruption. Let us go in and +secure it." +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of the meal the conversation was intermittent, the +burden of supporting it lying with Mr. Iglesias. But, as course +followed course, hot and succulent, while the <i>chianti</i> at once +steadied his circulation and stimulated his brain, de Courcy Smyth +became talkative, not to say garrulous. Finally he began to assert +himself, to swagger, thereby laying bare the waste places of his own +nature. +</p> + +<p> +"You may think I was hard on Farge and Worthington just now, Mr. +Iglesias," he said. "I own they disgust me; not only in themselves, but +as examples of certain modern tendencies which are choking the life out +of me and such men as me. You business people are on the up grade just +now, and you know it. Whoever goes under, you are safe to do yourselves +most uncommonly well. I don't mean anything personal, of course. I am +just stating a self-evident fact. Commerce is in the air—you all reek +of success. And so even shopwalkers, like Worthington, and that thrice +odious puppy Farge, grow sleek, and venture to spread themselves in the +presence of their betters—in the presence of a scholar and a +gentleman, who is well connected and has received a classical +education, like myself." +</p> + +<p> +Smyth paused, turning sideways to the table, leaning his elbow on it, +crossing his legs and staring gloomily down the long room. +</p> + +<p> +"But what do they know or care about scholarship?" he continued. "What +they do know is that the spirit of this unspeakably vulgar age is with +them and their miserable huckstering. They know that well enough and +act upon it, though they are too illiterate to put it into words—know +that trade is in process of exploding learning, of exploiting +literature and art to its own low purposes, in process of scaling +Olympus, in short, and ignominiously chucking out the gods." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias had listened to this astonishing tirade in silence. +The man was evidently suffering from feelings of bitter injury, also he +was his—Iglesias'—guest. Both pity and hospitality engaged him to +endurance. But there are limits. And at this point professional dignity +and a lingering loyalty towards the house of Barking Brothers & Barking +enjoined protest. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt we live in times of commerce, rather than in those of +chivalry," he remarked. "Still, I venture to think your condemnation is +too sweeping. One should discriminate surely between trade and finance." +</p> + +<p> +"Only as one discriminates between a little dog and a big one. The +little dog is the easier to kick. I can't get at the Rothschilds and +Rockefellers; and so I go for the Farges and Worthingtons," Smyth +answered. "In principle I am right. Trade, commerce, finance, juggle +with the names as you like, it all comes back to the same thing in the +end, namely, the murder of intellect by money. Comes back to the +worship of Mammon, chosen ruler of this contemptible <i>fin de siècle</i>, +and safe to be even more tyrannously the ruler of the coming century. +What hope, I ask you, is left for us poor devils of literary men? None, +absolutely none. Just in proportion as we honour our calling and refuse +to prostitute our talents we are at a discount. The powers that be have +no earthly use for us. We have not the ghost of a chance." +</p> + +<p> +He altered his position, looking quickly and nervously at his host. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," he said. "For the moment I forgot you were on the +other side, among the conquerors, not the conquered. Probably this +conversation does not interest you in the least." +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary, it interests me very deeply," Dominic replied gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"All the same, out of self-respect I ought to hold my tongue about it, +I suppose. For I have accepted the position, Mr. Iglesias. I have +learned to do that. Only on each fresh occasion that it is brought home +to me—and it has been brought home abominably clearly to-night—my +gorge rises at it. And it ought to be so. For it is an outrage—you +yourself must admit—that a man who started with excellent prospects +and with the consciousness of unusual talents—of genius, +perhaps—should be ruined and broken, while every miserable little +counter-jumper——" +</p> + +<p> +He leaned his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands, and +his shoulders shook. +</p> + +<p> +"For I have talent," he cried, in a curiously thin voice. "Before God I +have. They may refuse to publish me, refuse to play me, force me to +pick up scraps of hack-work on fourth-rate papers to earn a bare +subsistence—at times hardly that. Yet all the same, no supercilious +beast of an editor or actor-manager—curse the whole stinking +lot—shall rob me of my faith in myself—of my belief that I am +great—if I had justice, nothing less than that, I tell you, nothing +less than great." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias drew himself up, sitting very still, his lips rigid, +not from defect, but from excess of sympathy. The restaurant was empty +now, save for a man, four tables down, safely ensconced behind the pink +pages of an evening paper, and for a couple, at the far end, in the +window—a young Frenchwoman, whose coquettish hat and trim rounded +figure were silhouetted against the yellow silk curtain, and a +precocious black-haired youth, with a skin like pale, pink satin, round +eyeglasses and an incipient moustache. His attention was entirely +occupied with the young woman; hers entirely occupied with herself. And +of this Dominic Iglesias was glad. For the matter immediately in hand +was best conducted without witnesses. He found it strangely engrossing, +strangely moving. However vain, however madly exaggerated even, de +Courcy Smyth's estimate of himself, there could be no question but that +his present emotion was as actual and genuine as his past hunger had +been. The man was utterly spent in body and in spirit. Offensive in +speech, slovenly in person, yet these distasteful things added to, +rather than detracted from, Iglesias' going out of sympathy towards +him. He had rarely been in contact with a fellow-creature in such +abandonment of distress. It was terrible to witness; yet it gave him a +sense of fellowship, of nearness, even of power, which had in it an +element of deep-seated satisfaction. While he waited for the moment +when it should become clear to him how to act, his thought travelled +back to the Lady of the Windswept Dust. He saw, not her over-red lips, +but her serious eyes; saw her tearful and in a way broken, for all her +light speech, her fanciful garments, and her antics with her absurd +little dogs amid the sweetness of sunshine and summer breeze on Barnes +Common. She was far enough away, so he judged, in sentiment and +circumstance from the embittered and poverty-haunted man sitting +opposite to him. Yet though superficially so dissimilar, they were +alike in this, that both had dared to reveal themselves, passing beyond +conventional limits in intercourse with him, Iglesias. Both had cried +out to him in their distress. And then, thinking of that recently +visited altar of the dead, thinking of the one perfect relationship he +had known—his relationship to his mother—it came to him as a +revelation that not participation in the pride of life and the +splendour of it—still less association in mere pleasure and +amusement—forms the cement which binds together the units of humanity +in stable and consoling relationship; but association in sorrow, the +cry for help and the response to that cry, whether it be help to the +staying of the hunger of the heart and of the intellect, or simply to +the staying of that baser yet very searching hunger of overstrained +nerves and an empty stomach. The revelation was partial. Iglesias +groped, so to speak, in the light of it uncertain and dazzled. But he +received it as real—an idea the magnitude of which, in inspiration and +application, he was as yet by no means equal to measure. Still he +believed that could he but yield himself to it, and, in yielding, +master it, it would carry him very far, teaching him that language of +the spirit which he desired to acquire; and hence placing in his hand +that earnestly coveted key to an adjustment between the exterior and +interior life, the life of the senses and the life of the spirit, which +must needs eventuate, manward and godward alike, in triumphant harmony. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile there sat de Courcy Smyth, blear-eyed, sandy-red bearded, +unsavoury, trying, poor wretch, to rally whatever of manhood was left +in him and swagger himself out of his fit of hysteria. The Latin, +however dignified, is instinctively more demonstrative than the +Anglo-Saxon. Iglesias leaned across the table and laid his hand on the +other man's shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a little," he said. "Drink your coffee and smoke. We need not +hurry to move." +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause, during which Smyth obediently swallowed his coffee, +swallowed his <i>chasse</i> of cognac. +</p> + +<p> +"I have made an egregious ass of myself," he said sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," Iglesias answered. "You have honoured me by taking me into +your confidence. It rests with me to see that you never have cause to +regret having done so." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you mean that." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly I mean it," Iglesias answered. +</p> + +<p> +Smyth's hands trembled as he took a cigar and held a match to it. +</p> + +<p> +"I am unaccustomed to meeting with kindness," he said in a low voice. +Then recovering himself somewhat, he began to speak volubly again. "Of +course I understand it all well enough. They are simply afraid of my +work, those beasts of editors and playwrights. It is too big for them, +they dare not face it and the consequences of it. It is strong stuff, +Mr. Iglesias, strong stuff with plenty of red blood in it, and with +scholarship, too. And so they pigeon-hole my stories and drames in +self-defence, knowing that if these once reached the public, either in +print or in action, their own fly-blown anæmic productions would be +hissed off the stage or would ruin the circulation of the periodical +which inserted them. It is all jealousy, I tell you, Mr. Iglesias, +rank, snakish jealousy, bred by self-interest out of fear—a truly +exalted parentage!" +</p> + +<p> +He shifted his position restlessly, again setting his elbows upon the +table and fingering the broken bread upon the cloth. +</p> + +<p> +"At times, when I can rise above the immediate injustice and cruelty +which pursue me," he went on, "I glory in my martyrdom. I range myself +alongside those heroes of literature and art, who, because they were +ahead of the age in which they lived, were scorned and repudiated by +their contemporaries; but they found their revenge in the worship of +succeeding generations. My time will come just as theirs did. It +must—I tell you it must. I know that. I am safe of eventual +recognition; but I want it now, while I am alive, while I can glut +myself with the joy of it. I want to see the men who lord it over me, +just because they have influence and money, who affect to despise me +because they are green with envy and fear of me, brought to their +knees, flattened so that I can wipe my boots on them. And—and"—he +looked full at Dominic Iglesias, spreading out both hands across the +narrow table, his pale prominent eyes blood-shot, his face working—"I +want to see someone else—a woman—brought to her knees also. I want to +make her feel what she has lost—curse her!—and have her come back +whining." +</p> + +<p> +"And if she did come back," Iglesias asked, almost sternly, "what would +you do? Forgive her?" +</p> + +<p> +De Courcy Smyth's hands dropped with a queer little thud on the table. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. I suppose so. If she wanted to she could always get +round me." Then he turned on Iglesias with hysterical violence. "But +what do you know? Why do you ask that? Are you among her patrons? I +trusted you. I believed you were a gentleman in feeling—and it is a +dirty trick to get me in here and fill me up with food and liquor, when +you must have seen my nerves were all to pieces, and then spring this +upon me. Oh! hell!" he cried, "is there no comfort anywhere? Is +everyone a traitor?" +</p> + +<p> +And seeing his utter abjectness, Iglesias' heart went out to the +unhappy man in immense and unqualified pity. +</p> + +<p> +"I am grieved," he said gently, "if I have pained you unnecessarily. +But truly I have sprung nothing upon you. How could I do so? I know +nothing whatever of your circumstances save that which you yourself +have told me during the last hour." +</p> + +<p> +"Then why did you ask that question about—about her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because," Dominic answered, "I am ready to fight for you, in as far as +you will allow me to do so; but I do not fight against women." +</p> + +<p> +"You must have had uncommonly little experience of them then," Smyth +answered with a sneer. +</p> + +<p> +To this observation Mr. Iglesias deemed it superfluous to make any +answer. A silence followed. The restaurant was empty, but for the +waiters, who stood in a little knot about the door amusing themselves +by watching the movement of the street. Looking round to make sure no +one was within hearing, Smyth rose unsteadily to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"You meant what you said just now, Mr. Iglesias—that you were ready to +fight for me?" he asked ungently yet cringingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly I meant it," Dominic replied, "the proviso I have made being +respected." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, of course—but what do you understand by fighting for me? +Money?" +</p> + +<p> +Dominic had risen, too. He remained for a moment in thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Within reasonable relation to my means, yes," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"I only want my chance," the other asserted. "The rest will follow as a +matter of course. You would risk nothing, Mr. Iglesias. It would be an +investment, simply an investment. The play is not finished yet—I have +been too disheartened and disgusted recently to be able to work at it. +But it is great, I tell you, great. When it is done will you give me my +chance, and take a theatre for me and finance a couple of <i>matinées?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Again Dominic Iglesias thought for a moment, and again, driven by that +strange necessity of fellowship—though knowing all the while he was +putting his hand to a very questionable adventure—he replied in the +affirmative. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER IX +</h3> + +<p> +On that same evening, and at the same hour at which Dominic Iglesias +bound himself to the practical assistance of a personally unsavoury and +professionally unsuccessful playwright, a conversation was in progress +between two persons of more exalted social station in the drawing-room +of a pleasant house in Chester Square. The said drawing-room, +mid-Victorian in aspect, was decorated in white and gold and +unaggressive green. The ground of the chintz was very white, sprinkled +over with bunches of shaded mauve roses unknown to horticulture. Lady +Constance Decies' tea-grown was white and mauve also. For she was still +in half-mourning for her father, the late Lord Fallowfeild, who had +died some eighteen months previously at a very venerable age, and with +a touching modesty as though his advent in another world might savour +of intrusion. He had always been a humble-minded man. He remained so to +the last. +</p> + +<p> +The windows stood open to the balcony. And the effect of the woman, and +of the soft lights and colours surrounding her, was reposeful. For at +the age of fifty Lady Constance, though stately, was a mild and very +gentle person upon whom the push of the modern world had laid no hand. +All the active drama of her life had been crowded into a few weeks of +the early summer of her eighteenth year; since which, now remote, +period she had enjoyed a tranquil existence, happy in the love of her +husband and the care of her children. Her pretty brown hair was +beginning to turn grey upon the temples. Her eyes, set remarkably far +apart, had a certain vagueness and a great innocence of expression. She +was naturally timid, and cared but little for any society beyond that +of her near relations. To-night she was particularly content, mildly +radiant even, thanks to the presence of her favourite brother, the +present Lord Fallowfeild, and his avowed admiration of her younger +daughter—a maiden of nineteen, who stood before her, with shining +eyes, in all the delicate splendour of a spotless ball-dress. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, darling, you look very sweet," she said. "Just lean down—the +lace has got caught in the flowers on your <i>berthe</i>. That's right. +Don't keep your father too late." +</p> + +<p> +"And in all things be discreet"—this from Lord Fallowfeild. "It's been +my motto through life, as your mother knows. And you couldn't have a +brighter example of the excellent results of it than myself. +Good-night, my dear. Enjoy yourself," and he patted her on the cheek, +avoiding the kiss which she in all innocence proffered him. "Pretty +child, Kathleen, uncommonly pretty," he continued as the door closed +behind the graceful figure. "It strikes me, Con, your girls have all +the good looks of the family in the younger generation, with the +exception of Violet Aldham. But she's getting pinched, a bit pinched +and witch-like. Then she makes up too much. I have no prejudice against +a woman's improving upon nature where nature's been niggardly. But it +is among the things that'll keep. It's a mistake to begin it too early. +In my opinion Violet has begun it too early—might quite well have +given herself another ten years' grace.—Maggie's girls are gawky, you +know; and, between ourselves, so terribly flat, poor things, both fore +and aft. Upon my word, I'm not surprised they don't marry." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid Maggie feels it a good deal," said Lady Constance. +Satisfaction mingled with pity in her soul. The disabilities of other +women's children are never wholly distressing to a tender mother's +heart. "You see, she's so anxious the girls should not marry the +bishop's chaplains; and yet really they hardly see any other young men. +I think it is a very difficult position, that of a bishop's wife." +</p> + +<p> +Lord Fallowfeild smiled, settling himself back in the corner of the +wide sofa and crossing his long legs. He had thought more deeply on a +good many subjects than the majority of his acquaintance supposed; with +the consequence that he occasionally surprised his fellow-peers by the +acuteness of his observations in debate. Lord Fallowfeild, it may be +added, took his recently acquired office of hereditary legislator with +a commendable mixture of humour and seriousness. +</p> + +<p> +"Their position is an anomalous one," he said; "and an anomalous +position is inevitably a difficult one—ought to be SO; in my opinion. +But that's not to the point. We were talking, not about the episcopal +ladies, but about this little business of Kathleen's. So you believe +Lady Sokeington has views and intentions?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know that she has. But you see, Shotover," Lady Constance went on, +returning to the name which that gentleman had rendered somewhat +notorious in earlier years by a record in sport, in debts, in amours, +and in irresistible sweetness of temper—"I want to be quite sure he is +really good. Because the affair has not gone very far yet and it might +be put a stop to—at least I hope and think it might—without making +darling Kathleen too dreadfully unhappy. You do believe he really is +good?" +</p> + +<p> +Lord Fallowfeild leaned forward and rubbed a hardly perceptible atom of +fluff off his left trouser leg just above the ankle. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Con," he answered, "you are very charming, but you are a +trifle embarrassing, too, you know. Haven't you learned, even at this +time of day, that very few men in our world are good in a good woman's +sense of the word?" +</p> + +<p> +Lady Constance's smooth forehead puckered into fine little lines. +</p> + +<p> +"Shotover, dear," she said, "you're not getting embittered, I hope?" +</p> + +<p> +"Me? Bless you, no, never in life!" he returned, smiling very +reassuringly at her. "Don't worry yourself under that head. I quarrel +with nobody and nothing, not even the consequences of my past +iniquities. It is a very just world, take it all round, and has been +kinder to me than I deserve." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! but you do nothing, you—you are what—you won't think me rude, +Shotover?—what the boys call 'very decent' now." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Constance spoke hurriedly, her colour rising in the most engaging +manner. +</p> + +<p> +"As decent as I know how, you dear soul," he said, taking her hand in +his. "But that makes no difference to one's knowledge of one's own +ways, in the past, or of the ways of other men." +</p> + +<p> +"But Alaric Barking?" +</p> + +<p> +"Neither better nor worse than the rest." +</p> + +<p> +Then Lord Fallowfeild shut his small and beautiful mouth very tight, as +though he would be glad to avoid further cross-questioning. Lady +Constance's forehead remained puckered. +</p> + +<p> +"It's dreadfully difficult when one's girls grow up," she said +plaintively. "One can be comfortable about them, poor darlings, and +enjoy them when they are in the nursery—even in the schoolroom, though +governesses are worrying. They know so much about quantities of +subjects which seem to me not to matter. One never refers to them in +ordinary conversation; and if one should be obliged to it is so easy to +ask somebody to tell one. And yet they manage to make me feel +dreadfully uncomfortable and ignorant because I know nothing about +them. But when they grow up——" +</p> + +<p> +"Who, the governesses?" Lord Fallowfeild inquired. "I never supposed +they stood in need of that process—thought they started out of the egg +all finished, as you might say, and ran about at once like chickens." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, the girls, poor darlings," Lady Constance replied. "One does +get dreadfully anxious about them, Shotover, really one does—specially +if one has escaped something very frightening oneself and has been very +happy—lest they should fall in love with the wrong people, or lest +they should be anything which one did not know beforehand and then +everything should turn out dreadful. I should be so miserable. I don't +think I could bear it. I know it is wrong to say that, because if one +was really good, one would accept whatever God sent without murmuring. +So I could for myself, I think. In any case I should earnestly try to. +But for the children it is so much harder. If they were unhappy I +should feel ashamed of having had them—as if I'd done something +horribly selfish; because, you see, there can be nothing so delightful +as having children." +</p> + +<p> +She looked at Lord Fallowfeild in the most pathetic manner, the corners +of her mouth a-shake. And he took her hand and held it again, touched +by the sincerity of her confused utterance, and the great mother-love +resident in her. Touched, perhaps, by the age-old problem of man and +maid, also. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear little Con, dear little Con," he said, "I'm awfully sorry you +should be worried, but I'm afraid we've got to look facts in the face. +And it's no kindness for me to lie to you about these matters. I don't +pretend to say what's right or what's wrong; I only say what it is. We +can't make society, and the ways of it, all over again even to save +Kathleen a heartache. I don't want to seem a brute, but she must just +take her chance along with the rest of you. Marriage always has been a +confounded uncertain business, and will always remain so, I suppose. +The sort of remedies excited persons suggest to mitigate the dangers of +it are a good deal worse than the disease, in my opinion. Every woman +has to take her chance. Every man has to take his, too, you know—and +the chance strikes some of us as such an uncommonly poor one, that, +upon my honour, it seems safest to wash one's hands of it altogether." +</p> + +<p> +"But you're not unhappy, Shotover, dear? You're not lonely?" Lady +Constance inquired anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Abominably so sometimes, Con. But I manage, oh! I manage. I have my +consolations"—he smiled at her, perhaps a trifle shamefacedly. "But +now about Kathleen," he went on, "as I say, she must take her chance +along with the rest of you, poor little dear. After all, you took your +chance when you married Decies, and it has not turned out so badly, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Constance became radiant once more, as some mild-shining summer +moon emerging from behind temporarily obscuring clouds. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! but then," she said, "of course that was so entirely different." +</p> + +<p> +Lord Fallowfeild patted her hand, his head bent, looking at her +somewhat merrily. +</p> + +<p> +"Was it, my dear, was it?—I wonder," he said. +</p> + +<p> +She withdrew her head with a certain dignity. Notwithstanding her +softness and tenderness, there were occasions—even with those she +loved best—when Lady Constance could delicately mark her displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +"I think you are a little embittered, Shotover," she asserted. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned back, still smiling, and shaking his head at her. +</p> + +<p> +"Old and wise—unpleasantly old, and not quite such a fool as I used to +be, that's all," he answered. +</p> + +<p> +For a time there was silence, both brother and sister thinking their +own thoughts. Then the latter spoke. Like many gentle persons, she was +persistent. She always had been so. +</p> + +<p> +"I should be so grateful if you would tell me, because I think I ought +to know, and then I should try to turn the course of darling Kathleen's +affections before it all becomes too pronounced. Is there any +entanglement, anything amounting to what one calls an impediment, +in—well—you understand—against Alaric Barking?" +</p> + +<p> +Lord Fallowfeild got up, took a turn across the room, came back, and +stood in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you wouldn't, Con," he said. "Upon my soul, I wish you +wouldn't. It's a nasty thing for an old man, who has gone the pace in +his day pretty thoroughly, to give away a lad who may have made a slip +just at the start, and who is doing his best to get his feet again and +run straight. Alaric Barking's a good fellow. I like him. I never have +been and never shall be partial to that family. Your sister Louisa +cried up their virtues and their confounded solvency, in the old days, +till she made them a positive nuisance. She's not a happy way of +inculcating a moral economic lesson, hasn't Louisa. But I own I'm fond +of this boy. He's far the best of the whole lot—gentlemanlike, and a +sportsman, and good-looking—unusually so for one of that family—and, +my dear, he's downright honestly in love with Kathleen. I've watched +him—did so when he was down at Ranelagh one day last month with her +and Victoria Sokeington—and I know the real thing when I see it." +</p> + +<p> +"But—but, I am afraid, Shotover, you mean me to understand there is +some impediment?" Lady Constance repeated. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! well, hang it all, I'm awfully sorry, but if you are determined to +have it, Connie, perhaps there is. Only for heaven's sake don't be in +too much of a hurry. Between ourselves, I happen to know the boy's +doing his best to shake himself free in an honourable manner. So don't +rush the business. Like the dear tender-hearted creature you are, have +a little mercy on the poor beggar. Let the whole affair drift a little. +It may straighten out." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Constance meditated for a minute or so. +</p> + +<p> +"It's very dreadful that there should be any impediment," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll back Alaric to agree with you there," Lord Fallowfeild answered. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll do what you can, Shotover, won't you, to help Kathleen? I never +forget how you helped me once!" +</p> + +<p> +Lord Fallowfeild's handsome face expressed rather broad amusement. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid the two cases are hardly parallel, my dear," he said. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER X +</h3> + +<p> +"The play's on the other side, the crowd's on the other side, all the +fun's on the other side, and I am on this side with nothing more lively +than you, you little shivering idiot, for company." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy St. John drew the spaniel's long silky ears through her fingers +slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"I am bored, Cappadocia," she said, with a yawn which she made not the +slightest effort to stifle, "bored right through to my very marrow. Oh +dear, oh dear, oh dear, how I do wish something would happen!" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy sat, propped up with scarlet silk cushions, in a cane deck-chair, +on the white-railed balcony upon which the first-floor bedroom windows +opened. Around her were strewn illustrated magazines and ladies' +papers; but unfortunately the stories in the former appeared to her +every bit as silly as the fashion-plates in the latter. Both had +equally little to do with life as the ordinary flesh and blood human +being lives it. She was filled with a rebellious sense of the banality +of her surroundings this afternoon. Even from her coign of vantage upon +the balcony, whence wide prospects disclosed themselves, everything +looked foolish, pointless, of the nature of an unpardonably stale joke. +</p> + +<p> +The said balcony, divided into separate compartments by the +interposition of wooden barriers, extended the whole length of the +terrace of twenty-seven houses. And these were all precisely alike, +with white wood and stucco "enrichments," as the technical phrase has +it. Cheap stained and leaded glass adorned the upper panels of the +twenty-seven front doors, which were approached by twenty-seven flights +of steps—thus securing a measure of light and air to the twenty-seven +basements. The front doors were set in couples, alternating with +couples of bay windows. There was a determination of cheap smartness, a +smirking self-consciousness about the little houses, a suggestion of +having put on their best frocks and high-heeled shoes and standing very +much on tiptoe to attract attention. The balconies, narrow where the +upper bays encroached on them, wide where the house fronts were +recessed above the twin front doors, broke forth into a garland of +flower-boxes. Cascades of pink ivy-leaf geranium, creeping-jenny, and +nasturtiums backed by white or yellow Paris daisies, flowed outward +between the white ballusters and masked the edge of the woodwork. The +effect, though pretty, was not quite satisfactory—being suggestive of +millinery, of an over-trimmed summer hat. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately below was the roadway, bordered by an asphalt pavement on +either side, then the high impenetrable oak paling, which had baffled +Dominic Iglesias' maiden effort at participation in the amusements of +the rich. From Poppy's balcony, however, the palings offered no +impediment to observation. All the green expanse of the smaller +polo-ground was visible. So was the whole height of the grove of +majestic elms on the right and the back of the club house; and, and the +left, between <i>massifs</i> of shrubbery, a vista of lawns sloping towards +the river peopled by a sauntering crowd. +</p> + +<p> +It was upon this last that Poppy directed her gaze. To the naked eye +the units composing it showed as vertical lines of grey, brown, and +black, blotted with bright delicate colour, and splashed here and there +with white, the whole mingling, uniting, breaking into fresh +combinations kaleidoscope fashion. Through the opera-glasses figures of +men, women, and horses detached themselves, becoming quaintly distinct, +neat as toys, an assemblage of elegant highly finished marionnettes. +There was a fascination in watching the movement of these brilliant, +clear-cut silent little things upon that amazingly verdant carpet of +grass. But it was a fascination which, for Poppy, had by now worn +somewhat thin. The interest proved too far away, too impersonal. Indeed +it may be questioned whether any who have not within themselves large +store of resignation, or of hope, can look on at gaiety, in which they +have no share, without first sadness and then pretty lively irritation. +And of those two most precious commodities, resignation and hope, Poppy +had but limited reserve stock at present. So she pulled the little +dog's ears rather hard and lamented: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! my good gracious me, if only something would happen!" +</p> + +<p> +Then, the words hardly out of her mouth, she shot the much-enduring +Cappadocia off her lap and, restoring her elbows on the rails, leaned +right out over the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +"Come here, dear beautiful lunatic, come here," she cried. "For pity's +sake don't pass by!" +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps fortunately this very unconventional invitation was lost upon +Dominic Iglesias, soberly crossing the road with due observance of the +eccentricities of the drivers of motor-cars and riders of bicycles. +Looking up, he was aware of a vision quite sufficiently indicative of +welcome, without added indiscretion of words.—The white balustrade, +the trailing fringe of nasturtiums, succulent leaves and orange-scarlet +blossoms; the woman's bust and shoulders in her string-coloured lace +gown, her small face, curiously vivid in effect, capped by the heavy +masses of her black hair, her singular eyes full of light, the red of +her lips and tinge of stationary pink in her cheeks supplemented by a +glow of quick excitement. A few weeks ago the ascetic in Iglesias might +have taken alarm. Now it was different. He had his idea, and, walking +in the strength of it, dared adventure himself in neighbourhoods +otherwise slightly questionable. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later Poppy advanced across the little drawing-room to +meet him. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," she said, "of course you might have come sooner. But, equally +of course, you might never have come at all, so I won't quarrel with +you about the delay, though I would like you to know it has worried me +a good deal." +</p> + +<p> +"Has it? I am sorry for that," Dominic answered gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, be sorry, be sorry," she repeated. "It is comfortable to hear you +say so." +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with the utmost frankness, took his hand and led him +to a settee filling in the right angle between the fireplace and the +double doors at the back of the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Sit down," she said, "and let us talk. Have another cushion—so—and +if you're good I'll give you tea presently. And understand, you needn't +be careful of yourself. I'll play perfectly fair with you. I've been +thinking it all out during this time you didn't come; and I never go +back on my word once given. So, look here, you needn't account for +yourself in any way. I don't even want to know your name—specially I +don't want to know that. It might localise you, and I don't want to +have you localised. Directly a person is localised it takes away their +restfulness to one. One begins to see just all the places where they +belong to somebody else, notice-boards struck up everywhere warning one +to keep off the grass. And that's a nuisance. It raises Old Nick in +one, and makes one long to commit all manner of wickedness which would +never have entered one's head otherwise." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy held her hands palm to palm between her knees, glancing at +Dominic Iglesias now and again sideways as she spoke. The bodice of her +dress, cut slightly <i>en coeur</i>, showed the nape of her neck, and the +whole of her throat, which was smooth and rounded though rather long. +Her make altogether was that not uncommon to London girls of the lower +middle-class: small-boned and possibly anæmic, but prettily moulded, +and with an attraction of over-civilisation as of hot-house-grown +plants. Just now her head seemed bowed down by the weight of her dark +hair, as she sat gathered together, making herself small as a child +will when concentrating its mind to the statement of some serious +purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"I've knocked about a lot," she went on. "It's right you should know +that. And there's not very much left to tell me about a number of +things not usually set down in conversation books designed for +<i>débutants</i>. But just on that account I may be rather useful to you in +some ways.—Don't go and be offended now, there's a dear, good man," +she added coaxingly. "Because judging by what you told me the other +day, there's no doubt that, under some heads, you are very much of a +<i>débutant</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose I am," Iglesias said slowly. It was very strange to him to +find himself in so sudden and close an intimacy with this at once so +wise and so artificial woman creature. But he had his idea. Moreover, +increasingly he trusted her. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you are," she asserted. "That's just where the beauty of it +all comes in. You're the veriest infant. One has only to look into your +face to see that.—Don't go and freeze up now. You belong to another +order of doctrine and practice to that current in contemporary society." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy gazed at the floor, still making herself small, the palms of her +hands pressed together between her knees. +</p> + +<p> +"And that's just why you can be useful to me, awfully useful, if you +choose—I don't mean money, business, anything of the kind. I'm +perfectly competent to manage my own affairs, thank you. But you're +good for me, somehow. You rest me." +</p> + +<p> +She began to rock herself gently backwards and forwards, but without +taking the heels of her shoes off the ground. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you rest me, you rest me," she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad," Iglesias said. He felt soberly pleased, thankful almost. +</p> + +<p> +Again Poppy glanced at him sideways. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I believe you are," she said. "And that shows things have +happened to you—in you, more likely—since we last met. You have come +on a great piece." +</p> + +<p> +"I doubt if I have come on, so much as gone back, to influences of long +ago," he answered; "to things which had been overlaid by the dust of my +working years almost to the point of obliteration." +</p> + +<p> +"Was it pleasant to go back?" Poppy asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all. The going was painful. It required some courage to brush +off the dust." +</p> + +<p> +"It usually does require courage—at least that's my experience—to +brush off the dust." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias made no immediate answer. He was a little startled at +his companion's acute reading of him, a little touched by her +confidence. Her words seemed to suggest the possibility of a +relationship which fitted in admirably with the development of his +idea. He sat looking away across the room, and, doing so, became aware +that the said room possessed unexpected characteristics, calculated to +elucidate his impressions of its owner's character. It was a man's room +rather than a woman's, innocent of furbelows and frills. Two low, wide +settees, well furnished with cushions and upholstered in dark +yellowish-red tapestry, fitted into the corners on either side the +double doors. A couple of large armchairs and a revolving book-table +occupied the centre of the room. An upright piano, in an ebonised case, +draped across the back with an Indian phulkari—discs of looking-glass +set in coarsely worked yellow eyelet holes forming the border of +it—stood at right angles to the wall just short of the bay window. In +the window, placed slant-wise, was a carved black oak writing-table, a +long row of photographs stuck up against the back shelf of it. The +walls were hung with a set of William Nicolson's prints, strong, dark, +distinct, slightly sinister in effect; a fine etching of Jean François +Millet's <i>Gleaners</i>; and, in noticeable contrast to this last, a +mezzotint of Romney's picture of Lady Hamilton spinning. Upon the +book-table were a silver ash-tray and cigarette-box. The air was +unquestionably impregnated with the odour of tobacco, which the burning +of scent-sticks quite failed to dissemble. +</p> + +<p> +While Mr. Iglesias thus noted the details of his surroundings, his +companion observed him, closely, intently. Suddenly she flung herself +back against the piled-up cushions. +</p> + +<p> +"Let the dust lie, let it lie," she cried, almost shrilly. And as +Dominic turned to her, surprised at her vehemence, she added, "Yes, +it's safest so. Let it lie till it grows thick, carpeting all the +surface, so that, treading on it, one's footsteps are muffled, making +no sound!" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy jumped up, crossed swiftly to the writing-table, swept the long +row of photographs together and pushed them into a drawer. +</p> + +<p> +"There you go, face downwards, every man Jack of you," she said. "And, +for all I care, there you may stay." +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned round, confronting Dominic Iglesias, who had risen +also, her head carried high, her teeth set. +</p> + +<p> +"You may not grasp the connection of ideas—I don't the very least see +how you should, and I've no extra special wish that you should. But you +must just take my word for it that's one way of thickening the dust, in +my particular case, and not half a bad way either!" +</p> + +<p> +She pushed the heavy masses of her hair up from her forehead, crossed +the little room again and stood before Iglesias smiling, her hands +clasped behind her back. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you rest me," she said, "you do, even more than I expected. I +wanted awfully to see you; and yet I was half afraid if I did we +mightn't pull the thing off. But we are going to pull it off, aren't +we?" +</p> + +<p> +This direct appeal demanded a direct answer; and Iglesias, looking down +at her, felt nerved to a certain steadiness of resolve. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, we are," he said gravely. "That, at least, is my purpose. I have +very few friends. I should value a new one." Then he added, with a +certain hesitancy, "I am glad you are not disappointed." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! you have come on—not a question about it," Poppy cried. "Sit down +again. You needn't go yet. And we are through with disturbances for +this afternoon anyhow. An anti-cyclone, as the weather reports put it, +is extending over all our coasts. I feel quite happy. Let me enjoy the +anti-cyclone while it lasts—and I'll give you your tea." +</p> + +<p> +But of that tea Dominic Iglesias was fated not to drink. A ring at the +bell, a parley at the front door, followed by the advent of an elderly +parlourmaid bearing a card on a small lacquer tray. +</p> + +<p> +"His lordship says if you're engaged he could wait a little, ma'am. But +he wants particularly to see you to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy took the card, glanced at it, and then at Dominic Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid, I'm awfully afraid I shall have to let you go," she said. +She took both his hands, and holding them, without pressure but with a +great friendliness, went on: "Don't be offended, or you'll make me +miserable. But he's an old friend; and he's been a perfect brick to +me—stood by me through all my worst luck. I can't send him away. You +won't be off ended?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," Iglesias said. +</p> + +<p> +"And you will come again? You make me feel all smooth and good. You +promise you'll come?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Iglesias said. +</p> + +<p> +In the narrow passage a tall, eminently well-dressed middle-aged +gentleman stood aside to let him pass. Dominic Iglesias received the +impression of a very handsome person, whose possible insolence of +bearing received agreeable modification, thanks to the expression of +kindly humorous eyes and a notably beautiful mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the centre table of the square first-floor sitting-room at Cedar +Lodge a note awaited Mr. Iglesias, addressed in George Lovegrove's neat +business hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear old friend," it ran—"the wife asks you to take supper with us +to-morrow night. Step across as early as you like. My cousin, Miss +Serena Lovegrove, is paying us a visit. Yours faithfully, G. L.—N. B. +Come as you are: no ceremony. G. L." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XI +</h3> + +<p> +"Hullo, girlie," called the red and green parrot, as it helped itself +up the side of its zinc cage with beak as well as claws. +</p> + +<p> +Serena Lovegrove had opened the door suddenly. Then, seeing that Mr. +Iglesias alone occupied the room, neither her host nor hostess being +present, she paused in the doorway, a large floppy yellow silk work-bag +in her hands, undecided whether to retreat or to proceed. And it was +thus that the bird, discovering her advent, announced it, while the +pupils of his hard, round yellowish grey eyes dilated and +contracted—"snapped," as Serena would have said—maliciously. +</p> + +<p> +Serena was a tall, elegant, faded woman, dressed in black, her little +upright head balanced upon a long thin stalk of neck. Though undeniably +faded, there was, as now seen in the quiet evening light, a suggestion +of youthfulness about her. He brown eyes, pretty though rather small, +snapped even as did those of the parrot. Excitement—to-night she was +very much excited—invariably produced in Serena an effect of clutching +at her long-departed girlhood, an effect sufficiently pathetic in the +case of a woman well on in the forties. And it was precisely this +ineffectual throw-back to a Serena of seventeen or eighteen which lent +a sharp edge of irony to the strident salutations of the parrot, as it +called out again: +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, girlie! Polly's own pet girlie," then with a prolonged and +ear-piercing whistle:—"Hi, four-wheeler! girlie's going out." And +hoarsely, with a growl in its throat: "Move on there, stoopid, can't +yer? Shut the door." +</p> + +<p> +During the delivery of these final admonitions Mr. Iglesias had +recognised the shadowy figure standing on the threshold and advanced. +This decided Serena. Still twisting the ribbons of the yellow work-bag +round her thin fingers, she drifted into the room. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I have had the pleasure of meeting you once or twice before, +Miss Lovegrove," Dominic said. His manner was specially gentle and +courtly, for he could not but feel the poor lady was at a disadvantage, +owing to the very articulate indiscretions of the parrot. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! yes," Serena answered. "Certainly we have met. But you are wrong +as to the number of times. It is more than once or twice. Five times, I +think; or it may have been six. No, it is five, because I remember you +were expected, in the evening, the day before I went home the winter +before last; and at the last moment you were unable to come. That would +have made six. Now it is only five." +</p> + +<p> +"You have an excellent memory," Iglesias said. "It is kind of you to +remember so clearly." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if it is—I mean, I wonder whether it is kind," Serena +rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +She was quite innocent of any intention of sarcasm. But her mind, like +those of so many unoccupied, and consequently self-occupied persons, +was addicted to speculation of a minor and vacuous sort. She was also +liable—as such persons often are—to mistake cavilling for spirit and +wit—a most tedious error! +</p> + +<p> +"Still you are right in saying I have a good memory," she added. +"People generally observe that. But then I was always taught it was +rude to forget. Forgetfulness is the result of inattention. At school I +never had any difficulty in learning by heart." +</p> + +<p> +"You must have found that both a useful and pleasant talent." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps," Serena replied negligently. She was determined not to commit +herself, having arrived at the conclusion that Mr. Iglesias' address +was too civil. "It was bad manners of him not to remember how often we +had met," she said to herself, "and now he is trying to pass it off. +But that won't do!" Serena had many and distinct views on the subject +of manner and manners. She was never certain that civility did not +argue a defect of sincerity. She agreed with herself to think that over +again later. Meanwhile she would carefully remark Mr. Iglesias. "If he +is insincere, as I fear he is, he is sure to betray it in other ways. +Then I shall be on my guard." Forewarned is, of course, forarmed, and +Serena felt very acute. Though against exactly what she was taking such +elaborate precautions, it would have been difficult for her, or for +anyone else, to have stated. However, just now it was incumbent upon +her to make conversation. As is the way with persons not very fertile +in ideas, she had recourse to the simple expedient of asking a leading +question. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you fond of animals?" she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid I have very little knowledge of animals," Iglesias replied. +</p> + +<p> +Serena laughed dryly. This was so transparent a subterfuge. +</p> + +<p> +"What a very odd answer!" she said. "Because everybody must really know +whether they like animals or not." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid I stand by myself then, a solitary exception. I have had +little or nothing to do with animals, and have therefore had no +opportunity of discovering whether they attract me or not." +</p> + +<p> +"How very odd!" Serena repeated. +</p> + +<p> +She moved across to the centre-table where Mr. Lovegrove's books of +picture postcards, the miscellaneous consequences of many charity +bazaars, and kindred aesthetic treasures reposed, and deposited her +work-bag in their company. Her movement revived the attention of the +parrot, who had been nodding on its perch. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor old girlie, take a brandy and soda? Kiss and be friends. +Good-night, all," it murmured hoarsely, half asleep. +</p> + +<p> +"If your question bore reference to that particular animal, I stand in +no doubt as to my sentiments," Dominic remarked. "I am anything but +fond of it. I think it an odious bird." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! you see you do know," Serena exclaimed. "I was sure you did." She +felt justified in her suspicion of his sincerity. "But nobody would +agree with you, Mr. Iglesias, because of course it is really a very +clever parrot. They very seldom learn to say so many things." +</p> + +<p> +"How fortunate!" Dominic permitted himself to ejaculate. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see why you should say it is fortunate." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not its remarks strike you as somewhat impertinent and intrusive?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if an animal can be impertinent," Serena said reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +But here to her vexation, for it appeared to her that she had just +started a really interesting subject of discussion, Mrs. Lovegrove +bustled into the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mr. Iglesias," she began, "I am sure I am very delighted to see +you, and so will Georgie be. He was remarking only yesterday we don't +seem to see so much of you as we used to do. He's just a little behind +time, is Georgie, having been kept by the dear vicar at a meeting about +the Church Workers' Social Evenings Guild at the Mission Room in Little +Bethesda Street. You wouldn't know where that is, Mr. Iglesias—though +I can't help hoping you will some day—but Serena knows, don't you, +Serena? It's where Susan—her elder sister, Miss Lovegrove"—this aside +to Dominic—"gave an address once to the members of the Society for the +Conversion of the Jews." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt I remember; but Susan is always giving addresses somewhere," +Serena said loftily. +</p> + +<p> +"And very good and kind of her it is to give addresses," Mrs. Lovegrove +rejoined. "Even the dear vicar says what a remarkable gift she has as a +speaker, and there's no question as to the worth of his praise." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if it is—I mean I wonder if it is good and kind of Susan to +give addresses," Serena remarked. "Because of course she enjoys giving +them. Susan likes to have a number of people listening to her." +</p> + +<p> +"But if the object is a noble one?"—this from Mrs. Lovegrove, a little +nonplussed and put about. +</p> + +<p> +"Still, if you enjoy doing anything, how can it be good and kind to do +it?" Serena said argumentatively. "Susan is very fond of publicity. I +think people very often deceive themselves about their own motives." +</p> + +<p> +She looked meaningly at Dominic Iglesias as she spoke. And he looked +back at her gravely and kindly, though with a slightly amused smile. +His thoughts had travelled away—they had done so pretty frequently +during the last twenty-four hours—to the smirking self-conscious +little house on the verge of Barnes Common. Unpromising though it had +appeared outwardly, yet within it he believed he had found a friend—a +friend who was also an enigma. Perhaps, as he now reflected, all women +are enigmas. Certainly they are amazingly different. He thought of +Poppy. He looked at Serena. Yes, doubtless they all are enigmas; +only—might Heaven forgive him the discourtesy—all are not enigmas +equally well worth finding out. +</p> + +<p> +George Lovegrove arrived. Supper, a somewhat heavy and hybrid meal, +followed—"all comfortable and friendly," as Mrs. Lovegrove described +it, "no ceremony and fal-lals, but everything put down on the table so +that you could see it and please yourself." +</p> + +<p> +Serena, however, was difficult to please. She picked daintily at the +food on her plate. Her host observed her with solicitude. +</p> + +<p> +"Do take a little more," he said, in an anxious aside, Mrs. Lovegrove +being safely engaged in conversation with Mr. Iglesias, "or I shall +begin to be nervous lest we aren't offering you quite what you like." +</p> + +<p> +But Serena was obdurate. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray don't mind, George," she said. "You know I never eat much. I am +quite different from Susan, for instance. She always has a large +appetite, and so have all her friends. Low Church people always have, I +think. But I never care to eat a great deal, especially in hot weather." +</p> + +<p> +Serena was really very glad indeed to come to London just now. Still, +there were self-respecting decencies to be observed, specially in the +presence of another guest. Relationship does not necessarily imply +social equality; and, as Serena reminded herself, the family always had +felt that poor George had married beneath him. Therefore it was well to +keep the fact of her own superior refinement well in view. In the case +of good George Lovegrove this was, however, a work of supererogation. +For he had a, to himself, positively embarrassing respect for Serena's +gentility—embarrassing because at moments it came painfully near +endangering the completeness of his consideration for "the wife's +feelings." The two ladies frequently differed upon matters of taste and +etiquette, with the result that the good man's guileless breast was +torn by conflicting emotions. For had not Serena's father been a +General Officer of the Indian army? And had not Serena herself and her +elder sister Susan—a person of definite views and commanding +character—long been resident at Slowby in Midlandshire, an inland +watering-place of acknowledged fashion? It followed that her +pronouncements on social questions were necessarily final. Yet to +uphold her judgment, as against that of the wife, was to risk +mortifying the latter. And to mortify the wife would be to act as a +heartless scoundrel. Hence situations, for George Lovegrove, difficult +to the point of producing profuse perspiration. +</p> + +<p> +That night Serena prepared for rest with remarkable deliberation. Clad +in a blue and white striped cotton dressing-gown, she sat long at her +toilet-table. And all the time she wondered—a far-reaching, mazelike, +elaborately intricate and wholly inconclusive wonder. Hers was a nature +which suffered perpetual solicitation from possible alternatives, +hearing warning voices from the vague, delusive regions of the might-be +or might-have-been. She had never grasped the rudimentary but very +important truth that only that which actually is in the least matters. +And so to arrive at what is, with all possible despatch—in so far as +such arriving is practicable—and then to go forward, comprises the +whole duty of the sane human being. Par from this, Serena's mind +forever fitted batlike in the half-darkness of innumerable small +prejudices and ignorances. She moved, as do so many women of her class, +in a twilight, embryonic world, untouched alike by the splendour and +terror of living. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, on this particular occasion, as she brushed her hair and +inserted the tortoise-shell curling-pins which should secure +to-morrow's decorative effects, she felt almost daring and dangerous. +She wondered whether she had really enjoyed the evening or not; whether +she had held her own and shown independence and spirit. She laboured +under the quaint early-Victorian notion that, in the presence of +members of the opposite sex, a woman is called upon always to play +something of a part. She should advance, so to speak, and then retreat; +provoke interest by a studied indifference; yield a little, only to +become more elegantly fugitive. It may be doubted whether these wiles +have even been a very successful adjunct to feminine charms. But in the +case of so negative and colourless a creature as Serena, they were +pathetically devoid of result. Play a part industriously as she might, +the majority of her audience was wholly unaware that she was, in point +of fact, playing anything at all! They might think her a little +capricious, a little foolish, but that there was intention or purpose +in her pallid flightiness passed the bounds of imagination. Never mind, +if the audience had no sense of the position, Serena had, and she +enjoyed it. Excitement possessed her, and her eyes snapped even yet as, +thinking it all over, she fastened the curlers in her hair. +</p> + +<p> +She wondered whether George and Rhoda—how intensely she disliked the +name Rhoda!—had any special reason for asking her just now, and +talking so much about Mr. Iglesias, or whether it was a coincidence. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it is not of the slightest importance to me whether they +have or not," she reflected. "I think it would be rather an +impertinence if they had. Still, I think I had better find out; but +without letting Rhoda suspect, of course. If you give her any +encouragement Rhoda is inclined to go too far and say what is rather +indelicate. I always have thought Rhoda had a rather vulgar mind. I +wonder if poor George feels that? I believe he does, before me. Once or +twice to-night he was very nervous. How dreadfully coarse poor Rhoda's +skin is getting! I wonder if Rhoda has given Susan a hint, and if that +was what made Susan so gracious about my leaving home? But I don't +believe she did—I mean that Susan suspected that George and Rhoda had +any particular reason for inviting me. I wonder if I shall ever make +Susan see that I am not a cipher? Of course if George and Rhoda really +have any particular reason, and Susan comes to know it, that will show +her that other people do not consider me a cipher. I wonder what most +people would think of Mr. Iglesias? Of course he has only been a bank +clerk; but then so has George. Only then he is a foreigner, and that +makes a difference. I wonder whether, if anything came of it, Susan +would make his being a foreigner an objection?" +</p> + +<p> +But this was growing altogether too definite and concrete. With a sort +of mental squeak Serena's thought flitted into twilight and embryonic +regions. +</p> + +<p> +"I think if they have any particular reason, it is rather scheming of +George and Rhoda. I wonder if it is nice of them? If they have, I think +it is rather deceitful. I wonder if they have said anything to Mr. +Iglesias?" +</p> + +<p> +Serena, with the aid of a curling-pin, was controlling the short fuzzy +little hairs just at the nape of her neck; and this last wonder proved +so absorbing a one that she remained, head bent and fingers aimlessly +fiddling with the bars of the curler, till it suddenly occurred to her +that she was getting quite stiff. +</p> + +<p> +"If they have, I think it is very presuming of them," she continued +wrathfully, stretching her arms, for they ached—"very presuming. How +glad I am I was on my guard. I wonder if they saw I was on my guard? I +believe George did. I wonder if that helped to make him nervous?" +</p> + +<p> +Serena fastened in the last of the curlers. There was no excuse for +sitting up any longer; yet she lingered. +</p> + +<p> +"I must be more on my guard than ever," she said. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Dominic Iglesias, after sitting in the dining-room with his +old friend while the latter smoked a last pipe, made his way across the +Green in the deepening mystery of the summer night. The sky was +moonless; and at the zenith, untouched by the upward streaming light of +the great city, the stars showed fair and bright. A nostalgia of wide +untenanted spaces, of far horizons, of emotions at once intimate and +rooted in things eternal, was upon him. But of Serena Lovegrove, it +must be admitted, he thought not one little bit. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XII +</h3> + +<p> +Only one of the trees from which Cedar Lodge derives its name was still +standing. This lonely giant, sombre exile from Libanus, overshadowed +all that remained of the formerly extensive garden and sensibly +darkened the back of the house. Its foliage, spread like a deep pile +carpet upon the wide horizontal branches, was worn and sparse, showing +small promise of self-renewal. Yet though starved by the exhausted +soil, and clogged by soots from innumerable chimneys, it remained +majestic, finely decorative as some tree of metal, of age-old bronze +roughened by a greenness of deep-eating rust. From the first moment of +his acquaintance with Cedar Lodge it had been to Dominic Iglesias an +object of attraction, even of sympathy. For he recognised in it +something stoical, an unmoved dignity and lofty indifference to the +sordid commonplace of its surroundings. It made no concessions to +adverse circumstances, but remained proudly itself, owning for sole +comrade the Wind—that most mysterious of all created things, unseen, +untamed, mateless, incalculable. The wind gave it voice, gave it even a +measure of mobility, as it swept through the labyrinth of dry +unfruitful branches and awoke a husky music telling of far-distant +times and places, making a shuddering and stirring as of the resurgence +of long-forgotten hope and passion. +</p> + +<p> +When Dominic entered into residence at Cedar Lodge, a pair of stout +mauve-brown wood-pigeons—migrants from the pleasant elms of Holland +Park—had haunted the tree. But they being, for all their dolorous +cooings, birds of a lusty, not to say truculent, habit, grew weary of +its persistent solemnity of aspect. So, at least, Dominic judged. He +had been an interested spectator of the love-makings, quarrels, and +reconciliations of these comely neighbours from his bedroom window +daily while dressing. But one fine spring morning he saw them fly away +and never saw them fly back again. Clearly they had removed themselves +to less solemn quarters, leaving the great tree, save for fugitive +visitations from its comrade the wind, to solitary meditation within +the borders of its narrow prison-place. +</p> + +<p> +Besides presenting in itself an object altogether majestical, the cedar +performed a practical office whereby it earned Iglesias' gratitude. For +its dark interposing bulk effectually shut off the view of an +aggressively new rawly red steam laundry, with shiny slate roofs and a +huge smoke-belching chimney to it, which, to the convulsive disgust of +the gentility of the eastern side of Trimmer's Green, had had the +unpardonable impertinence to get itself erected in an adjacent street. +It followed that when, one wet evening, yellow-headed little Mr. Farge +had advised himself to speak slightingly of the cedar tree, Iglesias +was prepared to defend it, if necessary, with some warmth. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation had ranged round the subject of the hour, namely, the +possibility—as yet in the estimation of most persons an incredible +one—of war with the Boer Republics, when the young man indulged in a +playful aside addressed to Miss Hart, at whose right hand he was seated. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could find fault with anything belonging to the lady at the head +of the table," he said, "it would be the gloomy old party looking in at +these back windows." +</p> + +<p> +"What, the dear old cedar tree! Never, Mr. Farge!" protested Eliza. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it would, though," he insisted, "when, as tonight, it is drip, +drip, dripping all over the shop. No touch of Sunny Jim about him, is +these now, Bert?"—this to the devoted Worthington sitting immediately +opposite to him on Miss Hart's left. +</p> + +<p> +"Truly there is not, if I may venture so far," the other young +gentleman responded, playing up obediently. "And if anything could give +me and Charlie a fit of the blues, I believe that old fellow would in +rainy weather." +</p> + +<p> +"Makes you think of the cemetery, does it not now, Bert?" +</p> + +<p> +"You have hit it. Paddington—not the station though, Charlie, just +starting for a cosey little trip with your best girl up the river." +</p> + +<p> +"For shame, Mr. Worthington," Eliza protested again, giggling. +</p> + +<p> +"Suggestive of the end of all week-ends, in short," de Courcy Smyth, +who contrary to his custom was present at dinner that evening, put in +snarlingly. "One last trip up the River of Death for you, with a ticket +marked not transferrable, eh, Farge? Then an oblong hole in the reeking +blue clay, silence and worms." +</p> + +<p> +His tone was spiteful to the point of commanding attention. A hush fell +on the company, broken only by the drifting sob of the rain through the +branches of the great cedar. Mr. Farge went perceptibly pale. Mrs. +Porcher sighed and turned her fine eyes up to the ceiling. Iglesias +looked curiously at the speaker. Eliza Hart was the first to find voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, Mr. Smyth," she said, "don't be so very unpleasant. You're +enough to give one the goose-skin all over." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry I have offended," he answered sullenly. "But I beg leave to +call attention to the fact that I did not start this subject. I was +rather interested in the previous discussion, which gave an opportunity +of intelligent conversation not habitual among us. Farge is responsible +for the interruption, and for the cemeteries, and consequently for my +comment. Still, I am sorry I have offended." +</p> + +<p> +He shifted his position, glancing uneasily first at his hostess, and +then at Dominic Iglesias, who sat opposite him in the place of honour +at that lady's right hand. +</p> + +<p> +"You have not offended, Mr. Smyth," Mrs. Porcher declared graciously. +"And no doubt it is well for us all to be reminded of death and burial +at times. Though some of us hardly need reminding"—again she sighed. +"We carry the thought of them about with us always." And she turned her +fine eyes languidly upon Mr. Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"My poor sweet Peachie," the kind-hearted Eliza murmured, under her +breath. +</p> + +<p> +"But at meals, perhaps, a lighter vein is more suitable, Mr. Smyth," +Mrs. Porcher continued. "At table the thought of death does seem rather +disheartening, does it not? But about our poor old cedar tree now, Mr. +Farge? You were not seriously proposing to have it removed?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, strictly between ourselves, I am really half afraid I actually +was." +</p> + +<p> +"You forget it sheltered my childhood. It is associated with all my +past." +</p> + +<p> +"Can a rosebud have a past?" Farge cried, coming up to the surface +again with a bounce, so to speak. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Porcher smiled, shook her head in graceful reproof, and turned +once more to Dominic. +</p> + +<p> +"I think we should all like to know how you feel about it, Mr. +Iglesias," she said. "Do you wish the poor old tree removed?" +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary, I should greatly regret it's being cut down," he +answered. "It would be a loss to me personally, for I have always taken +a pleasure both in the sound and the sight of it. But that is a minor +consideration." +</p> + +<p> +"You must allow me to differ from that opinion," Mrs. Porcher remarked, +with gentle emphasis. "We can never forget, can we, Eliza, who is our +oldest guest? Mr. Iglesias' opinion must ever carry weight in all which +concerns Cedar Lodge." +</p> + +<p> +Here Farge and Worthington made round eyes at one another, while de +Courcy Smyth shuffled his feet under the table. He had received a +disquieting impression. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! of course, Peachie, dear," Miss Hart responded. She hugged herself +with satisfaction. "The darling looks more bonny than ever," she +reflected. "To-night what animation! What tact! She seems to have come +out so lately, since that Serena Lovegrove has been stopping over the +way. Not that there could be any rivalry between her and that poor +thread-paper of a thing!" +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias, however, received his hostess' pretty speeches with a +calm which turned the current of the ardent Eliza's thoughts, causing +her to refer, mentally, to the degree of emotion which might be +predicated of monuments, mountains, stone elephants, and kindred +objects. +</p> + +<p> +"You are very kind," he said. "But on grounds far more important than +those of any private sentiment the cutting down of the cedar calls for +careful consideration. I am afraid you would find it a serious loss to +the beauty of your property. What the house loses in light, it +certainly gains in distinction and interest from the presence of the +tree." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Mrs. Porcher returned, folding her plump pink hands upon the +edge of the table and looking down modestly. "It does speak of family +perhaps." +</p> + +<p> +"And in your case, dear, it speaks nothing more than the truth," Eliza +declared. "Just as well a certain gentleman should reckon with +Peachie's real position," she said to herself—"specially with that +stuck-up Serena Lovegrove cat-and-mousing about on the other side of +the Green. It does not take a Solomon to see what she's after!" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid the verdict is given against you, Mr. Farge. The cedar +tree will remain." Mrs. Porcher rose as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +The young man playfully rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, feigning +tears. Then a scrimmage ensued between him and Worthington as to which +should reach the dining-room door first and throw it open before the +ladies. At this exhibition of high spirits de Courcy Smyth groaned +audibly, while Mrs. Porcher, linking her arm within that of Miss Hart, +lingered. +</p> + +<p> +"You will join our little circle in the drawing-room to-night, will you +not, Mr. Iglesias?" she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +Again the young men made round eyes at one another. De Courcy Smyth had +come forward. He stood close to Iglesias and, before the latter could +answer, spoke hurriedly: +</p> + +<p> +"Can you give me ten minutes in private? I don't want to press myself +upon you, but this is imperative." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias proceeded to excuse himself to his hostess, thereby causing +Miss Hart to refer mentally to monuments and mountains once again. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," Smyth gasped. His face was twitching and he swayed a +little, steadying himself with one hand on the corner of the +dinner-table. +</p> + +<p> +"I loathe asking," he continued, "I loathe pressing my society upon +you, since you do not seek it. It has taken days for me to make up my +mind to this; but it is necessary. And, after all, you made the +original offer yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"I am quite ready to listen, and to renew any offer which I may have +made," Iglesias answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"We can't talk here, though," Smyth said. "That blundering ass of a +waiter will be coming in directly; and whatever he overhears is sure to +go the round of the house. All servants are spies." +</p> + +<p> +"We can go up to my sitting-room and talk there," Iglesias replied. +</p> + +<p> +Yet he was conscious of making the proposal with reluctance, pity +struggling against repulsion. For not only was the man's appearance +very unkempt, but his manner and bearing were eloquent of a certain +desperation. Of anything approaching physical fear Dominic Iglesias was +happily incapable. But his sitting-room had always been a peaceful +place, refuge alike from the strain and monotony of his working life. +It held relics, moreover, wholly dear to him, and to introduce into it +this inharmonious and, in a sense, degraded presence savoured of +desecration. Therefore, not without foreboding, as of one who risks the +sacrifice of earnestly cherished security, he ushered his guest into +the quiet room. +</p> + +<p> +The gas, the small heart-shaped flames of which showed white against +the dying daylight coming in through the windows, was turned low in the +bracket-lamps on either side the high mantelpiece. Dominic Iglesias +moved across and drew down the blinds, catching sight as he did +so—between the tossing foliage of the balsam-poplars which glistened +in the driving wet—of the unwinking gaselier in the Lovegroves' +dining-room, on the other side of the Green. He remembered that he +ought to have called on Mrs. Lovegrove and Miss Serena, and that he had +been guilty of a lapse of etiquette in not having done so. But he +reflected poor Miss Serena was a person whose existence it seemed so +curiously difficult to bear actively in mind. Then he grew penitent, as +having added discourtesy to discourtesy in permitting himself this +reflection. He came back from the window, turned up the lights, drew +forward an armchair and motioned Smyth to be seated; fetched a +cut-glass spirit decanter, tumblers, and a syphon of soda from the +sideboard and set them at his guest's elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray help yourself," he said. "And here, will you not smoke while we +talk?" +</p> + +<p> +Smyth's pale, prominent eyes had followed these preparations for his +comfort with avidity, but now, the handsome character of his +surroundings being fully disclosed to him, he was filled with +uncontrollable envy. Silently he filled his glass, by no means stinting +the amount of alcohol, gulped down half the contents of the tumbler, +paused a moment, leaning his elbow on the table, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"We were treated to a public exhibition of feminine cajolery in your +direction, Mr. Iglesias, at the end of dinner. It occurs to me we might +have been spared that. I have never had the honour of penetrating into +your apartments before; but the aspect of them is quite sufficient +indication as to who is the favoured member of Mrs. Porcher's +establishment." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic had remained standing. Hospitality demanded that he should do +all in his power to secure his guest's material comfort; but there, in +his opinion, immediate obligation ceased. In thus remaining standing he +had a quaint sense of safeguarding the sanctities of the place. The +man's tone was curiously offensive. Involuntarily Mr. Iglesias' back +stiffened a little. +</p> + +<p> +"I took these rooms unfurnished," he said. And then added: "May I ask +what your business with me may be?" +</p> + +<p> +Smyth had recourse to his tumbler again. His hand shook so that his +teeth chattered against the edge of the glass. +</p> + +<p> +"I am a fool," he said sullenly. "But my nerves are all to pieces. I +cannot control myself. I have come here to ask a favour of you, and yet +some devil prompts me to insult you. I hate you because I am driven to +make use of you. And this room, in its sober luxury, emphasises the +indignity of the position, offering as it does so glaring a contrast to +my own quarters—here under the same roof, only one flight of stairs +above—that I can hardly endure it. Life is hideously unjust. For what +have you done—you, a mere Canaanite, hewer of wood and drawer of water +to some grossly Philistine firm of city bankers—to deserve this +immunity from anxiety and distress; while I, with my superior culture, +my ambition and talents, am condemned to that beastly squeaking +wire-wove mattress upstairs, and a job-lot of furniture which some +previous German waiter has ejected in disgust from his bedroom in the +basement? But there—I beg your pardon. I ought to be accustomed to +injustice. I have served a long enough apprenticeship to it. +Only—partly, thanks to you, I own that—I have seemed to see the +dawning of hope again—hope of success, hope of recognition, hope of +revenge; and just on that account it becomes intolerable to run one's +head against this paralysing, stultifying dead wall of poverty and +debt."—He bowed himself together, and his voice broke.—"I owe Mrs. +Porcher money for my miserable bedsitting-room and my board, and I am +so horribly afraid she will turn me out. The place is detestable; +unworthy of me—of course it is—but I am accustomed to it. And I am +not myself. I am terrified at the prospect of any change. In short, I +am worn out. And they see that, those beasts of editors. The <i>Evening +Dally Bulletin</i> has given me my <i>congé</i>. I have lost the last of my +hack-work. It was miserable work, wholly beneath a man of my capacity; +still it brought me in a pittance. Now it is gone. Practically I am a +pauper, and I owe money in this house." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, very sorry," Iglesias said. "You should have spoken +sooner. I could not force myself into your confidence; but, believe me, +I have not been unmindful of my engagement. I have merely waited for +you to speak." +</p> + +<p> +His manner was gentle, yet he remained standing, still possessed by an +instinct to thus safeguard the sanctities of the place. He paused, +giving the other man time to recover a measure of composure: then he +asked kindly, anxious to conduct the conversation into a happier +channel: "Meanwhile, how is the play advancing? Well, I hope—so that +you find solace and satisfaction in the prosecution of it." +</p> + +<p> +Smyth moved uneasily, looking up furtively at his questioner. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! it is grand," he said, "unquestionable it is grand. You need have +no anxiety under that head. Pray understand that anything that you may +do for me in the interim, before the play is produced, is simply an +investment. You need not be in the least alarmed. You will see all your +money back—see it doubled, certainly doubled, probably trebled." +</p> + +<p> +"I was not thinking of investments," Iglesias put in quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"But I am," Smyth asserted. "Naturally I am. You do not suppose that I +should accept, still less ask, you help, unless I was certain that in +the end I should prove to be conferring, rather than incurring, a +favour? You humiliate me by assuming this attitude of disinterested +generosity. Let me warn you it does not ring true. Moreover, in +assuming it you do not treat me as an equal; and that I resent. It is +mean to take advantage of my sorrows and my poverty, and exalt yourself +thus at my expense. Of course I understand your point of view. From +your associations and occupations you must inevitably worship the god +of wealth. One cannot expect anything else from a business man. You +gauge every one's intellectual capacity by his power of making money. +Well, wait then—just wait; and when that play appears, see if I do not +compel you to rate my intellectual capacity very highly. For there are +thousands in that play, I tell you—tens of thousands. It is only in +the interim that I am reduced to this detestable position of +dependence. I know the worth of my work, if——" +</p> + +<p> +But Iglesias' patience was beginning to wear rather thin. He interposed +calmly, yet with authority. +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me," he said, "but it is irrelevant to discuss my attitude of +mind or my past occupations. It will be more agreeable for us, both now +and in the future, to treat any matters that arise between us as +impersonally as possible. Therefore, I will ask you to tell me, simply +and clearly, how much you require to clear you from immediate +difficulty; and I will tell you, in return, whether I am in a position +to meet your wishes or not." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Smyth sat silent, his hands working nervously along the +arms of the chair. +</p> + +<p> +"You understand it is merely a temporary accommodation?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Iglesias answered. "I understand. And consequently it is +superfluous to indulge in further discussion." +</p> + +<p> +"You want to get rid of me," Smyth snarled. "Everyone wants to get rid +of me; I am unwelcome. The poor and unsuccessful always are so, I +suppose. But some day the tables will be turned—if I can only last." +</p> + +<p> +And Dominic Iglesias found himself called upon to rally all his +humanity, all his faith in merciful dealing and the reward which goes +along with it. For it was hard to give, hard to befriend, so thankless +and ungracious a being. Yet, having put his hand to the plough, he +refused to look back. He had inherited a strain of fanaticism which +took the form of unswerving loyalty to his own word once given. So he +spoke gravely and kindly, as one speaks to the sick who are beyond the +obligation of showing courtesy for very suffering. And truly, as he +reminded himself, this man was grievously sick; not only physically +from insufficient food, but morally from disappointment and that most +fruitful source of disease, inordinate and unsatisfied vanity. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not wish to get rid of you; I merely wish to take the shortest +and simplest way to relieve you of your more pressing anxieties, and so +enable you to give yourself unreservedly to your work. Want may be a +wholesome spur to effort at times; but it is difficult to suppose any +really sane and well-proportioned work of art can be produced without a +sense of security and of leisure." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you come to know that? It is not your province," Smyth said +sharply. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias permitted himself to smile and raise his shoulders +slightly. +</p> + +<p> +"I come of a race which, in the past, has given evidence of no small +literary and artistic ability. The experience of former generations +affects the thought of their descendants, I imagine, and illuminates +it, even when these are not gifted individually with any executive +talent." +</p> + +<p> +For some minutes Smyth sat staring moodily in front of him. At last he +rose slowly from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I am an ass," he said, "a jealous, suspicious, ungrateful ass. It is +more than ever hateful to me to ask a favour of you, just because you +are forbearing and generous. I wish to goodness I could do without you +help; but I can't. So let me have twenty-five pounds. Less would not be +of use to me. I should only have to draw on you again, and I do not +care to do that. Look here, can I have it in notes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Mr. Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"I prefer it so. There might have been difficulties in cashing a +cheque. Moreover, it is unpleasant to me that your name, that any name, +should appear. It is only fair to save my self-respect as far as you +can." +</p> + +<p> +Then, as Dominic put the notes into his hand, he added, and his voice +was aggressive again and quarrelsome in tone: "I don't apologise. I +don't explain. I do not even thank you. Why should I, since I simply +take it as a temporary accommodation until my play is finished—my +great play, which is going—I swear before God it is going—not only to +cancel this paltry debt, but a far more important one, the debt I owe +to my own genius, and justify me once and forever in the eyes of the +whole English-speaking world." +</p> + +<p> +With that he shambled out of the room, letting the handle of the door +slip so that it banged noisily behind him. +</p> + +<p> +For a while Dominic Iglesias remained standing before the fireplace. He +was sad at heart. He had given generously, lavishly, out of proportion, +as most persons reckon charitable givings, to his means. But, though +the act was in itself good, he was sensible of no responsive warmth, no +glow of satisfaction. The transaction left him cold; left him, indeed, +a prey to disgust. Not only were the man's faults evident, but they +were of so unpleasant a nature as to neutralise all gladness in +relieving his distress. Mechanically Iglesias straightened the chair +which his guest had so lately occupied, put away tumbler and spirit +decanter, pulled up the blind and opened one of the tall narrow +windows, set the door giving access to his bed-chamber wide, and opened +a window there, too, so creating a draught right through the apartment +from end to end. He desired to clean it both of a physical and a moral +atmosphere which were displeasing to him. And, in so doing, he let in, +not only the roar of London, borne in a fierce crescendo on the breath +of the wind, but a strange multitudinous rustling from the sombre +foliage and stiff branches of the lonely cedar tree. Two limbs, +crossing, sawed upon one another as the wind took them, uttering at +intervals a long-drawn complaint—not weakly, but rather with virility, +as of a strong man chained and groaning against his fetters. +</p> + +<p> +The sound affected Dominic Iglesias deeply, begetting in him an almost +hopeless sense of isolation. The vapid talk at dinner, poor little Mrs. +Porcher's misplaced advances—the fact of which it appeared to him +equally idle to deny and fatuous to admit—the dreary scene with his +unhappy fellow-lodger, the good deed done which just now appeared +fruitless—all these contributed to make the complaint of the exiled +cedar's tormented branches an echo of the complaint of his own heart. +For a long while he listened to these voices of the night, the great +city, the great tree, the wind and the wet; and listening, by degrees +he rallied his patience in that he humbled himself. +</p> + +<p> +"After all, I have been little else but self-seeking," he said, half +aloud. "For I gave not to the man, but to myself. I clutched at a +personal reward, if not of spoken gratitude yet of subjective content. +It has not come. I suppose I did not deserve it." +</p> + +<p> +And then, somehow, his thoughts turned to that other human creature +who, though in a very different fashion to de Courcy Smyth the +unsavoury, had claimed his help. He thought not of her over-red lips, +but of her wise eyes; not of her irrepressible effervescence and +patter, but of her serious moments and of the honesty and courage which +at such moments appeared to animate her. About a fortnight ago he had +called at the little flower-bedecked house on the confines of Barnes +Common, but had obtained no response to his ringing. He supposed she +was engaged, or possibly away. With a certain proud modesty he had +abstained from renewing his visit. But now, listening to the roar of +London and the complaint of the cedar tree, he turned to the thought of +her as to something of promise, of possible comfort, of equal +friendship, in which there should be not only help given, but help +received. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XIII +</h3> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias stood on Hammersmith Bridge looking upstream. The +temperature was low for the time of year, the sky packed with +heavy-bosomed indigo-grey clouds in the south and west, whence came a +gusty wind chill with impending rain. The light was diffused and cold, +all objects having a certain bareness of effect, deficient in shadow. +The weather had broken in the storm of the preceding night; and, though +it was but early September, summer was gone, autumn and the melancholy +of it already present—witness the elms in Chiswick Mall splotched with +raw umber and faded yellow. The tide had still about an hour to flow. +The river was dull and leaden, save where, near Chiswick Eyot, the wind +meeting the tide lashed the surface of it into mimic waves, the crests +of which, flung upward, showed against the gloomy stretch of water +beyond, like pale hands raised heavenward in despairing protest. +Steam-tugs, taking advantage of the tide, laboured up-stream in the +teeth of the wind, towing processions of dark floats and barges. Long +banners of smoke, ragged and fleeting, swept wildly away from the +mouths of the tall chimneys of Thorneycroft's Works, which rose black +into the low, wet sky. The roadway of the huge suspension bridge +quivered under the grind of the ceaseless traffic, while the wind cried +in the massive pea-green painted iron-gearing above. There was a sense +of hardly restrained tumult, of conflict between nature and the +multiple machinery of modern civilisation, the two in opposition, alike +victims of an angry mood. And Iglesias stood watching that conflict +among the crowd of children, and loafers, and decrepit, who to-day—as +every day—thronged the foot-way of the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy St. John stood on the foot-way, too. She had crossed from the +southern side. But, though by no means insensible to the spirit or the +details of the scene around her, she was less engaged in watching the +drama of the stormy afternoon than in watching Dominic Iglesias—as yet +unconscious of her presence. His tall, spare, shapely figure, grave, +clean-shaven face, and calm, self-recollected manner—which removed him +so singularly from the purposeless neutral-tinted human beings close +about him—delighted her artistic sense. +</p> + +<p> +"If one had caught him young," she said to herself, "if one had only +caught him young, heavenly powers, what a time one might have had, and +yet stayed good—oh! very quite good indeed!" +</p> + +<p> +Then she made her way between much undeveloped and derelict humanity. +</p> + +<p> +"Look at me, dear man," she said, "look at me—really I am worth it. I +got home late last night and I was possessed by a great longing to see +you.—Excuse my shouting, but things in general are making such an +infernal clatter.—I was determined to see you. I set my whole mind to +making you come. And I felt so sure you must come that this afternoon I +have journeyed thus far to meet you. And here you are, and here I am." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy stood before him bracing her back against the hand-rail of the +bridge. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me, are you glad?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +And Dominic Iglesias, surprised, yet finding the incident curiously +natural, answered simply: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I am, very glad." +</p> + +<p> +"That's all right," she rejoined; "because, after all, coming was a +pretty lively act of faith on my part. I have superstitious turns at +times; and the weather, and things that had happened, had made me feel +pretty cheap somehow. I don't mind telling you as you are here that if +you'd failed me there would have been the devil to pay. I should have +been awfully cut up." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias still smiled upon her. Poppy presented herself under a new +aspect to-day, and that aspect found favour in his sight. She was no +longer the Lady of the Windswept Dust, arrayed in fantastic flowery hat +and trailing skirts, but was clothed in trim black workman-like +garments, which revealed the delicate contours of her figure and gave +her an unexpected air of distinction. Yet, though charmed, the caution +of pride—which, in his case, was also the caution of modesty—made him +a trifle shy in addressing her. He paused before speaking, and then +said, with a certain hesitancy: +</p> + +<p> +"I fancy my attitude of mind last night was the complement of your own. +I, too, had fallen on rather evil days. I wanted to see you. I came out +this afternoon to find you. If I had failed to do so, it would have +gone a little hard with me, too, I think." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy looked at him questioningly, intently, for a minute, her teeth +set. Then she whirled round, leaned her elbows on the hand-rail, pulled +her handkerchief out of the breast pocket of her smartly fitting coat +and dabbed her eyes with it, finely indifferent to possible comment or +observation. +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias remained immediately behind her, but a little to the right, so +as to save her from being jostled by the passers-by. He had a sense of +being only the more alone with her because of the traffic and the +crowd; a sense, moreover, of dependence on her part and protection on +his; a sense, in a way, of her belonging to him and he to her. And this +was very sweet to him, solemnly sweet, as are all things of beauty and +moment holding in them the promise of enduring result. Old Age ceased +to threaten and Loneliness to haunt. Over Iglesias' soul passed a wave +of thankful content. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Poppy straightened herself up and faced him. Her lips laughed, +but her eyes were wet. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll play fair," she said; "by the honour of the mother that bore you, +I'll play fair." +</p> + +<p> +Then she laid her hand on his arm and pointed London-wards. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, come along, dear man, for I have got to pull myself together +somehow. Let us walk. Take me somewhere I've never been before, +somewhere quiet—only let us walk." +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, desiring to meet her wishes, a little way up the broad +straggling street Dominic Iglesias turned off to the left into the +narrow old-world lanes and alleys which lie between the river frontage +and King Street West. The district is a singular one, suggestive of +some sleepy little dead-alive seaport town rather than of London. +Quaint water-ways, crossed by foot-bridges, burrow in between small low +cottages and warehouses. Some of these have overhanging upper stories +to them, are half-timbered or yellow-washed. Some are built wholly of +wood. There is an all-pervading odour of tar and hempen rope. Small +industries abound, though without any self-advertisement of plate-glass +shop fronts. Chimney-sweeps and cobblers give notice of their presence +by swinging signs. Newsvendors make irruption of flaring boards upon +the pavement. Little ground-floor windows exhibit attenuated stores of +tinware, string, and sweets. Modest tobacconists mount the image of a +black boy scantily clothed or of a Highlander in the fullest of tartans +above their doors. Cats prowl along walls and sparrows rise in flights +from off the ill-paved roadways. But of human occupants there appear to +be but few, and those with an unusual stamp of individuality upon them; +figures a trifle strange and obsolete—as of persons by choice hidden +away, voluntarily self-removed from the levelling rush and grind of the +monster city. The small heavy-browed houses are very secretive, seeming +to shelter fallen fortunes, obscure and furtive sins, sorrows which +resist alleviation and inquiry. Seen, as to-day, under the low-hanging +sky big with rain, in the diffused afternoon light, the place and its +inhabitants conveyed an impression low-toned, yet distinct, finished in +detail, rich though mournful in effect as some eighteenth-century Dutch +picture. A linnet twittered, flitting from perch to perch of its cage +at an open window. A boy, clad in an old mouse-brown corduroy coat, +passed slowly, crying "Sweet lavender" shrilly yet in a plaintive +cadence. Occasionally the siren of a steam-tug tore the air with a +long-drawn wavering scream. Otherwise all was very silent. +</p> + +<p> +And, as they threaded their way through the maze of crooked streets, +Dominic Iglesias and Poppy St. John were silent also; but with the +silence of intimacy and good faith, rather than with that of +embarrassment or indifference. Each was very fully aware of the +presence of the other. So fully aware, indeed, that, for the moment, +speech seemed superfluous as a vehicle for interchange of thought. +Then, as they emerged on to the open gravelled space of the Upper Mall +with its low red-brick wall and stately elm trees, Poppy held out her +hand to Mr. Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"You are beautifully clever," she said. "You give me just what I +wanted. I'm as steady as old Time now. But what a queer rabbit-warren +of a place it is! How did you find your way?" +</p> + +<p> +"I came here often, in the past," he said, "at a time when I was +suffering grave anxiety. I could not leave home, after my office work +was over, for more than an hour together. And in the dusk or at night, +with its twinkling and evasive lights, the place used to please me, +leading as it does to the river bank, the mystery of the ebbing and +flowing tide, the ceaseless effort seaward of the stream, and those +low-lying spaces on the Surrey side. It was the nearest bit of nature, +unharnessed, irresponsible nature, which I could get to; and it +symbolised emancipation from monotonous labour and everlasting bricks +and mortar. I could watch the dying of the sunset, and the outcoming of +the stars, the tossing of the pale willows—there on the eyot—in the +windy dusk, undisturbed. And so I have come to entertain a great +fondness for it, since it tranquillised me and helped me to see life +calmly and to bring myself in line with fact, to endure and to forgive." +</p> + +<p> +While he spoke Poppy's hand continued to rest passively in his. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a poet," she said, "and you are very good." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias smiled and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he answered. "I am neither a poet nor am I very good. Far from +that. I only tried to keep faith with the one clear duty which I saw." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy moved forward across the Mall and stood by the river wall, +looking out over the flowing tide. It was high now, and washed and +gurgled against the masonry. +</p> + +<p> +"You did and suffered all that for some woman," she said. "A man like +you always breaks himself for some woman. I hope she was worth +it—often they aren't. Who was she? The woman you loved? Your wife?" +</p> + +<p> +"The woman I loved," Iglesias answered, "but not my wife." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy looked at him sharply, her eyes full of question and of fear, as +though she dreaded to hear very evil tidings. +</p> + +<p> +"Not your mistress?" she said. "Don't tell me that. The Lord knows I've +no right to mind. But I should mind. It would be like switching off all +the lights. I couldn't stand it. So, if it's that, just let us part +company at once. I've no more use for you.—I know where I am now. If I +go up into St. Peter's Square I can pick up a hansom and drive back +home—I suppose I may as well call it home, as I have no other. And as +for you, if you've any mercy in you, never let me see you again. Never +come near me. I have no use for you, I tell you. So leave me to my own +devices—what those devices are is no earthly concern of yours." +</p> + +<p> +She paused breathless, her eyes blazing, her face very white. She +seemed to have grown tall, and there was a tremendous force in her of +bitterness, repudiation, and regret. +</p> + +<p> +"After all," she cried, "I don't so much as know your name; and so, +thank heaven, it can't be so very difficult to forget you." +</p> + +<p> +Her aspect moved Iglesias strangely, seeming as it did to embody the +very spirit of the angry sky, of the gloomy river, all the sorrow of +the dead summer and stormy autumn light. For a moment he watched her in +silence. Then he took both her hands in his and held them, smiling at +her again very gently. +</p> + +<p> +"No, dear friend," he said, "the woman was not my mistress. She was my +mother." His voice shook a little. "I never talk of her. But I think of +her always. She was very perfect and very lovely. And she suffered +greatly, so greatly that it unhinged her reason. Now do you understand? +For years she was mad." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XIV +</h3> + +<p> +In the month of October immediately following two events took place +which, though of apparently very different magnitude and importance, +intimately and almost equally—as it proved in the sequel—affected +Dominic Iglesias' life. The first was the declaration of war by the +South African Republics. The second was the return of Miss Serena +Lovegrove to town. +</p> + +<p> +Now war is, unquestionably, not a little staggering to the modern +civilised conscience; and this particular war possessed the additional +unpleasantness of having in it, at first sight, an element of the +grotesque. It is not too much to say that it struck the majority of the +British public as being of the nature of a very bad joke. For it was as +though a very small and very cheeky boy, after making offensive signs, +had spat in the nation's face. Clearly the boy deserved sharp +chastisement for his impudence. Nevertheless, the position remained an +undignified and slightly ridiculous one; and the British public +proceeded to safeguard its proper pride by treating the matter as +lightly as possible. It assured itself—and others—that, given a +reasonable parade of strength, the small boy, blubbering, his fists in +his eyes, would speedily and humbly beg pardon and promise to mind his +manners in future. A few persons, it is true, remembered Majuba Hill, +and doubted the small boy's immediate reduction to obedience. A few +others dared to suspect that English society was suffering from wealth +apoplexy and the many unlovely symptoms which, in all ages of history, +have accompanied that form of seizure, and to doubt whether +blood-letting might not prove salutary. Dominic Iglesias was among +these. His recent observations upon and excursions into the world of +fashion, stray words let drop by Poppy St. John on the one hand, and by +unhappy de Courcy Smyth on the other, had begotten in him the suspicion +that the sobering and sorrowful influences of war might be healthful +for the body politic, just as a surgical operation may be healthful for +the individual body. Next to the Jew, the Dutchman is the most +stubbornly tenacious of human creatures. He is a fighting man into the +bargain. Iglesias could not flatter himself that the campaign would +result in an easy walk-over for so much of the British army as a supine +and annoyed Government condescended to place in the field. The whole +affair lay heavy on his soul. It lay there all the heavier that a few +days subsequent to the declaration of war Mr. Iglesias' thought was +unexpectedly swept back into the arena of speculative finance. +</p> + +<p> +In the portion of his morning paper allotted to business subjects, he +had lighted on a long and evidently inspired article dealing with the +flotation of a company just now in process of acquiring control over +extensive areas in Southeast Africa. The prospects held out to +investors were of the most golden sort. The land was declared to be not +only remarkably rich in precious stones and precious metals, but also +adapted for corn-growing on a vast scale—thus, both above and below +the surface, promising prodigious wealth were its resources adequately +developed. +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias did not dispute the truth of these statements. The data quoted +appeared trustworthy enough. Moreover, he was already fairly conversant +with the enterprise, since Mr. Reginald Barking—that junior member of +the great banking firm whose name has been mentioned in connection with +strenuous modern business methods—was, to his knowledge, deeply +interested in the promotion of it. That which troubled him, striking +him as unsound and misleading, was the fact that the profits, as set +forth in the newspaper article, were calculated—so at least it was +evident to Iglesias—on the results of such development when completed, +irrespective of the lapse of time required for such development; +irrespective of possible and arresting accident; irrespective, too, of +immediate and even protracted loss by the tying-up of huge sums of +money which could yield but little or no return until the said process +of development was an accomplished fact. To Iglesias' clear-seeing and +logical mind the enterprise, therefore, presented itself as one of +those gigantic modern gambles of which the incidental risks are +emphatically too heavy, since they more often than not make rich men +poor, and poor men paupers, before they come through—if, indeed, they +even come through at all. +</p> + +<p> +Reginald, in virtue of his youth, his energy, and relentless +concentration of purpose, had rapidly become the ruling spirit of the +house of Barking Brothers & Barking. Iglesias had no cause to love him, +since to him he owed his dismissal. But that fact failed to colour his +present meditations. Under the influence of his cherished and new-found +charity, Dominic had little time or inclination for personal +resentment. Too, the habits of the best part of a lifetime cannot be +thrown aside in a day. Directly he touched business on the large scale, +it became to him serious and imposing. And so the future of the firm +and the issue of its operations, in face of current events, concerned +him deeply, all the more that he gauged Reginald Barking's temper of +mind and proclivities. +</p> + +<p> +The young man's father—now happily deceased—had offered an +instructive example of social and religious survival—survival, to be +explicit, of the once famous Clapham Sect, and that in its least +agreeable aspect. His theology was that of obstinately narrow +misinterpretation of the Scriptures; his piety that of self-invented +obligations; his virtue that of unsparing condemnation of the sins of +others. His domestic morality was Hebraic—death kindly playing into +his hands in regard of it. He married four times—Reginald, the only +child of his fourth marriage, having the further privilege of being his +only son. The boy was delicate and of a strumous habit. This fact, +combined with his parents' ingrained conviction that a public school is +synonymous, morally speaking, with a common sewer, caused his education +to be conducted at home by a series of tutors as undistinguished by +birth as by scholarship—tentative apologetic young men, the goal of +whose ambitions was a wife and a curacy, failing which they resigned +themselves to the post of usher in some ultra-Protestant school. Sport +in all its forms, art and literature, being alike forbidden, the boy's +hungry energy had found no reasonable outlet. He had been miserable, +peevish, ailing, until at barely eighteen—after a discreditable +episode with a scullery-maid—he had been shipped off to New York to +learn business in the house of certain brokers and bill-discounters +with whom Messrs. Barking Brothers had extensive financial relations. +Life in the land of the Puritans was not, even at that time of day, +inevitably immaculate. Freedom from parental supervision and the +American climate went to the lad's head. He passed through a phase of +commonplace but secret vice, emerging there-from with an unblemished +social reputation; a blank scepticism in matters religious, combined +with bitter animosity against the Deity whom he declared non-existent; +and a fiercely driving ambition, not so much for wealth in itself, as +for that control ever the destinies of men, and even of nations, with +which wealth under modern conditions endows its possessor. He was a +pale, dry, lizard-like young man, suggesting light without heat, and +excitement without emotion. Early in his career he recognised that the +great sources of wealth and power lie with the younger countries, in +the development of their natural and industrial resources, of their +railways and other forms of transport. The phenomenal advance of +America, for example, was due to her enormous territory and the +opportunities of expansion, with the bounds of nationality, which this +afforded her people. But he also recognised that America was +essentially for the Americans, and that it was useless for an outsider, +however skilful, however even unscrupulous, to pit his business +capacity against that of the native born. His dreams of power and +speculative activity directed themselves, consequently, to the British +Colonies, and to those as yet unappropriated spaces of the earth's +surface where British influence is still only tentatively present. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile he had espoused Miss Nancy Van Reenan, daughter of a famous +transatlantic merchant prince, first cousin, it may be added, to the +beautiful Virginia Van Reenan whose marriage with Lawrence Rivers, of +Stoke Rivers in the county of Sussex, so fluttered the smartest section +of New York society a few years ago. He returned to England in the +spring of 1897, convinced that America had taught him, commercially +speaking, all there was to know. This knowledge he prepared to apply to +waking up the venerable establishment in Threadneedle Street, while +employing the unimpeachable respectability and solvency of the said +establishment as a lever towards the realisation of his own +far-reaching ambitions. He brought with him from the United States, in +addition to his elegant wife, two dry, pale children, whose contours +were less Raphaelesque than gnat-like, and the acuteness of whose +critical faculty was very much more in evidence than that of their +affections. These bright little results of modernity and applied +science—in the shape of the incubator—took their place in the social +movement, at the ages of three and five respectively, with the hard and +chilling assurance of a world-weary man and woman. They never exhibited +surprise. They rarely exhibited amusement. They were radically +disillusioned. They frequently referred to their nerves and their +digestions, in the interests of which they consistently repudiated +every form of excess. +</p> + +<p> +With these rather terrible little gentry Dominic Iglesias was, happily +for himself, unacquainted; but with their father he was very well +acquainted, as has already been stated. Hence his fears. Folding his +newspaper together, he laid it on the table and proceeded to walk +meditatively up and down his sitting-room. The morning was keen with +sunshine, the leaves of the planes and balsam-poplars fell in brown and +yellow showers upon the Green, on the further side of which the details +of the red and yellowish grey houses stood out in high relief of +sharp-edged light and shadow. Mr. Iglesias had risen in a hopeful frame +of mind. Of late it had become his habit to call weekly on Poppy St. +John. Today was the one appointed for his visit. Since he had spoken to +her about his mother his friendship with Poppy St. John had entered +upon a new phase. It was no longer experimental, but absolute, the more +so that she had in no way presumed upon his confidence. He felt very +safe with her—safe to tell or safe to withhold as inclination should +move him. And in this there was a strange and delicate lessening of the +burden of his loneliness, without any encroachment on his pride. He had +found, moreover, that behind her patter lay an unexpected acquaintance +with public affairs and the tendencies of current events, so that it +was possible to talk on subjects other than personal with her. He was +coming to have much faith in her judgment as well as in her sincerity +of heart. And, so, with the prospect of seeing her before him, Dominic +had risen in the happiest disposition, had so remained till the +newspaper article disturbed his mind. For what, as he asked himself, +did it portend, this extravagant puff of the company's lad and the +company's prospects, at this particular juncture? Why was it so +urgently and eloquently forced upon the market just now? Was it but +another proof of the contemptuous attitude adopted by Englishmen of all +classes towards the Boer Republics? Or did it take its origin very much +elsewhere—namely, in the fact that Reginald Barking had so deeply +involved the capital and pledged the credit of the firm that it became +necessary to make violent and doubtfully honest bid for popular support +before the position of the said firm, through difficulty and accident +induced by war, became desperate? +</p> + +<p> +This last solution of the perplexing question aroused all Mr. Iglesias' +loyalty towards his old employers. He saw before them the ugly +possibility of failure and disgrace. The mere phantom of the thing hurt +him as unseemly, as a shame and dishonour to those who in their +corporate capacity had benefited him, and therefore as a shame and +dishonour, at least indirectly, to himself. The thought agitated him. +He needed to take council with someone; and so, pushed by a necessity +of immediate action uncommon to him, he laid hands on hat and coat and +set forth to talk matters over with his old friend and former +colleague, George Lovegrove. +</p> + +<p> +Out of doors the air was stimulating. The voice of London had a tone of +urgency in it, as the voice of the young and strong who court the +coming of stirring events. +</p> + +<p> +"The moods of the monstrous mother are inexhaustible," Iglesias said to +himself. "She is changeful as the great ocean. To-day she is virile, +and shouts for battle—. well, it may be she will get her fill of that +before many months are out!" +</p> + +<p> +Then the thought of his afternoon visit returned upon him. If the air +would remain as exhilarating, the sunshine as daring as now, these +would heighten enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias smiled to himself, an emotion of tenderness mingling with +his anxiety. He felt very much alive, very ready to meet any demand +which the future might make on him—battle for him, too, perhaps, and +at this moment he welcomed the thought of it! Thus, a little exalted in +spirit, Dominic walked on rapidly across the Green between the iron +railings, conscious of colour, of light, and of sound; but unobservant +of the details of his immediate surroundings, until a drifting female +figure barred his path, undulating uncertainly before him. He moved to +the right to let it pass. It moved to the right also. He moved to the +left, it did so, too. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" cried Serena Lovegrove. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," Iglesias repeated, raising his hat. "Excuse me, I +did not see who it was." +</p> + +<p> +"How very odd!" Serena remarked. She stood still in the middle of the +path. Her eyes snapped. Her silk petticoat rustled. Serena was very +particular about her petticoats. It gave her great moral and social +support to hear them rustle. "How very odd!" she said again. "Did you +not know that I had come back?" +</p> + +<p> +Dominic might truthfully have replied that he did not know that she had +ever gone away; but he abstained. +</p> + +<p> +"It must be a great pleasure to your cousins to have you with them," he +said courteously. +</p> + +<p> +Serena looked at the falling leaves. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder whether it is—I mean I wonder whether it is a pleasure to +them, or whether they ask me out of a sense of duty." She paused, +gazing at Mr. Iglesias. "Of course, I know George has a strong regard +for me, and for Susan. It is only natural, as we are first cousins. But +I am not sure about Rhoda. Of course we never heard of Rhoda until she +married George." +</p> + +<p> +"She has made him an excellent wife," Iglesias put in. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose she has," Serena said reflectively. "But I sometimes wonder +whether, if George had married somebody else, it might not have been +more satisfactory in some ways." +</p> + +<p> +Serena felt very proud in making this remark. It elicited no reply, +however, from Mr. Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if he really sees that Rhoda is on a different level from us, +and won't admit it; or whether he doesn't see. If he doesn't see, of +course that means a good deal." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you usually go out walking in the morning?" Dominic inquired. The +silence was becoming protracted. Courtesy demanded that he should break +it. +</p> + +<p> +Serena looked at him with heightened intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +"We were always brought up to take a walk twice a day. Mamma was very +particular about it. She believed that health had so much to do with +regular exercise. Sometimes I wonder whether she did not carry that too +far. But, of course, Susan is very strong, much stronger than I am. I +believe she would have been strong in any case, even if mamma had not +insisted on our taking so much exercise." Serena paused. "But I did not +know you went out in the morning. That is, I mean I have never seen you +go out before." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," Iglesias exclaimed, a little startled at the close +observation of his habits implied by this remark. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she said; "of course one can see Cedar Lodge very plainly from +George's house, and I often look out of window. I think it among the +pleasures of London to look out of window. I have never seen you go out +in the morning before." Again she paused, adding reflectively: "It +really seems rather odd that neither George nor Rhoda should have told +you that I had come back." +</p> + +<p> +To this remark no suitable answer suggested itself. Moreover, Mr. +Iglesias was growing slightly impatient. He wished she would see fit to +move aside and let him pass. +</p> + +<p> +"You will get cold standing here," he said. "You must not let me detain +you any longer." +</p> + +<p> +Serena's eyes snapped. She was excited. She was also slightly offended. +"He is very abrupt," she said to herself; but she did not move aside +and let him pass. "Yes, he is abrupt," she repeated; "still, he has a +very good manner. If one didn't know that he had been a bank clerk, I +wonder if one would detect it. I don't think it would be a thing that +need be mentioned, for instance, at Slowby. Only Susan would be sure to +make a point of mentioning it. Susan has an idea she owes it to herself +to be truthful. Of course, it would be wrong to deny that anyone had +been a bank clerk; but that is different from telling everybody. I +wonder if Susan would feel obliged to tell everybody." +</p> + +<p> +When she reached the near side of the Green, Serena looked back. Mr. +Iglesias was in the act of entering the Lovegroves' front door, which +the worthy George held open for him. Serena stood transfixed. +</p> + +<p> +"So he was going there!" she said to herself. "How extraordinary not to +mention it to me. What could have been his object in not mentioning it? +I wonder if he has only gone to see George, or to see Rhoda as well. If +he has gone to see Rhoda, then I think he has been exceedingly rude to +me. And he has been very short-sighted, too, if he didn't want me to +know, for he might have taken it for granted that of course I should +look back. Unless he did do it on purpose, meaning to be rude. But—" +</p> + +<p> +Serena resumed her walk. She was very much excited. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course he may have done it on purpose that I should see, and +understand that he meant something special—that he was going to speak +to George and Rhoda about something in particular, which he could not +say before me. He may have wanted to sound them. But then it is so very +odd that he should have said that George had never told him I had come +back. But I don't believe he ever did say that." Serena was growing +more and more excited. She drifted along the pavement, in her rustling +petticoats, with the most unusually animated expression of countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"I remember—of course he did not say it. He avoided the question each +time. How very extraordinary! I think he must mean me to understand +something by that. I wonder if George will refer to it at luncheon. If +he does I must find out from Rhoda, but without letting her suspect +that I observed anything, of course." +</p> + +<p> +Serena had quite ceased to be offended. Her fancy, indeed, had taken a +most wildly ingenious flight. She felt very remarkable, very acute, +quite dangerous, in short—and these sensations, however limited their +justification by fact, were highly agreeable to her. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XV +</h3> + +<p> +The heavens remained clear, the air exhilarating, and Iglesias set +forth on his weekly pilgrimage in a serene frame of mind. George +Lovegrove's view had been reassuring. +</p> + +<p> +"I know you are much more far-sighted than I am," he had said, his +honest face beaming with combined cleanliness and affection, "so I +always hesitate to set up my opinion against yours. It would be +presumptuous. Still, you do surprise me. I never had an inkling of +anything of the sort; and between ourselves—for I should never hint at +the subject before the wife, you know—it might upset her, females are +so sensitive—but between ourselves it would fairly unman me to think +there could be any unsoundness in Barking Brothers & Barking. You know +the phrase current in the city about them—'as safe as the Bank of +England'? And I have always believed that. I know I left before Mr. +Reginald had any active share in the business, and I never have cared +about American speculation. It is all beyond me. Still I cannot suppose +the senior partners would let him have too much his own way. Depend +upon it, Sir Abel keeps an eye on him. And then as to this war, of +course you have studied it all more deeply than I have the power to do; +still I cannot help thinking you distress yourself unnecessarily. As I +said to the wife when I first heard of it, it's suicidal. One can only +feel pity for such poor ignorant creatures, rushing headlong on their +ruin. Depend upon it, they will very soon come to their senses and +deplore their own rash action. A very few weeks will see the finish of +it all. I only hope there will not be much bloodshed first, for of +course they couldn't stand up against English troops for an hour, poor +things." +</p> + +<p> +Encouraged by which cheerful optimism Dominic Iglesias began to think +his fears exaggerated, as he descended from an omnibus top at +Hammersmith Bridge that afternoon, crossed the river, and walked on +down the long suburban road. The sky was sharply blue. Multicoloured +leaves danced down from the trees in the villa gardens. Gaily clad +children, pursued by anxious mothers and nursemaids, ran and shouted, +the sunshine and fresh air having gone to their heads. Perched on the +brick pier of an entrance gate, a robin uplifted its voice in +piercingly sweet song. Autumn wore her fairest face, speaking of +promise rather than of decay. It was good to be alive. Even to Mr. +Iglesias' sober and chastened spirit horror of war, disgrace of +financial failure, seemed remote and inconsiderable things, morbid +delusions such as sane men brush aside scorning to give them harbourage +so much as of thought. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy was mirthful, too, in her greeting of him. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear man," she cried, "the house is out of windows! You find us in +the throes of a great domestic event. Cappadocia has done her duty by +posterity. She has been brought to bed, if you'll excuse my mentioning +it, of four puppies. Perfect little lambs, not a white hair among them. +And she shows true maternal feeling, does Cappadocia. Whenever you go +near her she tries to bite." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy spoke very fast, holding his hand, looking him full in the face, +her singular eyes very gentle in expression, yet all alight. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! it's good to see you. My stars, but it is good to see you," she +said. +</p> + +<p> +And Dominic, moved beyond his wont, stood silent for a space. +</p> + +<p> +"You're not offended? Surely, at this time of the day, you're not going +to stiffen up?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, dear friend," he said; "but this greeting is a little +wonderful to me. Except my mother, years ago, nobody has ever cared +whether I came or went." +</p> + +<p> +"More fools they," Poppy answered, with a fine disregard of grammar. +"But all that's over now. You know it's over. All the same I can't be +altogether sorry it was so, because it gives me my chance.—Sit down; +I'll expound to you. Let us talk.—You see, my beautiful innocent, with +most men worth knowing—I am not talking about boys running about with +the shell still on their heads and more affections to place than they +can find a market for, but men. Well then, with most all of them, when +one comes to discuss matters, one finds one's had such an awful lot of +predecessors. At best one comes in a bad third—more often a bad +three-and-twentieth—I mean nothing risky. Don't be nervous. But they +have romantic memories of half-a-dozen women. And so, though they are +no end nice and kind to one, play up and give one a good time and have +a jolly good one themselves—trust 'em to take care of that—one knows +all the while, if one knows anything, that the whole show's merely a +<i>réchauffé</i>. Visions of Clara and Gladys, and dear little Emily, and +Rosina, and Beatrice, and the lovely Lucinda—angels, every one of +them, if you haven't seen them for ten years, and wouldn't know them +again if you met them in the street—haunt the background of every +man's mind by the time he's five-and-thirty, and cut entrancing capers +against the sky-line, so that—when one comes to thrash the matter +out—one finds the actually present woman, here in the foreground, +hasn't really any look-in at all." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy threw her head back against the yellowish red cushions of the +settee, her teeth showing white as she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Boys aren't worth having. They're too crude, too callow. Moreover, it +isn't playing the game. One doesn't want to make a mess of their +futures, poor little chaps. And grown men, except as I say of the very +preëngaged sort, are not to be had. So don't you understand, most +delightful lunatic, how it comes to pass that you and your friendship +are precious to me beyond words? When you go I could cry. When you come +I could dance." +</p> + +<p> +Her tone changed, becoming defiant, almost fierce. +</p> + +<p> +"And it is all right," she said, "thank heaven, right,—right, clean, +and honest, and good for one's soul. Now I've done. Only we are very +happy in our own quaint way, aren't we? And we can leave it at that. +Oh, yes, we can very well leave it at that if"—she looked sideways at +Mr. Iglesias, her expression half-humorous, half-pathetic—"if only it +will stay at that and not play the mischief and scuttle off into +something quite else." +</p> + +<p> +She got up quickly, with a little air of daring and bravado. +</p> + +<p> +"I must move about. I must do something—there, I'll make up the fire. +No, sit still, dear man"—as Dominic prepared to rise also—"I like +doing little odd jobs with you here. It takes off the company feeling, +and makes it seem as if you belonged, and like the bicycle, had 'come +to stay.'" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy threw a couple of driftwood logs upon the smouldering fire. +Around them sharp tongues of flame—rose and saffron, amber, sea-green, +and heliotrope, glories as of a tropic sunset—leaped upward. She stood +watching these, her left hand resting on the edge of the mantelpiece, +her right holding up the front of her black skirt. Her right foot +rested on the fender curb, thereby displaying a discreet interval of +openwork silk stocking and a neatly cut steel-buckled shoe. The +many-hued firelight flickered over her dark figure; over the soft lace +jabot at her throat and ruffles at her wrists; over her pale profile; +and glinted in the heavy masses of her hair. The room, facing east, was +cold with shadow, which the thin fantastic colours of the flames +appeared to emphasise rather than to relieve. And Iglesias, obedient to +her entreaty, sat quietly waiting until it should again please her to +speak. For he had begun to accept her many changes of mood as an +integral element of her personality—a personality rich in rapid and +subtle contradictions. Often he had no clue to the meaning of these +many changes. But he did not mind that. Not absence of vulgar curiosity +alone, but an unwilling sub-conscious shrinking from any too close +acquaintance with the details of her life contributed to render him +passive. He had a conviction, though he had never formulated it even in +thought, that ignorance in relation to her made for security and +content. And there was a refined charm in this—namely, that each to +the other, even while friendship deepened, should remain something of +an undiscovered country. Moreover, had she not told him that he rested +her? To ask questions, however sympathetic, to volunteer consolation, +however delicately worded, is to risk being officious; and to be +officious, in however mild a degree, is to drive away the shy and +illusive spirit of rest. And so Dominic Iglesias was coming, in the +good nautical reading of that phrase, simply "to stand by" and wait +where this woman was concerned. After all, it was but the reapplication +of a lesson learned long ago for the support and solace of another +woman, by him supremely loved. To act thus was, therefore, not only +natural but poignantly sweet to him, as a new and gentle offering laid +upon the dear altar of his dead. It rejoiced him to find that now, as +of old, the demand created a supply of silent but sustaining moral +force, ready to pass into the sphere of active help should necessity +arise. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless as the minutes passed, while daylight and firelight alike +began to fade, Dominic Iglesias grew somewhat troubled and sad. And it +was with a distinct movement of relief that he, at last, saw Poppy draw +herself up, push the soft masses of her hair back from her forehead +with a petulant gesture, and turn towards him. As she did so she let +her hands drop at her sides, as though she had finished with and +dismissed some unwelcome form of thought, while her face showed wan, +and her eyes large and vague, as though they saw beyond and through all +that which they actually looked on. +</p> + +<p> +"There, there," she said harshly, with an angry lift of her head, "what +a silly fool I am, wasting time like this when you are here. But my +soul went out of my body; and I could afford to let it go, just because +you were here, and I felt safe." Her tone softened. "Sure I don't bore +you?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Dominic shook his head, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Very sure," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless you, then that's all right." Poppy strolled back and sat down +languidly. "I've gone confoundedly tired," she said. "You see, I sat up +half the night acting Gamp to Cappadocia—if you excuse my again +alluding to the domestic event.—Oh! my being tired doesn't matter. My +dear man, I'm never ill. I'm as strong as a horse. Let's talk of +something more interesting—let's review the topics of the hour—only +for the life of me I can't remember what the topics of the hour are! +Yes, I know though—the management of the Twentieth Century Theatre has +given Dot Parris a leading part. Does that leave you cold? Impossible! +Why, in theatrical circles it's a world-shaking event. I own I'm +curious to see how she does in legitimate drama, after her career in +musical comedy and at the halls, myself. I'm really very fond of her, +poor little Dot. She's going to call herself Miss Charlotte Colthurst +in the future, I understand. Did you ever hear such cheek? But then she +always had the cheek of the old gentleman himself, and that makes for +success. Cheek does go an awfully long way towards bringing you +through, don't you think so?" +</p> + +<p> +"Probably," Dominic said. "My opportunities of exercising that +particular form of virtue have been so limited that I am quite prepared +to accept your ruling on the point." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy laughed softly, looking at him with a great friendliness. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! but it wouldn't have been cheek in your case, anyhow. It would +merely have been that you stepped into your right place, ascended any +throne that happened to be right divine. I can see you doing it, so +statelily and yet so innocently. It would be a perfectly delicious +sight. I believe you will do it yet, some day, somehow, and make a lot +of people sit up. But that reminds me, joking apart, there is a topic +of the hour I wanted to ask you about. Tell me what you think of this +war." +</p> + +<p> +And Dominic Iglesias, once more obedient to her changing mood, replied +with quiet sincerity: +</p> + +<p> +"I am told I am an alarmist. I hope I may prove to be so, for in this +matter I should much prefer the optimists to be in the right. But I +confess I do not like the outlook. Both on public and private grounds +this war makes me anxious." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's languor had vanished. She had grown very much alive again. Now +she leaned forward, pressing her hands together, palm to palm, between +her knees, and making herself small, as a child does when it is deeply +in earnest and wants to think. +</p> + +<p> +"You're right," she assented. "I'm perfectly certain all this cocksure +Johnny-head-in-air business, 'sail to-day and see you again at tea +tomorrow, so it's not worth while saying good-by'—you know the +style?—is fatuous and idiotic. It is not bluff, because the English +officer-man doesn't bluff. He hasn't the brains, to begin with, and +then he is a very sound sort of an animal. He doesn't need to hide his +fright for the simple reason that he's not frightened. A friend of mine +was talking about it all yesterday. He thinks as you do, and he's no +silly, though he is a member of the House of Lords.—After all, he +can't help that, poor dear old chap," she added apologetically, looking +sideways at Mr. Iglesias. "But there, you've seen him, I believe. You +met him the first time you came here. Don't you remember, I had to turn +you out because I had to see him on business, and you ran across him in +the hall as you were going?" +</p> + +<p> +"I remember meeting someone," Dominic said, rather loftily. He did not +want to hear any more. The conversation had become displeasing to him, +though he could have given no reason for his displeasure. But Poppy +suddenly turned mischievous and naughty. She patted her hands gently +together between her knees and swayed with rather impish merriment. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, of course you were much too grand to take any particular notice of +him, poor brute. But he wasn't a bit too grand to take a lot of notice +of you. He was fearfully impressed. Yes, I tell you he was. Don't be +cross. I am speaking the veracious truth. I give you my word I'm not +gassing. He was awfully keen to know who you were, and where you came +from, and how I met you. And it was the sweetest thing out to be able +to reply that I'd been introduced to you on a bench—a mighty +uncomfortable one, too, with no back to it!—on Barnes Common by +Cappadocia; and that as to your name and local habitation I hadn't the +faintest ghost of a notion what they were. Are you cross? Don't be +cross," Poppy pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, of course not," Mr. Iglesias answered, goaded from his +habitual calm and speaking almost sharply. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy patted her palms together again, swaying backwards and forwards. +Her eyes were dancing. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! but you are, though," she cried. "You're just a wee bit jealous. +You are—you know you are, and I'm not a scrap sorry. On the contrary, +I'm enchanted. For it shows that you are human after all, and must have +a name and address tucked away somewhere about you. I don't want to +know what they are, but it's comfortable to be assured of their +existence. It shows you don't drop straight down from heaven—as I was +beginning to be afraid you did—once a week, into the Mortlake Road, +and then go straight up again. It shows that I could get on to you by +post, or telephone, or other means of communication common to mortals, +if I was in a tight place and really wanted you, without walking as far +as Hammersmith Bridge and waiting in the wind and the wet on the bare +chance you might take it into your august head to materialise, and +break out of paradise, and take a little stroll round our sublunary +sphere." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Poppy laid her hand lightly on Mr. Iglesias' shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, be cross," she repeated. "Just as cross as ever you like, so long +as you don't keep it up too protractedly. It's the most engaging piece +of flattery I've come across for a month of Sundays. Only you needn't +worry in this particular instance, dear man, I give you my word you +needn't. It's a sheer waste of feeling. For Fallowfeild's always been +perfectly decent with me. I know people think him an awfully risky lot, +but they're noodles. He's racketed in his day—of course he has. But if +he'd been more of a hypocrite, people would have talked less. As the +man says in the play, it's not the sin but the being found out which +makes the scandal. And Fallowfeild was too honest. He never pretended +to be better than he was. He is a man of good nature who has done wrong +things, which is quite different to being a man of bad nature who does +wrong things, and still more different to being a man of weak nature +who pretends to do right things. That last is the sort I hate most, and +I speak out of beastly intimate experience." +</p> + +<p> +She made a most expressive grimace, as though she had a remarkably +disagreeable taste in her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"No salvation for that sort, I believe," she went on, "either here or +hereafter. Now, are you better? You do believe it has always been +perfectly square and above-board between Fallowfeild and me, don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Unquestionably, I believe it," Dominic answered. He spoke slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy turned her head sharply and looked hard at him. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! but I don't quite like that," she said. "I've muddled it +somehow—I see I have. I've hurt and offended you. You're farther off +than you were ten minutes ago. In spirit you've got up and gone away. I +have muddled it. I have made you distrust me." +</p> + +<p> +"No," Dominic answered, "you have not made me distrust you; but you +have perplexed me. It is the result of my own dulness, no doubt. My +imagination is not agile enough to follow you, and so—" +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. That which he had in his mind was not easy to put into +words without discourtesy. He would far rather have left it unsaid; but +to do so would have been, in truth, to stand farther off, to erect a +barrier which might prove insuperable to happy companionship in the +future. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" Poppy queried. Her voice shook just perceptibly. In the +deepening dusk neither could see the other distinctly, and this +contributed to Dominic's decision to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"It pains me," he said at last, "if you will pardon my frankness, that +you should think it necessary to account for yourself and justify +yourself as you often appear to do." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" Poppy queried again. +</p> + +<p> +"That you should do so distresses and disturbs me." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Poppy murmured. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid I grow selfish," Iglesias went on gently; "but you have +been good enough to tell me that my poor friendship is of value to you. +Does it not occur to you that yours is of far greater value to me? And +that for many and obvious reasons—these among others, that while you +are young, and have a wide circle of acquaintances, and in a future to +which, brilliant as you are, you may look forward with hope and +assurance, I am absolutely alone in the world. Save for one old +school-fellow, who has been very faithful to me, there is no one to +whom it matters, except in the most superficial degree, whether I live +or die." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" Poppy said softly. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not misunderstand me, I do not complain," Iglesias added. "I +entertain no doubt but that the circumstances in which I find myself +are the right and profitable ones for me, if I only lay to heart the +lessons they teach, and use the opportunities which they afford me." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know about that—I doubt that," Poppy put in hastily. +</p> + +<p> +"You doubt it because you are young," he answered, "and your +circumstances are capable of alteration and development. Except under +very exceptional conditions, resignation is no virtue in the young. It +is more often an excuse for cowardice and sloth. But at my age the +world changes its complexion. My circumstances are incapable of +alteration and development. They are final. Therefore I do well to +accept them unreservedly. The work of my life is done. I do not say +that it has been a failure, for I fulfilled the main object I had in +view. But it has certainly been obscure and inglorious. The sun will +sink dimly enough into a bank of fog. My present is meagre in interest +and activity. My future, a brief enough one in all probability, must of +necessity be meagre likewise. Therefore your friendship is of supreme +importance to me." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias paused. His voice was grave, distinct, weighted with feeling. +He did not look at his companion; he could not trust himself to do so, +for he had discovered in himself unexpected depths of emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"And just on that account," he went on, "I grow childishly nervous, +childishly apprehensive if anything arises which seems to cloud or, in +however small a measure, to endanger the serenity of our intercourse." +</p> + +<p> +He turned and looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +"This constitutes no slight to you, dear friend." +</p> + +<p> +"No," she said, "very certainly it is no slight. On the contrary, it is +very beautiful; but it's an awful responsibility, too." +</p> + +<p> +She sat quite still, her head carried high, her hands clasped in her +lap. +</p> + +<p> +"I've underrated the position, I see. I've only thought of myself so +far and how you pleased me. But though I'm pretty cheeky, too—almost +as cheeky as little Dot—I never had the presumption to put the affair +the other way about." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy began to sway slightly again and pat the palms of her hands +together between her knees. +</p> + +<p> +"It's been a game, the finest game I've ever played; and I swore by all +my gods to play fair. But, as you look at it, our friendship amounts to +a good deal more than a game. It goes very deep. And I'm not sure—. +no, I'm not—whether I'm equal to it." +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at Iglesias strangely through the clinging grey of the dusk. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear unknown," she said, "I give you my word I'm frightened—I who've +never been frightened at any man yet. In my own little way I've played +pitch and toss with their hearts and made footballs of them—except +that poor young fellow—I told you about him the first time we met—who +gave me the scarf, and whose people wouldn't let him marry me. But this +affair with you is different. It goes very far, it means—it means +nothing short of revolution for me, of putting away and renouncing very +much." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy got up, stood pushing her hair back with both hands from her +forehead. Then she moved across to the further side of the fireplace. +Dominic had risen also. He stood on the near side of the hearth. He was +penetrated with the conviction that a crisis was upon them both, +involving all the happiness of their future relation to one another. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't understand," Poppy cried passionately. "And I don't want you +to understand—that's half the trouble. I want to keep you. Your +friendship's the loveliest thing I've ever had. And yet I don't know. +For I'm not one woman—I'm half-a-dozen women, and they all pull all +sorts of ways so that I daren't trust myself. I want to keep you, I +tell you, I want horribly to keep you. Yet I'm ghastly afraid I'm not +equal to it. The price is too big." +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke Poppy dashed her hand against the push of the electric +bell, and held it there, ringing a prolonged alarum, in quick response +to which Phillimore, the respectable elderly parlour maid, appeared, +bearing two rose-shaded lamps. Noiselessly and deftly—as one +accustomed to agitations, whose eyes did not see or ears hear if it +should be unadvisable to permit them to do so—she drew the curtains, +made up the fire, set out the tea-table. And with that change of scene +and shutting out of the dusk, Poppy seemed to change also; gravity and +strength of purpose departing from her, and leaving +her—notwithstanding her sober dress—unreal, fictitious, artificial, +the red-lipped carmine-tinted lady of the footlights, of the windswept +dust and embroidered dragons again. She chattered, moreover, +ceaselessly, careless of interruption, and of criticism alike. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, let's hark back to the ordinary conduct of material existence," +she said. "Tea? Won't you sit down? No—well, just as you like best. +Take it standing. Let me see, what were we discussing when we got +switched on to unexpectedly personal lines of conversation? The +war—yes, I remember. I was just going to tell you that Fallowfeild +believes it's going to be a nasty dragging unsatisfactory business. +Everyone gasses about the Boers being a simple pastoral people. But +Fallowfeild says their simplicity is just another name for guile, and +that he anyway can't conceive a more disconcerting job than fighting a +nation of farmers and huntsmen and gamekeepers in their own country, +every inch of which they know. People say they've no military science. +But so jolly much the better for them. They can be unfettered +opportunists, with nothing to think of but outwitting the enemy and +saving their property and their skins. The poor British Tommy will be +no match for them; nor will the British officer-man either, till he's +unlearned his parade-ground etiquette, and his haw-haw red-tape methods +and manner, and learned their very primitive but very cute and foxy +ones. By which time, Fallowfeild says, the mourning warehouses here at +home will have made a record turnover, and there will be altogether too +many new graveyards for comfort in South Africa." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy paused in her harangue, for Dominic Iglesias had set down his +cup, its contents untasted. He was sad at heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you going?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered. "It grows late. It's time I went, I think." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps it is." Poppy's eyes had become inscrutable. "I really ought +to attend to my Gamping, and pass the time of day with Cappadocia. Her +snappishness has scared the maids. They refuse to go within a measured +furlong of her." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy bent down over the tea-table, arranging the teacups with +elaborate neatness. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-by," she said. "I don't quite know when we shall meet again." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" Iglesias asked. The muscles of his throat were rigid. He had +much ado to speak plainly and naturally. "Are you leaving home?" +</p> + +<p> +"Home?" she answered. "Yes, I'm leaving it. Good-by again. Don't let me +keep you. Certainly I'm leaving home. Indeed, I believe I have left it +already—for good." +</p> + +<p> +And she threw back her head and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the doorstep a cold rush of air met Mr. Iglesias. Above, the sky +was blue-black and very clear. The road was vacant and grey with frost. +The flame of the gaslamps quivered, giving off a sharp brightness in +the keen atmosphere. Mr. Iglesias turned up the collar of his coat and +descended the steps. Just then a hansom emerged from the distance and +drew up with a rattle and grind against the curb some twenty paces +ahead. The occupant, a young man, flung back the doors with a thud, and +stood a moment on the footboard paying the driver, who raised himself, +leaning forward with outstretched hand across the glistening black roof +of the cab. Then the young man turned round, swung himself down on to +the asphalt pavement, and came forward as rapidly as a long motor-coat, +reaching to his heels, would permit. He was tall and fair, +well-favoured, preoccupied, not to say morose. He did not vouchsafe Mr. +Iglesias so much as a glance as he brushed past him. The road was still +vacant, and in the frosty air sounds carried. Mr. Iglesias distinctly +heard him race up a neighbouring flight of steps, heard the click and +turn of a latchkey in a lock, heard the slam of a front door pulled to +violently. And so doing Dominic turned cold and a little faint. He +would not condescend to look back; but he had recognised Alaric +Barking, and was in no doubt which house he had entered. +</p> + +<p> +"Keb, sir? 'Ere yer are, sir," the cabby called cheerily. "Very cold +night. Just set one gentleman down, and 'appy to tike another up. Want +to get back to my comfy little West End shelter, so I'll tike yer for +'alf fares, sir, though we are outside the blooming radius." +</p> + +<p> +But Iglesias shook his head. The horse stood limply in a cloud of +steam. Alaric Barking had evidently pushed the pace. But even had the +animal been in better condition, Iglesias had no desire to drive in +that particular cab. He would rather have walked the whole way to Cedar +Lodge. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite the Bell Inn, where the roads fork—one turning away through +Mortlake, the other leading to Barnes Common, Roehampton, and +Sheen—the row of smart little houses degenerates into shops. By the +time he reached these Mr. Iglesias discovered that he was unaccountably +tired. The keen air oppressed his chest, making his breath come short. +It was useless to attempt to go home on foot. Then, with a sense of +relief, he saw that on the far side of the road a couple of omnibuses +stood, the horses' heads turned Londonwards. He crossed, climbed the +stairway of the leading vehicle slowly, and sank into a seat. The +'bustop was unoccupied, yet Dominic was not by himself. Two companions +had climbed the winding stairway with him and taken their places beside +him, Old Age on his left hand, Loneliness on his right. All up the long +suburban road, while the omnibus bumped and jolted and the fallen +leaves whirled and scurried before the searching breath of the night +wind Iglesias' two companions seemed to lean across him, talking. There +were tones of mockery in their talk, while behind and through it, as +some discordant refrain, he heard the ring of a young man's eager +footsteps, the click and turn of a latchkey, and the slam of a door as +it shut. On nearing the river the cold grew intense. Crossing the +bridge, the waterside lights were reflected in the surface of the +stream, which ran full and strong from the autumn rains, swirling +seaward with an ebbing tide. To Iglesias' eyes the reflections +converted themselves into fiery dragons, writhing in the heat of deadly +conflict, as upon Poppy St. John's oriental scarf. A glare hung over +London, palpitating as with multitudinous and angry life; and when the +omnibus slowed up in Hammersmith Broadway the voice of the streets grew +loud—the monstrous city, so it seemed to Dominic Iglesias, shouting +defiance to the majestic calm and solemnity of the eternal stars. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XVI +</h3> + +<p> +"He says it is nothing serious, only a slight chill; and sends kind +regards and many thanks for kind inquiries, and hopes to be out in a +day or two, when he will call and thank you in person." +</p> + +<p> +This from George Lovegrove to his wife, the latter arrayed in garments +of ceremony and seated upon the Chesterfield sofa awaiting guests. It +was her afternoon at-home. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm sure I hope it is no more than that, Georgie," she answered +comfortably. "Chills are always going about in November, and very often +gentlemen encourage them—especially bachelors—by not changing into +their winter vests and pants early enough. A great deal of illness is +contracted that way." +</p> + +<p> +Here Serena rustled audibly. She stood by the window, holding the lace +curtain just sufficiently aside to get a narrow and attenuated view of +the fog-enshrouded Green. The outlook was far from inspiriting, and +Serena was keenly interested in the conversation going forward between +her host and hostess. But it was not in her programme to let this +appear. She, while straining her ears to listen, therefore maintained +an air of detachment. The word "pants" was, however, too much for her +fortitude, and she rustled. "Really, Rhoda does use the most dreadfully +unladylike expressions sometimes," she commented inwardly. "She never +seems to remember that everyone is not married, though even if they +were I should hope they would not mention those sort of things. Rhoda +is wanting in refinement. I wonder if George notices that and feels it. +If he does notice it, I think he ought to tell her about it, because—" +</p> + +<p> +But here she fell to listening again, since the said George took up his +parable once more. +</p> + +<p> +"Still, I own I don't like his looks somehow. His face is so thin and +drawn. It reminds me of the time his mother, poor Mrs. Iglesias, died. +I told him, just jocularly, that his appearance surprised me, but he +put it all aside—you know he has a very high aristocratic manner at +times that makes you feel you have been intrusive—and then talked of +other things." +</p> + +<p> +"He has lived too solitary," Mrs. Lovegrove said judicially, "too +solitary, and that tells on any one in middle life. I should never +forgive myself if we left him to mope. You must just try to coax him +over here to stay, Georgie, and I'll nurse him up and humour him, and +fortunately Serena's here, you see, for pleasant company." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lovegrove looked meaningly at her spouse, while the figure at the +window again rustled. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure you would exert yourself to help cheer poor Mr. Iglesias up, +if he came over to stay, would you not now, Serena?" she inquired +insinuatingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you speaking to me, Rhoda?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, about Mr. Iglesias coming here to stay." +</p> + +<p> +Serena turned her head and answered over her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you and George are quite at liberty to ask anyone here whom +you like. And if Mrs. Iglesias came I should be perfectly civil to him. +But I should not care, Rhoda, to bind myself to anything more than +that, because I do not find him an easy person to get on with." +</p> + +<p> +She turned to her contemplation of the fog with a renewed assumption of +indifference. George Lovegrove's shiny forehead puckered into little +lines. He looked anxiously at his wife. The good lady, however, laid a +fat forefinger upon her lips and nodded her head at him in the most +archly reassuring manner. +</p> + +<p> +"That's funny," she said, "because Mr. Iglesias is quite the cleverest +of all Georgie's gentlemen friends—except, of course, the dear +vicar—and so I always took for granted anyone like yourself was sure +to get on nicely with him, Serena. Even I hardly ever find him +difficult to talk with." +</p> + +<p> +"I never talk easily to strangers," Serena put in loftily. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! but you'd hardly call Mr. Iglesias a stranger." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I should," Serena declared with emphasis. "I should certainly +call him a stranger. I always call everyone a stranger till I know them +intimately. It is much safer to do so. And it would be absurd to +pretend that I know Mr. Iglesias intimately. You, of course, do, but I +do not. You and George may have seen him frequently since I have been +here, but I have really seen him very seldom, four or five times at the +outside. He has generally appeared to call when I was likely to be out. +I could not help observing that. It may be a coincidence, of course. +But I cannot pretend that I have not thought it rather marked." +</p> + +<p> +Serena had advanced into the centre of the room. She held herself +erect. She enjoyed making a demonstration. "Rhoda may think I am a +cipher," she said to herself, "but she is mistaken. She may think I can +be hoodwinked and used as a mere tool, but I will let her see that I +cannot." She felt daring and dangerous, and her eyes snapped. The +rustling of her skirts and the emphatic tones of her voice aroused the +parrot, which had been dosing on its perch, its head sunk between its +shoulders and its breast-feathers fluffed out into a little green apron +over its grey claws. +</p> + +<p> +"Pollie's own pet girlie," it murmured drowsily, with dry clickings of +its tongue against its beak, the words jolting out in foolish twos and +threes. "Hi! p'liceman—murder! fire! thieves!—there's another jolly +row downstairs." +</p> + +<p> +Poor George Lovegrove gazed in bewilderment from Serena to the parrot, +from the parrot to his wife, and then back to Serena again. +</p> + +<p> +"You do surprise me! And I am more mortified than I can say that you +should have the most distant reason, Serena—or Susan either—ever to +feel the least slighted in this house. You do surprise me—I can't +believe it has been the least intentional on Iglesias' part. But I +would not have had anything of the kind happen for twenty pounds." +</p> + +<p> +"Pray don't apologise, George," Serena cried, "or I shall feel quite +annoyed. Of course everyone has a right to their own preferences; but I +had been led to expect something different. As I say, it may only be a +coincidence. Nothing may have really been meant. Only it has seemed +rather marked. But in any case it has not been your fault, George." +</p> + +<p> +"I am very glad you allow that, Serena," the good creature said humbly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! yes. I quite excuse you of any intentional slight, George. I quite +trust you. Still, nothing could be more unpleasant than for me to feel +that my being here put any restriction upon your friends coming to the +house. Of course I know Susan and I move in rather different society +from Rhoda and yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he assented hurriedly, agonised as to the wife's feelings—"yes, +yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And so it is quite possible that I may not suit some of your +acquaintances." +</p> + +<p> +"Excuse me," he panted—"no, Serena, I cannot think that." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sure," she returned argumentatively. "Not at all sure, +George. And nothing could be more unpleasant to me than to feel I was +the least in the way. Of course, I should never have come back if I had +supposed I should be in the way; but Rhoda made such a point of it." +</p> + +<p> +Here the parrot broke forth into prolonged and earpiercing shriekings, +flapping its wings violently and nearly tumbled backwards off its perch. +</p> + +<p> +"Throw a handkerchief over the poor bird's cage, Georgie dear," cried +Mrs. Lovegrove from the sofa. Her face was red. She had become +distressingly hot and flustered.—"And just as I was flattering myself +it was all turning out so nicely, too," she said to herself.—"No, not +your own, Georgie dear"—this aloud—"you may need it later. The red +bandana out of the right-hand corner of the top drawer of the +work-table." +</p> + +<p> +"I think it would be much simpler for me to go," Serena continued, her +voice pitched in a high key to combat the cries of the parrot and the +rattle of the table drawer, which George Lovegrove in his present state +of agitation found it impossible to shut with accuracy and despatch. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, it may inconvenience Susan to have me return sooner than +she expected. She is away speaking at a number of missionary meetings +in the North. And the maids will be on board wages, and the +drawing-room furniture will have been put into holland covers. She +counted on my staying here till I go to my cousin, Lady Samuelson, in +Ladbroke Square, the third week in December. But, of course, all that +must be arranged. I can give up my visit. Lady Samuelson will be +annoyed, and I don't know what excuse I can make to her. Still, I think +I had really much better go; and then you can have Mr. Iglesias, or any +other of your and Rhoda's friends, to stop here without my feeling that +I am in the way. Nothing could be more odious to me than feeling I was +encroaching or forcing myself upon you. Mamma would never have +countenanced such behaviour. It is the sort of thing we were always +brought up to have the greatest horror of. It is a thing I never have +done and never could do. I hope you understand that, George. Nothing +could be further from my thoughts when I accepted Rhoda's invitation +to——" +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Hart, please, ma'am," the little house-parlour-maid trumpeted, +her face very pink from the exertion of attracting her mistress's +attention and making herself heard. Mrs. Lovegrove bounced up from the +sofa. Usually, it must be allowed, the great Eliza was rather at a +discount. Now she was astonishingly welcome. Her hostess's greeting, +though silent, was effusively cordial. She clutched at her guest's hand +as one in imminent risk of drowning at a lifebelt. The said guest was +in her sprightliest humour. She was also in a scarlet flannel blouse +thickly powdered with gradated black discs. This, in conjunction with +purple chrysanthemums in a black hat, her tawny hair and freckled +complexion, did not constitute a wholly delicious scheme of colour; but +to this fact Mrs. Lovegrove was supremely indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-afternoon," Miss Hart said in a stage whisper, glancing towards +Serena, still bright-eyed and erect. "Don't let me interrupt, pray. My +conversation will keep. I will just sit and listen." +</p> + +<p> +"Listen to what?" Serena cried, almost inarticulate with indignation. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, to your recitation. Our gentlemen often treat us to a little in +that line of an evening, Mrs. Lovegrove, after dinner. I dote on +recitation. Pieces of a comic nature specially, when well delivered." +</p> + +<p> +"I should never dream of reciting," Serena declared heatedly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, really now," Miss Hart returned. "That seems quite a pity. It is +such a pleasant occupation for a dull afternoon like this, do you not +think so, Miss Lovegrove? I declare I was quite sure, from the moment I +came into the hall—while I was taking off my waterproof—that your +cousin was giving you a little entertainment of that kind, Mr. +Lovegrove. Her voice was running up and down in such a very telling +manner." +</p> + +<p> +If glances could scorch, Miss Hart would unquestionably have been +reduced to a cinder, for rage possessed Serena. She had worked herself +up into a fine fume of anger over purely imaginary injuries. And now, +that Eliza Hart, of all people in the world, should intervene with +suggestions of comic recitations! +</p> + +<p> +"Detestable person!" Serena said to herself. "Her conduct is positively +outrageous. Of course she knew perfectly well I was doing nothing of +the kind. Really, I believe anybody would feel her manner quite +insulting. I wonder how George and Rhoda can tolerate her. It shows +George has deteriorated much that he should tolerate her. I am not so +surprised at Rhoda. Of course she never had good taste. I think I ought +to go to my room. That would mark my displeasure. But then she may have +come on purpose to say something particular. I wonder if she has done +so? Of course if she has, she wants to get rid of me. That is her +object. But she is mistaken if she thinks that I shall gratify her. I +think I owe it to myself to make sure exactly what is going on. I will +certainly stay. That will show her I am on the watch." +</p> + +<p> +During this protracted, though silent, colloquy, Serena had remained +standing in the middle of the room. Now she rustled back to the window, +held aside the lace curtain and resumed her contemplation of the +fog-enshrouded Green. Good George Lovegrove gazed after her in deep +dejection and perplexity. Somebody, it appeared to him, had been +extremely unreasonable and disagreeable; but who that somebody was for +the very life of him he could not tell. The wife was out of the +question; while to suppose it Serena approached high treason. Still he +was very sure it could not be that most scrupulously courteous +personage Dominic Iglesias. There remained himself—"Yet I wouldn't +knowingly vex a fly," he thought, "and as to vexing Serena! Sometimes +ones does wish females were not quite so sensitive." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Hart, meanwhile, had taken the unaccustomed post of honour beside +her hostess upon the sofa. She was enjoying herself immensely. She had +a conviction of marching to victory. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she said, "Mrs. Lovegrove, dear Peachie Porcher asked me just to +run across as she has missed your last two afternoons, lest you should +think her neglectful. I am well aware I am but a poor substitute for +Peachie—no compliments now, Mr. Lovegrove, if you please!" +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Porcher is in good health, I trust"—this from Rhoda. +</p> + +<p> +"At present, yes, I am happy to say, thank you. But how long it will +continue," Miss Hart spoke impressively—"at this rate I am sure I +cannot tell." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," George Lovegrove inquired anxiously. "You don't tell me so? +Nothing wrong, I trust." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, as I always tell her, her sense of duty amounts almost to a +fault—so unselfish, so conscientious, it brings tears to my eyes often +at times. I hope it is appreciated in the right quarter—I do hope +that, Mr. Lovegrove." +</p> + +<p> +Here Rhoda's bosom heaved with a generous sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"There is much ingratitude in the world, Miss Hart, I fear," she said +pensively. +</p> + +<p> +Her husband looked at her in an anguish of apology—whether for his own +sins or those of others he knew not exactly. +</p> + +<p> +"So there is, Mrs. Lovegrove," Eliza responded warmly. "And nobody is a +more speaking example of that truth than Peachie Porcher. When I think +of all she went through during her married life, and yet so +unsuspicious, so trusting—it is enough to melt an iceberg, that it is, +Mrs. Lovegrove. Now, as I was saying to her only this morning, 'You +must study yourself a little, get out in the air, take a peep at the +shops, and have some amusement.' But her reply is always the +same.—'No, Liz, dear,' she says, 'not at the present time, thank you. +I know the duties of my position as mistress of Cedar Lodge. When any +one of our gentlemen is ailing, my place is at home. I must remain in +the house in case of a sudden emergency. I should not have an easy +moment away from the place,' she says." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Hart looked around upon her hearers demanding approbation and +sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +"Very affecting, is it not?" she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +After a moment's embarrassed silence, George Lovegrove murmured a +suitable, if timid, assent. His wife assumed a bolder attitude. Goaded +by provocations recently received, she went over—temporarily—to the +side of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +"I always have maintained Mrs. Porcher was full of heart," she +declared, throwing the assertion across the room, much as though it was +a stone, in the direction of the figure at the window. +</p> + +<p> +Serena drew herself up with a rustle. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder exactly what Rhoda means by that?" she commented inwardly. "I +think it very odd. Of course, she must have some meaning, and I wonder +what it is. She seems to be changing her line. I am glad I stayed. I am +afraid Rhoda is rather deceitful. I excuse George of deceit. I believe +George to be true; but he is sadly influenced by Rhoda. I am rather +sorry for George." +</p> + +<p> +"So she is, Mrs. Lovegrove," Eliza Hart resumed—"Peachie's too full of +heart, as I tell her. She is forever thinking of others and their +comforts. She grudges neither time nor money, does not Peachie. There +is nothing calculating or cheese-paring about her—not enough, I often +think. Fish, sweetbreads, game, poultry, and all of the very +best—where the profits are to come from with a bill of fare like that +passes my powers of arithmetic, and so I point out to her. I hope it is +appreciated—yes, I do hope that, Mr. Lovegrove"—there the speaker +became extremely coy and playful. "A little bird sometimes seems to +twitter to me that it is. And yet I am sure I don't know. The members +of your sex are very misleading, Mr. Lovegrove. Do not perjure yourself +now. You cannot take me in. And a certain gentleman is very close, you +know, and stand-offish. It is not easy to get at his real sentiments, +is it, now?" +</p> + +<p> +Serena laid back her ears, so to speak. "I was quite right to stay," +she reflected wrathfully. +</p> + +<p> +"I think Mr. Iglesias is unusually considerate, Miss Hart," George +Lovegrove said tentatively. "He is quite sensible of Mrs. Porcher's +kind attentions. But naturally he is very tenacious of upsetting her +household arrangements and giving additional trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"And then the position of a bachelor is delicate, Miss Hart, you must +admit," Mrs. Lovegrove chimed in. "That's what I always tell Georgie. +It may do all very well in their younger days to be unattached, but as +gentlemen get on in life they do need their own private establishments. +I am sure I am sorry for them in chambers, or even in good rooms like +those at Cedar Lodge. For it is not the same as a home, Miss Hart, and +never can be. There must be awkwardnesses on both sides at times, +especially when, it comes to illness." +</p> + +<p> +Then the great Eliza gathered herself together, for it appeared to her +her forecast had been just and that she was indeed marching to victory. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, there is no denying all that," she said, "and I am more than glad +you see it in that light, Mrs. Lovegrove. Between ourselves, I have +more and more ever since a certain gentleman gave up work in the City. +It would be premature to speak freely; but, just between friends and +under the rose, you being interested in one party and I in the other, +there can be no harm in dropping a hint and ascertaining how the land +lies. Of course if it came to pass, it would be to my own disadvantage, +for I do not know how I should ever bear to part with Peachie Porcher. +Still, I could put myself aside, if I felt it was for her happiness." +</p> + +<p> +"You do surprise me," George Lovegrove exclaimed. He was filled with +consternation, his hair nearly rising on his head. "I had no notion. +Dear me, you fairly take away my breath." He could almost have wept. +"To think of it!" he repeated. "Only to think of it! Miss Hart, you do +surprise me." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! you must not run away with the notion anything is really settled +yet," she replied. "And I could not say Mrs. Porcher really would, when +it came to the point, after the experiences she had in her first +marriage. She is very reserved, is Peachie. Still, she might. And very +fortunate a certain gentleman would be if she did—it does not take +more than half an eye to see that." +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Nevington, please, ma'am," announced the parlour-maid, and the +fine clerical voice and clerical presence filled all the room. +Thereupon Serena graciously joined the circle. She was unusually +self-possessed and definite. She embarked in a quite spirited +conversation with the newcomer. And when Eliza Hart, after a few +pleasantries of a parochial tendency with the said newcomer—in whose +favour she had vacated the place of honour upon the sofa—rose to +depart, Serena bowed to her in the most royally distant and superior +manner. Her amiability remained a constant quantity during the rest of +the evening; and when an opportunity occurred of speaking in private to +her cousin, she did so with the utmost cordiality. +</p> + +<p> +"I do hope, George," she said, "you will not think any more of our +little unpleasantness. I can truly say I never bear malice. I own I was +annoyed, for I felt I had not been quite fairly treated by Rhoda. But, +of course, I may have been mistaken. I am quite willing to believe so +and to let bygones be bygones, and stay, as Rhoda pressed me to do, +until I go to my cousin, Lady Samuelson, in December. Of course it +would be more convenient to me in some ways. But I am not thinking of +that. I am thinking of you and Rhoda. I should not like to disappoint +her by leaving her when she wants me to help entertain your friend, Mr. +Iglesias. Of course, I cannot pretend I take easily to strangers. Mamma +was very particular whom we associated with, and so I have always been +unaccustomed to strangers, and I cannot pretend I am partial to making +new acquaintances. Still, I should be very sorry to seem +unaccommodating, or to hurt you and Rhoda by refusing to stay and +assist you." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you truly, Serena; I am sure you are very kind," the good man +answered. And the best, or the worst, of it was he actually believed he +was speaking the truth! +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XVII +</h3> + +<p> +The easterly wind blew strong and shattering, bleak and dreary, against +the windows of the bedchamber at the back of the house. The complaint +of the cedar tree, as the branches sawed upon one another, was +long-drawn and loud. These sounds reached Iglesias in the sitting-room, +where he sat, alone and unoccupied, before the fire. For more than a +week now he had been confined to the house. He had set the door of +communication between the two rooms open, so as to gain a greater sense +of space and that he might take a little exercise by walking the whole +length of them. The cry of the wind and the moan of the sawing branches +was very comfortless, yet he made no effort to shut it out. To begin +with, he was so weak that it was too much trouble to move. To go on +with, the melancholy sounds were not ill-suited to his present humour. +For a great depression was upon him, a weariness of spirit which might +be felt. Out of doors London shivered, houses and sky and the expanse +of Trimmer's Green, with its leafless trees and iron railings, livid, a +greyness upon them as of fear. Dominic had no quarrel with this either. +Indeed it gave him a certain bitter satisfaction, as offering a not +inharmonious setting to his own thought. +</p> + +<p> +Though not robust he was tough and wiry, so that illness of such a +nature as to necessitate his remaining within doors was a new and +trying experience. Crossing Hammersmith Bridge on the 'bustop ten days +previously, the chill of the river had struck through him. Yet this, in +all reasonable probability, would merely have resulted in passing +physical discomfort, but for the moral and spiritual hurt immediately +preceding it. How far the mind has power to cure the body is still an +open question. But that the mind can actively predispose the body to +sickness is indubitable. To realise and analyse, in their several +bearings, the causes and consequences of that same moral hurt Iglesias' +pride and loyalty alike refused. In respect of them he set his jaw and +sternly averted his eyes. Yet, though the will may be steady to resist +and to abstain, the tides of feeling ebb and flow, contemptuous of +control as those of some unquiet sea. They defy volition, notably in +illness when vitality is low. Refuse as he might to go behind the fact, +it remained indisputable that the Lady of the Windswept Dust had given +him his dismissal. Out of his daily life a joy had gone, a constant +object of thought and interest. Out of his heart a living presence had +gone, leaving a void more harsh than death. And all this had happened +in a connection peculiarly painful and distasteful to him; so that it +was as though a foul miasma had arisen, and, drifting across the face +of his fair friendship, distorted its proportions, rendering all his +memories of it suspect. Further, in this discrediting of friendship his +hope of the discovery of that language of the soul which can alone +effect a true adjustment between the exterior and interior life had +suffered violent eclipse. He had been thrown back into the prison-house +of the obvious and the material. The world had lost its poetry, had +grown narrow, sordid, dim, and gross. His own life had grown more than +ever barren of opportunity and inept. In short, Dominic Iglesias had +lost sight of the far horizon which is touched by the glory of the +Uncreated Light; and, so doing, dwelt in outer darkness once again, +infinitely desolate. +</p> + +<p> +On the afternoon in question he had reached the nadir of disillusion +and distrust. He leaned back in the red-covered chair, his shapely +hands lying, palms downward, along the two arms of it, his vision of +the room and its familiar contents blurred by unshed tears. It was an +hour of supreme discouragement. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing is left," he said, half aloud, "nothing. The future is as +blank as the present. If this is to grow old, then indeed those whom +the gods love have need enough to die young." +</p> + +<p> +For a space he listened to the shattering wind as it cried in the +window-sashes, to the branches of the cedar sawing upon one another and +moaning as in self-inflicted pain. Newsboys were calling early +specials. The coarse cockney voices, strangled by the easterly blast, +met and crossed one another, died away in a side street, to emerge +again and again encounter. Such words as were distinguishable seemed of +sinister import, agitating to the imagination. Then de Courcy Smyth's +shuffling footsteps crossed the floor of the room overhead. The +wire-wove mattress of his bed creaked as he sat on the edge of it, +kicking off his slippers and putting on walking boots, as might be +gathered from floppings followed by an equally nerveless but heavier +tread. A door opened, closed, and the footsteps descended the stairs. +On the landing without they paused for an appreciable time; but, to Mr. +Iglesias's great relief, deciding against attempt of entry, continued +their cheerless progress down to the hall below. Yet, just now Iglesias +could have found it in his heart to envy the man, notwithstanding his +unsavouriness of attitude and aspect. For in him ambition still +stirred. He had still definite work to do, and the hope of eventual +fame to support him during the doing of it; had the triumph of the +theatre, the applause of an audience in the white heat of enthusiasm to +dream of and strive after. +</p> + +<p> +"But, for me, nothing," Iglesias repeated, "whether vital as of those +far-away southern battle-fields, or fictitious and close at hand as of +the stage. Not even the sting of poverty to whet appetite and give an +edge to bodily hunger. Nothing, either of fear or of hope. The measure +of my obscurity is the measure of my immunity from change of fortune, +bad or good. I am worthless even as food for powder. Danger herself +will have none of me, and passes me by." +</p> + +<p> +With that he raised his hands and let them drop despairingly along the +arms of the chair again, while the unbidden tears overflowed. For a +minute or more he remained thus, weeping silently with bowed head. +Then, a movement of self-contempt taking him, he regained his calm, sat +upright, brushing away the tears. +</p> + +<p> +And it was as though, in thus regaining a clearer physical vision, he +regained a clearer mental vision likewise. Purpose asserted itself as +against mere blind acquiescence. Iglesias looked up, demanding as of +right some measure of consolation, some object promising help. So +doing, his eyes sought a certain carven oak panel set in an ebony +frame. From his earliest childhood he remembered it, for it had hung in +his mother's bedchamber; and in those far-away years, while she still +had sufficient force to disregard opposition and make an open practice +of prayer, she had kneeled before it when engaged in her devotions. +Waking at night—when as a baby-child, during his father's long +absences, he slept in her room—Dominic had often seen the delicate +kneeling figure, wrapped in some loose-flowing garment, the hands +outstretched in supplication. Even then, in the first push of conscious +intelligence, the carven picture had spoken to him as something +masterful, for all its rigidity and sadness, and very strong to help. +It had given him a sense of protection and security, so that his little +soul was satisfied; and he could go to sleep again in peace, sure that +his mother was in safe keeping while—as he said—she "talked to it." +In the long interval which had elapsed since then he had lost touch +with the spirit of it, though preserving it as among the most cherished +of his family relics. His appreciation of it had become aesthetic +rather than religious. But now, as it hung on the dimly white wall +above his writing-table on the window side of the fireplace, the dreary +London afternoon light took the surface of it, bringing all the details +of the scene into prominence. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the old power +declared itself. The picture came alive as to the intention and meaning +of it. It spoke to him once again, and that with no uncertain voice. +</p> + +<p> +Three tall narrow crosses uplifted against a cloudless sky. Below, a +multitude of men, women, and horses, carved in varying degrees of +relief. Some starting into bold definiteness, some barely indicated and +as though imprisoned in the thickness of the wood; but all grave, +energetic, and, whether inspired by compassion or by mockery, fierce. +These grouped around a great web of linen—upheld by some of them at +the four corners, hammock-wise, high at the head, low at the +foot—wherein lay the corpse of a man in the very flower of his age, of +heroic proportions, spare yet muscular, long and finely angular of +limb, the articulations notably slender, the head borne proudly though +bent, the features severely beautiful, the whole virile, indomitable +even in the physical abjection of death. +</p> + +<p> +In this Spanish presentment of the closing act of the Divine Tragedy +the sensuous pagan element, which mars too many otherwise admirable +works of religious art, was absent. Its appeal was to the intellect +rather than to the emotions, inculcating effort rather than inviting +any sentimental passion of pity. Its message was that of conquest, of +iron self-mastery and self-restraint. This was bracing and +courage-begetting even when viewed from the exclusively artistic +standpoint. But now not merely the presentment of the event held +Iglesias' attention, but the event presented, the thing in itself. His +heart and intelligence grasped the meaning of it, not only as a matter +of supreme historic interest in view of its astonishing influence upon +human development during the last two thousand years; but as an +ever-present reality, as an exposition of the Absolute, of that which +everlastingly has been, and everlastingly will be, and hence of +incalculable and immediate importance to himself. It spoke to him of no +vague and general truth; but of a truth intimate and individual, coming +to him as the call to enter upon a personal inheritance. Of obedience +to the dictates of natural religion, and faithful practice of the +pieties of it, Dominic Iglesias had, all his life, been a remarkable if +unconscious exponent. But this awakening of the spirit to the +actualities of supernatural religion, this crossing of that dark +immensity of space which appears to interpose between Almighty God and +the mind of man, was new to him. He had sought a language of the soul +which might effect an adjustment between the exterior and interior +life. Here, in the Word made Flesh, with reverent amazement he found +it. He had sought it through the instrumentality of the things of time +and sense; and they, though full with promise, had proved illusory. He +had fixed his hope on relation to the creature. But here, all the +while, close beside him, waiting till the scales should fall from his +eyes and he should see and understand, had stood the Creator. Fair, +very fair—while it lasted—was human friendship. But here, had he but +strength and daring to meet it, was a friendship infinitely fairer, +immutable, eternal—namely, the friendship of Almighty God. +</p> + +<p> +The easterly wind still cried in the window-sashes, harsh and +shattering. The branches of the exiled cedar tree sawed upon one +another, uttering their long-drawn complaint. The voices of the +newsboys, hoarse and raucous, shouting their sinister message, still +came and went. The livid light of the winter afternoon grew more dreary +as it sank into, and was absorbed by, the deepening dusk. But to +Dominic Iglesias these things had ceased to matter. Dazzled, enchanted, +confounded, alike by the magnitude and the simplicity of his discovery, +he remained gazing at the carven panel; gazing through and beyond it to +that of which it was the medium and symbol, gazing, clear-eyed and +fearlessly, away to the far horizon radiant with the surpassing glory +of the Uncreated Light. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XVIII +</h3> + +<p> +The Black Week had just ended; but the humiliation of it lay, as a dead +weight, upon the heart of London. Three crushing reverses in eight +days—Stormberg, Magersfontein, and finally Colenso! There was no +getting rid of the facts, or the meaning of them in respect of +incapacity, blundering, and reckless waste of personal valour. It was a +sorry tale, and one over which Europe at large chuckled. It has been +universally assumed that the English are a serious nation. This is an +error. They are not serious, but indifferent, a nation of +individualists, each mainly, not to say exclusively, occupied with his +own private affairs. With the vast majority unity of sentiment is +suspect, and patriotism a passive rather than an active virtue. But at +this juncture, under the stress of repeated disaster, unity of +sentiment and patriotism—that is, a sense of the national honour and +necessity for the vindication of it—became strongly evident. London +was profoundly and visibly moved. Not with excitement—that came later, +manifesting itself in hysterical outcries of relief—but with a grim +anger and sadness of astonishment that such things could indeed be. +Strangers, passing in the street, looked one another in the eyes +questioningly, a common anxiety forging unexpected bonds of kinship. +The town was curiously hushed, as though listening, always listening, +for those ugly messages rushed so perpetually by cable from overseas. +Men's faces were strained by the effort to hear, and, hearing, to judge +justly the extent and the bearings of both national and individual +damage. Already mourning struck a sensible note in women's dress. If +the Little Englander capered, he was careful to do so at home, or in +meeting-places frequented only by persons likeminded with himself. It +may be questioned whether he is not ever most courageous when under +covert thus; since shooting out of windows or from behind hedges would +appear to be his inherent, and not particularly gallant, notion of +sport. The newsboys alone openly and blatantly rejoiced, dominating the +situation—as on Derby Day or Boat-race Night—and putting a gilded +dome to the horror by yelling highly seasoned lies when truth proved +insufficiently evil to stimulate custom to the extent of his desires. +Depression, as of storm, permeated the social atmosphere. Churches were +full, places of amusement comparatively empty. To laugh seemed an +indiscretion trenching on indecency. +</p> + +<p> +Amid surrounding bravery of imperial purple, cream-colour, and gold, +Poppy St. John sat at the extreme end of the first row of balcony +stalls in the newly opened Twentieth Century Theatre. This was a calm +and secluded spot, since the partition, dividing off the boxes, flanked +it on the right. Partly on this account Poppy had selected it. Partly, +also, because it afforded an excellent view of the left of the stage; +and it was on the left—looking from the body of the house—that the +principal action of the piece, as far as Dot Parris's part was +concerned, took place. Poppy was unattended. She wanted an evening's +rest, an evening free of conversation and effort; but she wanted +something to look at, too, something affording just sufficient +emotional stimulus to keep importunate thought at bay. This the theatre +supplied. It had ceased long ago to tire her. She knew the ways of it +from both sides of the footlights uncommonly well, and loved them +indifferently much. She was a shrewd and cynical critic. Nevertheless, +to go to the play was a sort of going home to her—a home neither very +socially nor morally exalted, perhaps, but one offering the advantages +of perfect familiarity. +</p> + +<p> +Huddled in a black velvet fur-lined sacque, reaching to her feet and +abundantly trimmed with jet embroidery and black lace, she settled +herself in her place. The soft fur was cosey against her bare neck. She +felt chilly. Later she might peel, thereby exhibiting the values of the +rest of her costume. But it was not worth while to do so yet. The first +piece was over, but the house was still a poor one. It might fill up. +She hoped it would for Dot's sake; for few things are more +disheartening than to play to empty benches. But, at present, the +audience was altogether too sparse for it to be worth while to +sacrifice comfort to effect. In point of fact, Poppy was cold from +sheer fatigue. For the last month, to employ her own rather variegated +phraseology, she had racketed, had persistently and pertinaciously been +"going the pace." No doubt they do these things better in France; yet, +as she reflected, provided you are unhampered by prejudice, are fairly +in funds and know the ropes, even grimy fog-bound London is, in this +particular connection, by no means to be sneezed at. And truly Poppy's +autobiography during the said month would have made extremely merry +reading, amounting in some aspects to a positive classic—though of the +kind hardly suited as a basis of instruction for the pupils of a young +ladies' school. Setting aside adventures of a more questionable +character, a positively alarming good luck had pursued her, everything +she touched turning to gold. Even in this hour of financial depression +the market favoured her both in buying and selling. If she put money on +a horse, that horse was sure to win. If she played cards—and she had +played pretty constantly—she inevitably plundered her opponents. This +last alone, of all her doubtful doings, really troubled her; for her +opponents had frequently been youthful, and it was contrary to Poppy's +principles to pluck the but half-fledged chick. +</p> + +<p> +Barring this solitary deflection from her somewhat latitudinarian code +of ethics, she had, on the face of it, ample cause for +self-congratulation. Never had she been more gaily audacious in word or +deed. Never had she been better company, keeping her audience—an +almost exclusively masculine one—in a roar, all the louder perhaps +because of inward defiance of the news from over-seas, the humiliation +of which had now culminated in the disasters of the Black Week. Flame +only shows the brighter for a sombre background. And Poppy, during this +ill-starred period, had been as a flame to her admirers and +associates—a fitful, prankish flame, full of provocation and +bedevilment, the light of it inciting to all manner of wild doings and, +in the end, not infrequently scorching those pretty shrewdly who were +over-bold in warming themselves at the heat of it. For fires of the +sort lighted by Poppy are not precisely such as contribute to the peace +and security of the domestic hearth. +</p> + +<p> +But now she was tired. The fun seemed fun no longer; so that, +notwithstanding her successes, she found herself a prey to +dissatisfaction, discontent, and a disposition to recall all the less +happy episodes of her varied career. She yawned quite loudly, as she +laid opera-glasses and play-bill upon the velvet cushion in front of +her, and pulled the soft fur-lined garment up closer about her +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"The first act's safe to be poorish anyhow, and Dot does not come on +till just the end of it. I wonder if I dare go to sleep?" she asked +herself, gently rubbing her eyes. "It would be awfully nice to forget +the whole blooming show, past, present, and to come, for a little while +and plunge in the waters of oblivion. Oblivion with a capital O—a dose +of that's what I want. Beautiful roomy consolation-stakes of a word, +oblivion, if one could only believe in the existence of it—which, +unluckily, some-how I can't." +</p> + +<p> +Here the strains of the orchestra ceased. The lights were turned low in +the body of the house. The curtain went up. As it did so a cold draught +drew from regions behind the stage, laden with that indefinable odour +of gas, glue, humanity, flagged stair and alleyways, paint, canvas, +carpentry, and underground places the sun never penetrates, which +haunts the working part of every theatre. Poppy smiled as she snuffed +it, with a queer mingling of enjoyment and repulsion. For as is the +smell of ocean to the seafarer, of mother-earth to the peasant, of +incense to the priest, so is the smell of the theatre to the player. +Nature may revolt; but the spell holds. Once an actor always an actor. +The mark of the calling is indelible. Even to the third and fourth +generation there is no rubbing it out. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose it would have been wiser if I had stuck to the profession," +Poppy commented to herself. "I should have been a leading lady by now, +drawing my thirty to forty pounds a week. I had the root of the matter +in me. Have it still, worse luck; for it's the sort of root which +asserts its continued existence by aching at times like that of a +broken tooth. It was a wrench to give it all up. But then those rotten +plays of his, inflated impossible stuff, which would never +act—couldn't act!—and I carrying them round to manager after manager +and using all the gentle arts I knew to get them accepted. Oh! it was +very dignified, it was very pretty! And then his perpetual persecutions +for money, his jealousy and spite, and his fine feelings, his infernal +superiority—yes, that was what really did the job. Flesh and blood +couldn't stand it. To prove to a woman, at three meals daily, that she +couldn't hold a candle to you in birth, or brains, or education; and +then expect her to slave for you—and make it jolly hot for her if she +didn't, too—while you sat at home and caressed the delusion of your +own heaven-born genius in the only decently comfortable chair in the +house! No, it was not good enough—that it was not." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy surveyed the stage, unseeing, her great eyes wide with unlovely +memories. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder what's become of him," she said presently. "He hasn't dunned +me for months. Has he found some other poor wretch to bleed? Must have, +I imagine, for he always declared he was on the edge of starvation. +Supposing that was true, though—supposing he has starved?" +</p> + +<p> +Her thought sank away into a wordless reverie of the dreariest +description. Suddenly she roused herself, clenching her hands in her +lap. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, supposing he has, what does it matter to me? If ever a man +deserved to starve, he did, vain, lazy, cowardly, self-seeking jackal +of a fellow. Why in the name of reason should I trouble about +him—specially to-night? But then why, whenever I am a bit done, does +the remembrance of him always come back?" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy yawned again, staring blankly at the persons on the stage, +hearing the sound of their speech but knowing only the sense of her own +thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Why? Because it's like him, because it's altogether in the part. He +was always on the watch for his opportunity; wheedling or +blackguarding, directly he saw one had no fight left in one, till he +got his own way." +</p> + +<p> +She leaned forward, resting her hands on the velvet cushion. +</p> + +<p> +"I am confoundedly tired," she said. "All the same, it's rather +horrible. If the thing came over again, which mercifully it can't, I +should do precisely the same as I did. And yet I'm never quite sure +which of us was really in the right. And, therefore, I suppose just as +long as I live, whenever I'm dished—as I am to-night—I shall work the +whole hateful business through again, and the remembrance of him will +always come back." +</p> + +<p> +She pushed the soft heavy masses of hair up from her forehead with both +hands. +</p> + +<p> +"In the main it was your own fault, de Courcy Smyth, and you know that +it was. Most women would not have held out nearly as long as I did. So +lie quiet. Let me be. Starve, if you've got as far on the downgrade as +that. What do I care? I owe you nothing. You never gave me a child. So +starve, if you must—yes, starve," she said. +</p> + +<p> +Then she gathered herself back into her stall. Her expression changed. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, there's Dot. They're giving her a reception. Bless them—how +awfully sweet! Hurrah for poor little Dot!" Her hands went up to +applaud. And for the ensuing ten minutes her fatigue was forgotten. She +became absorbed in the action of the piece. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XIX +</h3> + +<p> +Dot Parris earned a recall at the end of the first act, conquering by +sheer force of personality that gloomy and half-hearted audience. And +Poppy St. John—among whose many faults lack of generosity certainly +could not be counted—standing up, leaned right out over the +velvet-cushioned barrier of the dress circle, crying "Brava!" and +clapping her hands. To achieve the latter demonstration with befitting +resonance she had stripped off her gloves. Then as the lights were +turned up and the curtain swung into the place, she proceeded to +further stripping—namely, that of her black embroidered sacque, which +she threw across the back of the empty stall beside her, thereby +revealing a startling costume. For she was clothed in rose-scarlet from +shoulder to foot; and that without ornament of any description to break +up the daring uniformity of colour, save the stiff unstanding black +aigrette in her hair, tipped with diamond points which flashed and +glittered as she moved. The soft <i>mousseline-de-soie</i> of which her +dress was made swathed her figure, cross-wise, without apparent +fastening, moulding it to the turn of the hips. Thence the skirt flowed +down in a froth of rose-scarlet gaugings and fluted frills, which +trailed behind her far. The bodice was cut in a deep V back and front, +showing her bare neck. Her arms were bare, too, from the elbow. Her +skin, somewhat sallow by day, took on a delicate ivory whiteness under +the electric light. By accident or design she had omitted to tinge her +cheeks to-night; and the even pallor of her face emphasised the +largeness of her eyes—luminous, just now, with sympathy and +enthusiasm. For the artist in Poppy dominated all else, vibrant and +alert. The glamour of the actor's life was upon her; the seamy side of +it forgotten—its unworthy rivalries and bickerings, the slangings and +prolonged weariness of rehearsals, its many disappointments, +heart-burnings, and sordid shifts. These were as though they were not; +so that the stage called her, even as the sea calls one, and +mother-earth another, and religion a third. +</p> + +<p> +"Pou-ah! aren't I just hot, though!" she said, half aloud, as she flung +off her sacque. "And what a changeling imp of a creature Dot is, after +all! An imp of genius.—well, she's every right to that, as one knows +when one looks at James Colthurst's pictures. He'd genius. He didn't +shirk living. My stars! there was a man capable of adding to the number +of one's emotions! And she's inherited his gifts on her own lines. What +a voice, what gestures! She is as clever as she can stick. Oh! she's a +real joy of a demon of a thing, bless her; and she's nothing like come +to her full strength yet." +</p> + +<p> +Then growing aware that she herself and her vivid attire were beginning +to attract more attention than, in the interests of a quiet evening, +she desired, Poppy subsided languidly into her stall, and, picking up +her opera-glasses, slowly surveyed the occupants of the house. +</p> + +<p> +There to begin with was Bobby Saville in the second row of the stalls, +flanked on either hand by a contingent of followers. His round dark +head and the set of his tremendous shoulders were unmistakable. Saville +was very far from being a model young man, yet Poppy had a soft spot in +her heart for this aristocratic bruiser and bravo. His constancy to Dot +Parris was really touching. With a dog-like faithfulness and docility, +this otherwise most turbulent of his sex had followed the object of his +affections from music-hall to comic opera, from comic opera to the high +places of legitimate drama. And Dot meanwhile remained serenely +invulnerable, tricking and mocking her high-born heavy-weight lover, +telling him cheerfully she really had no use for him, though his +intentions were strictly honourable. Twenty-five years hence, she +added, when he was an elderly peer, and she had begun to grow broad in +the beam, and the public had begun to grow tired of her, she might +perhaps contemplate the thraldom of wedlock. But not yet awhile—no, +thank you. Her art held all her love, satisfied all her passions; she +had none to waste upon mankind. Two days hence, as Poppy knew, Bobby +Saville would sail for South Africa, to offer an extensive target to +Boer bullets. He had come to bid farewell, to-night, to the obdurate +object of his affections. And his followers—some of whom were also +bound for the seat of war—had come to support him during those +pathetic proceedings. +</p> + +<p> +In the boxes she recognised more than one woman whose rank of riches +had rendered her appearance common property through the medium of the +illustrated papers. But upon these social favourites she bestowed scant +scrutiny. To her they did not matter, since she had a comfortable +conviction that, given their chances, she might safely have backed +herself to beat them at their own game. One large and gentle-looking +lady did attract her, by the innocence of her mild eyes set noticeably +wide apart, and by the beauty of her small mouth. Her light brown hair, +touched with grey, rippled back from her low forehead under a drapery +of delicate lace. She was calm, yet there was an engaging timidity in +her aspect as she sheltered behind the farther curtain of the box. +Beside her sat a young girl, white-clad, deliciously fresh in +appearance, an expression of happy half-shy expectation upon her +charming face. Behind them, in the shadow, kindly, handsome, debonnair, +stood Lord Fallowfeild. His resemblance to the large and gentle lady +declared them brother and sister. Poppy St. John watched the little +party with a movement of tenderness. She perceived that they were very +fond of one another; moreover they were so delightfully simple in +bearing and manner, so excellently well-bred. But of what was the +pretty maiden so shyly expectant? Of something, or somebody, far more +immediately interesting to her than players or play—so Poppy judged. +</p> + +<p> +Turning from the contemplation of these pleasant people with a sigh she +could hardly have explained—even to herself—Poppy swept the dress +circle with her opera-glasses. Presently she paused, and with a lift of +surprise looked steadily again, then let both hands and glasses drop +upon her rose-scarlet cap. Four rows up and back, on the far side, in a +stall next the stepped gang-way, a man sat. His face was turned away, +his shoulder being towards her, as he leaned sideways talking to the +woman beside him—a slender, faded, yet elegant person of uncertain +age, dressed in fluffy black. In the seat beyond, also leaning forward +and taking part in the conversation, was another man of so whimsical an +appearance as very nearly to make Poppy laugh aloud. She would +unquestionably have done so had she been at leisure; but she was not at +leisure. Her eyes travelled back to the figure beside the gang-way, +which intrigued both her interest and her memory. Tall, spare, +faultlessly dressed, yet with an effect of something exotic, aloof, +unusual about him, he provoked her curiosity with suggestions of times +and places quite other than of the present. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is it?" Poppy said to herself. "Surely I know him. Who the Dickens +is it?" +</p> + +<p> +The conversation ceased. The man drew himself up, turned his head; and +Poppy gave a little choking cry, as she found herself staring Dominic +Iglesias straight in the face. +</p> + +<p> +Whether he recognised her she did not know, did not want to know just +yet. For she needed a minute or two to reckon with the position. It was +so wholly unexpected. It affected her more deeply than she could have +anticipated. Not without amusement she realised that she had never, +heretofore, quite believed in him as an ordinary mortal, who ate and +drank, went to plays, had relations with human beings other than +herself, and conducted himself generally on the commonplace lines of +modern humanity. Therefore to see him under existing circumstances was, +in a sense, a shock to her. She did not like it. Absurd and +unreasonable though it undoubtedly was to feel it so, yet his presence +here struck her as in a way unseemly, derogatory. She had never thought +of him in this connection, and it took a little time to get accustom to +this aspect of him. Then she discovered, with half-humorous annoyance, +that she was called upon to get accustomed to something else as +well—namely, to her memories of the past month since she parted from +him. For it was undeniable that the said memories took on a queer +enough complexion in the light of this sudden encounter with Dominic +Iglesias. If an hour ago they had been unsatisfactory, now they were +very near odious. And that seemed hardly fair. Poppy turned wicked. +</p> + +<p> +"For what's the worry, after all?" she asked herself. "Why on earth am +I either disappointed or penitent? Is he no better than the rest of us, +or am I no worse? And with what am I quarrelling, in any case—his +being less of a saint, or I less of a sinner than I'd been pleased to +imagine? I'm sure I don't know." +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively her eyes sought that kindly worlding, Lord Fallowfeild. +With him at least, as she reflected, one knew exactly where one was, +since his feet were always very much upon the floor. But here again +discomfiture, alas! awaited her. For another person, and evidently a +welcome one, had joined that pleasant little party. Standing beside the +large and gentle lady, speaking quickly, gaily, his face keen and +eager, she beheld Alaric Barking. Lord Fallowfeild, smiling, patted the +young man affectionately on the shoulder. And then, with a shudder of +pain gnawing right through her, Poppy St. John, glancing at the +graceful white-clad maiden, understood of whose coming this one had +been so sweetly and gladly expectant. +</p> + +<p> +To the strong there is something exhilarating in all certainty, even +certainty of disaster. And it was very characteristic of Poppy that at +this juncture no cry came to her lips, no sob to her throat. She +shuddered that once, it is true. But then, setting her teeth, the whole +daring of her nature rose to the situation, as a high-mettled horse +rises to a heavy fence. What lay on the other side of that fence she +did not know as yet, nor did she stop to consider. Desperate though it +looked, she took it gallantly without fuss or funking. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, there's no ambiguity about this affair, anyhow," she said +grimly. "Of course it had to come sooner or later, and I knew it had to +come. Well, here it is, that's all, and there's no use whining. And +that's why he's been so jumpy lately: he had a bad conscience. Poor old +chap, he must have been having a beastly bad time of it." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy mused a little. +</p> + +<p> +"Still, it's a facer," she added, "and a precious nasty one, too." +</p> + +<p> +She stretched herself, shaking back her head, while the diamond points +of her aigrette danced and glittered. Took a deep breath, filling her +lungs; listened to herself, so to speak, noting with satisfaction that +neither heart nor pulse fluttered. +</p> + +<p> +"No serious damage," she commented. "I must have the nerves of a +locomotive. Here I am perfectly sound, perfectly sober, standing at the +parting of the ways, between the dear old devil of love and the deep +sea of friendship. Poppy Smyth, my good soul, you've always been rather +fatally addicted to drama. Are you satisfied at last? For just now, +heaven knows, you've jolly well got your fill of it." +</p> + +<p> +Then, for a space, she sat staring out into the house, thinking hard, +intently, yet without words. The future, as she knew, hung in the +balance, for herself and for others; but, as yet, she could not decide +into which scale to throw the determining weight. Presently she looked +steadily at Dominic Iglesias. He was again engaged in conversation, +trying, with his air of fine old-world courtesy, suitably to entertain +his strangely assorted neighbours. Poppy had an idea he found it rather +hard work. She was not in the least sorry. That faded piece of feminine +elegance, in fluffy black, bored her. She entertained a malicious hope +that the said piece of feminine elegance bored Mr. Iglesias also. +Finally, with rather bitter courage, she turned her eyes once more upon +Lord Fallowfeild and his companions. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor little girl, poor little girl," she said, quite gently, "so +that's your heaven on earth, is it? I'm afraid a mighty big crop of +wild oats is on show in your Garden of Eden. Still to you, apparently, +it is a blissful place enough. Only the question is, do I intend to +relinquish my rights in that particular property and make it over to +you in fee simple, my pretty baby, or do I not? Shall I give it you, or +shall I keep it? For it is mine to give or to keep still—very much +mine, if I choose to make a fight for it, I fancy." +</p> + +<p> +Yet even as she communed thus with herself, the white-clad maiden and +the other occupants of the box became indistinct and shadowy. The buzz +of conversation in the theatre had ceased; so had the strains of the +orchestra. The lights had been turned low and the curtain had risen +upon the second act. +</p> + +<p> +About half-way through that act Poppy St. John got up, threw her velvet +sacque over her arm, and, slipping past the three intervening stalls, +made her way up the steps of the near gang-way to the swing-doors +opening out to the couloir. Her movements, though studiously quiet, +were, owing to the vivid hue of her attire, very perceptible even in +the penumbra of the dress circle, provoking attention and smothered +comment. The lady in fluffy black, for example, followed her with +glances of undisguised and condemnatory interest, finally calling the +attention of both her cavaliers to the progress of this glowing figure. +</p> + +<p> +The New Century Theatre is one of those enterprises of trans-Atlantic +origin, undertaken with the praiseworthy and disinterested object of +teaching the Old World "how to do it," and is built and furnished +regardless of expense. The couloirs are wide, lofty, richly carpeted; +the walls of them encrusted with pale highly polished marbles, +pilasters of which, with heavily gilded capitals, flank vast panels of +looking-glass. The moulded ceilings are studded with electric lights, +the glare of which is agreeably softened by pineapple-shaped globes of +crystal glass. The scheme of colour, ranging from imperial purple +through crimson and rose-pink to softest flesh tints, formed an +harmonious setting to the rose-scarlet of Poppy's dress, with its froth +of trailing frills and flounces, as she stood discoursing to a smart, +black-gowned, white-aproned box-keeper. +</p> + +<p> +"You understand, fourth row on the left, next the gang-way? Tell him a +lady wishes particularly to speak to him between the acts. Then bring +him to me here." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, madam, I quite understand," the young person replied, with much +intelligence, scenting something in the shape of an adventure. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy moved across and sat down on one of the wide divans, and so doing +began to know, once more, how very tired she was. A new tiredness +seemed, indeed, to have been added to the original one. That first was, +at worst, bored and irritable. This was of a different, a more sad and +intimate character. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel as if I had been beaten all over," she said to herself. "Well, +perhaps that's just what it is. I have been beaten. I wish I could +sleep. Oh! dear, oh! dear, how I wish I could sleep." +</p> + +<p> +Her thought fell away into the vague, the inarticulate, though she did +not sleep. Still there was a temporary suspension of volition, of +conscious mental activity, which, in a degree, rested her. Persons, +passing now and again, looked with curiosity at the brilliant figure, +and inscrutable eyes in the dead-white face. The smart box-keeper, +moved by some instinct of pity, came back more than once, finally +offering one of those unwholesome-looking cups of coffee and boxes of +chocolate of which so few have the requisite audacity to partake. Poppy +roused herself sufficiently to reject these terrible delicacies, while +smiling at the conveyor of them. Then she relapsed into the vague +again, and waited, just waited. +</p> + +<p> +"There's the end of the act, madam," the young woman remarked at last +encouragingly. +</p> + +<p> +"All right," Poppy answered. "Go straight away and bring the gentleman +here to me. I'm in a hurry. I want to get home." +</p> + +<p> +The glass doors of the exits swished back and forth, letting out the +confused stir and murmur of the house, letting out a crowd of men as +well. And the aspect the said crowd presented to Poppy's overstrained +nerves and exalted sensibility was repulsive. For it suggested to her a +flight of gigantic black locusts, strong-jawed, pink-faced, and +white-breasted, driven forth by a common hunger, rather cruelly active +and intent. Her sense of humour was in abeyance, as was her usually +triumphant common sense; so that her thought, going behind appearances +and the sane interpretation of them, declined to that fundamental +region in which the root laws of animal life become hideously bare and +distinct. Out of the deep places of her own womanhood a hatred towards +this crowd of men arose; that secular enmity which exists between the +sexes asserting itself and, for the time being, obscuring both reason +and justice. For upon what, as she asked herself bitterly, when all is +said and done, do these male human locusts pasture, save on the souls +and bodies of women, finding a garden before them, and, too often, +leaving but a desert behind? Sex as sex became abhorrent to her, its +penalties unpardonable, its pleasures as loathsome as its sins. +</p> + +<p> +But from the black-coated throng the trim figure of the box-keeper just +then detached itself; and a moment later Poppy, looking up, beheld +Dominic Iglesias standing before her. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XX +</h3> + +<p> +"You sent for me, so I have come," Iglesias said, for Poppy St. John, +usually so voluble, just now appeared speechless. +</p> + +<p> +From the moment he had become aware of her presence in the theatre, +Dominic had been sensible that she presented herself under a new +aspect. Of the many different Poppys he had seen, this was by far the +most powerful and dramatic. She stood out from the rest of the audience +as some splendid tropic flower stands out from a thick-set mass of +foliage, conspicuous in form and colour and in promise. There were +handsome women, smart women, beautifully dressed women in plenty, but +Poppy did not shade in with all these, making but part of a general +effect. She remained unique, solitary; and this not merely on account +of her vivid raiment. The effect of her told upon the mind quite as +much as upon the sight. Yet she did not look out of place. She looked, +indeed, preeminently at home. Out of doors, in the country sunshine, +she had struck Dominic as a slight creature, unreal and fictitious. +Here, amid highly artificial and conventional surroundings, she seemed +to him the most natural and vital being present, retaining the +completeness of her individuality, the energy and mystery of it alike, +almost aggressively evident and untouched. Iglesias ceased to consider +her in relation to his and her broken friendship, or in relation to +that which he so reluctantly divined of her private life. He +contemplated her in herself, finding an element of things primitive in +her, which commanded his admiration, though it failed, so far, to touch +his heart. And if this was the impression he received seeing her at a +comparative distance, that impression was greatly intensified seeing +her now at close quarters. The contrast between the subtle softness and +the flare—as of a conflagration—of her dress, the weariness of her +attitude, and the unfathomable melancholy of her eyes, stirred him +profoundly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she answered quietly, almost coldly, "I know I sent. This was +about the last place I should have expected to run across you. I +flattered myself I was safe enough here. I didn't wish to meet you one +little bit. Still, when I did see you, I wanted you. You're the most +plaguey impossible person to rid oneself of somehow"—her voice and +manner softened a little—"so I sent for you. I don't know why, because +now I've got you I seem to have changed my mind. I have nothing to say." +</p> + +<p> +"I can easily go," Iglesias remarked gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, no," she replied, "why should you hurry? I'm sure those two +freaks you're herding—the beetle turned hind-side before and the +withered leaf—can't be frantically interesting. And I like to look at +you. I never saw you before in evening dress, and you're more <i>grand +seigneur</i> than ever. But something's happened to you. I can't tell +off-hand what it is, whether you've come on or gone back. But you're +altered." +</p> + +<p> +"I have had an illness," Iglesias said simply; "and I have been very +unhappy." +</p> + +<p> +"Neither of those are good enough," Poppy answered. "The alteration is +right inside you, in your soul. But you're well again now?" she added. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I am well again now." +</p> + +<p> +"And you're no longer unhappy?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," he said. "I am sad, for life is sad; but I am no longer unhappy." +</p> + +<p> +"That's a nice distinction," Poppy put in, with a rather scornful +inflection. "What's cured your unhappiness? Not an affair of the heart? +Please don't tell me it's anything to do with a woman, for I warn you +I'm awfully off the affections to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"You can make yourself quite easy on that point," Dominic said with a +lift of the head, his native pride asserting itself. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! that's more like old times!" Poppy's voice softened again, so did +the expression of her face. "Suppose you sit down, dear lunatic. This +wait is a long one, I know. Dot Parris told me it was. Let the freaks +play about together for a little. It will do them good. And I find I +wanted you rather more than I knew at first. I'm beginning to have +something to say after all. Words, only words, perhaps; still it's a +<i>soulagement</i> to sit here with you like this." The corners of Poppy's +mouth drooped and quivered. "I'm having an infernally bad time; and +there's worse ahead." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry. I am grieved," Iglesias said. For the charm had begun to +work again, and friendship, as he began to know, although +broken-winged, was very far from dead. +</p> + +<p> +"We won't talk about that," she put in, "or I might make a fool of +myself. Dear man, I think I'd better go home. I'm awfully tired. Still, +I'm better for seeing you." She stood up. "Just help me on with my +coat. Thanks—that's right. Oh! I say, there are the freaks on the +prowl, looking for you!" Poppy's tragic eyes turned naughty, malicious, +gay even for a moment. "What sport!" she said—"unhappy freaks! The +withered leaf has intentions. I see that. She'd like to eat me without +salt. Don't marry her—promise me you won't. Ah! heavenly, heavenly," +she cried. "I need no promises, bless you. Your face is quite enough. +Wretched withered leaf! But look here," she went on, as she gathered +the soft warm garment about her, "I'm tired of your incognito. Give me +your card. I may want you again. So let me have your name and address." +</p> + +<p> +And Iglesias giving it to her as she requested, she studied it for a +minute silently. Then she turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"I want nothing more. Don't come down with me. One of the boys will get +me a hansom. I'd rather be alone; so just go back to your flabbergasted +freaks, beloved and no-longer-nameless one," she said. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXI +</h3> + +<p> +Thin sunshine slanted in through the lace curtains of the dining-room +window. Encouraged thereby, the parrot preened its feathers, making +little snapping and clicking noises meanwhile with its tongue and beak. +The grass of the Green, seen between the black stems of the encircling +trees, glittered with hoarfrost, while the houses on the opposite side +of it looked flat and featureless owing to the interposing veil of +bluish mist. Tradesmen's carts clattered by at a sharp trot, the +defined sound of them breaking up the all-pervading murmur of London, +and dying out into it again as they passed. At the street corner, some +twenty yards away, a German band discoursed doubtfully sweet music, the +trombone making earnest efforts to keep the rest of the instruments up +to their work by the emission of loud and reproachful tootings. It was +a pleasant and cheery morning as December mornings go, yet constraint +reigned at the Lovegrove breakfast-table. +</p> + +<p> +The day of Serena's oft-discussed departure had dawned. A few hours +hence she would remove herself and her boxes to her cousin Lady +Samuelson's residence in Ladbroke Square. This should have proved a +source of regret to her host and hostess; and they were +conscience-stricken, confessing to themselves—though not to one +another, since each accredited the other with more laudable sentiments +than his or her own—that relief rather than regret did actually +possess them. A secret from one another, and that a slightly +discreditable one, was so foreign to the experience of the excellent +couple that it lay heavy upon their hearts. Each, moreover, was aware +of shame in the presence of Serena, as in that of a person upon whom +they had inflicted an injury. Hence constraint, which the sunshine was +powerless to dissipate. +</p> + +<p> +"May I pass you the eggs, or bacon, or both, Serena?" George Lovegrove +inquired, his childlike blue eyes meanwhile humbly imploring pardon for +his lack of sorrow at her impending departure. Serena's manner was +stiff and abstracted. This, combined with the rustling of her +petticoats, filled him with anxiety. Was it possible that she knew? +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, George, only an egg. Not that one, please, it is much too +large. I prefer the smallest. I am not feeling hungry." +</p> + +<p> +"I should never call you much of a breakfast-eater, Serena," Mrs. +Lovegrove observed in her comfortable purring voice, from behind the +tea urn. She was desirous to pacify her guest. "Now I am rather hearty +myself in the morning, always have been so. I do not know whether it is +a good thing or not, as a habit. Still, I think to-day you should force +yourself a little. You should always make provision against a journey. +And then no doubt you are rather fatigued with packing and getting home +so late from the theatre. I am pleased to think you had an outing your +last night here, Serena. Georgie tells me the play was very comical." +</p> + +<p> +"I dare say it was," Serena replied. "Of course George would be a much +better judge of that than I am. Mamma was always very particular what +we heard and saw when we were children, and I know I am inclined to +think things vulgar which other people only find amusing." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not remark any vulgarity, and do not think Mr. Iglesias would +countenance anything of that kind in the presence of a lady. He would +ascertain beforehand the nature of the piece to which he invited any +lady"—this from George Lovegrove tentatively. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! of course I don't say there was anything vulgar. I should not like +to commit myself to an opinion. I really have been to the theatre very +seldom. Mamma never encouraged our going. And then, of course, old Dr. +Colthurst, the rector of St. Jude's at Slowby, whose church we always +attended, disapproved of the theatre. He had great influence with +mamma. And he thought it wicked." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," Mrs. Lovegrove commented. "I should be sorry to think that, +as so many go. But he may have come across the evils of it personally. +He had a son, an artist, who was very wild, I believe. And I remember +to have heard our dear vicar speak of Dr. Colthurst as stern, but a +true Protestant and a very grand preacher." +</p> + +<p> +"I dare say he was—I don't mean that his son was wild—I know nothing +about that, of course, but that Dr. Colthurst was a great preacher." +</p> + +<p> +Serena spoke abstractedly, inspecting the yolk of her poached egg +meanwhile as though on the watch for unpleasant foreign bodies. +</p> + +<p> +"But," she continued, "I cannot, of course, be expected to remember his +sermons, though I may have been taken to hear him. I suppose I +certainly was taken, but I was quite too much of a child to remember. +Susan remembers them, but then Susan was so very much older." +</p> + +<p> +She ceased to contemplate her egg, and looked up at her hostess. +</p> + +<p> +"Susan must be very nearly your age, Rhoda; or she may be a year or +eighteen months younger. Yes, judging by the difference between her age +and mine, she must be quite eighteen months younger. Of course, now, +Susan thinks going to the play wicked. I often wonder whether that is +not partly because she dislikes sitting still and listening when other +people are doing something. Susan likes to take part in everything +herself. I often wonder what she would do in church if it was not for +the responses and the singing. I am sure she would never sit out a +service where the congregation did not join in. Susan cannot bear a +choral service. She calls it un-English and Romanising. I do not +dislike it—I mean I do not dislike a choral service. But then I do not +consider the theatre wicked. I am not prejudiced against it, as Susan +is. Still, I cannot deny that I think you do hear very odd things and +see very over-dressed people at the theatre." +</p> + +<p> +Serena looked severely at her host, thereby heightening the anxiety +which possessed him. For once again, as so often during the past eight +or ten hours, a picture presented itself perplexing and fascinating to +his mental vision—namely, that of his dear and honoured friend, the +grave and stately Dominic Iglesias, helping an unknown lady, of +remarkably attractive personal appearance, on with a wonderful black +velvet garment—doing so in the calmest way in the world, too, as +though it were an event of chronic occurrence—while the frills and +furbelows of her voluminous skirts flowed in rosy billows about his +feet. What did the picture portend, George Lovegrove asked himself, and +still more, what did Serena suppose it portended? +</p> + +<p> +"Do you, indeed?" Mrs. Lovegrove put in, in amiable response to her +guest's last remark. She was sensible of being hurt by the allusion to +her age. But then Serena was going, and she knew that fact did not +distress her as deeply as it might have done. She therefore rose +superior to wounded feelings. "It's many years since I've been much of +a playgoer," she continued, "and people tell me it's all a good deal +changed, and not for the better. I suppose the dressing nowadays is +sadly extravagant. I am sure I don't know, and I should always be timid +of condemning anybody or their amusements. But there, as I always do +say, if you want to keep a happy mind there is so much it is well to be +ignorant of." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if it is—I mean I wonder if it is well to be ignorant of +things," Serena said reflectively. "Of course, if people think you are +willing to be ignorant, it encourages them in deceiving you. I think it +is very wrong to be deceitful. Sooner or later it is sure to come out, +and then it is very difficult to forgive people. Indeed, I am not sure +it is right to forgive them." +</p> + +<p> +With difficulty George Lovegrove restrained a groan. His food was as +ashes in his mouth; his tea as waters of bitterness. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I should be sorry to go as far as that, Serena," Mrs. Lovegrove +remonstrated. "If you give way to unforgiving feelings you can never +tell quite where they may carry you. But as I was going to say, though +I am not much of a playgoer, I was very pleased to have Mr. Iglesias +invite me. Only, as I explained to him, I am very liable to find the +seats too narrow for comfort in places of amusement, and the atmosphere +is often so very close, too. He was most polite and sympathising; but +then that's Mr. Iglesias all over. He always is the perfect gentleman." +</p> + +<p> +Serena paused, her fork arrested in mid-transit to her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sure that I agree with you, Rhoda," she said. "I am not sure +whether I think Mr. Iglesias is really polite, or whether he only +appears to be so because it suits his purpose. Of course you and George +know him far better than I do. Perhaps you understand—I cannot pretend +that I understand him. I may be wrong, but I often wonder whether there +is not a good deal which is rather insincere about Mr. Iglesias." +</p> + +<p> +After throwing which bomb, Serena gave her whole attention to her +breakfast. Usually George Lovegrove would have waxed valiant in defence +of his friend, but a guilty conscience held him tongue-tied. Not so +Rhoda; strive as she might, those allusions to her age still rankled. +And, under cover of protest against injustice to the absent, she paid +off a little of her private score, to her warm satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I am sure," she cried, "I never could have credited that anybody +could question Mr. Iglesias's genuineness! I would sooner doubt +Georgie, that I would, and fear him deceitful." +</p> + +<p> +Again the good man came near groaning. It was as though the wife +planted a poignard in his heart. +</p> + +<p> +"And after you playing the piano to him so frequently the few days Mr. +Iglesias stopped here, and seeming so comfortable together and +friendly, and his inviting us all to the theatre! Really, I must say I +do think you sadly changeable, Serena, that I do." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I am not changeable, Rhoda," the other lady declared, both voice +and colour rising slightly. "Nobody ever accused me of being changeable +before, and I do not like it. I do not think you are at all justified +in making such an accusation. But I am observant. I always have been +so. Even Susan allows that I am very observant. I cannot help being so, +and I do not wish to help it. I think it is much safer. It helps you to +find out who you can really trust. And, of course, I observed a great +deal that happened last night. I felt from the first that I owed it to +myself to be particularly on my guard, because certain insinuations had +been made—you know, Rhoda, you have made them more than once +yourself—and some people might have thought that things had gone +rather far when Mr. Iglesias was stopping here. I believe Mrs. Porcher +and that dreadful Miss Hart did think it. I do not say that things did +go far; I only say that people might naturally think that they had. On +several occasions Mr. Iglesias' conduct did seem very marked. And, of +course, nothing could be more odious to me than to be placed in a false +position. One cannot be too careful, especially with foreigners. Mamma +always warned us against foreigners when we first came out. I never had +any experience of foreigners until I met Mr. Iglesias, here at your +house. But, I am sorry to say, I believe now mamma was perfectly right." +</p> + +<p> +As she ended her harangue, Serena with a petulant movement of her thin +hands pushed her plate away from the table edge, leaving a vacant space +before her. This was as a declaration of war. She scorned further +subterfuge. She announced a demonstration. A bright spot of colour +burned on either cheek, her small head, on its long stalk of neck, was +carried very erect. It was one of those pathetic moments when—the +merciless revelations of the morning sunshine notwithstanding—this +slim, faded, middle-aged spinster appeared to recapture, and that very +effectively, the charm and promise of her vanished youth. Excited by +foolish anger, animated by a sense of insult wholly misplaced and +imaginary, she became a very passably pretty person, the immature but +hopeful Serena of eighteen looking forth from the eyes of the +narrow-souled disappointed Serena of eight-and-forty. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, George may have some explanation of what happened last +night," she went on, speaking rapidly. "If he has, I think it would be +only fair that he should offer it to me. I took for granted he would do +so this morning as soon as we met; or that he would send you to me, +Rhoda, to explain if he felt too awkward about speaking himself. But as +you both are determined to ignore what happened, I am forced to speak. +I dare say it would be much more convenient to you, knowing you have +made a mistake, to pass the whole thing over in silence. But I really +cannot consent to that. If Mr. Iglesias meant nothing all along, then I +think he has behaved disgracefully. If he did mean something at first, +and then"—the speaker gasped—"changed his mind, he might at least +have given some hint. He ought to have refused to stop here, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"He did refuse," George Lovegrove faltered. This was really dreadful, +far worse than anything he had anticipated—and he had not a notion +what it was safe to say. "I do wish females' minds were a little less +ingenious," he commented to himself. "They see such a lot which would +never have entered my head, for instance." +</p> + +<p> +"Still, Mr. Iglesias came," cried the belligerent Serena. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I over-persuaded him. He was very unwilling, very so indeed, +saying that staying out was altogether foreign to his practice. But I +pointed out to him that you and the wife might feel rather mortified if +he omitted to come, having taken such an interest in his illness and—" +</p> + +<p> +"If you made use of my name, George, you took a great liberty." +</p> + +<p> +"I am very distressed to hear you say that, Serena. Both the wife and I +certainly supposed you wished him to come." +</p> + +<p> +He looked imploringly at his spouse, asking support. But for once the +large kindly countenance failed to beam responsive. A plaintive +expression overspread its surface. Then the unhappy man stared +despondently out into the misty morning sunshine, plastering down his +shiny hair with a moist and shaky hand. Even the wife turned against +him, making him feel an outcast at his own breakfast-table. He could +have wept. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been so very guarded throughout," Serena resumed, "that it is +impossible you should have the slightest excuse for using my name. But, +of course, if you have done so, my position is more than ever odious. +There is nothing for me to do but to go. Fortunately I am going—and I +am thankful. If I had followed my own inclinations, I should have gone +long ago. Then I should have been spared all this, and nothing would +have been said. Now all sorts of things may be said, because, of +course, it must all look very odd. It shows how foolish it is to allow +one's judgment to be overruled. I stayed entirely to oblige Rhoda. And +I cannot but see I have been trifled with." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, Serena, not that—never that," her host cried distractedly. +"If I have been in the wrong, I apologise from my heart. But trifling +never entered my thoughts. How could it do so, with all the respect I +have for you and Susan? I may have been clumsy, but I acted for the +best." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid I cannot agree," she retorted. "It is useless to +apologise. I am sorry to tell you so, George, for I have trusted you +until now; but I do feel, and I am afraid I always shall feel, I have +been very unkindly treated by you and Rhoda." +</p> + +<p> +She rose, rustling as she spoke, the parrot, meanwhile, leaving off +preening its feathers, regarding her, its head very much on one side, +with a wicked eye. +</p> + +<p> +"No, please leave me to myself," she said. "I do not want anybody to +help me, and if I do I shall ring for the maids. I want to compose +myself before I go to Lady Samuelson's. After all this unpleasantness, +it is much better for me to be alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, girlie, poor old girlie. Hi! p'liceman, bring a +four-wheeler," shrieked the parrot, as Serena opened and closed the +dining-room door, flapping wildly in the sunshine till the sand and +seed husks on the floor of its cage arose and whirled upwards in a +crazy little cloud. +</p> + +<p> +George Lovegrove, who had risen to his feet, sank back into his chair, +resting his elbows on the table and covering Ids face with his hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I would rather have forfeited my pension," he murmured. "I would +rather have lost a hundred pounds." +</p> + +<p> +Then raising his head he gazed imploringly at his wife. And this time +her tender heart could not resist the appeal. He had not been open with +her, but she relented, giving him opportunity to retrieve his error. +Moreover—but that naturally was a very minor consideration—she was +bursting with curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +"Georgie," she asked solemnly, "whatever did happen last night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Iglesias met a lady friend. She sent for him to talk to her, in +the lobby, between the acts," he answered, the red deepening in his +clean fresh-coloured face. +</p> + +<p> +"Not any of that designing Cedar Lodge lot?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! dear no, not all," he replied, his childlike eyes full of +gratitude. He blessed the magnanimity of the wife. But speedily +embarrassment supervened. He found this subject singularly difficult to +deal with. "Not at all of their class. I confess it did surprise me, +for though I have always taken it for granted Dominic belonged to a +higher circle by birth than that in which we have known him, I had no +idea he had such aristocratic acquaintances. His looks and manner in +public, last night, made him seem fitted for any company. Still, I was +surprised." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he not introduce you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. I cannot say he had a convenient opportunity, and the lady may not +have wished it. I could fancy she might hold herself a little above us. +But, between ourselves, I believe that was what so upset Serena." +</p> + +<p> +"I am of opinion Mr. Iglesias is just as well without Serena," Mrs. +Lovegrove declared. "I suppose she cannot help it, but her temper is +sadly uncertain. I begin to fear she would be very exacting in +marriage. But was the lady young, Georgie?" +</p> + +<p> +The good man blushed furiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, under thirty, I should suppose, and very striking to look at. +Serena had called my attention to her already. She thought her +over-dressed. I am no judge of that, but I could see she was very +beautiful." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Georgie dear!" This in high protest. For the speaker belonged to +that section of the British public in which puritanism is even yet +deeply ingrained, with the dreary consequence that beauty, whether of +person or in art, is suspect. To admit its existence trenches on +immodesty; to speak of it openly is to skirt the edges of licence. +</p> + +<p> +George Lovegrove, however, had developed unaccustomed boldness. +</p> + +<p> +"So she was, my dear," he repeated, not squinting in the least for +once. "She was beautiful, dark and splendid, with eyes that looked +right through you, mocking and yet mournful. They made a noble couple, +she and Dominic, notwithstanding the disparity of age. As they stood +there together I felt honoured to see them both. And if Dominic +Iglesias is to have friends with whom we are unacquainted—though I do +not deny the thing hurt me a little at first—I am glad they should be +so handsome and fine. It seems to me fitting, and as if he was in his +true sphere at last." +</p> + +<p> +A silence followed this profession of faith, during which Mrs. +Lovegrove's face presented a singular study. She stared at her husband +in undisguised amazement, while the corners of her mouth and her large +soft cheeks quivered. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I should never have expected to hear you talk so, Georgie," she +said huskily. "It seems unlike you somehow, almost as though you were +despising your own flesh and blood." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," he answered, "I could never do that. I could never be so +forgetful of all I owe to my own family and to yours, Rhoda. I am under +deep obligations to both. But it would be dishonest to deny that I set +a wonderfully high value on Dominic Iglesias' regard, and have done so +ever since we were boys together at school. To me Dominic has always +stood by himself, I knowing how superior he was to me in mind and in +all else, so that it has been my truest honour and privilege to be +admitted to intimacy with him. But the difference between us never came +home to me as it did when I saw him in other company last night. He is +fitted for a higher position than he has ever filled yet—we all used +to allow that in old days at the bank—or for any society we can offer +him. So, though I felt humiliated in a measure, I felt glad. For I can +grudge him nothing in the way of new friends, even though they may be +differently placed to ourselves and should come between him and me a +little, making our intercourse less frequent and easy than in the past. +From my heart I wish him the very best that is going, although it +should be rather detrimental to myself." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lovegrove's cheeks still quivered, but the expression of her face +was unresponsive once more, not to say obstinate. Jealousy, indeed, +possessed her. For the first time in her whole experience she realised +her husband as an individual, as a human entity independent of herself. +To contemplate him otherwise than in the marital relation was a shock +to her. She felt deserted, a potential Ariadne on Naxos. Hence +jealousy, resentment, cruel hurt. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, to be sure, what a long story!" she cried, in tones approaching +sarcasm, "and all about someone who is no relation, too! Whatever +possesses you, Georgie? You aren't a bit like yourself. It seems to me +this morning everybody's bewitched." She heaved herself up out of her +chair. "I shall go and try to make it up with Serena," she continued. +"It is only Christian charity to do so; and, poor thing, I can well +understand she may have had cause enough for mortification now I have +made out what really did take place last night." +</p> + +<p> +Usually, left alone in the dining-room, George Lovegrove would have +proceeded methodically to do a number of neat little odd jobs, humming +softly the while funny, shapeless little tunes to himself in the +fulness of his guileless content. He would have piled up the fire with +small coal and dust, thus keeping it alight but saving fuel till +luncheon-time, when one skilful stir with the poker would produce a +cheerful blaze. Then he would have proceeded to the little conservatory +opening off his box of a sanctum at the back of the house—containing +his roller-top desk, his papers, Borough Council and parish reports, +his magazines, his best and second-best overcoats hung on pegs against +the wall along with his silk hat. In the conservatory, still humming, +he would have smoked his morning pipe, feeding the gold-fish in the +small square glass tank—a tiny fountain in the centre of which it +pleased him to set playing—and later carefully examining the ferns and +other pot-plants in search of green-fly, scale, or blight. But to-day +the innocent routine of his life was rudely broken up. He had no heart +for his accustomed tidy potterings, but lingered aimlessly, fingering +the gold watch-chain strained across the convex surface of his +waistcoat, sand looking pitifully enough between the lace curtains out +on to the Green. +</p> + +<p> +The sun had climbed the sky, burning up the hoarfrost and mist, so that +the houses opposite had become clearly discernible. Presently he beheld +a tall, upright figure emerge from the front door of Cedar Lodge. For a +moment Mr. Iglesias stood at the head of the flight of immaculately +white stone steps, rolling up his umbrella and putting on his gloves +preparatory to setting forth on his morning walk. And, watching him, a +wave of humility and self-depreciation swept over George Lovegrove's +gentle and candid soul, combined with an aching or regret that destiny +had not seen fit to deal with him rather otherwise than it actually +had. He felt a great longing that he, too, were possessed of a stately +presence, brains, breeding, and handsome looks. There stirred in him an +almost impassioned craving for romance, for escape from the +interminable respectabilities and domesticities of English middle-class +suburban life. He went a step further, rebelling against the feminine +atmosphere which surrounded him, in which "feelings" so constantly +usurped the place of actions, and suppositions that of fact. Then, the +vision of a beautiful woman with a strange rose-scarlet dress, in whose +eyes sorrow struggled with mocking laughter, once again assailed him. +Who she might be, and what her history, he most emphatically knew not; +yet that she breathed a keener and more tonic air than that to which he +was habituated, that feelings in her case did not stand for actions, or +suppositions for fact, he was fully convinced. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor old chappie, take a brandy and soda. Got the hump?"—this, +shrilly, from the parrot hanging head downwards from the roof of its +cage. +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of that at once unhuman and singularly confidential voice +close beside him, George Lovegrove gave a guilty start. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, the wife is quite right," he said, half aloud. "If you want to +keep a happy mind there is very much of which it is as well to be +ignorant." +</p> + +<p> +Then shame covered him, for in his recent meditations and apprehensions +had he not come very near turning traitor, and being, in imagination at +all events, subtly unfaithful to that same large kindly comfortable +wife? +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXII +</h3> + +<p> +Two months had passed, and February was about to give place to +March—two months empty of outward event for Dominic Iglesias, but big +with thought and consolidation of purpose. He had been more than ever +solitary during this period, for his acquaintance, even to the faithful +George Lovegrove, stood aloof. But Dominic hardly noticed this. Though +solitary, he had not been lonely, since his mind was absorbed in +question, in pursuit, in the consciousness of deepening conviction. For +the recognition not merely of religion, but of Christianity, as a +supreme factor in earthly existence, which had come to him in the +dreary December twilight, as, broken in health and in spirit, he gazed +upon the carven picture of Calvary, had proved no fugitive experience. +It remained by him, entracing his imagination and satisfying both his +heart and his intelligence; so that he looked back upon the hour of his +despair thankfully, seeing in it the starting-point of a journey the +prosecution of which promised not only to be the main occupation of his +remaining years here in time, but, the river of death once crossed, to +stretch onward and onward through realms, at present inconceivable, of +beauty, of knowledge, and of love. And so, for the moment, solitude was +sweet to him, leaving him free of petty cares and anxieties—he moving +forward, ignorant of the gossip which in point of fact surrounded him, +innocent of the feminine plots and counterplots of which his blameless +bachelorhood was at once the provoking cause and the object; while in +his eyes—though of this, too, he was ignorant—dwelt increasingly +reflection of that mysterious and lovely light which, let obstinately +purblind man deny it as he may, lies forever along the far horizon, for +comfort of godly wayfarers and as beacon of the elect. +</p> + +<p> +Yet it must not be supposed that the outset of Iglesias' spiritual +journey was wholly serene, free from obstacle or hesitation, from risk +of untoward selection, or rejection, of the safe way. Many roads, and +those bristling with contradictory signposts, presented themselves. +Noisy touts, each crying up his own special mode and means of +conveyance, rushed forth at every turn. +</p> + +<p> +Modern Protestantism, as he encountered it in the pages of popular +newspapers and magazines, at Mrs. Porcher's dinner-table, or in the +good Lovegroves' drawing-room, had small attraction for him, since it +appeared to advance chiefly by negations stated with rather blatant +self-sufficiency and self-conceit. It might tend to the making of +respectable municipal councillors; but, in his opinion, it was idle to +pretend that it tended to the making of saints—and for the saints, +those experts in the divine science, Iglesias confessed a weakness. Of +spirituality it showed, to his seeing, as little outward evidence as of +philosophy or of art. The phrases of piety might still be upon the lips +of its votaries; but the attitude and aspirations engendered by piety +were unfortunately dead. Its system of ethics was frankly utilitarian. +Its goal, though hidden from the simple by a maze of high-sounding +sentiment, was Rationalism pure and simple. Its god was not the creator +of the visible universe, of angels and archangels, dominions, +principalities, and powers, of incalculable natural and supernatural +forces, but a jerky loose-jointed pasteboard divinity, the exclusive +possession, since it is the exclusive invention, of the Anglo-Saxon +race, through whose gaping mouth any and every self-elected prophet was +free to shout, as heaven-descended truth, in the name of progress and +liberty, whatever political or social catchword chanced to be the +fashion of the hour. +</p> + +<p> +Nor did the neo-mystics, whose utterances are also sown broadcast in +contemporary literature and who are so lavish with their offers of +divine enlightenment, please Iglesias any better. For his mind, thanks +to his Latin ancestry, was of the logical order, while a business +training and long knowledge of affairs had taught him the value of +method, giving him an unalterable reverence for fact, and impressing +upon him the existence of law, absolute and immutable, in every +department of nature and of human activity—law, to break which is to +destroy the sequence of cause and effect, and so procure abortion. +Therefore this new school of thinkers—if one can dignify by the name +of thinkers persons of so vague and topsy-turvy a mental +habit—nourishing themselves upon the windy meat of secular and +time-exploded fallacies, upon the temple-sweepings of all the +religions, oriental and occidental, old and new, combined with +ill-attested marvels of modern physical and psychological experiment, +were far from commending themselves to his calm and patient judgment. +Such excited persons, as a slight acquaintance with history proves +beyond all question, have existed in every age; and, suffering from +chronic mental dyspepsia, have ever been liable to mistake the +rumblings of internal flatulence for the Witness of the Spirit. In +their current pronouncements Iglesias met with a wearisome passion for +paradox, and an equally wearisome disposition to hail all eccentricity +as genius, all hysteria as inspiration. While in their exaltation of +the "sub-conscious self"—namely, of those blind movements of instinct +and foreboding common to the lower animals and to savage or degenerate +man alike—as against the intellect and the reasoned action of the +will, he saw a menace to human attainment, to civilisation—in the best +meaning of that word—to right reason and noble living, which it would +be difficult to overestimate. These good people, while pouring contempt +on the body, and even denying its existence, in point of fact thought +and talked about little else. All of which struck him as not only very +tiresome and very silly, but very dangerous. Modern Protestantism might +eventuate in Rationalism, in a limiting of human endeavour exclusively +to the end of material well-being. But this worship of the +pseudo-sciences, this tinkering at the accepted foundations and +accepted decencies of the social order, this cultivation of +intellectual and moral chaos, could, for the vast majority of its +professors at all events, eventuate only in the mad-house. And to the +mad-house, whether by twentieth-century esoteric airship or occult +subway, Dominic Iglesias had not the very smallest desire to go. +</p> + +<p> +For he had no ambition to be "on time" and up-to-date, to electrify +either himself or his contemporaries by an exhibition of mental +smartness. He merely desired, earnestly yet humbly, to be given grace +to find the road—however archaic in the eyes of the modern world that +road might be—which leads to the light on the far horizon and beyond +to the presence of God. The more he meditated on these things the more +inconceivable it became to him but that this road veritably existed; +and that, not by labour of man, but by everlasting ordinance of God. It +was absurd, in face of a state of being so complex, so highly +organised, so universally subjected to law, as the one in which he +found himself, that a matter of such supreme importance as the channel +of intercourse between the soul and its Maker should have been left to +haphazard accident or blundering of lucky chance. And so, having +supplemented his researches in print, by listening to the discourses of +many teachers, from one end of London to the other in lecture-hall, +chapel, and church, having even stood among the crowds which gather +around itinerant preachers in the Park, Dominic found his thought +fixing itself with deepening assurance upon the communion in which he +had been born and baptised, which his father, in the interests of the +revolutionary propaganda, had so bitterly repudiated, and from which +his mother, broken by the tyranny of circumstance and bodily weakness, +had lapsed. +</p> + +<p> +Outside that communion he beheld only weltering seas of prejudice and +conflicting opinion, heard only the tumult of confused and acrimonious +contest. Within he beheld the calm of fearlessly wielded authority and +of loyal obedience; heard the awed silence of those who worship being +glad. For the Catholic Church, as Iglesias began to understand, is +something far greater than any triumphant example of that which can be +attained by cooperation and organisation. It is not an organisation, +but an organism; a Living Being, perfectly proportioned, with inherent +powers of development and growth; ever-existent in the Divine Mind +before Time was; recipient and guardian of the deepest secrets, the +most sacred mysteries of existence; endlessly adaptable to changing +conditions yet immutably the same. Hence it is that Catholicism +presents no questionable historic pedigree and speaks with no uncertain +voice. Claiming not only to know the road the soul must tread would it +reach the far horizon, but to be the appointed warden of that same road +and sustainer of it, she points with proud confidence to the vast +multitude which, under her guidance, has joyfully trodden it—a +multitude as diverse in gifts and estate, as in age and race—as proof +of the authenticity of her mission to the toiling and sorrowful +children of men. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, since unconditional surrender must ever strike a pretty shrewd +blow at the roots both of personal pride and worldly caution, Dominic +Iglesias hesitated to take the final step and declare himself. To one +who has long lived outside the creeds, and that not ungodly, still less +bestially, it is no light matter to subject attitude of mind and daily +habit to distinct rule. Not only does the natural man rebel against the +apparent limiting of his personal freedom, but the conventional and +sophisticated man fears lest agreement should, after all, spell +weakness, while indifferentism—specially in outward +observances—argues strength. A certain shyness, moreover, withheld +Iglesias, a not unadmirable dread of being guilty of ostentation. It +was so little his custom to obtrude himself, his opinions, and his +needs upon the attention of others, that he was scrupulous and +diffident in the selection of time and place. The affair, however, +decided itself, as affairs usually do when the intention of those +undertaking them is a sincere one—and thus. +</p> + +<p> +The tide of war had begun to turn. Earlier in the week had come the +news of General Cronje's surrender, after the three days' shelling of +his laager at Paardeberg. Hence satisfaction, not only of victory but +of compassion, since a sense of horror had weighed on the hearts of +even the least sentimental at thought of the stubborn thousands, penned +in that flaming rat-trap of the dry river-bed, ringed about by +sun-baked rock and sand and death-belching guns. To-day came news of +the relief of long-beleaguered Ladysmith, and London was shaken by +emotion, under the bleak moisture-laden March sky, the air thick with +the clash of joy-bells, buildings gay with riotous outbreak of +many-coloured flags, the streets vibrant with the tread and voices of +surging crowds. +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias, who early that afternoon had walked Citywards to see the +holiday aspect of the town and glean the latest war news, growing +somewhat weary on his homeward journey of the humours of his +fellow-citizens—which became beery and boisterous as the day drew +on—turned in at the open gates of the Oratory, in passing along the +Brompton Road. His purpose was to gain a little breathing space from +the jostling throng, by standing at the head of the steps under the +wide portico of the great church. Looking westward, above the wedge of +mean and ill-assorted houses that marks the junction of the Fulham and +the Cromwell Roads—the muddy pavements of which, far as the eye +carried, were black with people—the yellowish glare of a pallid sunset +spread itself across the leaden dulness of the sky. The wan and sickly +light touched the architrave and columns of the facade of the great +church, bringing this and the statue of the Blessed Virgin which +surmounts it into a strange and phantasmal relief—a building not +material and of this world, but rather of a city of dreams. To Iglesias +it appeared as though there was an element of menace in that cold and +melancholy reflection of the sunset. It produced in him a sense of +insecurity and distrust, which the roar of the traffic and horseplay of +the crowd were powerless to counteract. London, the monstrous mother, +in this hour of her rejoicing showed singularly unattractive. Her +features were grimed with soot, her dull-hued garments foul with slush, +her gestures were common, her laughter coarse. His soul revolted from +the sight and sound of her; revolted against the fate which had bound +him so closely to her in the past, and which bound him still. The +spirit of her infected even the sky above her, painting it with the sad +colours of perplexity and doubt. He stepped farther back under the +portico, moved by desire to escape from the too insistent thought and +spectacle of her. Doing so, he became aware of music reaching him +faintly from behind the closed doors of the church, fine yet sonorous +harmonies supporting the radiant clarity of a boy's voice. +</p> + +<p> +Then Iglesias understood that he was presented here and immediately +with the moment of final choice. Delay was dishonourable, since it was +nothing less than a shirking of the obligations which his convictions +had created. So there, on the one hand—for so the whole matter +pictured itself to his seeing—was London, the type, as she is in fact +the capital, of the modern world—of its ambitions, material and +social, of its activities, of its amazing association of pleasure and +misery, of the rankest poverty and most plethoric wealth—at once +formless, sprawling, ugly, vicious, while magnificent in intelligence, +in vitality, in display, as in actual area and bulk. On the other hand, +and in the eyes of the majority phantasmal as a city of dreams, was +Holy Church, austere, restrictive, demanding much yet promising little +save clean hands and a pure heart, until the long and difficult road is +traversed which—as she declares—leads to the light on the far horizon +and beyond to the presence of God. +</p> + +<p> +"If one could be certain of that last, then all would be simple and +easy," Iglesias said to himself, looking out over the turbulence of the +streets to the pallid menace of the western sky. "But it is in the +nature of things, that one cannot be certain. Certainty, whether for +good or evil, can only come after the event. One must take the risk. +And the risk is great, almost appallingly great." +</p> + +<p> +For just then there awoke and cried in him all the repressed and +frustrated pride of a man's life—lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes, +overweening ambition of power and place, of cruelty even, of gross +licence and debauch. For the moment he ceased to be an individual, +limited by time and circumstances, and became, in desire, the possessor +of the passions and reckless curiosity of the whole human race. So +that, in imagination he suffered unexampled temptations; and, in +resisting them, flung aside unexampled allurements of grandeur and +conceivable delight. Not what actually was, or ever had been, possible +to and for him, Dominic Iglesias, bank-clerk, assailed him with +provocative vision and voice; but the whole pageant of earthly being, +and the inebriation of it. Nothing less than this did he behold, and +drink of, and, in spirit, repudiate and put away forever, as at last he +pulled open the heavy swing doors and passed into the church. +</p> + +<p> +Within all was dim, mist and incense smoke obscuring the roof of the +great dome, the figures of the kneeling congregation far below showing +small and dark. Only the high altar was ablaze with many lights, in the +centre of which, high-uplifted, encircled by the golden rays of the +monstrance, pale, mysterious, pearl of incalculable price, showed the +immaculate Host. +</p> + +<p> +Quietly yet fearlessly, as one who comes by long-established right, +Dominic walked the length of the nave, knelt devoutly on both knees, +prostrating himself as, long ago, in the days of early childhood his +mother had taught him to do at the Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament. +Now, after all these years—and a sob rose in his throat—he seemed to +feel her hand upon his shoulder, the gentle pressure of which enjoined +deepest reverence. Then rising, he took his place in the second row of +seats on the gospel side, and remained there, through the concluding +acts of the ceremonial, until the silent congregation suddenly finds +voice—penetrated by austere emotion—in recitation of the Divine +Praises. +</p> + +<p> +Some minutes later he knelt in the confessional, laying bare the +secrets of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Thus did Dominic Iglesias cast off the bondage of that monstrous +mother, London-town, cast off the terror of those unbidden companions, +Loneliness and Old Age, using and, taking the risks, humbly reconcile +himself to Holy Church. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIII +</h3> + +<p> +Good George Lovegrove wandered solitary in Kensington Gardens. He had +chosen the lower path running parallel with Kensington Gore, which +leads, between flowerborders and thickset belts of shrubbery, from the +Broad Walk to the railings enclosing the open space around the Albert +Memorial. This path, being sheltered and furnished with many green +garden seats, is specially nurse and baby haunted, and it was to see +the babies, whether sturdily on foot or seated in their little +carriages, that George Lovegrove had come hither, being sad. Thrushes +sang lustily from the treetops. The flowerborders grew resplendent with +polyanthus, crocus yellow, purple, and white, with early daffodils, and +the heaven blue of <i>scilla sibirica</i>. Above, here and there a froth of +almond or cherry blossom overspread the dark twigs and branches, while +a ruddiness of burgeoning buds flushed the great elms. But babies of +position, looking like tiny pink-faced polar bears, still wore their +long leggings and white furs, the March wind being treacherous. They +galloped, trumpeting, the clean air and merry sunshine going to their +heads in the most inebriating fashion. It was early, moreover, so that +they were full of the energy of a good night's sleep, of breakfast, and +of comfortable nursery warmth. And George Lovegrove stepped among them +carefully, watching their gambols moist-eyed, nervously anxious lest +his quaintly solid figure should obstruct the erratic progress of +toy-horse, or hoop, or ball. He craved for notice, for even the veriest +scrap of friendly recognition, yet was too diffident to attempt any +direct intercourse with these delectable small personages, who, on +their part, were royally indifferent to his existence so long as he did +not get in their way. This he clearly perceived, yet for it bore them +no ill-will, preferring, as does every truly devout lover, to worship +the beloved from a respectful distance rather than not worship at all. +</p> + +<p> +And it was thus, even as a large and dusky elephant picking its way +very gently through a flock of skippeting and lively lambs, that Mr. +Iglesias, entering the sheltered walk from the far end, first caught +sight of him. To Dominic, it must be admitted, babies, song-birds, +burgeoning buds and blossoms, alike presented themselves as but +elements in the setting of the outward scene—a scene sweet enough had +one leisure to contemplate it, touched by the genial vernal influence, +witness to nature's undying youth. But his appreciation of that +sweetness was just now cursory and indirect. His thought was absorbed +and eager, penetrated by apprehension of matters lying above and beyond +the range of ordinary human speech. For he was in that exalted interval +of a many hours' fast when the spiritual intelligence is wholly alive +and awake, the body becoming but the vesture of the soul—a vesture +without impediment or weight, a beautifully negligible quantity in the +general scheme of existence. Later reaction sets in. The claims of the +body become dominant; and the exalted moment is too often paid for +sorrowfully enough in sluggish brain and irritated nerves. Dominic, +however, had not reached that stage of the tragi-comedy of the marriage +of flesh and spirit. He was happy, with the white unearthly happiness +of those who have been admitted to the Sacred Mysteries. And it was not +without a sense of shock, as of rough descent to common things, of pity +and of regret, that he recognised good George Lovegrove cruising thus, +elephantine, among the roystering babes. Then Iglesias checked himself +sternly. To humble themselves, remembering their own great +unworthiness, to come down from the Mount of Transfiguration to the +dwellers in the plain, and be gentle and human towards them—this +surely is the primary duty of those who have assisted at the Divine +Sacrament? And so Iglesias went forward and hailed his old +school-fellow in all tenderness and friendship, causing the latter to +raise his eyes from pathetic contemplation of those charming but wholly +self-absorbed small human animals, and look up. +</p> + +<p> +"Dominic!" he cried. "Well, to be sure, you do surprise me. Who would +have expected to meet you out at this hour of the morning? I do +congratulate myself. I am pleased," he said. His honest face beamed, +his fresh colour deepened. As a girl at the unlooked-for advent of her +lover, he grew confused and shy. And Iglesias warmed towards him. +Whimsical in appearance, simple-minded, not greatly skilled in any sort +of learning, yet he had a heart of gold—about that there could be no +manner of doubt. +</p> + +<p> +"Turn back then, and let us walk together," Iglesias said +affectionately. "It is a long while since we have had a quiet +talk—that is, of course, if you have no particular business which +calls you to town." +</p> + +<p> +"I have no business of any description," he answered. "And between +ourselves, Dominic, since I lost my seat on the borough council, I have +had too much time on my hands, I think. It is beginning to be quite a +trouble with me." +</p> + +<p> +"Is life too softly padded, too dead-level easy and comfortable?" +Iglesias inquired. "Are you beginning to quarrel a little with your +blessings?" +</p> + +<p> +George Lovegrove became very serious. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said, "I am afraid you are right. As usual you have laid your +finger on the spot. I do reproach myself for unthankfulness often. I +know I have a good home, and everything decent and respectable about +me; more so, indeed, than a man in my position has any right to expect. +And yet I regret the old days in the city, Dominic, that I do. I should +enjoy to be back at my old desk at the bank—just the little snap of +anxiety in the morning as to whether one would catch the 'bus; the long +ride through the streets with one's morning paper; the turning out with +the other clerks—good fellows all of them, on the whole, were they +not?—to get a snack of lunch. And then the coming home at night, with +some trifling present or dainty to please the wife; and a look round +the greenhouse and garden afterwards in your lounge suit; and hearing +and retailing all the day's news, and talking of the good time coming +when you would retire and be quite the independent gentleman; and the +half-day on Saturday, too, taking some nice little outing to Richmond +or Kew, or an exhibition or something of the sort, and then the +Sunday's rest." +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated and sighed, looking wistfully at the white-clad babies. +</p> + +<p> +"If one had two or three of those little people of one's own it might +be very different—though I would never breathe a word of such a +thought to the wife. Females are so easily upset; and if it raises +regrets in us men, it must be much more trying for them, poor things, +to be childless. But where was I? Yes, well now the good time has +come—and I feel a criminal in saying so, but it appears to me to be +growing stale already, Dominic. It was better in anticipation than in +fact. I am an ungrateful fellow, that I am, I know it; but sometimes I +am inclined to ask myself whether all the things we set such fond hopes +on are not like that." +</p> + +<p> +"No, not all," Iglesias answered, with a certain subdued enthusiasm. +"There are things—a few—which never grow stale. One may build on them +as on a foundation of rock. If they ever seem to fail us, to be shaken +and overthrown, it is an evil delusion, and the cause lies not in them +but in ourselves. It is we who fail, who are shaken and overthrown +through palsied will and feebleness of faith. They remain forever +inviolate." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose so," the other man said timidly. He was unused to such +vehemence of assertion on the part of his friend. He wondered to what +it could refer. His thought, carrying back to the evening at the +theatre, played around visions of distinguished amours. Then he +steadied himself to heroic resolve. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose it is," he repeated, "and that makes my conduct appear all +the more discreditable to me. My circumstances are too comfortable and +easy. It is just that. And so I take to fretting over trifles and +seeing slights and unkindness where none were intended." He looked up +at Iglesias, his squinting eyes full of apology and admiration. "Yes, I +am sadly poor-spirited and I have no excuse. I have been nursing a +sense of injury towards those to whom I have most occasion for +gratitude—the wife and you. Dominic, believe me I am heartily ashamed +of myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come," Iglesias answered, brought very much back to earth, yet +touched and softened. "My dear friend, you of all men have small cause +for self-reproach. In every relation of life—and our knowledge of one +another dates back to early youth—I have found you perfect in loyalty +and unselfish kindness." +</p> + +<p> +George Lovegrove walked on for a moment in silence. He had to clear his +throat once or twice before he could command his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Praise from you is very encouraging," he managed to say at last. "But +I am afraid I do not deserve it. I have felt mortified lately +sometimes, and I am afraid envious. I—but after your last words I am +more than ever ashamed to own it—I have fancied that you were becoming +distant and that an estrangement was growing up between us. Of course I +have always understood, though we happened to be school-fellows and in +the same employment afterward, that your position and mine were +different. And I want you to know that I would never be a clog on you, +Dominic"—he spoke with an admirably simple dignity—"believe me, I +never would be that. Lately I have been troubled by the thought that I +had extracted a promise from you to remain at Trimmer's Green. Now I +beg of you most earnestly not to let that promise, given in a moment of +generous indulgence, weigh with you in the slightest, if circumstances +have arisen which point at your residing in a more fashionable part of +the town." +</p> + +<p> +"But why should I want to go to a more fashionable part of London?" +Iglesias asked, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you see," the other returned, his face growing furiously red, +"it came to my knowledge, unexpectedly, that you have acquaintances in +quite another walk of life to ours—the wife's and mine, I mean. And it +would pain me deeply, very deeply, Dominic, that any promise given to +me, regarding your place of residence, should stand between you and +mixing as freely with those acquaintances as you might otherwise do." +</p> + +<p> +They had come to the place where the sheltered pathway is crossed by +the Broad Walk—the upward trend of which showed blond, in the +sunshine, against the brilliant green of the grass and the dark boles +of the great trees bordering it. Here Iglesias paused. He was not +altogether pleased. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not quite follow you," he said coldly. Then looking at the +guileless and faithful being beside him, he softened once more. Was it +not only more just, but more honourable, to treat this matter with +candour? "You are alluding to the lady who was good enough to send for +me the night you and Miss Lovegrove went with me to the play?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," the excellent George assented in a strangled voice. He wanted to +know badly. He was agonised by fear of having committed an indiscretion +offensive to his idol. +</p> + +<p> +"Set your mind quite at rest on that point then, my dear friend. Her +world is not my world and never will be. In it I should be very much +out of place." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias moved forward again, crossing the Broad Walk and making +towards the small iron gate, at the lower corner of the Gardens, which +opens on to Kensington High Street. But he walked slowly, becoming +conscious that he grew tired and spent. The glory of the spirit +dominant was departing, the tyranny of the body dominant beginning to +reassert itself. His features contracted slightly. He felt +unreasoningly sad. +</p> + +<p> +George Lovegrove walked beside him in silence, his eyes downcast, his +heart stirred by vague tumultuous sympathy, his modest nature at once +inflamed and abashed, recognising in his companion the hero of an +exalted and tragic romance. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, he looks it. It suits his character and appearance," he said to +himself, adding aloud—for the very life of him he could not help +it—"But she was very beautiful, Dominic." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Iglesias answered, "she is beautiful and very clever and—very +unhappy." +</p> + +<p> +The good George's heart positively thumped against his ribs. "And to +think of all the plans the wife and I have been making!" he said to +himself. +</p> + +<p> +"If she wants me, she will send for me," Iglesias continued quietly, +"and I shall go to her at once, as I went that evening, without +hesitation or delay, wherever she may be. But," he added, "it becomes +increasingly improbable that she will send for me. I have not seen her +or heard from her since that night. And so, my dear friend, you +perceive that your kindly fears of having circumscribed my liberty of +choice in respect of a place of residence are quite unfounded. I have +no reason for leaving Cedar Lodge or altering my accustomed habits." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias smiled affectionately, as dismissing the whole matter. +</p> + +<p> +"And now," he continued, "that little misunderstanding being cleared +up, will you mind my turning into the restaurant just here, in High +Street, for a cup of coffee and a roll? I have not breakfasted yet." +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon George Lovegrove pranced before him, incoherent in kindly +remonstrance and advice. +</p> + +<p> +"At 11 A. M., and after your severe indisposition at Christmas, too, +out walking on an empty stomach! It is positively suicidal. Where have +you been to?" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +"To Mass," Iglesias answered, still smiling, though with something of a +fighting light in his eyes and a lift of his head. +</p> + +<p> +His companion stared at him in blank amazement. +</p> + +<p> +"To what?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +"To Mass," Iglesias repeated. "I have been waiting for a suitable +opportunity to speak to you of this, George. I, too, have felt the +weight of enforced leisure. It has not been a particularly cheerful +experience; but it has given me time to read, and still more to think, +with the consequence that I have returned to the faith of my childhood. +I have made my peace with the Church." +</p> + +<p> +They continued to walk slowly onward; but George Lovegrove drew away to +the further side of the path as though contact might be dangerous, as +though infection was hanging about. He kept his eyes averted, his head +bent. +</p> + +<p> +"You do surprise me," he said at last. "I had not the slightest inkling +that you were contemplating such a step. I give you my word, you have +fairly taken away my breath. I do not seem to be able to grasp it, that +you, whom I have always looked up to as so mentally superior, so +independent in your thought, should have become a Romanist—for that is +your meaning, I take it, Dominic?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is my meaning," Iglesias answered. +</p> + +<p> +"You do surprise me," George Lovegrove said again presently, and in a +lamentable voice. "My mind refuses to grasp it. I would rather have +lost five hundred pounds than have heard this. I declare I am fairly +unmanned. I have never received a greater shock." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias remained silent. He was weary and sad. But he straightened +himself, trying to keep his gaze fixed steadily upon the far horizon +where dwells the everlasting light. +</p> + +<p> +"It is presumptuous in me to criticise your action, perhaps," his +companion continued. "I never did such a thing before, having always +hesitated to set up my views against yours; but I cannot but fear you +have made a sad mistake. And if you were contemplating any change of +this kind, why did you not come into our own national English Church?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very much because it is English and national, I think," he answered. +"In my opinion there is an inherent falsity of conception in subjecting +our approach to the Absolute to restrictions imposed by country or by +race, if these can, by any means, be avoided. Why hamper yourself with +a late, expurgated, and mutilated edition, when the original, in all +its splendour and historic completeness, bearing the sign-manual of the +Author, is there ready to your hand?" +</p> + +<p> +Again Iglesias spoke with subdued but unmistakable enthusiasm. The two +friends had just reached the iron gate leading into High Street. Here +George Lovegrove stopped. He still kept carefully at a distance, +averting his eyes as from some distressing, even disgraceful, sight, +while his good honest face worked with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"I think if you will kindly excuse me, I will go no farther," he +faltered. "What you say may be true—I am sure I don't know. It is all +beyond me. But I should prefer not to talk any more about it until I +have accustomed myself to the thought of this change in you. Nothing +does come between people like religion," he added with unconscious +irony. "So I think, if you will kindly excuse me, I will just go away, +Dominic." +</p> + +<p> +And, without more ado, he turned back into the Gardens. +</p> + +<p> +The small polar bears, meanwhile, satiated with exercise, air, and +light, had begun to grow restive and fretty. Their stomachs cried +cupboardwards, and they were disposed to filch each other's toy horses +and hoops, and use each other's small persons as targets for balls, +thrown as bombs in a fashion far from polite. Anxious maids and nurses +hunted them homewards, not without slight asperity on the one part, on +the other occasional squealings and free fights. But upon the babies, +engaging even in naughtiness, George Lovegrove had ceased to bestow any +attention. He went forward blindly, cruising among them and their +attendants and smart little carriages, elephantine, careless where he +placed his feet, to the obstruction of traffic and heightening of +general annoyance, as sorrowful a man as any would need to meet. For it +seemed to him things had gone wrong, just then, past all hope of +setting right. His idol, light of his eyes and joy of his guileless +heart, has fallen from his high estate, discovering capacity of playing +the most discreditable and soul-harrowing pranks. Prejudice is +myriad-lived here on earth; and in George Lovegrove all the bigotry, +all the semi-superstitious, terror fostered by the accumulated +ignorance which generations of Protestant forefathers have bequeathed +to the English middle-class, reared itself, not only stubborn, but +militant. His thought travelled back to those barbarities of rougher +ages which are, in point of fact, more common to the secular than to +the religious criminal code; but which Protestant teachers, even yet, +find it convenient to put down wholly to the account of the Catholic +Church. Practically ignorant of the spoliation and persecution +practised under Henry the Eighth—of blessed domestic memory—of the +further persecution which disfigured the "spacious days of great +Elizabeth," not to mention the long and shameful history of the Penal +Laws, he fixed his mind upon lurid legends of the reign of unhappy Mary +Tudor, illustrated by prints in Fox's Book of Martyrs; upon +inquisitorial tortures, the very thought of which—even out of doors in +the pleasant spring sunshine—made him break into a heavy sweat, and +which, by some grotesque perversion of ideas, he believed to be not +only the necessary outcome of, but vitally essential to, the practice +of the Faith. Against this hideous background he set the calm and +stately figure of his beloved friend Iglesias—seeing him no longer as +the faithful comrade of more than half a lifetime, but as a foreign +being, an unknown quantity, a worshipper of graven images, a +participant in blasphemous rites, a believer, in short, in just all +that which sound, respectable, and godly British common sense cast +forth, with scorn and contumely, close on four centuries back. He was +frightened. His everyday, comfortable, jog-trot, little odd and end of +a local parochial suburban middle-class world was literally turned +upside down and inside out. +</p> + +<p> +"And however will the wife take it—however will she take it?" he +mourned to himself. "To think we have been harbouring a Papist in +disguise! I dare not contemplate her feelings. She will be upset. I +must keep it from her as long as possible. And Serena, too, and Susan! +I don't know how I can face them. Females are so very eloquent when put +out. Of course I have known there was something wrong for a long time +past. I saw there was a change in him, and felt there was some cause of +coldness; but it never entered my head it could be as bad as this. Oh! +my poor, dear friend. Oh! my poor Dominic, perhaps I have been +overattached to you and this comes as a judgment. It would be hard +enough to have anything break up our friendship, but this folly, this +dreadful doting apostasy—" +</p> + +<p> +He walked on blindly along the sheltered path between the +flower-borders, deaf to remonstrant nurses and scornful, beautiful +babes clothed in spotless white. +</p> + +<p> +"If anything must come between us I would rather it was a woman," he +mourned, "ten thousand times rather, whoever and whatever she was, than +this." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIV +</h3> + +<p> +It happened on the afternoon of that same day that Eliza Hart, in +pursuance of her domestic avocations, had occasion to go into Mr. +Farge's room on the first floor to lay out a new coverlet on his bed. +When, as thus, compelled to enter the apartments of either of the +gentlemen guests of the establishment it was her practice to leave the +door half open, as a concession to propriety in the abstract and a +testimony to her own discretion in the concrete. The handsome mahogany +doors of Cedar Lodge, unhappily painted white by some vandal of a +former inhabitant, being heavy were hung on a rising hinge. Hence, when +half open, a space of some three inches was left between the back of +the door and the jamb, through which it was easy to get a good view of +the hall or the landing unobserved. Little Mr. Farge professed a warm +predilection for gay colours, and Eliza had selected the new bedspread +with an eye to this fact. It was of bright raspberry-red cotton twill, +enriched with a broad printed border in a flowing design of +lemon-yellow tulips and bottle-green leaves. The salesman, in +exhibiting it to her, had described it as "very chaste and pleasing." +Eliza herself qualified it as "tasty"; and had just disposed it, much +to her own satisfaction, upon the young man's bed, when her attention +was arrested by the tones of an unknown feminine voice in the hall +below. Shortly afterwards she heard Frederick, the valet's large +footsteps hurtling upstairs at a double, followed by a prolonged and +leisurely whispering of silken skirts. Here, clearly, was a matter into +which, for the reputation of Cedar Lodge, it was desirable to look +without delay. Eliza, therefore, moved to the near side of the door, +and, through the three-inch aperture afforded by the rising hinge, +raked the landing with a vigilant eye. +</p> + +<p> +The door of Mr. Iglesias's sitting-room immediately opposite stood +open. In the doorway Frederick indulged in explanatory gesticulation. +While, slowly ascending the last treads of the stairs, was a lady of +unmistakable elegance, arrayed in a large black hat with drooping +plumes to it, a sable cape—the price of which, Eliza felt assured, ran +easily into three figures—and a black cloth dress in the cut of which +she read the last word of contemporary fashion. Arrived at the +stair-head the intruder stood still, calmly surveying her surroundings, +presenting, as she turned her head, a pale face, very red lips, and +eyes—so at least it appeared to the vigilant orbs of Eliza—quite +immodestly large and lustrous, melancholy and somehow extremely +impertinent, too. Then Mr. Iglesias emerged from his sitting-room, an +expression upon his countenance which startled Eliza. She very +certainly had never seen it before. For a moment the lady looked up at +him, as though silently asking some question. Then she patted him +lightly upon the back, and passed into the sitting-room hand in hand +with him, while Frederick with his best flourish closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, of all the things!" cried Eliza, half aloud; and, oblivious both +of discretion and of the new raspberry-red cotton twill coverlet, she +backed, and sat, plump, upon the edge of the bed. Just then, as she +asserted in subsequently recounting this remarkable incident, you might +have knocked her down with a feather. +</p> + +<p> +"Of all the things!" she repeated, after an interval of breathless +amazement. "And how long has this been going on, I should like to know? +So that is the reason of a certain gentleman's iciness, and his +stand-offish high-mightiness. Well, I never! And poor darling Peachie, +so trustful and confiding all the time; not that she need fear +comparison with anybody.—Bah! the serpent." +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless she was deeply impressed, and fell into a vein of furious +speculation as to who this unlooked-for smart lady might be. Then, +suddenly remembering the highly compromising nature of her own existing +position sitting not only in the lively little Farge's bed-chamber, but +actually upon his bed, she rose with embarrassment and haste, and made +her way downstairs to the offices—treading circumspectly in dread of +creaking boards—to interview Frederick. But from that functionary she +obtained scant information. +</p> + +<p> +"Zee lady she ask for Mr. Iglesias. I tell her I go to find him. I put +her in zee drawing-room." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite right, Frederick,"—this encouragingly from Eliza. +</p> + +<p> +"But she no stay zere. She come again out quick. She not any name, not +any visiting card give; only write somezing, very fast, on a piece of +paper and screw it togezzer. Zen she not wait till I return, but behind +me upstairs chase." +</p> + +<p> +So there was nothing for it, as the great Eliza perceived, but to +retire to the drawing-room, and—Mrs. Porcher happened to be out—note +the hour and, with the door discreetly half open, await the descent of +the intruder from the floor above. +</p> + +<p> +"I can just catch darling Peachie, too," she said to herself, "and draw +her aside. To meet such a person unexpectedly, on the stairs or in the +hall, would be enough to make her turn quite faint." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXV +</h3> + +<p> +Poppy St. John laid her hands lightly on Mr. Iglesias' shoulders and +smiled at him. She looked very young, yet very worn; and the corners of +her mouth shook. +</p> + +<p> +"If you were anybody else," she said, "I believe I should give you a +kiss. But I am not going to, so don't be nervous, dear man. I'll be +perfectly correct, I promise you—only I had to come. I have been good, +absolutely tiptop beastly good, I tell you. I have washed the slate. It +is as clean as a vacuum, as the inside of an exhausted receiver. And I +feel as dull as empty space before the creation got started." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy shivered a little, putting one hand over her eyes, and resting +her head with its great black hat and sweeping plumes against Mr. +Iglesias' chest. And Iglesias quietly put his arm round her, supporting +her. The day had been full of experiences. This last, though of a +notably different complexion to the rest, promised to be by no means +the least searching and surprising. Iglesias steadied himself to take +it quite calmly, in his stride; yet his jaw grew rigid and his face +blanched in dread of that which might be coming. +</p> + +<p> +"I have sent Alaric Barking about his business," Poppy continued +hoarsely. "Sent him back to his soldiering, helped to cart him off to +that rotten hole, South Africa. He is a smart officer, and he'll make a +name, if he don't get shot. And he won't get shot—I should feel it in +my bones if he was going to, and I don't feel it. I broke with him more +than a month ago. But I had to see him again to say good-bye, this +morning, before he sailed." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy moved a step or two away, turning her back on Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"And it hurt a jolly lot more than I expected. I don't suppose I am in +love"—she looked around inquiringly at him, as though expecting him to +solve the complicated problem of her affections. "It's not likely at +this time of day, is it? But I was fonder of Alaric than I quite knew. +He is a good sort, and we have had some ripping times together. He had +become a sort of habit, you know; and when you have knocked about a +lot, as I have, you get rather sick at the notion of any change." +</p> + +<p> +She stood, looking down, leisurely unbuttoning and pulling off her long +gloves. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know that I should have made up my mind to sack him in the +end, but that I wanted to please Fallowfeild." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias became very tall. His expression was hard, his eyes +alight. This the lady noted. She returned and patted him gently on the +back again. +</p> + +<p> +"There, there, don't sail off on a wrong tack, my beloved fire-eater. +Fallowfeild was quite right. The game was up, really it was; and he +wanted me to walk out, like the gentlemanlike dog, so as to avoid being +kicked out. I always knew the break was bound to come some time; and +it's a long sight pleasanter to break than to be broken with, don't you +think so?—You see, Alaric has formed a virtuous attachment." Poppy's +lips took a cynical twist. "It was time, high time, he should, if he +meant to go in for that line of business at all. The young lady is a +niece of Fallowfeild's—a pretty little girl, really quite pretty—I +saw her that night we were both at the play—all new, and pink and +white, and well-bred, and <i>ingénue</i>, and in every respect perfectly +suitable." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy looked mutinously, even mischievously, at Dominic Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor, dear old Alaric," she said. "I don't quarrel with him. His elder +brother's no children, and there are pots and pots of money. That he +should want to marry, and that his people should press it on him, is +perfectly natural, and obvious, and proper." +</p> + +<p> +"But," Dominic asked fiercely, "if this young man, Captain Barking, +proposes to marry, why has he not married you—always supposing you +were willing to entertain his suit?" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy flung her long gloves upon the table, unhooked her sable cape and +sent it flying to join them. +</p> + +<p> +"Pou-ah! I'm hot!" she exclaimed. "I think I'll sit down, if you have +no objection. Yes, that chair, thanks—it looks excellently +comfortable. By the way, you've got an uncommonly nice lot of things in +this room. I am going to make a tour of inspection presently. It +pleases me frightfully to see where you live and look at your +possessions." She stared absently at the furniture and pictures.—"But +about my marrying Alaric Barking," she continued. "Well, you see—you +see, dear man, there is an inconvenient little impediment in the shape +of a husband." +</p> + +<p> +As she finished speaking Poppy folded her hands in her lap. She sat +perfectly still, her lips pressed together, watching Mr. Iglesias over +her shoulder but without turning her head. He had crossed the room and +stood at one of the tall narrow windows, looking out into the bright +windy afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +For here it was in plain English, at last, that underlying secret thing +which he had known yet dreaded to know. It begot in him an immense +regret and inevitable repulsion at admitted wrongdoing. He made no +attempt to juggle with the meaning of her words. Yet, along with them, +came a feeling of gladness that Poppy St. John would remain Poppy St. +John still; and a movement of hope—intimate and very tender—since in +this tragic hour of her history she had come directly to him, asking +comfort and sympathy. Dominic, cut to the quick by the defection of the +heretofore ever-faithful George Lovegrove, hailed with a peculiar +thankfulness this mark of confidence and trust. Sinful, greatly erring, +still the Lady of the Windswept Dust had returned to him; and thereat +he soberly, yet very deeply, rejoiced. In truth, the sharp-edged breath +of persecution he had encountered this morning, while paining him, had +braced him to high endeavour. The Catholic Church, so he argued, must +indeed be a mighty and living power since men fear her so much. And +this power he felt to be behind him, sustaining him, inciting him to +noble undertakings—he strong in virtue of her strength, fearless +through the courage of her saints, able with the energy of their +accumulated merit and their prayers. Again, as on his way home that +morning from hearing Mass, the spirit was dominant, his whole nature +and outlook purified and exalted by the Divine Indwelling. To fail any +human creature calling on him for help would be contemptible, and even +dastardly, in one blessed as he himself was. Thus his relation to Poppy +St. John fell into line. He could afford to love and serve her well, +since he loved and purposed, in all things, to serve Almighty God best. +</p> + +<p> +These meditations occupied but a few moments, yet Poppy's patience ran +short. +</p> + +<p> +"Dominic Iglesias," she cried suddenly, sharply, "I am tired of +waiting." +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the room and stood in front of her, serious but light of +heart. +</p> + +<p> +"See here, it is all right between us?" she asked imperatively. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, all is perfectly right between us," he answered. "Your coming +gives me the measure of your faith in me. I am grateful and I am very +glad." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" Poppy said softly. +</p> + +<p> +She sat forward in her chair, making herself small, patting her hands +together, palm to palm, between her knees, and swaying a little as she +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"You see," she went on, "to be quite honest, I didn't break with Alaric +simply to enable him to marry and live happy ever after. Nor did I do +it exclusively to please Fallowfeild. It would take a greater fool than +I am to be as altruistic as all that. I always like to have my run for +my money. I—I did it more to get you back." +</p> + +<p> +She paused and raised her head, looking full at him. +</p> + +<p> +"And I have got you back?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered, smiling. "I ask nothing better than to come back." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean that you are prepared to take everything on trust—after +what I have just told you—without wanting explanations?" +</p> + +<p> +"Friendship has no need of explanations," Iglesias said, with a touch +of grandeur—"that is, as I understand friendship. It accepts what is +given without question, or cavilling as to much or to little, leaving +the giver altogether free. Friendship, as I understand it, should have +honourable reticences, not only of speech but of thought; wise +economies of proffered sympathy. In its desire of service it should +never approach too near or say the word too much; since, if it is to +flourish and obtain the grace of continuance, it must be rooted in +reverence for the individuality of the person dear to it. This is my +belief." His bearing was courtly, his expression very gentle. +"Therefore rest assured that whatever confidence you repose in me is +sacred. Whatever confidence you withhold from me is sacred likewise." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy mused a little, a smile on her lips and an enigmatic look in her +singular eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You're beautiful, dear man," she murmured. "You're very beautiful. +You're worth chucking the devil over for; but you'll take a jolly lot +of living up to. So see here, you're bound to look me up pretty +constantly just at first, for I tell you life is not going to be +exactly a toy-shop for me for some little time to come. You hear? You +promise?" +</p> + +<p> +"I promise," Iglesias returned. +</p> + +<p> +"And there's another thing," she continued rather proudly, "a thing men +too often blunder over—with the very best intentions, bless them, only +they do blunder, and that leads to ructions. Please put the question of +money out of your head once and for all. I have a certain amount of my +own, nothing princely well understood, but quite possible to live on. +It was to prevent his playing ducks and drakes with it that I finally +left the jackal of a fellow whom I married. Well, I have that, and I +have made a little more, one way and another."—Poppy permitted herself +a wicked grimace.—"Poor old Alaric used to tell me I was a great +financier wasted, that I should have been invaluable as partner in +their family banking concern—that's more than he'll ever be, poor +chap, unless marriage makes pretty sweeping changes in him. Some of my +sources of income naturally are cut off through the cleaning of the +slate. For I have been tiptop beastly good—indeed I have, as I told +you! No more cards, and oh dear, no more racing. But no doubt +Cappadocia will contribute in the way of puppies. <i>Noblesse +oblige</i>—she realises her duty towards posterity, does Cappadocia. So I +shall scrape along quite tidily. And then, as long as I keep my voice +and my figure, at a push there's always my profession.—You hadn't +arrived at the fact that I had a profession? Such is fame, dear man, +such is fame. Why, I started as a child-actress at thirteen; and went +on till the jackal made that impossible, like virtue, and self-respect, +and a decent home, and a few kindred trifles in favour of which every +clean-minded woman has, after all, a strongish prejudice." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's voice shook. She had much ado to maintain an indifferent and +matter-of-fact manner. Iglesias drew up a chair and sat down beside +her. She put out her hand, taking his and holding it quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"There, that's better," she said. "I feel babyish. I should like a good +square cry. But I won't have one. Don't be afraid. The motto is 'No +snivelling, full steam ahead.'—But as to the stage, I'm not sure that +won't prove the solution of most difficulties in the end. Sometimes it +pulls badly at my heartstrings, and I shouldn't be half sorry for an +excuse for taking to it again. It's a rotten profession for a man, and +not precisely a soul-saving one for a woman. But it gives you your +opportunity; and, at bottom, I suppose that's the main thing one asks +of life—one's opportunity. Too, your art is your art; and if it is +bred in you, you sicken for it. I was awfully glad that night to see +you at the play, though in a way it shocked me. It seemed incongruous. +Tell me, do you really care for the theatre?" +</p> + +<p> +"To a moderate extent I do," Dominic answered. She wanted, so he +divined, to give a lighter tone to the conversation. He tried to meet +her wishes.—"I am not a very ardent playgoer, I am afraid. But at the +present time I happen to be involved indirectly in theatrical +enterprise. I am interested in the production of a play, which I am +assured will prove a remarkable success." +</p> + +<p> +"You're not financing it?" Poppy asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Within certain limits I am," he answered, smiling. "An appeal was made +to me for help which it would have been cruel to refuse." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's expression had become curiously sombre, not to say stormy. She +got up and began to roam about the room. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope to goodness the limits are clearly defined, and very narrow +ones, then," she exclaimed. "For my part I don't believe in talent +which can't find a market in the ordinary course of business. I grant +you managers sometimes put a play on which is no good; and sometimes +cripple what might be a fine play by doctoring it, in deference to the +rulings of that archetype of all maiden aunts and incarnation of +British hypocrisy, the censor; but they very rarely, in my experience, +reject a play which has money in it. Why should they? Poor brutes, they +are not exactly surfeited with masterpieces. The play which requires +private backing, though a record-breaker in the opinion of its author, +is usually rubbish in that of the public. And the public, take it all +round, is very fairly level-headed and just; you must not judge it by +the stupidities of the censor. He represents only an extreme section of +it, if at this time of day he really represents anybody—a section +which does the screaming sitting sanctimoniously at home, getting its +information at second-hand through the papers, and never darkens the +doors of a play-house at all. Moreover, you must remember that the +public is master. There is no getting behind its verdict." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's peregrinations had brought her back beside Mr. Iglesias again. +She patted him on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"See here, my beloved no-longer-nameless one," she said. "Be advised. +Learn wisdom. For I tell you I've been through that gate if ever a +woman has. The jackal—I wish to heaven we could keep him out of our +talk, but, for cause unknown, he persistently obtrudes himself—he +invariably does so when I'm hipped and edgy—well, you see, he was an +unappreciated genius in the way of a dramatist, from which fact I +derived first-hand acquaintance with the habits of the species. What I +don't know about those animals is not worth knowing. They're just +simply vermin, I tell you. Their utter unprofitableness is only +equalled by their lunatic vanity. They imagine the whole world, lay and +professional, is in league to balk and defraud them. So don't touch +them, I entreat you, as you value your peace of mind and your pocket. +They'll bleed you white and never give you a penn'orth of thanks—more +likely turn on you and make out, somehow or other, you are responsible +for the failure of their precious productions.—Now let's try to forget +them, and talk of pleasanter subjects. These obtrusions of the jackal +always bring me bad luck. I'm downright scared at them.—Tell me about +your goods, your books and your pictures. And show me something which +belonged to your mother—that is, if it wouldn't pain you to do so. I +should like to hold something she had touched in my hands. It would be +comforting, somehow. And just set that door wider open, there's a dear. +I want to have a look into the other room and see where you sleep." +</p> + +<p> +For the ensuing half hour Poppy was an enchanting companion, wholly +womanly, gentle and delicate; eager, too, with the pretty spontaneous +eagerness of a child, at the recital of stories and exhibition of +treasures beloved by her companion. The lonely cedar tree, lamenting +its exile as the wind swept through the labyrinth of its dry branches, +moved her almost to tears. +</p> + +<p> +"It is tragic," she said; "still, I am glad you have it. It's very much +in the picture, and lifts the sentiment of the place out of the awful +suburban rut. It's a little symbolic of you yourself, too, +Dominic—there's style, and poetry, and breeding about it. Only, thank +the powers, you differ from it mightily in this, that its best days are +over, while you are but in the flower of your age. And your rooms are +delightful—they're like you, too.—The rest of the house? My dear +soul, the manservant ushered me into a drawing-room, when I arrived, +the colours of which were simply frantic. I bolted. If I'd stayed +another five minutes they'd have given me lockjaw.—Now I must go." She +smiled very sweetly upon Mr. Iglesias. "I'm better, ten thousand times +better," she said. "When I came I was rather extensively nauseated by +my own virtuous actions. Now it's all square between them and me. I'm +good right through, I give you my word I am. If only it'll last!" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's lips quivered, and she looked Iglesias rather desperately in +the face. +</p> + +<p> +"Never fear," he answered, "but that it will last." +</p> + +<p> +"Still you'll come and see me often, very often, till I settle down +into the running? It will be beastly heavy going—must be, I'm +afraid—for a long while yet." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias, holding her hand, bent low and kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +"I will serve you perfectly, God helping me, as long as I live," he +said. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later Mrs. Porcher, supported by the outraged and +sympathetic Eliza, watched, through the aperture afforded by the rising +hinge of the dining-room door, an unknown lady, escorted by Mr. +Iglesias, sweep in whispering skirts and costly sables across the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Passing out and down the white steps, Poppy, usually so light of foot +and deft of movement, stumbled, and but for Iglesias' prompt assistance +would have fallen headlong. At that same moment de Courcy Smyth, +slovenly in dress, with shuffling footsteps, crossed the road, and then +slunk aside, his arm jerked up queerly almost as though warding off a +blow. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, I'm not hurt, not in the least hurt," Poppy said breathlessly, +in response to Iglesias' inquiry. "But it's given me a bad fright. I'll +go straight home. Put me into the first hansom you see.—No, I'll go by +myself. I'd far rather. I give you my word I'm not hurt; but I've a lot +of things to think about—I want to be alone. I want to be quiet. Come +soon. I was very happy. Good-bye—good-night." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXVI +</h3> + +<p> +A featureless landscape of the brand of ugliness peculiar to the +purlicus of a great city, to that intermediate region where the streets +have ended and the country has not yet fairly begun. A waste of +cabbagefields—the dark lumpy earth between the rows of yellowish +stumps strewn with ill-smelling refuse of decaying leaves—seen through +the rents in a broken, unkempt, quickset hedge. Running parallel with +the said hedge, shiny blacktarred palings, shutting off all view of the +river. Between these barriers, a long stretch of drab-coloured high +road, flanked by slightly raised footpaths, a verge of coarse weedy +grass to them in which a litter of rags, torn posters, and much other +unloveliness found harbourage. To the northwest and north, a sky piled +to the zenith with mountainous swiftly moving clouds, inky, +blue-purple, wildly white, from out the torn bosoms of which rushed, +now and again, flurrying showers of hail and sleet driven by a +shrieking wind. March was in the act of asserting its proverbial +privilege of "going out like a lion"; but the lion, as seen in this +particular perspective, was a frankly ignoble and ill-conditioned beast. +</p> + +<p> +And Poppy St. John, heading up against wind and weather along the +left-hand footpath, felt frankly ignoble and ill-conditioned, too. Her +poor soul, which had made such valiant efforts to spread its wings and +fly heavenward—a form of exercise sadly foreign to its habit—crawled, +once more, soiled and mud-bespattered, along the common thoroughfare of +life. At this degradation, her heart overflowed with bitterness and +disgust, let alone the blind rage which possessed her, as of some +trapped creature frustrated in escape. She had broken gaol, as she +fondly imagined, and secured liberty. Not a bit of it! In the hour of +reconciliation, of sweetest security, she met her gaoler face to face +and heard the key grind in the lock. +</p> + +<p> +Save for the occasional passing of a market waggon, or high-shouldered +scavenger's cart, the road was deserted. Once a low-hung two-wheeled +vehicle rattled by, on which, insufficiently covered by sacking, lay a +dead horse, the great head swinging ghastly over the slanting +tail-board, the legs sticking out stark in front. A man, perched +sideways on the carcass, swore at the rickety crock he was driving, and +lashed it under the belly with a short-handled heavy-thonged whip. He +was collarless, and the scarlet and orange handkerchief, knotted about +his throat, had got shifted, the ends of it streaming out behind him as +he lifted his arm and swayed his whole body madly using his whip. Poppy +shut her eyes, sickened by the sound and sight. Just then a scourging +storm of sleet struck her, causing her to turn her back and pause, +where a curve in the range of paling offered some slight shelter. For +strong though she was, and well furnished against the inclement weather +in a thick coaching coat, buttoned up to her chin and down to her feet, +her cloth cap tied on with a thick veil, the stinging wind and sleet +were almost more than she could face. Her depression was not physical +merely, but moral likewise. For over and above her personal and private +sources of trouble, it was a day and place whereon evil deeds seemed +unpleasantly possible. The swearing driver and dangling head of the +dead horse had served to complete her discomfiture; and presently, the +storm slackening a little, hearing footsteps behind her, she wheeled +round, her chin bravely in the air, but her heart galloping with +nervous fright, while her fingers closed down on the butt of the small +silver-plated revolver which rested in the right-hand waist pocket of +her long coat. +</p> + +<p> +De Courcy Smyth was close beside her. Poppy set her lips together and +braced herself to endure the coming wretchedness. It was some years +since she had had speech of him—some years, indeed, since she had seen +him, save during that brief moment, twenty-four hours previously, as +she descended the steps of Cedar Lodge. Even in his most prosperous +days he had been unattractive in person, at once untidy and theatrical +in dress. Now Poppy registered a distinct deterioration in his +appearance. His puffy face, red-rimmed eyes, and shambling gait were +odious to her. She noted, moreover, that he was poorly clad. His grey +felt hat was stained and greasy; his ginger-coloured frieze overcoat +threadbare at the elbows, thin and stringy in the skirts. The soles of +his brown boots were splayed, the upper leathers seamed and cracked. +This might denote poverty. It might, also, only denote carelessness and +sloth. In any case, it failed to move her to pity, provoking in her +uncontrollable irritation; so that, forgetful of diplomacy, stirred by +memories of innumerable kindred provocations in the past, Poppy spoke +without preamble, asking him sharply as he joined her: +</p> + +<p> +"Have you no better clothes than that?" +</p> + +<p> +Smyth paused before answering, looking her up and down furtively yet +deliberately, wiping the wet of his beard and face, meanwhile, with a +frayed green silk pocket-handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +"It offends your niceness that your husband should dress like a tramp, +does it?" he said hoarsely. "And pray whose fault is it that he is +reduced to doing so? Judging by your own costume, you can easily remove +that cause of offence if you choose. It does not occur to you, perhaps, +that while you live on the fat of the land I, but for the charity of +strangers—which it is loathsome to me to accept—should not have +enough to pay for the food I eat or for the detestable garret in which +I both work and sleep? Under these circumstances I am scarcely prepared +to call in a fashionable tailor to replenish my wardrobe, lest its +meagreness should, on the very rare occasions on which I have the +honour of meeting you, offer an unpleasing reflection upon your own +super-elegance." +</p> + +<p> +To these observations, delivered with a somewhat hysterical volubility, +Poppy made no direct reply. Surely it was cruel, cruel, that at this +juncture, when she had so honestly striven to refuse the evil and +choose the good, this recrudescence of all that was most hateful to her +should take place? Moreover, now as always, just that modicum of truth +underlay Smyth's exaggerated accusations and perverted statements which +made them as difficult to combat as they were exasperating to listen +to. For a minute or so Poppy could not trust herself to speak, lest she +should give way to foolish invective. His looks, manner, intonation, +the phrases he employed were odiously familiar to her. She fought as in +a malicious dream, to which the squalor of the surrounding landscape +offered an only too appropriate setting. Turning, she walked slowly in +the direction whence she had come—namely, in that of Barnes village +and Mortlake. There the quaint riverside houses would afford some +shelter and sense of comradeship. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry to make you come farther out," she said, with an attempt at +civility. +</p> + +<p> +"That is unexpectedly considerate," he commented. +</p> + +<p> +"But it is impossible to talk in the teeth of this wind," she +continued, "and I imagine we're neither of us particularly keen to +prolong our interview." +</p> + +<p> +"Excuse me, speak for yourself," Smyth interrupted. "I find it +decidedly interesting to meet my wife again. She has gone up in the +world, and climbed the tree of fashion in the interval. I have gone +down in the world, as every scholar and gentleman, every man with +brains and high standards of art and culture, is bound to go down +sooner or later, in this hideous age of blatant commercialism and +Mammon rampant. I don't quarrel with it. I would far rather be one of +the downtrodden, persecuted minority. But, just on that account, my +wife is all the more worth contemplating, since she offers a highly +instructive object-lesson in the advantages which accrue from allying +oneself with the victorious majority. See—" +</p> + +<p> +A rush of wind and flurry of cold rain rendered the concluding words of +his tirade inaudible. It was as well, for Poppy was growing wicked, +anger dominating every more humane and decent feeling in her. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here," she said, when the storm had somewhat abated. "I know that +sort of talk as well as my old shoe. Haven't I listened to it for +hours? For goodness' sake, quit it. It doesn't wash. Let us come to the +point at once without all this idiotic brag and gassing. You wrote me a +letter shouting danger and ruin. What did it mean? Anything real, or +merely a melodramatic blowing off of steam? Tell me. Let us have it out +and have finished with it. What do you want?" +</p> + +<p> +The softening medium of a gauze veil failed to hide the fact that +Poppy's expression was distinctly malignant, her great eyes full of +sombre fury, her red lips tense. Smyth backed away from her against the +palings in genuine alarm. +</p> + +<p> +"I—I believe you'd like to murder me," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"So I should," Poppy answered. "I should very much like to kill you. +And I've the wherewithal here, in my pocket, and there's no one on the +road. But you needn't be anxious. I'm not going to murder you. The +consequences to myself would be too inconvenient." +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke she thought of yesterday, of the renewal of her friendship +with Dominic Iglesias, and of all that he stood for to her in things +pure, lovely, and of good report. A sob rose in her throat, for +nothing, after all, is so horrible as to feel wicked; nothing so hard +to forgive as that which causes one to feel so. Poppy walked on again +slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want?" she repeated miserably. "Be straight with me for +once, if you can, de Courcy, and tell me plainly—if there's anything +to tell. What is it you want?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have my chance at last," he said hurriedly, "of fame, and success, +and recognition—of bringing those who have despised me to their knees. +I thought I was safe. But yesterday I found that you—yes, you—come +into the question, that you may stand between me and the realisation of +my hopes—more than hopes, a certainty, unless you play some scurvy +trick on me. I had to have your promise, and there was no time to +lose—so I wrote." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy looked at him contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +"What does all that mean?—more money?" she asked. "Haven't you grown +ashamed of begging yet? I raised your allowance last year, and it's +being paid regularly—Ford & Martin have sent me on your receipts. To +give it you at all is an act of grace, for you've no earthly claim on +me, and you know it. From the day I married you I never cost you a +farthing; I've paid for everything myself, down to every morsel of +bread I put into my mouth. You, talked big about your income +beforehand, when you knew you were up to your eyes in debt. Well, in +debt you may stay, as far as I am concerned. I'll give you that +seventy-five a year if you'll keep clear of me; but I won't give you a +penny more, for the simple reason that I shan't have it to give. It'll +be an uncommonly close shave in any case—I have myself to keep." +</p> + +<p> +"Yourself to keep?" Smyth snarled. "Since when have you taken to +wholesale lying, my pretty madam? That is a new development." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not lying," Poppy blazed out. "I am speaking honest, sober truth." +</p> + +<p> +Smyth laughed. It was not an agreeable sound. +</p> + +<p> +"Is not that a little too brazen?" he asked. "Even with such a +negligible quantity as a deserted husband, it is a mistake to overplay +the part." +</p> + +<p> +Then, frightened by her expression, he slunk aside again. But Poppy did +not linger. Slowly, steadily, she walked on down the rain-lashed +footpath. +</p> + +<p> +"For God's sake tell me what you want—tell me what you want," she +cried, "and let me get away from all this rottenness." +</p> + +<p> +"You do not believe in me," Smyth replied sullenly, "and that is why it +is so difficult to speak to you about this matter. You have always +depreciated my powers and scoffed at my talents. No thanks to you I +have any self-confidence left." +</p> + +<p> +"All right, all right," Poppy said. "We can miss out the remainder of +that speech. I know it by heart. Come to the point—what do you want?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was just filling in the sketch of the third act." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy shrugged her shoulders and raised her hands with a despairing +gesture. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, heavens," she ejaculated, "a play again! Are you mad? You know, +just as well as I do, every manager Mill refuse it unread." +</p> + +<p> +"It will be unnecessary to approach any manager. I go straight to the +public this time. I have the promise of money to meet the expenses of +two matinees at least. I have no scruple in accepting—it is an +investment, and an immensely profitable one—for I know the worth of my +own work. It is great, nothing less than great—" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," Poppy said. "But pray where do I come in?" Then she +paused. Suddenly she pieced the bits of the puzzle together, saw and +understood. Misery, deeper than any she had yet experienced, overflowed +in her. "Ah, it is you, then, you who are bleeding Dominic Iglesias," +she cried. "Robbing him by appeals to his charity and lying assurances +of impossible profits. You shall not do it. I will put a stop to it. +You shall not, you shall not!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" Smyth inquired. "Do you want all his money yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +"You dirty hound," Poppy said under her breath. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not know of your connection with him till yesterday," Smyth +continued—in proportion as Poppy lost herself, he became cool and +astute—"though we have lived in the same house for the last eighteen +months. I supposed you to be in pursuit of larger game than +superannuated bank-clerks. However, your modesty of taste, combined +with your charming attitude towards me, might, as I perceived, lead to +complications. I ascertained how long you had been at Cedar Lodge +yesterday. Then I wrote to you." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy stood still in the wind and wet, listening intently. +</p> + +<p> +"For once," he went on exultantly, "it is my turn to give orders, my +fine lady, and yours to obey. If you interfere, in the smallest degree, +between Iglesias and me, I will call his attention to certain facts, +the appearance of which is highly discreditable to him. He will pay to +save his reputation, if he ceases to pay out of charity—not that it is +charity. He is making an investment of which, as a business man, he +fully appreciates the worth. If you interfere I will make his position +a vastly uncomfortable one. The women who keep Cedar Lodge are as +jealous as cats. It would not require much blowing to make that fire +burst into a very lively flame, I promise you." +</p> + +<p> +"You live there, then?" Poppy said absently. "You live there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered. "Does that offend your niceness, too? Do you +consider the place too good for me? You need not distress yourself. I +have only one room, a small one—on the second floor immediately above +your friend's handsome sitting-room, but only half the size of it. The +floors are old. I can gather a very fair sense of any conversation +taking place below." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy moved on again. +</p> + +<p> +"May I inquire what you propose to do?" Smyth asked presently—"warn +your mature commercial admirer and compel me, in self-protection, to +blast his reputation, or hold your tongue like a reasonable woman?" +</p> + +<p> +They had reached the end of the tarred palings. Upon the left the +quaintly irregular bow-windowed rose-and-ivy-covered houses of Barnes +Terrace—no two of them alike in height or in architecture—fronted the +road. Upon the right was the river, dull-coloured and wind-tormented. A +cargo of bricks, supplying a strong note of red in the otherwise +mournful landscape, was being unloaded from a barge; carts backed down +the slip to within easy distance of the broad bulwarkless deck, horses +shivering as they stood knee-deep in the water. The bricks grated +together when the men, handling them, tossed them across. With +long-drawn thunderous roar and shriek, a train, heading from Kew +Station, rushed across the latticed iron-built railway bridge. Poppy +waited, watching the progress of it, watching the unloading of the +barge. The one perfectly pure and beautiful gift which life had given +her was utterly profaned, so it seemed to her; that which she held +dearest and best hopelessly entangled with that which to her was most +degrading and abhorrent. And what to do? To be silent was to be +disloyal. To speak was to expose Dominic Iglesias to dishonour and +disgust far deeper than that which loss of money could inflict. Poppy +weighed and balanced, clear that her thought must be wholly for him, +not letting anger sway her judgment. Of two evils she must choose that +which, for him, was least. +</p> + +<p> +"I will not give you away. I will say nothing," she said at last. +</p> + +<p> +"You swear you will not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I swear," Poppy said. +</p> + +<p> +"I want it in writing." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, you shall have it in writing, witnessed if you like," she +answered. "The precious document shall be posted to you to-night. Now +are you satisfied, you contemptible animal? Have you humbled me enough?" +</p> + +<p> +But Smyth came close to her, pushing his face into hers. He was shaking +with excitement, hysterical with mingled fear and relief. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not ungenerous, my dear girl," he whispered. "I am willing to +condone the past—to take you back, to acknowledge you as my wife and +let you share my success. There is a part in the new play which might +have been written for you. You could become world-famous in it. I am +not ungenerous, I am willing to make matters up." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you want me to murder you, after all?" Poppy asked. "If you try me +much further, I tell you plainly, I can't answer for myself. Therefore, +as you value your life, let me alone. Get out of my sight." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap27"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXVII +</h3> + +<p> +During the watches of the ensuing night, amid bellowings of wind in the +chimneys, long-drawn complaint of the great cedar tree, rattle of +sleet, and those half-heard whisperings and footsteps—as of +inhabitants long since departed—which so often haunt an old house +through the hours of dark, Dominic Iglesias' mind, for cause unknown, +was busied with reminiscences of the firm of Barking Brothers & +Barking, and the many years he had spent in its service. He had no wish +to think of these things. They came unbidden, pushing themselves upon +remembrance. All manner of details, of little histories and episodes +connected both with the financial and human affairs of the famous +banking-house, occurred to him. And from thoughts of all this, but +transmogrified and perverted, when, towards dawn, the storm abating, he +at length fell asleep, his dreams were not exempt. For through them +caracoled, in grotesque and most irregular inter-relation, those august +personages, the heads of the firm, along with his fellow-clerks, living +and dead, that militant Protestant, good George Lovegrove, and the +whole personnel of the establishment, down to caretaker, +messenger-boys, porters and the like. Never surely had been such wild +doings in that sedate and reputable place of business—doings in which +gross absurdity and ingenious cruelty went hand in hand; while, by some +queer freak of the imagination, poor Pascal Pelletier, of hectic and +pathetic memory, appeared as leader of the revels, at which the Lady of +the Windswept Dust, sad-eyed, inscrutable of countenance, her +dragon-embroidered scarf drawn closely about her shoulders, looked on. +</p> + +<p> +Dominic arose from his brief uneasy slumbers anxious and unrefreshed. +The phantasmagoria of his dream had been so living, so vivid, that it +was difficult to throw off the impression produced by it. Moreover, he +was slightly ashamed to find that, the restraining power of the will +removed, his mind was capable of creating scenes of so loose and +heartless a character. He was displeased with himself, distressed by +this outbreak of the undisciplined and unregenerate "natural man" in +him. Later, coming into his sitting-room, he unfortunately found +matters awaiting him by no means calculated to obliterate displeasing +impressions or promote suavity and peace. +</p> + +<p> +For the pile of letters and circulars lying beside his plate upon the +breakfast-table was topped by a note directed in de Courcy Smyth's +nervous and irritable hand. Dominic opened it with a curious sense of +reluctance. Only last week he had lent the man ten pounds; and here was +another demand, couched in terms, too, so bullying, so almost +threatening, that Dominic's back stiffened considerably. +</p> + +<p> +Smyth requested, or rather commanded, that fifty pounds should be +delivered to him without delay. "It was conceivable that Mr. Iglesias +had not that amount by him in notes. But, since he had really nothing +to do, it would be a little occupation for him to go and procure them." +Smyth insisted the money should be paid in a lump sum, adding that, his +time being as valuable as Iglesias' was worthless, he could not +reasonably be expected to waste it in perpetual letters respecting a +subject so essentially uninteresting and distasteful to him as that of +ways and means. Such correspondence annoyed him, and put him off his +work; and, as it clearly was very much to Iglesias' interest that the +play should be finished as soon as possible, it was advisable that he +should accede to Smyth's present request without parley and pay up at +once. +</p> + +<p> +Reading this mandatory epistle, Dominic was gravely displeased and +hurt. Poppy St. John had warned him against the insatiable and insolent +greed of persons of this kidney. He had discounted her speech somewhat, +supposing it infected with such prejudice as the recollection of +private wrongs will breed even in generous natures. Now he began to +fear her strictures had been just. The egoism of the unsuccessful is a +moral disease, destructive of all sense of proportion. Those suffering +from it must be reckoned as insane; not sick merely, but actually mad +with self-love. Smyth, to gain his play a hearing, would beggar +him—Iglesias—without scruple or regret. But Dominic had no intention +of being beggared in this connection. Thrice-sacred charity is one +story; the encouragement of the unlimited borrower, the fostering of so +colossal a selfishness quite another. A point had been reached where to +accede to Smyth's demands was culpable, a consenting, indeed, to +wrongdoing. Here then was occasion for careful consideration. Iglesias +gravely laid the offensive missive aside, and proceeded to eat his +breakfast before opening the rest of his letters. In the intervals of +the meal he glanced at the contents of the morning paper. +</p> + +<p> +The war news was unimportant. A skirmish or two, leaving a few more +women's lives maimed and hearts desolate. A lie or two of continental +manufacture, tending to blacken the fair fame of the most humane and +good-tempered army which, in all probability, ever took the field. A +shriek or two from soft-handed sentimentalists at home, who—for +reasons best known to themselves—are ardent patriots of every country +save their own. Such items formed too permanent a part of the daily +menu, during the year of grace 1900, to excite more than passing +notice. At the bottom of the column a paragraph of a more unusual +character attracted Iglesias' attention. It announced it had authority +for stating that Alarmist rumours, current regarding the unstable +financial position of a certain well-known and highly respected London +bank, were grossly exaggerated. No doubt the losses suffered by the +bank in question had been severe, owing to its extensive connection +with land and mining property in South Africa, and the disorganisation +of business in that country consequent upon the war. The said losses +were, however, of a temporary character, and had by no means reached +the disastrous proportions commonly reported. Granted time, and a +reasonable amount of patience on the part of persons most nearly +interested, the storm would be successfully weathered, and the bank +would resume the leading position which it had so long and honourably +enjoyed. No names were given, but Iglesias had small difficulty in +supplying them. It appeared to him that Barking Brothers must be in +considerable straits or they would never, surely, put forth disclaimers +of this description. His mind went back upon the dreams which had left +such disquieting impressions upon his mind. In the light of that +newspaper paragraph they took on an almost prophetic character. +Absently he turned over the rest of the pile of letters, selected one, +the handwriting upon the envelope of which was at once well-known and +perplexing to his memory, opened it, and turned to the signature to +find that of no less a personage than Sir Abel Barking himself. +</p> + +<p> +During the next quarter of an hour Dominic Iglesias lived hard in +thought, in decision, in struggle with personal resentment bred by +remembrance of scant courtesy and ingratitude meted out to him. He +learned that Messrs. Barking Brothers & Barking's embarrassments did, +in point of fact, skirt the edge of ruin. Their affairs were in +apparently inextricable confusion, owing to Reginald Barking's reckless +speculations, while, to add to the general confusion, that strenuous +young man had broken down utterly from nervous verstrain, and was, at +the present time, incapable of the slightest mental or physical +exertion. Things were at a deadlock. "Under these terrible +circumstances," Sir Abel Barking wrote, "I turn to you, my good friend, +as a person intimately acquainted with the operation of our firm. Your +experience may be of service to us in this crisis, and, in virtue of +the many benefits you have received from us in the past, I +unhesitatingly claim your assistance. In my own name and that of my +partners, I offer to reinstate you in your former position, but with +enlarged powers. It has always been my endeavour, as you are well +aware, to reward merit and to treat those in our employment with +generosity and consideration. You will be glad, I am sure, to embrace +this opportunity of repaying, in some small measure, your debt towards +me and mine." More followed to the same effect. Neither the taste of +the writer nor his manner of expression was happy. Of this Dominic was +quite sensible. Patronage, especially after his period of independence, +was far from agreeable to him. Yet behind the verbiage, the platitudes +and bombastic phrases, his ear detected a very human cry of fear and +cry for help. Should he accede, doing his best to allay that fear and +render that help? +</p> + +<p> +He rose, still holding the wordy letter in his hand, and paced the +room. Of his own ability to render effective help, were he allowed +freedom of action, Iglesias entertained little doubt—always supposing +that the situation did not prove even worse than he had present reason +for supposing. It was not difficult to see how the trouble had come +about. The senior partners, lulled into false security by lifelong +prosperity, had grown supine and inert. Sooner, in their opinion, might +the stars fall from heaven than the august house of Barking prove +unsound of foundation or capable of collapse! To hint at this, even as +a remote possibility, was little short of blasphemous. Their amiable +nephew, meanwhile, had regarded them as a flock of silly fat geese +eminently fitted for plucking. He let them complacently hiss and +cackle, congratulate themselves upon their worldly wisdom and +conspicuous modernity, while, all the time, silently, diligently, +relentlessly plucking. Now, awakening suddenly to the fact of their +nudity, they were in a terrible taking; scandalised, flustered, very +sore, poor birds, and quite past recollecting that feathers grow again +if the system is sound and the cuticle health. To Iglesias these +purse-proud, self-righteous, middle-aged gentlemen presented a +spectacle at once pathetic and humorous in their present sad plight. A +calm head and clear judgment might do much to ameliorate their +position, and a calm head and cool judgment he was confident of +possessing. Only was he, after all, disposed to place these useful +possessions at their service? +</p> + +<p> +For in the last nine months Dominic Iglesias' habits and outlook had +changed notably. The values were altered. It would be far harder to +return to the monotonous routine of business life now—even though a +fine revenge, a delicate heaping of coals of fire, accompanied that +return—than it had been to part company with it last year. Loneliness, +the emptiness induced by absence of definite employment, no longer +oppressed him. Holy Church had cured all that, giving him a definite +place, and definite purpose, beautiful duties of prayer and worship, +the restrained, yet continuous, excitement of the pushing forward of +soul and spirit upon the fair, strange, daily, hourly journey towards +the far horizon and the friendship of Almighty God. His retirement had +become very dear to him, since it afforded scope for the conscious +prosecution of that journey. Dominic's state of mind, in short, was +that of the lover who dreads any and every outside demand which may, +even momentarily, distract his attention from the object of his love. +Threadneedle Street, the glass and mahogany walled corridors, and the +moral atmosphere of them—money-getting and of this world conspicuously +worldly—were not these ironically antagonistic to the journey upon +which he had set forth and the habit of mind necessary to the +successful prosecution of it? There was Poppy St. John, too, and the +closer relation of friendship into which he had just entered with her. +This must not be neglected. And, thinking of her, he could not but +think of that younger son of the great banking-house, Alaric Barking, +and his dealings with her—enjoying her as long as it suited him to do +so, leaving her as soon as his passion cooled and a more advantageous +social connection presented itself. Towards the handsome young soldier +Iglesias was, it must be owned, somewhat merciless. Why should he go to +the rescue of this young libertine's family, and indirectly facilitate +his marriage, and increase its promise of happiness, by helping to +secure him an otherwise vanishing fortune? Let him pay the price of his +illicit pleasures and become a pauper. Such a consummation Dominic +admitted he, personally, could face with entire resignation. +</p> + +<p> +And yet—yet—on closer examination were not these reasons against +undertaking the work offered him based upon personal disinclination, +personal animosity, rather than upon plain right and wrong, and, +consequently, were they not insufficient to justify abstention and +refusal? That earlier dream of his, on the night following his +dismissal last year, came back to him, with its touching memories of +the narrow town garden behind the old house in Holland Street, +Kensington—the golden laburnum, the shallow stone basin beloved of +sooty sparrows, poor, dear Pascal Pelletier and his Huntley & Palmer's +biscuit-box infernal machine and very crude methods of adjusting the +age-old quarrel between capital and labour. On that occasion the lonely +little boy, though at risk of grave injury to himself, had not +hesitated to save the ill-favoured chunk-faced grey cat—which bore in +speech and appearance so queer a likeness to Sir Abel Barking—from the +ugly fate awaiting it. He had gathered it tenderly in his arms, pitying +and striving to heal it. Was the child, by instinct, finer, nobler, +more self-forgetful, than the man in the full possession of reason, +instructed in the divine science, fortified by the example and merits +of the saints? That would, indeed, be a melancholy conclusion. And so +it occurred to him, not merely as conceivable but as incontestable, +that the road to the far horizon, instead of leading in the opposite +direction to the city banking-house, for him, at this particular +juncture, led directly into and through it; so that to refuse would be +to stray from the straight path and risk the obscuring of the blessed +light by a cowardly and selfish lust of the immediate comfort of it. +</p> + +<p> +He would go and help those distracted plucked geese to grow new +feathers. Only to do so meant time, labour, unremitting application, a +wholesale sacrifice of leisure; so he must see Poppy St. John first. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap28"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</h3> + +<p> +"I did not call yesterday," Iglesias said, "in consequence of your +prohibitory telegram. But to-day I have come early and without +permission, first because I was anxious to assure myself you were +really unhurt, and secondly because something has occurred regarding +which I wish to consult you. I must have your sanction before taking +action in respect of it." +</p> + +<p> +Entering from the blustering wind and keen, fitful sunshine without, +the little drawing-room struck Iglesias as both stuffy and dingy. And +Poppy, standing in the centre of it, huddled in a black brocade +tea-gown, a sparse pattern of bluey mauve rosebuds upon it, which hung +in limp folds from her bosom to her feet, concealing all the outline of +her figure, came perilously near looking dingy likewise. The garment, +cut square at the neck, had long seen its first youth. The big +outstanding black ribbon bow between her shoulders and that upon her +breast was creased and crumpled. Beneath the masses of her dark hair +her face looked almost unnaturally small, sallow and bloodless, while +her eyes were enormous—dusky dwelling-places, as it seemed to her +visitor, of some world-old sorrow. Her face did not light up, neither +did she make any demonstration of gladness or greeting, but stood, one +toy spaniel tucked under either arm, their forelegs lying along her +wrists, their fringed paws resting upon her palms. Dominic had a +conviction she had snatched up the little dogs on hearing his voice, +and held them so as to render it impossible for him to take her hand. +Less than ever, looking upon her, had he any mercy for Alaric Barking. +Less than ever did the prospect of spending weeks, perhaps months, in +shoring up the imperilled fortunes of that young gentleman's family +prove alluring to him. +</p> + +<p> +"You were hurt," he broke out, almost fiercely. "You are suffering, +and, worse, you are unhappy. It makes me very angry to see you thus. I +wish I could reach those who are guilty of having distressed and +injured you." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's face went a shade paler, and alarm mingled with the sorrow in +her eyes, but she made a courageous effort to patter as usual. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd give them the what for, dear man, wouldn't you?" she said. "But +you would have to go way back in the ages for that, and get behind the +seed-sowing of which this gay hour is the harvest. Still, I love to see +you ferocious. It is very flattering to me, and it's mightily becoming +to you. Don't snore, Cappadocia. Manners, my good child, manners. All +the same, I wasn't hurt slipping on those gorgeous white steps of +yours. Upon my honour, I wasn't. But I had to go out yesterday +afternoon, and I got caught in one of those infernal hailstorms. It was +altogether too cold for comfort, and I feel a bit cheap this morning in +consequence. That's why I put on this odious gown. I always try to +dress for the part, and the part just now is dismality. From the start +this gown has been a disappointment. I counted on the roses fading +pink, but the beasts faded blue instead. I feel as if I was dressed in +a bruise, and that's appropriate—for I also feel as if I had been +beaten all over. Merely the hail—I give you my word. Nothing more than +that. I'm never ill." Poppy paused, dropped the little dogs on the +floor. They cowered against her, looking up woefully at her. "No, I +don't want you," she said. "You're heavy. I'm tired of you." +</p> + +<p> +Then she blew her nose, and, over the top of her hand-kerchief, looked +full at Iglesias for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what is it? What do you want my sanction for?" +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for his answer she swept aside, knelt down, crouching +over the fire, extending both hands to the heat of it, while her open +sleeves falling back showed her arms bare to the elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me, and, if you don't mind, shove along. I own I am a trifle +jumpy—only the weather—but I need humouring, so shove along, there's +a good dear," she said. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon, in as few words as possible, Dominic unfolded to her the +contents of Sir Abel Barking's letter. As she listened, Poppy raised +herself, turned round, stood upright, her hands clasped behind her. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! that's it, is it?" she said. She looked less bloodless, more +animated, more natural. "I'm not altogether surprised. The poor old +lads have found out the cuckoo in their nest at last, have they? Alaric +had a notion Reginald Barking—not a nice person Reginald—I saw him +once and he looked a cross between a pair of forceps and a bag of +shavings—I didn't trust him—you don't, do you? Alaric had a notion +this precious cousin was making hay of the whole show. But it was +utterly useless for him to intervene. In the eyes of the elder +generation he is the original dog with a bad name, only fit for +hanging." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy paused, took a long breath, smiled a little. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think? Is it a very bad business?" +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell till I have gone into details," Iglesias replied. He was +slightly put about by the lady's change of demeanour, by the interest +she displayed, by the alteration in her expression and bearing. +</p> + +<p> +"And they howl to you to save the sinking ship?" Poppy continued +lightly. "Shall you go?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is the question I have come to ask you." +</p> + +<p> +"To ask me?" she said. "But, heart alive, dear man, where do I come in?" +</p> + +<p> +"My duty to you stands before every other duty," Iglesias answered +gravely. "Those who have caused you sorrow and injured you, are my +enemies. How can it be otherwise? A member of this family—I do not +choose to name him—has, in my opinion, played a detestable part by +you; therefore only with your sanction, freely given, can I consent to +be helpful to his relatives." +</p> + +<p> +The colour leaped into Poppy's cheeks, the light into her eyes, her +lips parted in pretty laughter; yet she still kept her hands clasped +behind her back. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! I see—I see," she cried. "But how did you contrive to get left +behind, most beloved lunatic, and be born five or six centuries out of +your time into this shouting, pushing, modern world which knows not +chivalry? Do you imagine this is the fashion most men treat women? Here +I am laughing, yet I could cry that you should come to me—me, of all +people—on such a lovely, fine, fanciful errand." +</p> + +<p> +"My conduct appears to me perfectly obvious and simple," Iglesias +replied rather coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"I know it does, my dear, and there's the pathetic splendour of it," +Poppy declared, soft mothering tones in her voice. "All the same we +must keep our heads screwed on the right way. So, tell me, will it be +of any personal advantage to you to help pull these elderly plungers +out of the quagmire?" +</p> + +<p> +"None whatever." +</p> + +<p> +"At least they will make it worth your while by paying up handsomely?" +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt they will make me some offer, but I shall decline it," +Iglesias said. "I draw a pension. I will continue to do so. That is +just. I have a right to it in virtue of my past work. But I shall +refuse to accept any salary over and above that. I shall make it a +condition that I give my services. And that which I give I give, +whether it be to king or to beggar. To make profit out of my giving +would be intolerable to me." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy mused, her head bent, pushing away the tiny dogs with her foot as +they fawned upon her. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't bother! you little miseries," she said, "don't bother! I'm busy +now. I've no use for you." Presently she glanced up at Mr. Iglesias, +who held himself proudly, as he stood waiting before her. "Do you care +for these barking people? Is it a question of affection between any of +them and you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid not," he answered. "Ours has been a purely business +connection throughout. How should it be otherwise? The social interval +between employers and employed is not easily bridged." +</p> + +<p> +"Stuff-a-nonsense!" Poppy put in scornfully. "They might feel honoured +to tie your shoe." +</p> + +<p> +"Any attempt to ignore differences of wealth and station, which others +are pleased to remember, would be unbecoming," he continued. "Nor do I +relish condescension on the part of my social betters. It does not suit +me. I prefer to remain within my own borders. Still, there is the tie +of long association with these merchant princes and their undertakings, +and this, I own, influences me strongly. It would be shocking to me to +witness the failure or ruin of those with whom I have been in daily +intercourse. Then, too, there is a certain challenge in the present +position which appeals to the fighting instinct in me. If not +altogether by nature, still by habit I am a business man. Affairs +interest me, and consequently the more embarrassed and apparently +hopeless the existing state of things is, the greater would be my +satisfaction in mastering the intricacies of it and reducing them to +order. These practical matters are not without very real excitement and +drama to those who have the habit of handling them." Iglesias paused, +and then added quietly, "But I am contented enough as I am, and should +not voluntarily have touched business again had there not been another +consideration over and above those I have enumerated—namely, the plain +obligation of right doing, whether the said doing be congenial to one +or not. This obligation is supreme, or should be so, in the case of one +who, like myself, has bound himself by definite acts of obedience and +self-dedication." +</p> + +<p> +His expression had changed, taking on something of exaltation. He no +longer looked at Poppy, but away to the far horizon and the light +thereon resident. +</p> + +<p> +And the Lady of the Windswept Dust was quick to realise this, though +upon what fair unseen object the eyes of his spirit did, in fact, rest +she was ignorant. Against it the vanity inherent in her womanhood +rebelled. She was piqued and jealous of the unnamed, unknown object +which absorbed his attention more than she herself and her friendship +did. From the first Iglesias had appealed to her very various nature in +a threefold manner. To the artist in her he appealed by the clearness +of his individuality, his finish of person and of feature, his gravity +and poise—these last taking their rise not in insensibility, but in +reasoned will, in passionate emotion held, as she had learned, +austerely in check. He appealed to the motherhood in her by his +unworldliness, by his ignorance of base motives, thus making her +attitude towards him protective; she instinctively trying to stand +between him and a naughty world, to stand, too, between him and her own +too often naughty self. He appealed to the child in her by the exotic +and foreign elements in him, which captivated her fancy, endowing him +with an effect of mystery, making him seem to hail from some region of +legend and high romance. But the events of the last few days had been +far from beneficial to Poppy St. John. They had demoralised her, so +that the artistic, maternal, and childlike aspects of her nature were +alike overlaid by the bitterness, the cynicism, the recklessness +engendered by her unhappy childless marriage and the irregular life she +had led. Poppy's feet were held captive in the quicksands of the things +of sense; her outlook was concrete and gross. Finer instincts lit up +but momentary flickering fires in her, speedily dying out into the +gloom begotten by the deplorable scene of yesterday with her husband, +and shame at the conspiracy of silence into which, as the lesser of the +two evils presented to her, she had entered, remembrances of which, on +his first arrival, had made her feel unworthy and a traitor in the +presence of Iglesias. This demoralisation worked in her to rebellion +against just all that which, in her happier moods, rendered Iglesias +delightful to her. His exaltation, his calm, the mystery which so +delicately surrounded him, the very distinction of his appearance +irritated her, so soon as she became conscious that she was no longer +the sole object of his thoughts. She was pushed by a bad desire to +force from him a more complete self-revelation, to cheapen him in some +way and break him up. +</p> + +<p> +"Dominic Iglesias," she cried suddenly and imperatively, "you are a +trifle too empyrean. I don't quite believe in you. Be more ordinary, +more vulgarly human. For who are you, after all? What are you?" she +said. +</p> + +<p> +And he, his thoughts recalled from a great distance, regarded her +questioningly and as without immediate recognition. Her voice was +harsh, and the transition was so abrupt from the radiant land of the +spirit to the dingy realities of Poppy's drawing-room, her tired, +black, bluey-mauve patterned tea-gown, and her absurdly artificial +little dogs. It took him some few seconds to adjust himself. Then he +smiled in apology, and spoke very courteously and gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Who am I, what am I, dear friend? Why this, I think—a commonplace, +very ordinary person who, long ago, in early childhood, by mournful +accident, for which it would be an impiety to hold those on whom he was +dependent responsible, lost his sight. Through all the years which men +count, and rightly, the best of life—when courage is high and the hand +strong, and opportunity fertile, circumstance as a block of precious +many-coloured marble out of which to carve fine fortune for ourselves +and those we love—he wandered in darkness, insecure of footing, +missing the very end and object for which earthly existence has been +bestowed upon us mortals. He was sad and homesick for that which he had +not; yet ignorant of the nature of his own loss, disposed to blame the +constitution of things, rather than his own incapacity, for that which +he suffered." +</p> + +<p> +"And then?" Poppy put in sharply. Listening, she had started to mock, +the cynic and worldling being hot in her, but, looking at the speaker, +somehow, she dared not mock. +</p> + +<p> +"And then—recently—since I have known you in short, it has pleased +Almighty God by degrees to restore my sight." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy regarded him intently, her singular eyes wide with question and +with doubt, her lips pressed together. +</p> + +<p> +"I see—you have got religion," she said. "But do you seriously mean to +tell me that I—I—have had anything to do with that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Iglesias answered. "You have had much to do with it. First by +love—for your friendship woke up my heart. Then by sorrow"—he paused, +divided by the desire to spare her and to tell her the whole of his +thought—"sorrow, when I came to know you better and value your +character and gifts at their true worth, because I saw noble things put +to ignoble uses, which of all pitiful sights is perhaps the most +profoundly pitiful." +</p> + +<p> +Silence followed, broken only by minute and reproachful snorings on the +part of Cappadocia and her spouse. The little dogs, sensible of +neglect, had become the victims of wounded self-love, that most +primitive, as it is the most universal, of passions throughout all +grades of living things. Poppy meanwhile turned her head aside, unable +or unwilling to speak. Again she blew her nose with complete disregard +of the unromantic quality of that action, then said huskily: +</p> + +<p> +"I have cleaned the slate. I shall keep it clean." Her voice grew +steadier. A touch of malice came into her expression. "I like +compliments, and you have paid me about the biggest I ever had. It will +take a little time to digest. So I think—I think, dear man, I will not +stand in the way of your going back to the City, and saving the sinking +ship—that is, if the work won't be too hard for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," he answered, touched by her more gracious aspect, yet slightly +confused. "I have had nearly a year's holiday and rest; I am quite +equal to work. But I am afraid the hours must necessarily be long, and +that my opportunities of coming to see you will not be very frequent." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps that's just as well," she said, "while I am still in process +of digesting the big compliment." +</p> + +<p> +Then impulsively she swept up to him and laid her hands on his +shoulders, looking him full in the face. +</p> + +<p> +"See here, you thrice dear innocent, since you have mentioned that +terrible word 'love,' the complexion of our relation has changed +somewhat. Don't you understand, made as I am, I must fight seven devils +within me if I'm to continue to play fair with you, as I swore I would? +And so, just because you are so very much to me, I had best not see you +too often until I have settled down into my new scheme of life. In a +sense Alaric was a safeguard. That safeguard's gone." +</p> + +<p> +She moved a step back, letting her hands fall at her sides, while her +eye grew hard and dark. +</p> + +<p> +"And there are other reasons, brutal, unworthy, sordid reasons, why it +is wiser that you should not come here often at present. They did not +exist—at least I had not the faintest conception that they did—when +we last met. They have rushed into hateful prominence since. Don't ask +me—I cannot tell you. You must trust me, and you must not let my +silence alienate you. I can't be explicit, but I give you my word I am +perfectly straight. And you must not let your religion alienate you +either. By the way, what form of faith is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"The faith of my own people," Dominic answered. "The faith of the +Catholic Church." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Then I am not so afraid I shall lose you," she said, "for that's the +only brand of religion I've ever come across which isn't too nice to +reckon with human nature as it really is. It can save sinners, just +because it knows how to make saints—and it has made them out of jolly +unpromising material at times, there's the comfort of it." +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand in farewell. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye till next time. You've done me good, as you always do. Now, I +am going to re-study some of my old parts, just to get the hang of the +whole show again." +</p> + +<p> +But the door once shut, she flung herself down on the broad settee, +while the tiny dogs, whimpering, crowded upon her lap. +</p> + +<p> +"Poppy St. John, you're not such a bad lot after all," she cried. "But +oh! oh! oh! it's beastly rough to be so young, and have gone so far, +and know so much. There, Willie Onions, don't snivel. It's both +superfluous and unpleasant." She sat up and wiped her eyes. "Upon my +honour, I think it was just as well I gave Phillimore the little +revolver last night, to lock up in the plate chest," she said. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap29"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIX +</h3> + +<p> +It followed that Dominic Iglesias walked on across the common to Barnes +Station and travelled Citywards, solaced and uplifted in spirit, yet +greatly troubled by the idea of those newly arrived complications at +which the Lady of the Windswept Dust had hinted. He did not permit +himself to inquire what they might be. Doubtless she knew best—in her +social sense he had great confidence—so he acquiesced in her silence +about them. Still, as he reflected, it is not a little lamentable that +even friendship, the angelic relation between man and woman, should be +thus beset by perils from within and pitfalls without. Where lay the +fault—with over-civilisation and the improper proprieties resultant +therefrom? Or was it of far more ancient origin, resident in the very +foundations of human nature? Woman, eternally the vehicle of man's +being, eternally the inspiration of quite three-fifths of his action; +yet, at the same time, the eternal stumbling block and danger to the +highest of his moral and intellectual attainment! Mr. Iglesias smiled +sadly and soberly to himself as the train rolled on into Waterloo. In +any case she remains the most astonishing of God's creatures. It would +be dull enough here on earth without her, though, to employ one of +Poppy's characteristic phrases, "it's most infernally risky" with! +</p> + +<p> +But once inside the bank, such far-ranging meditations gave place to +considerations immediate and concrete, Iglesias' whole mind being +focussed to arrive at the facts of the case. And this was far from +easy. For alarm stalked those usually self-secure and self-complacent +rooms and glass and mahogany-walled corridors; men looking up from +their desks as he, Iglesias, passed, with anxious faces, or moving with +hushed footsteps as though someone lay sick to death within the house. +In Sir Abel Barking's private room the drama reached its climax, panic +sitting there sensibly enthroned. Her chill presence had visibly +affected Sir Abel, causing the contrast between the overblown portrait +upon the wall and the subject of it to be ironical to the point of +cruelty. For Sir Abel was aged and shrivelled. His clothes hung loose +upon him. Hardly could he rally his tongue to the enunciation of a +single platitude even of the most obviously staring sort. The mighty, +indeed, were fallen and the weapons of wealth-getting perished! Yet +never had Iglesias felt so drawn in sympathy towards his late employer, +for the spectre of possible ruin had made Sir Abel almost humble, +almost human. +</p> + +<p> +"I am obliged to you for responding to my summons so promptly—yes, sit +down, my good friend, sit down," he said. "It is necessary that I +should converse with you at some length, and I refuse to keep you +standing. Our present position is inexplicable to me. Granting that my +nephew Reginald is unworthy of the trust we reposed in his ability and +probity, there was still our own judgment in reserve, and our own +unquestioned capacity to meet any strain upon our resources. That our +confidence in these last was misplaced is still incredible to me. I am +completely baffled. The past few months, indeed, with their reiterated +discovery of difficulty and of loss, have been a terrible tax upon my +fortitude. Veteran financier though I am, I own to you, Iglesias, there +have been moments when I feared that I, too, should give way. Only my +sense of the duty I owe to my own reputation has supported me." Sir +Abel turned sideways in his chair. His eyes sought the derisive +portrait upon the wall, contemplation of which appeared to reanimate +his self-confidence somewhat, for he continued in his larger manner, +"Nor has the sting of private anxiety been lacking. My younger son has +been called away to the seat of war under circumstances of a peculiarly +affecting character. My earnest hopes for his future, in the shape of a +very desirable marriage, touched on fulfilment—." +</p> + +<p> +But here Iglesias intervened. For his temper began to rise at the +mention of the loves of Alaric Barking. If the springs of Christian +charity, just now welling up so sweetly within him, were not to run +incontinently dry, the conversation, he felt, must be steadied down to +themes of other import. So he civilly but definitely requested Sir Abel +to "come to Hecuba," and to Hecuba the poor man, haltingly yet very +obediently, came. He and his ex-head-clerk seemed, indeed, to have +changed places, so that, before the end of the interview, Iglesias +began to measure himself as never before, to realise his own business +acumen, his quickness of apprehension, his grasp of the issues +presented to him and his own fearlessness of judgment. Whatever the +upshot as to the eventual saving of the credit of Messrs. Barking +Brothers & Barking, Iglesias became increasingly confident of his own +power, and quietly satisfied in the exercise of it. +</p> + +<p> +And so it happened that, although tired in brain and body, his mind +weighted with thought, as were his arms with bundles of papers—which +he carried home for more leisurely inspection—Iglesias came rapidly up +the white steps of Cedar Lodge that night. He was buoyant in spirit, +content with his day's work, keenly interested in the development of +it. Using his latchkey he entered the square panelled hall +silently—with results, for revels were in progress within. +</p> + +<p> +Dinner was over. Mrs. Porcher and the great Eliza, linked arm in arm, +stood near the dining-room door watching, while those two gay young +sparks, Farge and Worthington, inspired by memories of a recent visit +to the Hippodrome, played at lions. It was a simple game, still it gave +pleasure to the players. Clad in an easy-fitting dark blue "lounge +suit," with narrow white cross-bar lines on it, an aged and faded +orange sheep-skin hearthrug thrown gallantly across his shoulders, +Farge, on all fours, with the mildest roarings imaginable, made rushes +from under the dinner-table at the devoted Worthington, who withstood +his fiery onslaught with lungings and brandishings of that truly +classic weapon, the humble necessary umbrella. At each rush the ladies +backed and tittered, clinging together with the most engagingly natural +semblance of terror. +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! caitiff wretch, beware!" declaimed Worthington nobly. "Only across +my prostrate corse shall you reach your innocent victims. Say, Charlie +boy," he added in a hurried aside, "I didn't poke you in the eye by +mistake just now, did I?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wurra—wurra—wurra," roared Farge. "Never touched me, Bert, by a +couple of inches—wurra." +</p> + +<p> +But there the would-be ferocious animal paused, squatted upon its +haunches, pointing its finger dramatically towards the front door, thus +causing the whole company to wheel round and gaze nervously in the +direction indicated. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mr. Iglesias, how you did startle me!" Mrs. Porcher cried +plaintively, laying her hand upon her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me," he answered. "I had no idea the hall was occupied or I +would have rung instead of letting myself in. I must apologise further +for being so late, and for not having telephoned that I should be +unable to be back in time for dinner." +</p> + +<p> +"We all know that there are counter-attractions, which may easily +account for unpunctuality," Miss Hart put in, with a toss of her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, hush, dear Liz," murmured Mrs. Porcher, while the two young men +made round eyes at each other, and de Courcy Smyth, leaning against the +balusters on the landing of the half-flight, announced his presence by +a sarcastic laugh. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias looked from one to another in surprise. He had been +thinking so very little—perhaps, as he told himself, insolently +little—about all these good people for some time past. Now he became +aware of a hostile atmosphere. For cause unknown he was in disgrace +with them all. Possibly they resented his indifference, possibly they +were justified in so doing. Hence he did not feel angry, but merely +sorry and perplexed. He addressed his hostess with increased +courtliness of bearing. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope I have not caused you inconvenience, Mrs. Porcher," he said. "I +was summoned suddenly upon business to the City this morning. The +business in question proved more complicated than I had anticipated, +and I was detained by it till late. This leads me to tell you, if you +will forgive my troubling you with personal matters, that I shall be +compelled to go to the City daily for some weeks to come. I shall not, +therefore, be able to give myself the pleasure of joining you at +luncheon, or probably at dinner, either." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," Mrs. Porcher remarked. "This is rather unexpected, Mr. +Iglesias." +</p> + +<p> +"To me wholly unexpected," he answered, "and in some respects +unwelcome; but it is unavoidable, unfortunately." +</p> + +<p> +He bowed gravely to the two ladies and, ignoring the rest of the little +company, went on his way upstairs. At the half-flight Smyth stood aside +to let him pass; then, after a moment's hesitation, followed him. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Iglesias," he said, "may I be permitted so far to presume upon our +acquaintance as to remind you that you received a letter from me this +morning requiring an answer?" +</p> + +<p> +Dominic paused at the stair-head. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I received it," he replied coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"And you condescended to read it, so I venture to imagine, +notwithstanding that you were summoned on important business to the +City. We are all impressed by that interesting fact—vastly impressed +by it, needless to state. I specially so, of course, since commerce in +all its branches, as you know, commands my profoundest admiration and +respect. Literature and art are but as garbage compared with it—no one +ever recognised that gratifying truth more thoroughly than I do myself. +Still, the shopkeeper—I beg your pardon, financier I should have +said—is not wholly exempted, by the ideal character of his calling, +from keeping his promises even to poor devils of scholars and literary +men such as myself." +</p> + +<p> +Smyth swaggered, his hands in his trouser pockets, his glance at once +impertinent and malevolent, his manner easy to the point of insolence. +</p> + +<p> +"I venture to remind you of my letter, therefore, and I may add I shall +feel obliged if you'll just hand me over those notes without delay." +</p> + +<p> +"I read your letter," Iglesias answered. "It required consideration." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! did it, really? I supposed that I had expressed myself with +perfect lucidity. But if any point appeared to you to need explanation, +I am disengaged at the present time—I am quite willing to explain." +"Thank you," Iglesias answered, "no explanation is necessary on your +part, I believe, though perhaps a little is on mine. I must ask you to +remember that I promised to help you within reasonable relation to my +means. What constitutes a reasonable relation it is for me to judge, +since I alone know what my means are. I regret to tell you that your +last demand greatly exceeded that reasonable relation. I am therefore +reluctantly obliged to refuse it." +</p> + +<p> +"To refuse it?" Smyth exclaimed incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, to refuse it," Iglesias said calmly. "When your play is ready for +production I am prepared to bear the cost of two representations, as I +have already told you. But I am not prepared to make you unlimited +advances meanwhile. To do so would be no kindness to you—" +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't it?" Smyth broke out excitedly. "No kindness to me? Do you +imagine I want kindness, that I would accept or even tolerate kindness +from any man, and particularly from you? I offer you a magnificent +investment, and you speak to me as though I was a beggar asking alms in +the street. No kindness to me? This high moral tone does not become you +in the very least, let me tell you, Mr. Iglesias. Do you suppose I am +such a stoneblind ass as not to see what has been happening. Doesn't it +occur to you that I hold your reputation in my two hands?" +</p> + +<p> +"My reputation?" Iglesias repeated, a very blaze of pride and +indignation in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Smyth backed hastily away from him, with a livid face and shaking knees. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, Mr. Iglesias," he protested. "I was a fool to say that. But I +am utterly beaten by work and by worry. I do not deny that you have +behaved handsomely to me. But persistent injustice and cruelty have +soured me. Is it wonderful? And then to-night those blatant young +idiots, Farge and Worthington, have set my nerves on edge by their +imbecility and conceit, till I really am not accountable for what I +say. I had better go. We can talk of this at another time. I dare say I +can manage for a day or two, though it will not be easy to do so. +However, I am accustomed to rubbing shoulders with every created +description of undeserved indignity and wretchedness. I will go. +Good-night." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias entered his sitting-room, turned up the gas, and looked round +at the orderly aspect of the place with a movement of relief. He ranged +the bundles of papers upon the table. If he was to master their +contents he would have to work far into the night, and the day had been +a long one, full of application and of very varied emotions. He stood +for a little space thinking of it all. The return to his familiar +quarters at the bank had affected him less than he had expected. He had +not felt it as a return to slavery. +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks to the Church," he said gratefully, "which confers on her +members the only perfect freedom, namely, freedom of soul, freedom of +heavenly citizenship." +</p> + +<p> +Then he thought of Poppy—thought very tenderly of that strangely +captivating woman of many moods! How clever she was, how accurately she +knew the ways of men! Her warnings regarding his dabbling in matters +theatrical, for instance, and charities to unsuccessful +playwrights.—And at that point Dominic Iglesias drew himself up short. +For, in a flash, the truth came to him that Poppy St. John's hated +"jackal of a husband" was none other than his fellow-lodger, de Courcy +Smyth, whose shuffling footsteps he heard even now, nervelessly +crossing and recrossing the floor of the room immediately above. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap30"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXX +</h3> + +<p> +"I could not write, Rhoda, because of course I could not be sure +beforehand whether, when I came to London, I should really wish to see +you and George again or not." This from Serena, loftily and with +rustlings. "But as Lady Samuelson was driving in this direction to-day, +and offered to drop me here if I could find my own way back, I thought +I had better come, as I knew it was your afternoon at home." +</p> + +<p> +"And I am sure for my part I am very pleased to have you come," Mrs. +Lovegrove replied, leading the way towards the seat of honour upon the +Chesterfield sofa. "I always do hold with letting bygones be bygones, +particularly as between relatives, when there has been any little +unpleasantness. And perhaps your calling will cheer poor Georgie up. He +is very tenacious of your and Susan's affection, is Georgie." +</p> + +<p> +Here the speaker proceeded to swallow rather convulsively, pressing her +handkerchief against her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps I should be wiser to keep it all to myself," she added, not +without agitation. "But the sight of you does bring up so much. And I +am sorry to tell you, Serena, things are not as happy as they used to +be in this house." +</p> + +<p> +The office of ministering angel was not, it must be conceded, exactly +native to Serena, her sympathies being restricted, the reverse of +acute. But, at a push, "curiosity has been known to supply the place of +sympathy very passably; and of curiosity Serena had always a large +stock at the service of her friends and acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder why," she therefore observed in reply to her hostess's +concluding remark—"I mean I wonder why things should not be as happy +as they used to be?" +</p> + +<p> +"I trace the commencement of it all to the time when you were visiting +here last November—not that I mean you were in any way to blame—" +</p> + +<p> +Serena interrupted with spirit: +</p> + +<p> +"No, pray do not connect anything which occurred then with me, Rhoda. I +think it would be most misplaced. After all that I have had to go +through I really should have thought it only delicate on your part +never to refer to what took place during my visit. I certainly should +have hesitated about coming here to-day if I had supposed either you or +George would have referred to it.—What dreadfully bad taste of Rhoda!" +she added mentally. "I believe I had better go. That would mark my +displeasure, and teach her to be more guarded with me in future. But +then perhaps she has something to say which I really ought to know. +Perhaps it would be a mistake to go. Perhaps I had better stay. I do +not want to be too harsh with Rhoda." +</p> + +<p> +The truth being that she actually itched to hear more. For, to Serena, +her wholly imaginary love episode with Mr. Iglesias represented the +most vivid of all the very limited experiences of her life. Her +affections had not been engaged, since she possessed no affections in +any vital sense of that word. But she had been flattered and excited. +</p> + +<p> +She had seemed to herself to occupy a most interesting position, +demanding infinite tact. During the months which had elapsed she had +rehearsed the history of every incident, of every hour of intercourse, +with Dominic Iglesias, a thousand times; weighing each word, +discounting every look of his, indulging in unlimited speculation and +analysis, until the proportions of that which had occurred were +magnified beyond all possibility of recognition, let alone of sane +relation to fact. To herself, therefore, Serena had become the heroine +of an elaborate intrigue. This greatly increased her importance in her +own eyes; and, though she was studiously silent regarding the subject +save in indirect allusion, the said self-importance, reacting upon +those about her, gained both for herself and her opinions a degree of +consideration to which she was unaccustomed and which she highly +relished. Never had Serena presented so bold a front to her +philanthropic and very possessive elder sister. Never had she enjoyed +so much attention in the small and rigidly select circle of Slowby +society, in which she and Miss Susan moved. Serena spoke with authority +upon all subjects, on the strength of a purely fictitious affair of the +heart. She is not the first woman who has made capital out of the +non-existent in this kind, nor will she probably be the last! +Nevertheless, she was very far from admitting the great benefit which +Mr. Iglesias had so unconsciously conferred upon her. She regarded +herself as a deeply injured person—irreparably injured, but for her +own diplomacy, admirable caution, knowledge of the world and +self-respect. +</p> + +<p> +"I am well aware it is a trying subject to approach," Mrs. Lovegrove +replied, with praiseworthy mildness. "And I am far from blaming you for +turning from it, Serena. I am sure it has weighed sadly on my mind and +on George's, too. Not that he has said much, but I could see how he +felt; and then a great deal has come out since. That is why I am so +gratified to have you call here to-day, and so will Georgie be. He has +taken it dreadfully to heart finding how we have all been taken in, and +seeing how wrong it must put him with you and with Susan." +</p> + +<p> +"It is very proper that you should say that, Rhoda," the other observed +with condescension. "I think you owe it to me to express regret. I +should have been sorry if George had proved indifferent, for I have +been very careful in what I have told Susan. Of course, I might have +spoken strongly. I think anyone would admit I should have been quite +justified in doing so. But I wished to spare George. Mamma was very +much attached to him, and of course he was constantly with us in old +days, before his marriage." +</p> + +<p> +It was significant of the wife's humble state that she received this +thrust without a murmur. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Georgie was too upset to tell even me for a long time," she +continued somewhat irrelevantly, "and you may judge by that how badly +he felt. He knew how shocked I should be, and that I should take it as +such an insult to the dear vicar, after all his kindness, that any +friend of ours whom he had talked to in this house should turn +Romanist." +</p> + +<p> +"Who? What?" cried Serena. She had determined to maintain a superior +and impassive attitude, but at this point curiosity became rampant, +refusing further circumlocution or delay. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Mr. Iglesias, to be sure," Mrs. Lovegrove answered, hardly +restraining evidences of satisfaction. The news was lamentable, no +doubt; but to have it miss fire in the recital of it would have made it +ten times more lamentable still. "And the worst of it was," she +continued, refreshed by the effect upon her hearer, "he kept it dark +for we don't in the least know how long. He mentioned no dates, and +poor Georgie was too upset to ask him. Of course it is well known how +double Romanists are always taught to be—not that I was ever +acquainted with any. You never meet them out, I am glad to think, where +we visit. Still, that Mr. Iglesias, who was quite one of ourselves, as +you may say, so intimate and always appearing the perfect gentleman, so +open and honest—" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! there you are wrong, Rhoda," the other lady put in with decision, +while making a violent effort to recover her impassivity and +superiority. "You and George may be surprised, but I am not. I always +had my suspicions of Mr. Iglesias. I told you so more than once. At the +time you and George were annoyed. Now you see I was right. I am seldom +mistaken. Even Susan admits I am very observant. After his +extraordinary behaviour to me I should not be surprised at anything +which Mr. Iglesias might do." She paused, breathless but triumphant. +"Have you seen him since all this came out, Rhoda?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no. He has called twice, but fortunately Georgie was out walking. +He goes out walking a great deal now, does Georgie." The speaker heaved +a voluminous sigh. Her satisfaction had been short-lived. "And I told +the girl, if Mr. Iglesias asked for me, to say I was particularly +engaged. He has written to Georgie. I know that—a long letter—but I +have not been asked to read it." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lovegrove pressed her handkerchief against her lips again, +agitation gaining her. +</p> + +<p> +"After all these years of marriage, you know, Serena, it is a very +cutting thing to have any concealment between me and Georgie. I should +not mention it to you but that you were here when it commenced. I never +supposed—no, never, never—there could be any coldness between him and +me. When I have heard others speak of trouble with their husbands, I +have always pitied the poor things from my heart, but held them mainly +responsible. Now I think differently—" +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Eliza Hart, mum." This shrilly from the little house-parlourmaid. +</p> + +<p> +Serena rose as well as her hostess. Superiority counselled departure; +curiosity urged remaining. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, I should feel justified in staying if Rhoda pressed me to +do so," she said to herself. And Rhoda, in the very act of greeting her +new guest, did press her to do so. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely you are not leaving yet?" she said plaintively. +</p> + +<p> +"It would hurt me not to have you stay to tea, and Georgie would be +sadly disappointed to think he had missed you." +</p> + +<p> +Thus admonished, Serena graciously consented to remain Miss Hart, as +last arrival, being necessarily invited to assume the place of honour +upon the sofa, Serena selected a chair at as great a distance from that +historic article of furniture as the exigencies of conversation +permitted. "I must show her that I stay not to see her, but solely on +Georgie's account," she commented inwardly. "I have been very cold in +manner. I think she must have observed that." +</p> + +<p> +But the great Eliza was in a militant humour, not easily abashed. She +had called with intentions, in the interests of which she plunged +volubly into talk. +</p> + +<p> +"You will excuse my coming without Peachie Porcher, Mrs. Lovegrove," +she began. "She was all anxiety to come, too, fearing you might think +her neglectful. But I prevented it. She overrates her strength, does +Peachie, and to-day her neuralgia is cruel. 'I'll run across and +account for you,' I said to her. 'You just lie down and take a nap, and +let the housemaid bring you up a little something with your tea, and +take it early.' 'It's not more nourishment I require, but less worry, +Liz dear,' she said. And so it is, Mrs. Lovegrove." +</p> + +<p> +"We all have our troubles, Miss Hart, and often unsuspected ones which +call for silence." +</p> + +<p> +The wife's large cheeks quivered ominously, while Serena rustled—but +whether in sympathetic agreement with the sentiments expressed by the +last speaker, or in protest against the presence of the former one, it +would be difficult to determine. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder whether that is not best, Rhoda—I mean I wonder whether it +is not best to be silent," she remarked reflectively. "I think people +are not usually half cautious enough what they tell. So many +disagreeables can be avoided if you are really on your guard. Mamma +impressed that upon us when we were children. I am very careful, but I +often think Susan is hardly careful enough. Most troubles arise through +trusting other people too much." +</p> + +<p> +"And that's poor darling Peachie all over," Miss Hart declared, with a +fine appreciation of opportunity. "Too great trustfulness has been her +worst fault, as I always tell her, the generous pet. Not that all our +gentlemen are ungrateful, Mrs. Lovegrove. I would not have you suppose +that. Poor Mr. Smyth, for instance, whom I'm afraid I have accused of +being very surly and bearish at times, has come out wonderfully lately. +But it must be a hard nature, indeed, which Peachie's influence would +not soften. One such nature I am acquainted with." Eliza paused, +looking from one to other of her hearers with much meaning. "But it is +not the case with poor Mr. Smyth. He has yielded. Then there is the tie +of an unfortunate domestic past between him and Peachie, which helps to +bring them together.—Of course that means nothing to you, Mrs. +Lovegrove." +</p> + +<p> +The lady addressed swallowed convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +"But all are not blessed with such good fortune as yours," the great +Eliza continued. "Mr. Smyth has been very open with Peachie recently. +He has some surprising tales to tell, knowing very well all that is +going on in society. And that reminds me of a certain gentleman who +does not live a thousand miles from here. Mr. Smyth has hinted at much +that is very startling in that direction." +</p> + +<p> +The speaker paused again. +</p> + +<p> +"Would it be intrusive to ask whether you have been favoured with much +of Mr. Iglesias' company during the last few weeks, Mrs. Lovegrove?" +she added. +</p> + +<p> +Ruddy mottlings bespread the wife's kindly countenance. Serena moved +slightly upon her chair. She was conscious, of growing excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps not quite so much as formerly; but then Mr. Lovegrove has been +out walking most evenings. The warmer weather always causes him to feel +the need of exercise," the excellent woman returned, putting heroic +restraint upon herself. "And I have been very occupied with the spring +cleaning. I make it a duty to look into everything myself, you know, +Miss Hart. Not but what my girls are very good. I think all the talk +about trouble with the servants is very much exaggerated. Our cook, +Fanny, has been with us quite a number of years. Still, I hold it is +well for them to have a mistress's supervision if the cleaning is to be +thorough. If you see to it yourself, then you can have nobody to blame. +And so I have had frequently to deny myself to visitors." +</p> + +<p> +She gave a sigh of relief, trusting she had loyally steered the +conversation into safer channels. But the great Eliza was not thus to +be thwarted. +</p> + +<p> +"I asked on Peachie Porcher's account," she declared, "not on my own, +Mrs. Lovegrove. It is all of less than no consequence to me, except for +the sake of Cedar Lodge, how a certain gentleman spends his time. But +Peachie's interests must be protected. With an establishment such as +ours a good name is everything. 'You cannot be too particular; for any +talk of fastness, and the place must go down,' as she says to me—" +</p> + +<p> +But here, the wife's natural rectitude and sense of justice triumphed +over prejudice and wounded sensibilities. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure I could never believe anyone would have occasion to accuse +Mr. Iglesias of fastness," she said. "Of course, the change of religion +is dreadful, particularly in one who should have known better, though a +foreigner, having had the advantage of being brought up in England. +Nobody can be more aware of that than myself and Mr. Lovegrove. It has +been a sad grief to us"—her voice quavered—"and no doubt early rising +and fish meals do make a lot of work and unpleasantness in a +house-hold. But as to fastness, well, Miss Hart, I cannot find it in my +conscience to agree to anything as bad as that." +</p> + +<p> +With preternatural solemnity the great Eliza shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Seeing is believing, Mrs. Lovegrove," she replied. "And when ladies +call, dressed in the tiptop of the fashion! Very stylish, no doubt, but +not quite the style Peachie Porcher can countenance, circumstanced as +we are with our gentlemen guests. Then there is what Mr. Smyth hinted +at subsequently, just in a friendly way. He did not say he was actually +acquainted with the lady, but intimated that he could say very much +more if he chose. No, Mrs. Lovegrove, I regret to speak, knowing how +long you and a certain gentleman have been acquainted, but there can be +no question Peachie Porcher's interests have been trifled with, and her +affections also." +</p> + +<p> +Here aggressive rustlings on the part of Serena arrested the flow of +Miss Hart's eloquence. +</p> + +<p> +"You spoke, I believe, Miss Lovegrove?" she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I did not speak," Serena cried.—"Vulgar, designing person, what +presumption!" she cried to herself. "Anyone would feel insulted by her +manner. She thinks she has put me at a disadvantage. But she is +mistaken. I know more than she supposes." She was greatly enraged; for, +unreasonable though it may appear, if trifling were about on the part +of Dominic Iglesias, Serena reserved to herself a monopoly in respect +of it. Few things, perhaps, are more galling to a woman than the +assertion that a Lovelace has been guilty of misleading attentions to +others besides herself. If she is not the solitary object of his +affections, let her at least be the solitary victim of his perfidy. And +that Mrs. Porcher should aspire to share her <i>role</i> of betrayed one +was, to Serena, a piece of unheard-of impertinence. She refused to +bestow further attention upon Miss Hart, and turned haughtily to her +hostess. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you any idea when George will be in, Rhoda? I am quite willing to +wait a reasonable time for him, but I cannot be expected to wait +indefinitely. I must consider Lady Samuelson. It is a long distance to +Ladbroke Square—of course Trimmer's Green is very far out—and I have +to dress for dinner. Everything is very well done at Lady Samuelson's, +and she makes a great point of punctuality. Of course it is no +difficulty to me to be punctual. I was brought up to be so. Mamma was +always extremely particular about our being in time. She said it was +very rude to be late. I think it is rude, and so, of course, +punctuality is quite natural to me. But I do object to being hurried; +and so, unless George is likely to be in almost directly, I really must +go, Rhoda." +</p> + +<p> +"I should be very mortified to have you leave before he comes back. It +would be a sore disappointment to Georgie to find you had been here and +he had missed you," the good creature pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +"And it's something quite new for Mr. Lovegrove to be out on your +at-home day, isn't it?" Eliza put in, not without covert sarcasm. "I +never remember to have known it happen before." +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. and Miss Ballard, please, mum"—this from the house-parlourmaid. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lovegrove arose with alacrity, retail trade and nonconformity +alike forgiven. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid Miss Hart grows very spiteful," she said to herself. "I +wish she would go. I should be vexed to have her outsit Serena.—Well, +Mrs. Ballard, very pleased, I am sure, to see you"—this aloud—"and +your daughter, too. The spring is coming on nicely, is it not? Quite +warm this afternoon, walking? I dare say it is. You and my husband's +cousin, Miss Lovegrove, have met, I believe? Miss Ballard, Miss +Lovegrove.—Are you going, Miss Hart? Kind regards to Mrs. Porcher, and +sincere hopes she may soon lose her neuralgia. Very trying complaint, +Mrs. Ballard, is it not?—and very prevalent, so they tell me, this +year.—Why, you're never going to leave, too, Serena? You'll come +again, or Georgie will be so troubled." +</p> + +<p> +But Serena held out small hope of her reappearance. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I should be glad to see George, but I could not bind myself +to anything, Rhoda. You see, Lady Samuelson"—the Ballard ladies, +mother and daughter, looked at one another, fluttered and +impressed—"Lady Samuelson," Serena repeated, her voice rising a +little, "has such a number of engagements, and of course if she wishes +to take me with her I cannot refuse. At home she always likes me to +help entertain. I really have very little time to call my own, and so I +should not feel justified in making any promise. Of course it was just +a chance my being able to come to-day. You can tell George I am sorry +not to have seen him. I should like him to know that I am sorry." +</p> + +<p> +"You are very kind, Serena," the other said humbly. +</p> + +<p> +"I think Rhoda has improved," Serena said to herself, as she walked +across Trimmer's Green between the black iron railings. "I think she +has more sense of my position than she did. I wonder whether she thinks +that if Mr. Iglesias had proposed I should have accepted him. Of course +she thinks I was very badly treated. I think her manner shows that. +Certainly she took his part rather against that odious Miss Hart. But I +don't believe she really sided with him. I think she only appeared to +do so to snub Miss Hart. Of course if she had stayed, I should have had +to stay, too. I should have owed it to myself to do so. But, as she +went, there was no object in staying; and it was wiser to seem quite +indifferent about seeing George. I hope he won't attempt to call upon +me at Lady Samuelson's! I should hardly think he would presume to do +that. I must tell the butler, if a gentleman calls, to say I am not at +home. If it was only George it would not so much matter, but I could +not run the chance of having Lady Samuelson and Rhoda meet. It would +not do at all to have Rhoda climbing into society through me. I think +it is too bad to have people make use of you like that. And Rhoda has +no tact. I see I must be on my guard with George and Rhoda. I wonder +whether I had better tell Susan Mr. Iglesias has become a Roman +Catholic? Of course she would think I had had a great escape; but in +any case that does not excuse him. He behaved very badly. I don't +believe for an instant he ever took any notice of Mrs. Porcher. I +believe that is an entire invention. I wonder if the lady who called is +the same lady we saw at the theatre—" +</p> + +<p> +And so on, and so on, all the way home by the Uxbridge Road, and +Netting Hill, and then northward to the august retirement of Lady +Samuelson's large corner house in Ladbroke Square. For a deeply injured +person Serena had really enjoyed herself very much. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap31"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXI +</h3> + +<p> +The burden of August, dense and heavy, lay upon London. Radiating +outward in lifeless and dull-glaring sunshine, it involved the nearer +suburbs; so that Dominic Iglesias, sitting on a bench beside the +roadway crossing Barnes Common, notwithstanding the hour—past six +o'clock—and the open space surrounding him, found the atmosphere +hardly less oppressive than that of the streets. The great world, which +plays, had departed. The little world, outnumbering the great by some +five or six millions, which works, remained. And Dominic Iglesias, +since he too worked, remained likewise, sharing with it the burden of +the August heat and languor; and sharing also, to-day being Sunday, its +weekly going forth over the face of the scorched and sun-seared land +seeking rest, and, too often, finding none. +</p> + +<p> +For the past two months he had seen Poppy St. John but seldom, nor had +he heard from her. Whether by accident or by design he knew not, she +had rarely been at home on those occasions when he had been free to +call. For the last three weeks she had been away up the river, so he +understood, with her friend Dot Parris—<i>alias</i> Miss Charlotte +Colthrust. A blight seemed to Iglesias to have fallen upon his and her +friendship, ever since the day of his return to Messrs. Barking +Brothers & Barking; and his discovery, or rather divination, of the +relation in which de Courcy Smyth stood to her. While her husband +remained nameless, an unknown quantity, Dominic deplored the fact of +her marriage, but as an abstraction. So soon as that fact had acquired +in his mind—whether rightly or wrongly—a name and local habitation, +now that he was liable to meet it daily incarnate—and that in most +unsavoury shape—liable to be constantly reminded of its near +neighbourhood, to witness a thousand and one unpleasing peculiarities +of speech, habit, and manner, unlooked-for emotions arose in Iglesias, +and those of a character of which he was by no means proud. Resentment +took him, indignation, strange movements of jealousy and hatred; all +very natural, no doubt, but decidedly bad for the soul. It was idle for +him to remind himself that his belief regarding de Courcy Smyth was +based upon supposition, upon circumstantial evidence which might prove +merely coincident. He could not rid himself of that belief, nor of the +emotional consequences of it; and these so vexed him that he questioned +whether it would not be better to remove from Cedar Lodge and seek a +domicile uninfected by the perpetual provocation of the man's presence. +But it was not easy to give a plausible reason to his hostess for any +immediate change of residence; nor was it easy, in the present stress +of business at the bank, to find time or energy for house-hunting. The +atmosphere of Cedar Lodge had become inimical. His rooms had ceased to +be a place of security and repose. Yet whither should he go? The great +wilderness of London seemed vastly inhospitable when it came to the +question of selecting a new dwelling-place. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, he was grievously conscious of the growing estrangement +between himself and Poppy St. John, which he connected, in some way, +with this haunting yet unspoken suspicion of her relation to de Courcy +Smyth—a suspicion which tended to rob intercourse of all spontaneity +by introducing into it a spirit of embarrassment and constraint. He +would have given so very much to know the truth and be able to reckon +finally with it; but he judged it unpermissible that he should approach +the ugly subject first. It was Poppy's affair, her private and unlovely +property. While she elected to keep silence, therefore, it would be +disloyal for him to speak. Still it distressed him, adding to his +mental and emotional unrest. The happiness might have gone out of their +intercourse, yet there were times when he wearied for sight and for +speech of her more than he quite cared to admit. George Lovegrove still +held aloof. Dominic rallied his faith in the divine purpose, rallied +his obedience to the divine ruling, fixed his eyes more patiently upon +the promise of the far horizon; yet it must be owned he felt very +friendless and sad at heart. +</p> + +<p> +To-day, driven in part by that friendliness, he had come out on the +chance of gaining some news of Poppy. Disappointment, however, awaited +him. For the discreet Phillimore, though receiving him graciously, +reported her mistress resident at home again, it is true, but gone into +town on business, probably theatrical, and unlikely to return until +late. Therefore Dominic had walked on to Barnes Common, and finding the +uncomfortable bench by the roadside—whereon Cappadocia, the toy +spaniel, had sought his protection more than a year ago—untenanted, +had sat down there to meditate. Cedar Lodge was no longer a refuge. He +preferred to keep away from it as long as might be. Perhaps, too, as +the sun dropped the air would grow cooler, and the southeasterly +draught, parched and scorching as from the mouth of a furnace, which +huffled at times only to fall dead, might shift to some more merciful +quarter. A coppery haze hung over London, above which the rusty white +summits of a range of cumulus cloud towered into the thick grey-blue of +the upper sky. Possibly the cloud harboured thunder and the refreshment +of rain amid its giant crags and precipices. On the chance of such +refreshment he would stay. +</p> + +<p> +For in good truth he needed refreshment, and that speedily, being very +tired, fagged by long hours in the City, by heavy responsibilities, by +the burden of the airless August heat, let alone those more intimate +causes of disturbance already indicated. Iglesias could not disguise +from himself that the close application to business was beginning to +tell injuriously upon his health. This same morning, coming back from +early Mass, passing through the flagged passage which leads from +Kensington Palace Green into Church Street, he had become so faint from +exhaustion, that reaching—and not without difficulty—his former home +in Holland Street, he had summoned the neat bald-headed little +caretaker and asked permission to enter the house and rest. The +ground-floor rooms were cool and dusky, sheltered by closed shutters +from the summer sun. Only the French-window of the back dining-room +stood open, on to the flight of wrought-iron steps leading down into +the garden. Beside it the caretaker, not without husky coughings, +placed a kitchen chair for Iglesias and fetched him a glass of water. +</p> + +<p> +"I could wish I had something better to offer you, sir," he said, "but +I am an abstainer by habit myself; and I have no liquor of any kind, +unfortunately, in the house." +</p> + +<p> +The water, however, was pleasantly cold, and Dominic drank it +thankfully. He could have fancied there was virtue in it—the virtue of +things blessed by long-ago mother-love. And, thinking of that, his eyes +filled with tears as he looked out over the small neglected garden. Of +the once glorious laburnum there remained only an unsightly stump, but +jasmine still clothed the enclosing walls, the dark green of its +straggling shoots starred here and there with belated white blossoms. +About the lip of the empty stone basin, vigorously chirruping, sparrows +came and went, while in the far corner a grove of starveling sunflowers +lifted their brown and yellow-rayed faces towards the light. Dominic, +resting gratefully in the cool semi-darkness of the empty room, until +the faintness which had attacked him was passed, found the place very +gentle, soothing, and sweet. The sadder memories had died out here, so +he noted. Only gracious and tender ones remained. He wished he could +stay on indefinitely. As the years multiply, and the chequered story of +them lengthens, it is comforting to dwell in a place where, once on a +time, one had been greatly loved. +</p> + +<p> +Dominic turned to the waiting caretaker, who regarded him with mingled +solicitude, admiration, and deference. +</p> + +<p> +"So the house is still unlet?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, and is likely to remain so, I apprehend. The lease, as I +understand, falls in a very few years hence, and the landlord is +unwilling to make any outlay on the house, which will probably then be +pulled down; while no tenant, I opine, would be willing to rent a +residence so wanting in modern decoration and modern conveniences. +Weeks pass, sir, without any persons calling to view." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet the rent is low?" Iglesias said. +</p> + +<p> +"Very low for so genteel a district—I am a native of Kensington, 'the +royal village,' myself, sir—and no premium is asked." +</p> + +<p> +Now, sitting on the uneasy bench upon the confines of Barnes +Common—while the little many-millioned world, which works, in gangs, +and groups, and amatory couples, and somewhat foot-weary family +parties, sauntered by—that same oppression of faintness came over +Dominic Iglesias, along with a great nostalgia for the cool, dusky, +low-ceilinged rooms, and the neglected yet still bravely blossoming +garden of the little house in Holland Street. +</p> + +<p> +"It would be pleasant to spend one's last days and draw one's last +breath there," Iglesias said to himself; "when the sum of endeavour is +complete, when the last cable has been sent, the last column of figures +balanced and audited, when the ledgers are closed and one's work being +fairly finished one is free to sit still and listen—not fearfully, but +with reverent curiosity—for the footsteps of Death and the secrets he +has in his keeping." +</p> + +<p> +And there he paused, for the scorched dusty land and pale dense sky, +even the rusty white summits of the great range of cloud, slowly, +slowly climbing high heaven—even the light dresses of passing women +and children—went suddenly black, indistinct, and confused to his +sight, so that he seemed to be falling through some depth of dark and +untenanted space, while the dust, thick, stifling, clinging, fell with +him, encircling, enveloping him with a horror of suffocation, of +crushing, impalpable, yet unescapable, dead weight. +</p> + +<p> +Then out of the darkness, out of the dust, in voluminous dusty drab +motor veil and dusty drab motor coat, the Lady of the Windswept Dust +herself came towards him, bringing consolation and help. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap32"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXII +</h3> + +<p> +"You are coming round, dear man. You really look better. What you +wanted was a sensible Christian meal. For, I tell you, you were most +uncommonly done, and it was a near shave whether I should get you home +here without having to call on the populace for assistance. Don't go +and worry now. You were superb as usual, with enough personal dignity +to supply a whole dynasty, and have some left over for washing-day into +the bargain. You should give lessons in the art of majestic +collapse—not that you did collapse, thank goodness! But you came +precious near it.—Yes, I mean it, I mean it, dear man"—Poppy nodded +her head at him, leaned across the corner of the table and patted his +arm with the utmost friendliness. "I want to terrify you into being +more careful. There are plenty of people one could jolly well spare; +but you're not among them. So lay that to heart, or I shan't have an +easy moment. And then as to personal dignity, if you will excuse my +entering into details of costume, in that grey top-hat, grey +frock-coat, et cetera, et cetera, you looked more fit for the Ascot +Royal Enclosure than for Barnes Common on a broiling August Sunday. The +populace eyed you with awe.—Don't be offended, there's a dear. You +can't help being very smart and very beautiful; and you oughtn't to +want to help it even if you could, since it gives me so much pleasure. +Your tailor's a gem. But how he must love you, must be ready to dress +you free of cost for the simple joy of fitting on." +</p> + +<p> +The little dinner had been excellent. The clear soup hot, and the +ninety-two Ayala, extra dry, chilled to a nicety—and so with the rest +of the menu. Glass, silver, china, were set forth daintily upon the +fine white damask, under the glow of scarlet-shaded candles. The double +doors connecting the small drawing-room and dining-room stood open; +this, combined with the fact that lights were limited to the +dinner-table, giving an agreeable effect of coolness and of space. +While, as arrayed in a crisp black muslin gown—the frills and panels +of it painted with shaded crimson roses and bronze-green leaves—Poppy +St. John ministered to her guest, chattered to, and rallied him, her +eyes were extraordinarily dark and luminous, and her voice rich in soft +caressing tones. Never had she appeared more engaging, more natural and +human, never stronger yet more tenderly gay. Dominic Iglesias yielded +himself up gladly, gratefully, to the charm of the woman and to the +comfort of his surroundings. Temperate in all things, he was temperate +in enjoyment. Yet he was touched, he was happy. Life was very sweet to +him in this hour of relief from physical distress, of renewed +friendship, and of pretty material circumstance. +</p> + +<p> +"It was such a mercy I had a decent meal to offer you," Poppy went on. +"Often the commissariat department is a bit sketchy on Sunday, +in—well, in these days of the cleaned slate. But you see, Lionel +Gordon, of the Twentieth Century Theatre, was to tell me, this +afternoon, what decision he had come to about the engagement I have +been spelling to get. He is an appalling mongrel, three-parts German +Jew and one part Scotchman—sweet mixture of the Chosen and Self-Chosen +people! He never was pretty, and increasing years have not rendered his +appearance more enticing; but he's the cleverest manager going, on +either side of the Atlantic, and he doesn't go back on his word once +given, as too many of them do. Well, he was to let me know; and to tell +the truth, beloved lunatic, I was rather keen about this engagement. I +knew if he did not give it me I should be a little hipped, and should +stand in need of support and consolation; while, if he did, I should be +rather expansive, and should want suitably to celebrate the event. So I +ordered a good dinner to be ready in either case"—Poppy laughed +gently. "Queer thing the artist," she said, "with its instinct of +falling back on creature comforts. Whatever happens, good luck or bad +luck, it always eats." +</p> + +<p> +"And they gave you the engagement?" Iglesias inquired. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy nodded her head in assent. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dear man, Lionel gave it me. He'd have been a fool if he hadn't, +for he knows who I am and what training I've had. And then Fallowfeild +has made things easy. He's a thundering good friend, Fallowfeild is; +and in view of late events—once I had told him to go, I wouldn't, of +course, take a penny of Alaric's—I had no conscience about letting +Fallowfeild be useful. He was lovely about it. I shall only draw a +nominal salary for the first six months until I have proved myself. +What I want is my opportunity; and money matters being made easy helped +materially. Both the Chosen and Self-Chosen People have a wonderfully +keen eye to the boodle, bless their little hearts and consciences!" +</p> + +<p> +She paused, leaning her elbows on the table and looking sideways at +Iglesias, her head thrown back. +</p> + +<p> +"I am dreadfully glad to have you here to-night," she went on, "because +you see it's a turning-point. I have pretty well climbed the ridge and +reached the watershed. The streams have all started running in the +other direction—towards the dear old work and worry, the envy, hatred, +malice, and all uncharitableness, and all the fun, too, and good +comradeship, and ambition, and joy, of the theatre. Can you understand, +I at once adore and detest it, for it's a terribly mixed business. +Already I keep on seeing the rows of pinky-white faces rising, tier +above tier, up to the roof, which turn you sick and give you cold +shivers all down your spine when you first come on. And then I go hot +with the fight against their apathy or opposition, the glorious fight +to conquer and hold an audience, and bend its emotions and its +sympathies, as the wind bends the meadow grass, to one's will." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy stretched out her hand across the corner of the table again, +laying it upon Iglesias' hand. Her eyes danced with excitement, yet her +voice shook and the words came brokenly. +</p> + +<p> +"But, dearly beloved, I have your blessing on this new departure, +haven't I?" she asked. "After all, it's you, just simply you, that +sends me back to an honest life and to my profession. So I should like +to have your blessing—that, and your prayers." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you doubt that you have them," Iglesias answered, and his voice, +too, shook, somewhat, "now and always, dearest of friends?" +</p> + +<p> +For a little minute Poppy sat looking full at him, he looking full at +her. Then, with a sort of rush, she rose to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Come along, this won't do," she said. "Sentiment strictly prohibited. +It's not wholesome for you after the nasty turn you had on Barnes +Common—and it's not particularly wholesome for me either, though for +quite other reasons. Moreover, it's fiendishly hot in here. So see, +dear man, you're not going just yet. I telephoned to the Bell Inn +stables for a private hansom to be on hand about ten thirty for you. +Meanwhile, you're to take it easy and rest. It is but five steps +upstairs, and that won't tire you. Come up into the cool and have your +coffee on the balcony." +</p> + +<p> +And so it came about that Dominic Iglesias followed Poppy St. John +upstairs—she moving rapidly, in a way defiantly—followed her into a +bedchamber, where a subtle sweetness of orris-root met him; and a +fantastic brightness of gaslight and moonlight, coming in through open +windows, chequered the handsome dark-polished brass-inlaid furniture, +the green silk coverlet and hangings, the dimly patterned ceiling and +walls. Without hesitation or apology, Poppy walked straight through +this apartment, and passed out on to the white-planked and white-railed +balcony. +</p> + +<p> +The dome of the sky was immense and had become perfectly clear, the +great clouds having boiled up during the afternoon only to sink away +and vanish at sunset, as is their wont in seasons of drought. North and +east the glare of London pulsed along the horizon; and above it the +stars were faint, since the radiant first-quarter moon rode high, +drenching roadway and palings, the stretch of the polo-ground, the +shrubberies and grove of giant elms, with white light blotted and +barred, here and there, by black shadow. The air was still, but less +oppressive, the cruelty of sun-heat having gone out of it and only a +suavity remaining. The <i>facade</i> of the terrace of smirking, +self-conscious, much-be-flowered and be-balconied little houses had +taken on a certain worth of picturesqueness, suggestive of the bazaar +of some far-away Oriental city rather than of a vulgar London suburb, +the summer night even here producing an exquisiteness of effect and +making itself very sensibly felt. Poppy silently motioned her guest to +the further of the two cane deck-chairs set in the recess, arranged a +cushion at his back, drew up a little mother-of-pearl inlaid table +beside him, poured coffee into two cups. Then she moved across to the +rail of the balcony, and stood there, her head thrown back, her hands +clasped behind her, facing the moonlight, which covered her slender +rounded figure from head to foot as with a pale transparent veil of +infinite tenuity. Iglesias could see the rise and fall of her bosom, +the flutter of her eyelids, the involuntary movement of her lips as she +pressed them together, restraining, as might be divined, words to which +she judged it wiser to deny utterance. +</p> + +<p> +And this hardly repressed excitement in Poppy's bearing and aspect, +along with the peculiar scene and circumstances in which he found +himself, worked profoundly upon Dominic Iglesias. In passing through +that scented, half-discovered, fantastically lighted bedchamber and +stepping out into the magic of the night, he had stepped out, in +imagination, into regions dreamed of in earlier years—when reading +poetry or hearing music,—but never fairly entered, still less enjoyed, +since all the duties and obligations of his daily life militated +against and even forbade such enjoyment. The weariness of his work in +the City, the petty annoyances he suffered at Cedar Lodge, the haunting +disgust of de Courcy Smyth's presence, fell away from him, becoming for +the time as though they were not. He never had been, nor was he now, in +any degree self-indulgent or a sentimentalist. The appeal of the +present somewhat enchanted hour was to the intellect and the spirit, +rather than sensuous, still less sensual. Nevertheless, an almost +passionate desire of earthly beauty took him—of the beauty of things +seen, of things plastic, beauty of the human form; beauty of +far-distant lands and the varied pageant of their aspect and history; +of great rivers flowing seaward; of tombs by the wayside; of the +glorious terror of the desert's naked face; of languorous +fountain-cooled gardens, close hid in the burning heart of ancient +cities; beauty of sound, beauty of words and phrases, above all, of the +eternal beauty of youth and the illimitable expectation and hope of it. +</p> + +<p> +And it was out of all this, out of the mirage of these vast elusive +prospects and apprehensions, that he answered Poppy St. John, as with +serious eyes yet smiling lips she turned, and coming across the white +floor sat down beside him, saying: +</p> + +<p> +"How goes it, Dominic? Are you rested?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered, "I am rested. And more than that, I am alive and +awake, strangely awake and full of vision—thanks to you." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's expression sweetened, becoming protective, maternal. She leaned +back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap; yet there was still +a certain tension in her expression, an intensity as of inward +excitement in her gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me things, then," she said, "tell me things about yourself, if +the gift of seeing is upon you.—There's no one to overhear. The +neighbours on both sides are away for the holidays, thank the powers! +and their houses stand empty. While the voices and footsteps down in +the road only make us more happily alone. So tell me things, Dominic. I +am a trifle stirred up with all this affair of the theatre, and you +always quiet me. I'm really a very good child. I deserve a treat. And +there are things I dreadfully want to know." +</p> + +<p> +"Alas! there is so absurdly little to tell," Iglesias answered, "that, +here and now, in face of my existing sense of life and of vision, I am +humbled by my own ignorance and poverty of achievement. That poverty, I +suppose, is all the more apparent to me, because twice to-day I have +been—so I judge, at least—within measurable distance of bidding +farewell to this astonishingly wonderful world and the fashion of it. +It comes home to me how little I have seen, how little I have profited, +how little I know. I would have liked to leave it; it would be more +seemly to do so, having profited more largely by my sojourn here." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias paused, excitement which his natural sobriety disapproved +gaining him, too, through that ache of unrealised beauty. For a moment +he struggled with it as with a rising tide, then resigned himself. +</p> + +<p> +"And yet," he added, "in other respects I should not be sorry to hear +the hour strike, for curiosity of the unknown is very strong in me. +Opportunity may have been narrow, and one may have been balked of high +endeavour and rich experience, by lack of talent and by adverse +circumstances; but in the supreme, the crowning experience, that of +death and all which, for joy or sorrow, lies beyond it, even the most +obscure, the most uncultured and untravelled must participate." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be in too great a deuce of a hurry to satisfy that curiosity, +dear man," Poppy put in. "You must contrive to exercise patience for a +little while yet, please; always remembering that it is entirely +superfluous to run to catch a train which is bound not to start until +you are on board of it. And then, too, you see—well, there's me, after +all, and I want you." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias' face grew keen, as he looked at her through that encompassing +whiteness of moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad of that," he said very quietly, "because you are to me, dear +friend, what no other human being has ever yet been. The saddest thing +that could happen to me, save loss of faith, would be that you should +cease to want me. I only pray God, if it is not self-seeking, that you +may continue to want me as long as I live." +</p> + +<p> +"But your religion?" she asked, a point of jealousy pricking her. +</p> + +<p> +"My religion forbids sin, whether of body or mind; forbids violation of +the eternal spiritual proportion, by any placing of the creature before +the Creator in a man's action or in his heart. But my religion enjoins +love and stimulates it; since only through loving can we fulfil the +highest possibility of our nature, which is to grow into the likeness +of Almighty God." +</p> + +<p> +"You believe that?" Poppy asked again. +</p> + +<p> +"I do more," Iglesias said. "I know it." +</p> + +<p> +Then both fell silent, having reached the place where words hinder +rather than help thought. And, as it happened, just then the stillness +was sensibly broken up, and the magic of the night encroached upon by +the passing of a couple of <i>char-a-bancs</i> in the road below, loaded up +with trippers faring homewards from a day's outing at Hampton Court. +The tired teams jog-trotted haltingly. The wheels whispered hoarsely in +the muffling dust; and voices mingled somewhat plaintively in the +singing of a then popular khaki sing—"The Soldiers of the Queen." +Hearing all of which, as the refrain died away Londonwards up the great +suburban road, the compelling drama and pathos of life as the multitude +lives it—stupidly, without ideas, without any conscious nobility of +purpose, yet with a certain blundering and clumsy heroism—took Poppy +St. John by the throat. Those who stand aside from that democratic +everyday drama, rejecting alike the common joys and common sorrows of +it, have need—so it seemed to her—to account for and justify +themselves lest they become suspect. Therefore she looked at Dominic +Iglesias intently, questioningly, hesitated a moment, and then spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Still I don't understand you, in your determined detachment of +attitude. Tell me, if you are not afraid of love, why have you never +married?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +And he, divining to an extent that which inspired her question, smiled +at her somewhat proudly as he answered. +</p> + +<p> +"Be under no misapprehension, dear friend. I am a perfectly normal +piece of flesh and blood, with a man's normal passions, and his natural +craving for wife, and child, home, family, and the like. But during my +mother's lifetime I was bound to other service than that of marriage." +</p> + +<p> +"But in these years since her death?" Poppy asked. +</p> + +<p> +"There is a time for everything, as the Preacher testifies, a due and +proper time which must be observed if life is to be a reasoned +progress, not a mere haphazard stumbling from the weakness of childhood +to the incapacity of old age. And, can anything be more objectionably +at variance with that wise teaching than the spectacle of amorous +uxorious efflorescence in a man of well over fifty?" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy permitted herself a lively grimace. +</p> + +<p> +"All the same you have sacrificed yourself, as usual," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Not so very greatly, perhaps," Iglesias replied, with a soberly +humorous expression. "For I have always been very exacting and have +asked very much. I am culpably fastidious. My tastes are far beyond my +means, my desires out of all reasonable relation to my station and my +merits. And it should be remembered that my circle of acquaintances has +been a very limited one, until quite recently—I do not wish to appear +more glaringly arrogant or discourteous than I actually am. I had my +ideal. It happened that I failed to realise it; and I am very impatient +of compromise in matters of intimate and purely personal import. In +respect of them I hold I have an unqualified right to consult my own +tastes. It has always been easier to me to go without than to accept a +second-best." +</p> + +<p> +"In point of fact no woman was good enough! Poor brutes!" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy mused a little, with averted face. +</p> + +<p> +"How beastly cheap they'd all feel—I've not forgotten the undulating +and aspiring withered leaf—if they knew how mightily they all fell +short!" she added naughtily. Suddenly she looked round at Dominic +Iglesias. Her eyes were as stars, but her lips trembled. "Bless me, but +you've extensively original methods of conveying information! It's +lucky for me I've a steady head. So—so it comes to this—I reign all +alone?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dear friend, save for my love for my mother—such as the throne +is or ever has been—you reign alone," Iglesias answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy rested her elbows upon her knees, dropped her face into her +hands, and sat thus bowed together in the whiteness of the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, dear!" she murmured presently, brokenly, "I've got my answer. It's +better and—worse, than I expected. All the same I'm content—that's to +say, the best of me is—royally, consummately content.—Thank you a +thousand times, thrice-beloved and very most exceedingly unworldy-wise +one," she said. +</p> + +<p> +Then for a while both were silent, wrapped about by, and resting in, +the magic of the summer night. When Poppy roused herself at last to +speak, it was in a different key, studiously matter-of-fact. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, dear man, do you in the least realise how extremely far +gone you were when I arrived to you on Barnes Common this evening? +Because I tell you plainly I didn't in the very least like it. In my +opinion it is high time you gave up dragging that Barking Brothers & +Barking cart." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall give up doing so very soon," Iglesias replied. "Just now I am +acting as manager. Sir Abel is at Marienbad, and the other partners are +out of town." +</p> + +<p> +"I like that—lazy animals!" Poppy said. +</p> + +<p> +"But the situation is in process of righting itself—has practically +righted itself already." +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks to you." +</p> + +<p> +"In part, no doubt. There was a disposition to panic, which rendered it +exceedingly difficult to get accurate and definite information at +first. However, I arrived at the necessary data with patience and +diplomacy, and was able to draw out a clear detailed statement. This +proved so far satisfactory that Messrs. Gommee, Hills, Murray & Co. and +Pavitt's Bank have considered themselves justified in undertaking to +finance Barking Brothers until business in South Africa has resumed its +ordinary course." +</p> + +<p> +"Then the elderly plungers are saved?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I believe, practically they are saved," Iglesias said. "And, +therefore, as soon as Sir Abel has finished his cure and returns I +shall retire." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy rose, clapping her hands together with irritation. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Abel's cure be hanged!" she cried. "What do I care about his +idiotic old liver or his gout, or anything else. Let him pay the price +of steadily over-eating himself for more than half a century. I've no +use for him. What I have a use for is you, dear man; more than ever +now, don't you see," her voice softened, became caressing, "after our +recent little explanation. And you shan't kill yourself. I won't have +it. I won't allow it. Therefore be reasonable, my good dear. Put away +your mania of self-immolation—or keep it exclusively for my benefit. +Write and tell the Barking man to hurry up with his liver and his gout. +Tell him you're being sweated to death dragging his rotten old banking +cart, and that he's just got to come home and set you free, and get +between the shafts and do the dragging and sweating himself.—Ah, +there's the hansom. You must go. I'd no notion it was so late." +</p> + +<p> +And so it came about that, once more, Dominic Iglesias followed the +Lady of the Windswept Dust into the faintly scented bedchamber, where +fantastic brightness of gaslight and moonlight chequered the polished +surfaces of the dark furniture, the green silk coverlet and hangings, +the dimly-patterned ceiling and walls. His instinct was to pass on, as +quickly as might be, to the secure commonplace of the landing without. +But half-way across the room, at the foot of the low-pillared and +brass-inlaid bedstead, Poppy St. John stopped, and turned swiftly, +barring his passage with extended arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay a minute, for probably we shall never meet in this poor little +house again, best beloved one," she said. "It is too far out. I must +move into town. Lionel puts the play into rehearsal next week, and I +must live near the theatre. And then, too—well, you know, since I've +made up my mind, it's best to clean the slate even in respect of one's +dwelling-place. Memories stick, stick like a leech; and they raise +emotions of a slightly disturbing character sometimes. I am sure of +myself; and yet I know it's safest to make a clean sweep of whatever +reminds me of all the forbidden dear damned lot. I regret +nothing—don't imagine that. I'm keen on my work. The artist, after +all, is the strongest thing in me. I'm quite happy, now I have made up +my mind. My nose is in the air. I can look creation in the face without +winking an eyelid. I can respect myself. And I'm tremendously grateful +to Lionel Gordon for taking me on spec, and to Fallowfeild for greasing +the creature's Caledonian-Teutonic-Hebraic palm for me. +Still—still—you can imagine, can't you, that, take it all round, it's +not precisely a Young Woman's Christian Association blooming picnic +party for me just at present?" +</p> + +<p> +Poppy dashed her hand across her eyes, half laughing, half sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, love me, Dominic, love me, in your own way, the clean way—that's +all I ask, all that I want—only love me always," she said. +</p> + +<p> +She laid her hands on Iglesias' shoulders and threw back her head. And +he, holding her, bending down kissed her white face, soft heavy hair, +over-red lips, her tragic and unfathomable eyes—which looking on the +evil and measuring the very actual immediate delights of it, still had +courage, in the end, to reject it and choose the good—kissed them +reverently, gravely, proudly, with the chastity and chivalry of perfect +friendship. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! that's better. I'm better. Bless you; don't be afraid. I'll play +fair to the finish—only keep well. Quit that rotten old bank.—Now go, +dear man, go," Poppy said. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap33"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXIII +</h3> + +<p> +During the past six weeks events had galloped. To Iglesias it appeared +that changes were in course of arriving in battalions. He neither +hailed nor deplored them, but met them with a stoical patience. To +realise them clearly, in all their bearings, would have been to add to +the sense of fatigue from which he too constantly suffered. More than +sufficient to each day was the labour thereof. So he looked beyond, to +the greater repose and freedom which, as he trusted, lay ahead. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the morning immediately in question he had closed his work at the +bank. Sir Abel's demeanour had been characteristic. His clothes, it is +true, still hung loosely upon him. His library chair and extensive +writing-table appeared a world too big. For he was shrunken and had +become an old man. Yet, though signs of chastening thus outwardly +declared themselves, in spirit he had regained tone and returned to his +former high estate. Along with the revival of financial security had +come a revival of pomposity, an addiction to patronage in manner and +platitudes in speech. He had ceased to be humble and human, +self-righteous self-complacency again loudly announcing itself. +</p> + +<p> +"So you propose to retire, you ask to be relieved of your duties, my +good friend?" he asked of Iglesias, who had requested the favour of an +interview in his private room. "Let us, then, congratulate ourselves +upon the fact that I have returned from my sojourn upon the continent +with so far renovated health that I feel equal to meeting the arduous +responsibilities of my position unaided; and am not, consequently, +compelled, out of a sense of duty either to myself or to my colleagues, +to offer any objection to your retirement. Before we part I should, +however, wish to place it clearly on record that my confidence, both in +the soundness of my own judgment and in our capacity, as capitalists, +to meet any strain put upon our resources, was not misplaced. This no +one can, I think, fail to admit. Our house emerges from this period of +trial with the hall-mark of public sympathy and esteem upon it. And, in +this connection, it is instructive to note the working of the law of +compensation. This war, for example, which to the ordinary mind might +have appeared an unmixed evil, since it threatened to jeopardise our +position among the leading financiers of the capital of the civilised +world, has, in the event, served, not only to consolidate our position, +but to unmask the practices of that unscrupulous and self-seeking +member of our firm, my unhappy nephew Reginald, and afford us +legitimate excuse for his removal. We appeared to touch on disaster; +but, by that very means, we have been enabled to rid ourselves of a +canker. Still this must remain a painful subject." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Abel became pensive, fixing his gaze, the while, upon the portrait +adorning the wall over against him. To an acute observer the said +portrait had always been subtly ironical. Now it had become coarsely +so—a merciless caricature of the shrivelled old gentleman whom it +represented, and to whom it bore much the same resemblance as a balloon +soaring skywards, fully inflated, bears to that same object with half +the gas let out of it in a condition of flabby and wobbling +semi-collapse. +</p> + +<p> +"A painful subject," he repeated nobly—"I refrain from enlarging upon +it, and pass to other matters. As to the part you yourself have borne +in the history of our recent anxieties, Iglesias, I feel I cannot do +less than tender you the thanks of myself and my co-partners. I do not +disguise from you that a tendency existed to criticise my action in +summoning you, to dub your business methods antiquated, and question +your ability to march with the times. But these objections proved, I am +happy to think, unfounded. The faith I reposed in you has been +justified. And I may tell you, in confidence, that, should the occasion +for doing so arise, my colleagues will in future have as little +hesitation in calling upon your services as I should have myself." +</p> + +<p> +The speaker paused, as for applause. And Dominic, who had remained +standing during this prolonged oration—no suggestion having been made +on the present occasion that he should be seated—proceeded to +acknowledge the peculiar compliment just paid him, with somewhat +sardonic courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +"Your words are extremely reassuring, Sir Abel," he remarked calmly. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman addressed regarded him sharply for a moment, as though +doubtful of the exact purport of his words. Then, suspicion of covert +sarcasm being clearly inadmissible, Sir Abel spoke again in his largest +platform manner, although the tones of his voice, like his person, were +shrunken, docked of the fulness of their former rotundity and unction. +</p> + +<p> +"It has ever been my effort to reward merit by encouragement," he +replied. "And, were testimony to the wisdom of my practice, in this +particular, needed, I should point, I candidly tell you, my good +friend, to the excellent results of my recent demand upon your +cooperation and support." He leaned sideways in his chair, assuming the +posture of the portrait, conscious of having really said a very +handsome thing indeed to his ex-head-clerk. "For," he added, "I +sincerely believe in the worth of example. It is hardly too much to +assert that a generous and high-minded employer eventually stamps the +employed with a reflection, at least, of his own superior qualities." +</p> + +<p> +Again he paused. But truth to tell, Dominic Iglesias had not only grown +very weary of discourse and discourser, but somewhat impatient also. He +had hoped better things of the man after the nasty shaking fortune had +recently given him. Consequently he was disappointed; for it was very +effectually borne in upon him that only absence of feathers makes for +grace in a goose. Once the nudity of the foolish bird covered, it +hisses, and that loudly, to the old tune. Hence, in the interests of +Christian charity, he agreed with himself to cut short the interview, +lest anger should get the better of toleration. +</p> + +<p> +"I think we have now discussed all questions calling for your personal +attention, Sir Abel," he said, "and all documents and correspondence +relating to affairs during your absence have been placed in your hands. +If therefore you have nothing further to ask me, I need not encroach +any longer upon your valuable time." +</p> + +<p> +With that, after a brief pause, he moved towards the door; but the +other man, half rising from his chair, called after him. +</p> + +<p> +"Iglesias, your attention for one moment—that matter of a salary?" +</p> + +<p> +"I supposed I had made my terms perfectly clear, Sir Abel," Dominic +remarked coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt, in the first instance. But should you have reconsidered your +decision, and should you think the pension you enjoy an insufficient +remuneration, I am empowered to make you the offer, in addition, of a +fixed salary for the past six months." +</p> + +<p> +Listening to which tardy and awkward recognition of his own rather +princely dealings, Mr. Iglesias' temper began to rise, his jaw to grow +rigid, and his eyes dangerously alight. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not in the habit of changing my mind, Sir Abel," he said. "I +proposed to make you a free gift of my time and such experience as I +may possess. Nothing has occurred to alter or modify that intention. +There are circumstances, into which I do not choose to enter, which +would render it extremely distasteful to me to accept anything—over +and above my pension—from yourself or from any member of your family +or firm." +</p> + +<p> +Here Sir Abel, who had been standing, sagged down, +half-empty-balloon-like, into his chair. Again he eyed Iglesias +sharply, doubtful of the exact purport of his speech. But again +suspicion of covert sarcasm, still more of covert rebuke, being to him +quite inconceivable, he rejoined with a condescension which he could +not but feel was altogether praiseworthy: +</p> + +<p> +"Enough, enough, my good friend. That is sufficient. I will detain you +no longer; but will merely add that I commend your reticence while +appreciating the sentiments which dictate your refusal. These it is +easy to interpret. They shall not be forgotten, since they constitute a +very suitable acknowledgment of the advantages and benefits which have +accrued to you during you long association with my partners and myself." +</p> + +<p> +Later, journeying westward upon the 'bustop, Dominic Iglesias meditated +in a spirit of humorous pity upon the above conversation. He was very +glad he had not lost his temper. Eyes blinded by self-worship, an +inpenetrable hide, these things, too, have their uses in time—very +practical uses, which it would be silly to ignore. Why, then, be angry? +The truly wise man, as Dominic told himself with a somewhat mournful +smile, learns to leave such time-wise fools as Sir Abel Barking to +Almighty God for chastisement, because—if it can be said without +irreverence—the Almighty alone has wit enough to deal with them. And, +for his comfort on lower levels, he reminded himself that though the +house of Barking might show him scant gratitude, and attribute its +financial resurrection to its own inherent virtue, this was not the +opinion held by outsiders. The manager of Pavitt's Bank, and certain +members of Goome, Hills, Murray & Co., had congratulated Iglesias, +personally, upon his admirable conduct of affairs during the crisis, +and assured him of the high respect they had conceived for his +judgment, his probity, and business acumen. In this there was +satisfaction of a silent but deep-seated sort—satisfaction of pride, +since he had accomplished that which he had set forth to accomplish: +satisfaction of honour through unbiassed and unsolicited commendation. +With that satisfaction he bade himself rest thankfully content, while +turning his thoughts to other and more edifying subjects. +</p> + +<p> +And, in this connection, it was inevitable that a former journeying +westward upon a 'bustop should occur to him, with its strange record of +likeness and unlikeness in circumstance and outlook. Then, as now, +somewhat outworn in mind and in health, he had closed a period of +labour and faced new conditions, new habits, unaccustomed freedom and +leisure. But now on matters of vital, because of eternal, importance, +his mind was at rest. Loneliness and on-coming old age had ceased to +disquiet him. The ship of his individual fate no longer drifted +rudderless or risked danger of stranding, but steered steadily, +fearlessly, towards the promise of a secure and lovely harbourage. The +voyage might be long or short. At this moment Dominic supposed himself +indifferent in the matter, since he believed—not presumptuously, but +through the outreaching of a great faith—that the end was certain. And +meditating, just now, upon that gracious conviction, while the +red-painted half-empty omnibus fared onward down Piccadilly, a sense of +the unusual graciousness of things immediate and visible took hold on +him. +</p> + +<p> +For to-day the monstrous mother, London-town, wore a pensive and +delicate aspect. The tender melancholy of early autumn was upon her, +she looking etherealised and even youthful, as does a penitent cleansed +from the soil of past transgressions by fasting and tears. No doubt she +would sin again and befoul herself, for the melting moods of a great +city are transient; yet for the moment she showed very meek and mild. +The atmosphere was clear, with the exquisite clarity which follows +abundant and welcome rain after a spell of heat and drought. The trees, +somewhat sparse in foliage, were distinct with infinite gradations of +blonde, golden, and umber tints, as of burnished metal, against their +black branches and stems. The endless vista of grey and red buildings, +outlined finely yet without harshness, towered up into a thin, sad, +blue sky overspread with long-drawn shoals and islands, low-shored and +sinuous, of pale luminous cloud. Upon the grey pavements the +bright-coloured dress of a woman—mauve, green, or pink—took on a +peculiar value here and there, amid the generality of darkly clad +pedestrians. And in the traffic, too, the white tilt of a van or rather +barbaric reds and yellows of the omnibuses, stood away from the sombre +hues of the mass of vehicles. The air, as Iglesias met it—he occupying +the seat on the right immediately behind that of the driver—was soft, +yet with a perceptible freshness of moisture in it; a cool, wistful +wind seeming to hail from very far, the wings of it laden less with +hopeful promise than with rare unspoken farewells, gentle yet +penetrating regrets; so that Dominic, even while welcoming the +refreshment of it, was moved in spirit with impressions of impending +finality as though it spoke to him of things finished, laid aside, not +wholly without sorrow relinquished and—so far as outward seeming +went—forgot. +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily his eyes filled with tears. Then he reproached himself. +Of what had he to complain? The will must indeed be weak, the spiritual +vision reprehensively clouded, if these vague voices of nature could so +disturb the serenity of the soul. Thus he reasoned with himself, almost +sternly. But, just then, the flaming rose-scarlet bill on the +knife-board of a passing omnibus attracted his attention, along with +the announcement, in big letters, which it set forth. To-night the +Twentieth Century Theatre opened its winter season with a new piece by +that admirable but all too indolent and intermittent dramatist, Antony +Hammond; and in it Poppy St. John played the leading lady's part. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap34"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXIV +</h3> + +<p> +Opposite St. Mary Abbott's church Mr. Iglesias lighted down from the +'bustop. His eyes were still dazzled by those flaming bills.—Lionel +Gordon was advertising handsomely. The knife-board of every second +omnibus displayed them, now he came to look.—His thought turned in +quickened interest towards the Lady of the Windswept Dust and all that +the said advertisements stood for in her case. He had seen her a few +days ago, after rehearsal, and she had warned him off being present +tonight. +</p> + +<p> +"It's all going like hot cakes, dear man," she had said gaily, "still, +as you love me, don't come. I should be more nervous of you than ninety +dozen critics. I shall want you badly, all the same, don't doubt that; +and I shall play to you, all the while, though you're not there. +But—don't you understand?—if I actually saw you it might come between +me and my part. I shouldn't be sure who I really was, and that would +make me as jumpy as a sick cat. You shall know—I'll wire to you +directly the show's over; but I'd best have my first round quite alone +with the public. And then a first night is always a bit jungly—not +quite fair on the play or the company, or the audience either for that +matter. A play's the same as a ship, if there's any real art in it. It +needs time to find itself. So just wait, like a lamb, till we've all +shaken into place, and I'm quite at home in the saddle." +</p> + +<p> +And in truth Dominic Iglesias had plenty to occupy his time and +attention at this particular juncture, irrespective of Poppy's <i>debut</i> +at the Twentieth Century Theatre. For tomorrow would close his +connection with Cedar Lodge, as to-day had closed his connection with +Messrs. Barking Brothers & Barking. The mind in hours of fatigue, when +vitality is low and the power of concentration consequently deficient, +has a tendency to work in layers, so to speak, one strain of thought +overlying another. Hence it was that Iglesias' contemplation of those +gaudy advertisements, and of their bearing upon Poppy's fortunes, +failed to oust the premonitions of finality which had come to and +somewhat perturbed him as he looked upon the pensive tearwashed face of +London-penitent, cleansed by the breath of the wistful far-hailing +autumn wind. Involuntarily, and notwithstanding his repudiation of +them, he continued to question those premonitions and the clinging +melancholy of them, asking whether they bore relation merely to the two +not wholly unwelcome partings above indicated; or whether the +foreboding induced by them did not find its source in some sentiment, +some intuition of approaching change, far more intimate and profound +than cessation of employment or alteration of dwelling-place. Then, as +he walked on up Church Street another layer of thought presented +itself. For he could not but call to mind how many hundred times he had +trodden that pavement before close against the close-packed traffic, +the high barrack-wall on the right hand, the row of modest shop-fronts +on the left, on his way home to the little house in Holland Street. +Once more that house was home to him. He would cross its familiar +threshold to-day as master. Yet how differently to of old! How steep +the hill was! How languid and spent he became in ascending it—slowly, +deliberately, instead of with light-footed energy and indifference! And +this made him ask himself, what if these premonitions of finality, of +impending farewells, of compulsory relinquishment, had indeed a very +special and definite significance, being sent to him as heralds of the +approach of a common yet—to each individual being—unique and +altogether tremendous change? What if that haunting curiosity of the +unknown—concerning which he had spoken with Poppy St. John amid the +white magic of the moonlight during the enchanted hour of his and her +friendship—was to be satisfied very soon? +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias drew himself up to his full height, fatigue and bodily +weakness alike forgotten, and stood for a little space at the turn into +Holland Street, hat in hand, facing the delicately chill wind and +looking away into the fine perspective of sky overspread by shoals and +islands of pale luminous cloud. Calmly—yet with the sharp amazement +inevitable when things taken for granted, tacitly and nominally +accepted throughout a lifetime, suddenly advance into the immediate +foreground, becoming actual, tangible, imperative—he asked himself, +was death so very near, then? At the church of the Carmelite Priory +just above—the high slated roofs and slender iron crockets of which +overtopped the parapets of the intervening houses—a bell tolled as the +officiating priest, in giving the Benediction, elevated the sacred +Host. And that note, at once austere and plaintive, striking across the +hoarse murmur and trample of the streets, was very grateful to Dominic +Iglesias. For it assured him of this, at least, that when for him the +supreme hour did indeed strike and he was called upon to go forth +alone—as every soul must go—to meet the impenetrable mystery which +veils the close of the earthly chapter, he would not go forth +unbefriended, but absolved, anointed, fortified, made ready—in so far +as readiness for so stupendous an ordeal is possible—by the rites of +Holy Church. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Fiat misericordia tua Domine super nos: quemad-modum speravimus te. +In te Domine speravi: non confundar in aeternum,</i>" he quoted half aloud. +</p> + +<p> +And then could not forbear to smile, gravely and somewhat sadly, +registering the deep pathos of the fact that the majestic hymn of +praise and thanksgiving, dedicated by the use of Christendom throughout +centuries to the celebration of highest triumph, still ends brokenly +with a childlike sob of shrinking, of entreaty, and very human pain. +</p> + +<p> +Meditating upon which, and upon much implied by it, not only of sorrow +but of consolation for whoso is not afraid to understand, Iglesias +moved onward. But so closely do things absurd and trivial jostle things +august and of profound significance in daily happenings—he was +speedily aroused from meditation and his attention claimed by example +of quite another order of pathos to that suggested by the concluding +verses of the <i>Te Deum</i>. Some little way ahead a brown-painted +furniture van was backed against the curb. From the cave-like interior +of it coatless white-aproned men bore a miscellaneous collection of +goods—among others a battered dapple-grey rocking-horse with flowing +mane and tail—across the yard-wide strip of garden, and in at the +front door of a small old-fashioned house. Bass mats were strewn upon +the pavement. Sheets of packing paper pirouetted down the roadway +before the wind. While, standing in the midst of the litter, watching +the process of unloading with perplexed and even agitated interest, was +a whimsical figure—large of girth, short of limb, convex where the +accredited lines of beauty demand, if not concavity, at least a refined +flatness of surface. +</p> + +<p> +The Latin, unlike the Anglo-Saxon, does not consider it necessary as +soon as adolescence is past to extirpate his heart; or, failing +successful performance of that heroic operation, strictly to limit the +activities of it to his amours, legitimate or otherwise. Hence Dominic +Iglesias felt no shame that the sight of his old plaything, or of his +old school-fellow—now unhappily estranged from and suspicious of +him—should provoke in him a great tenderness. Upon the battered +rocking-horse his heart rode away to the dear sheltered happiness of +childhood, while towards his former school-fellow it went forth in +unmixed kindliness. For it appeared to him that for one who had so +lately held converse with approaching death, it would be a very scandal +of light-minded pettiness to nourish resentment against any fellow +creature. In near prospect of the eternal judgment, private and +temporal judgment can surely afford to declare a universal amnesty in +respect of personal slights and injuries. Therefore, after but a +moment's hesitation, he went on, laid his hand upon George Lovegrove's +shoulder, and called him affectionately by name. +</p> + +<p> +"Dominic!" the latter cried, and stood staring. "Well to be sure—you +did surprise me! To think of meeting you just by accident to-day, like +this!" +</p> + +<p> +He grew furiously red, gladness and embarrassment struggling within +him. Conscientiously he strove to be faithful to the menagerie of +ignorances and prejudices which he misnamed his convictions. For here +was the representative of the Accursed Thing—persecutor, enemy of +truth, of patriotism, of marriage, worshipper of senseless idols; but, +alas! how he loved that representative! How he honoured his +intelligence, admired his person, coveted his companionship! Beholding +Iglesias once again, George Lovegrove rejoiced as at the finding of +lost treasure. Hence, perplexed, perspiring, lamentably squinting, yet +with the innocent half-shy ecstasy of a girl looking upon her recovered +lover, he gazed up into Mr. Iglesias' face. +</p> + +<p> +"I give you my word I was never more taken aback in my life," he +protested. "As it happened I was just thinking about old times, +observing that some family is moving into your former house. But I had +no notion of meeting you. Positively I am unable to grasp the fact. I +have not a word to say to you, because I require to say so much. I know +there is a great deal which needs explanation on my part. And then your +calling me by my name, too! I declare it went right through me, as a +voice from the grave might." +</p> + +<p> +"Put aside explanations," Iglesias replied indulgently. "You are not +going to quarrel with me any more—let that suffice." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I cannot quarrel with you any more. I am sure I don't know whether +it is unprincipled or not, but I cannot do it." +</p> + +<p> +Regardless of observation, he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his +face. +</p> + +<p> +"If it is unprincipled I must just let it go." he said, quite +recklessly. "I cannot help myself. I give you my word, Dominic, I have +held out as long as I could." +</p> + +<p> +This appeal to Iglesias, as against himself, appeared to him abundantly +unaffected and ingenuous. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot but believe you will find the consequences of renewed +intercourse with me less damaging than you suppose," he answered, +smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"That is what the wife says," the other man stated. "She has veered +round completely in her opinion, has the wife. I do not understand why, +except that Mrs. Porcher and Miss Hart and she seem to have fallen out. +The workings of females' minds are very difficult to follow, even after +years of marriage, you know, Dominic. Opposition to one of their own +sex will make them warmly embrace opinions you supposed were just those +which they most strongly condemned. She has taken a very high tone, for +some time past, about the Cedar Lodge ladies, has the wife. And when I +came in, the evening of her last at-home day, I found her sadly upset +at having heard from one of them that you were about to leave. She +implied that I was to blame; whereas I can truthfully say my conduct +throughout has been largely influenced by the fear of hurting her +feelings." The speaker looked helplessly at Mr. Iglesias. "Of course we +do not expect the same reticence in speech from females we require of +ourselves. Still, such unfounded accusations are rather galling." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot be otherwise than very grateful to Mrs. Lovegrove for +espousing my cause, you see," Iglesias replied. This confused and +gentle being, struggling with the complexities of friendship, religious +prejudice, and feminine methods and amenities, was wholly moving. +"Circumstances have arisen which have made me decide to give up my +rooms at Cedar Lodge. To-night is the last upon which I shall occupy +them. But I do not wish Mrs. Lovegrove to be under any misapprehension +regarding my hostess and her companion. I have nothing to complain of. +During my long residence they have treated me with courtesy and +consideration. I wish them nothing but good. Still the time has come, I +feel, for leaving Cedar Lodge." +</p> + +<p> +Here the worthy George's imagination indulged in wild flights. Visions +of a hideous and rugged cell—of the sort known exclusively to serial +melodrama—and of a beautiful woman, in voluminous rose-red skirts and +a costly overcoat, presented themselves to him in amazing juxtaposition. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, I have forfeited all right to question you as to your +plans, Dominic," he said hurriedly and humbly. "I quite realise that. I +believed I was acting on principle in keeping away from you, all the +more because it pained me terribly to do so. I believed I was being +consistent. Now I begin to fear I was only obstinate and cowardly. Your +kindness of manner has completely unmanned me. I see how superior you +are in liberality to myself. And so it cuts me to the quick, more than +ever, to part from you." +</p> + +<p> +"Why should we part?" Iglesias asked. +</p> + +<p> +"But you are going away. The wife told me she heard you were leaving +London altogether; whether to—I hardly like to mention the +supposition—to join some brotherhood or—or, to be married, she did +not know." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias shook his head, smiling sweetly and bravely. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! no, no, my dear fellow," he answered. "Rumour must have been +rather unpardonably busy with my name. I fear I am about equally +ill-fitted for monastic and for married life. The day of splendid +ventures, whether of religion or of love, is over for me; and I shall +die, as I have lived, a bachelor and a layman. Nor shall I cease to be +your neighbour, for I am only returning here"—he pointed to the open +door, in at which coatless white-aproned men carried that miscellaneous +collection of furniture—"to the little old Holland Street house. +Lately I have had a great craving upon me to be at home again—alone, +save for one or two precious friendships; with leisure to read and to +think; and, in as far as my poor mental powers permit, to become a +humble student of the awe-inspiring philosophy—reconciling things +natural and supernatural—of which the Catholic Church is the exponent, +her creeds its textbook, her ceremonies and ritual the divinely +appointed symbols of its secret truths." Iglesias' expression was +exalted, his speech penetrated by enthusiasm. "It would be profitable +and happy," he said, "before the final auditing of accounts, to be a +little better versed in this wonderful and living wisdom." +</p> + +<p> +And George Lovegrove stood watching him, bewildered, agitated, full of +doubt and inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! it is all beyond me, quite beyond me," he exclaimed presently. +"Mistaken or not, I see you are in touch with thoughts altogether +outside my experience and comprehension. I supposed Romanism could only +be held by uneducated and superstitious persons. I see I was wrong. I +ask your pardon, Dominic. I see I quite undervalued it." Then his +manner changed, quick perception and consequent distress seizing him. +"Ah! but you are ill. That is the meaning of it all. You are ill. Now I +come to observe you, I see how thin and drawn your face is. How shall I +ever forgive myself for not finding that out sooner! I have differed +from you and blamed you. I have sulked, and thought bitterly of you, +and avoided you. I have even been envious, hearing how successfully you +carried through affairs this anxious time at the bank. I have been a +contemptibly mean-spirited individual. No, I can never forgive myself. +I have found you again, only to lose you. You are in bad health. You +have been suffering, and I never thought to inquire about that. I never +knew it." +</p> + +<p> +But Dominic Iglesias made effort to comfort him, speaking not +uncheerfully, determining even to fight the fatigue and weakness which, +as he could not but own, daily increased on him, if only for the sake +of this faithful and simple adherent. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps the sands are running rather low," he said; "but that does not +greatly matter. The conditions are in process of alteration. Now that I +am free of my City work, the strain is practically over. With care and +quiet, the sands that remain in the glass may run very slowly. I have a +peaceful time in prospect, here in my old home. When I left here, eight +years ago, I could not make up my mind to part with any of our family +belongings, so I warehoused all the contents of the house, save those +which I took to furnish my rooms at Cedar Lodge. Now these +half-forgotten possessions see the light once more. This in itself +should constitute a staying of the running sands, a putting back of the +hands of the clock. Then I have two good servants to care for me. I am +fortunate in that. And your friendship is restored to me. I should be +ungrateful if I did not live on for a while to enjoy all this kindly +circumstance. So do not grieve. There are many after-dinner pipes to be +smoked, many talks to be talked yet.—Come into the house, and see it +as you used to know it when we both were young. Surely it is a good +omen that you, my earliest friend, should be my first visitor when I +come home?" +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap35"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXV +</h3> + +<p> +De Courcy Smyth was not drunk, but he had been drinking—persistently +nipping, as his custom was in times of mental excitement, in the +fallacious hope of keeping up courage and steadying irritable nerves. +The series of moods usually resultant on such recourse to spirituous +liquors, followed one another with clock-work regularity. He was +alternately hysterically elated, preternaturally moral, offensively +quarrelsome, maudlin to the point of tears. The first <i>matinee</i> of his +long-promised play had prospered but very ill, notwithstanding large +advertisement and free list. The second had prospered even worse. +Mercifully disposed persons, slipping out between the acts, had been +careful not to return. Less amiably disposed ones had remained to +titter or hiss. Failure had been written in capital letters across the +whole performance—and deservedly, in the estimation of every one save +the unhappy author himself. The play had perished in the very act of +birth. +</p> + +<p> +But of this tragic termination to so many extravagant hopes Dominic +Iglesias was still ignorant, as he entered the dismantled sitting-room +at Cedar Lodge that same night a little after half-past ten o'clock. He +had dined in the old house in Holland Street; served by Frederick, the +German-Swiss valet, who, some weeks previously, hearing of his intended +departure, had announced his intention of "bettering himself," had +given Mrs. Porcher warning, and, in moving terms and three languages, +implored employment of Iglesias, declaring that the other gentlemen +resident at Cedar Lodge were "no class," their clothes utterly unworthy +of his powers of brushing and folding. +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias stayed on in Holland Street until late, the charm and +gentleness of old associations, the sight of familiar objects, the +gladness of restored friendship with George Lovegrove working upon him +to thankfulness. He was tranquil in spirit, serene with the calm +twilight serenity of the strong who have learned the secret of +detachment, and, who, while welcoming all glad and gracious +occurrences, have schooled themselves to resignation, and, in the +affairs of this world, do neither greatly fear nor greatly hope. And it +was in this spirit he had made his way back to Cedar Lodge and entered +the square panelled sitting-room. But, the door closed, he paused, +aware of some sinister influence, some unknown yet repulsive presence. +The room was nearly dark, the gas being lowered to a pin-point on +either side the mantelpiece. Dominic moved across to turn it up, and in +so doing stumbled over an unexpected obstacle. De Courcy Smith, who had +been dozing uneasily in the one remaining armchair, sat upright with an +oath. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you at, you swine!" he shouted. Then as the light shone forth +he made an effort to recover himself. +</p> + +<p> +"It's hardly necessary to announce your advent by kicking me, Mr. +Iglesias," he said thickly, and without attempting to rise from his +seat. "Not but that there is an appropriateness in that graceful form +of introduction. Only a kick from the benevolent patron, who professed +himself so charitably disposed towards me, was required to make up the +sum of outrage which has been my portion to-day.—Have you seen the +theatrical items in the evening papers?" With trembling hands he spread +out a newspaper upon his knees. "See the way that dirty reptile, Percy +Gerrard, who succeeded me upon <i>The Daily Bulletin</i>, has chopped me and +my play to mincemeat, cut bits of live flesh out of me and fried them +in filth, and washed down my wounds with the vitriol of hypocritical +compassion and good advice? That is the style of recognition a really +first-class work of art, fit to rank with the classics, with Wycherley, +and Congreve, and Sheridan, or Lytton—for there are qualities of all +these very dissimilar masters in my writing—gets from the present-day +press. As I have told you all along, the critics and playwrights hate +me because they fear me. I have never spared them. I have exposed them +and their ignorance, and want of scholarship, in print. They know I +spoke the truth. Their hatred is witness to my veracity. They have been +nursing their venom for years. Now with one consent they pour it forth. +It is a vile plot and conspiracy. They were sworn to swamp me, so they +formed a ring. They did not care what they spent so long as they +succeeded in crushing me. Every one has been bought, miserably, +scandalously bought. This is the only conceivable explanation of the +reception my play has met with. They got at the members of my company. +My actors played better at first, better at rehearsal. Yesterday and +to-day they have played like a row of wooden ninepins, of straw-stuffed +scarecrows, of rot-stricken idiots! They missed their cues, and forgot +their lines, or pretended to do so; and then had the infernal +impertinence to giggle and gag, blast them! I heard them. I could have +screamed. I tried to stop them; and the stage-manager swore at me in +the wings, and the scene-shifters laughed. It was a hideous nightmare. +The audience laughed—the sound of it is in my ears now, and it +tortures me, for it was not natural laughter. It was not +spontaneous—how could it be so? It was simply part of this iniquitous +conspiracy to ruin me. It was hired mockery, bought and paid for, the +mockery of subsidised traitors, liars, imbeciles, the inhuman mockery +of grinning apes!" +</p> + +<p> +He crushed the newspaper together with both hands, flung it across the +room, and broke into hysterical weeping. +</p> + +<p> +"For my play is a masterpiece," he wailed. "It is a work of genius. No +other man living could have written it. Yet it is damned by a brainless +public and vindictive press, while I know and they know—they must +know, the fact is self-evident—that it is great, nothing less than +great." +</p> + +<p> +During this harangue Dominic Iglesias stood immovable, facing the +speaker, but looking down, not at him, rigid in attitude, silent. Any +attempt to stem the torrent of the wretched man's speech would have +been futile. Dominic judged it kindest just to wait, letting passion +tear him till, by force of its own violence, it had worn itself out. +Then, but not till them, it might be helpful to intervene. Still the +exhibition was a very painful one, putting a heavy strain upon the +spectator. For be a fellow creature never so displeasing in nature and +in habit, never so cankered by vanity and self-love, it cannot be +otherwise than hideous to see him upon the rack. And that de Courcy +Smyth was very actually upon the rack—a rack well deserved, may be, +and of his own constructing, but which wrenched his every joint to the +agony of dislocation nevertheless—there could be no manner of doubt. +Coming as conclusion to the long day, to the peaceful evening—the +thought of the Lady of the Windswept Dust, moreover, and her fortunes +so eminently and presently just now in the balance, in his mind—the +whole situation was horrible to Dominic Iglesias. +</p> + +<p> +But Smyth's mood changed, his tears ceasing as incontinently as they +had begun. He ceased to slouch and writhe, passed his hands across his +blood-shot eyes, drew himself up in his chair, began to snarl, even to +swagger. +</p> + +<p> +"I forget myself, and forget you, too, Mr. Iglesias—which is +annoying," he said; "for you are about the last person from whom I +could expect, or should desire to receive, sympathy. Persons of my +world, scholars and idealists, and persons of your world, +money-grubbing materialists, can, in the nature of things, have very +little in common. There is a great gulf fixed between them. I beg your +pardon for having so far forgotten myself as to ignore that fact, and +talked on subjects incomprehensible to you. What follows, however, will +be more in your line, I imagine, and it is this which has made me come +here to-night. You realise that your investment has turned out an +unfortunate one? You have lost, irretrievably lost, your money." +</p> + +<p> +"I was not wholly unprepared for that," Dominic answered. His temper +was beginning to rise. Sodden with drink, maddened by failure, hardly +accountable for his words or actions, still the man's tone was rather +too offensive for endurance. "I had made full provision for such a +contingency. I accept the loss. Pray do not let it trouble you." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! you accept it, do you? You were prepared for it?" Smyth broke in. +"You can afford to throw way a cool three hundred pounds—the expenses +will amount to that at least in the bulk. How very agreeable for you! +Your late operations in the City must have been surprisingly +profitable. I was not aware, until now, that we had the honour of +numbering a millionaire among us at Cedar Lodge. But let me tell you +this extremely superior tone does not please me, Mr. Iglesias. It +smells of insult. I warn you, you had better be a little careful. Even +a miserable persecuted pauper like myself can make it unpleasant for +those who insult him. I must request you to remember that I am a +gentleman by birth, and that I have the feelings of my class where my +personal honour is concerned. Do you suppose I do not know perfectly +well that the benevolent attitude you have seen fit to assume towards +me has been a blind, from first to last; and that every penny you have +advanced me until now, as well as the three hundred pounds, the loss of +which you so amiably beg me not to let trouble me, is hush-money? Yes, +hush-money, I repeat, the price of my silence regarding your intrigue +with my wife—my wife who calls herself—" +</p> + +<p> +"We will introduce no woman's name into this conversation, if you +please," Iglesias interrupted sternly. +</p> + +<p> +The limit of things pardonable had been passed. His face was white and +keen as a sword. The weight of years and of failing health had +vanished, burned up by fierce disgust and anger, as is mist by the +sun-heat. He was young, arrogant in bearing, careless of consequence or +of danger as some fifteenth-century finely bred fighting man face to +face with his enemy and traducer, who, given honourable opportunity, he +would kill or be killed by, without faintest scruple or remorse. And of +this temper of mind his aspect was so eloquent that de Courcy Smyth, +muddled with liquor though he was, seeing him, was seized with panic. +He scrambled to his feet, flung himself behind the chair, clinging to +the back of it for support. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't look at me like that, you Spanish devil!" he whimpered. "You +paralyse me. You hypnotise me. My brain is splitting. You're drawing +the life out of me. I shall go mad. If you come a step nearer I'll make +a scandal. I'll call for help. Ah! God in heaven, who's that?" +</p> + +<p> +Only the housemaid entering, salver in hand, and leaving the door wide +open behind her. Upon the landing with out, Farge and Worthington, in +comic attitudes, stood at attention. +</p> + +<p> +"A telegram for you, sir. Is the boy to wait?" she inquired, in a +stifled voice. "She could hardly keep a straight face," as she reported +downstairs subsequently, "that ridiculous Farge was so full of his +jokes." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias tore open the yellow envelope and held the telegraph-form to +the light. +</p> + +<p> +"Glorious luck. Happy as a queen. Come to supper after performance +to-morrow. Love. Poppy." +</p> + +<p> +His face softened. +</p> + +<p> +"No answer," he said, and turned purposing to speak some word of mercy +to wretched de Courcy Smyth. But the latter had slunk out at the open +door, while Mr. Farge, in an ungovernable paroxysm of humour—levelled +at the departing housemaid—effectually covered his retreat by +cake-walking, with very high knee action, the length of the landing, +playing appropriate dance-music, the while, upon an imaginary banjo in +the shape of Worthington's new crook-handled walking stick. +</p> + +<p> +For some time Dominic Iglesias heard shuffling, nerveless footsteps +moving to and fro in the room overhead. Then Smyth threw himself +heavily upon his bed. The wire-wove mattress creaked, and creaked again +twice. Unbroken silence followed, and Iglesias breathed more easily, +hoping the miserable being slept. For him, Iglesias, there was no +sleep. His body was too tired. His mind too vividly and painfully +awake. He lay down, it is true, since he did not care to remain in the +dismantled sitting-room or occupy the chair in which de Courcy Smyth +had sat. But, throughout the night, he stared at the darkness and heard +the hours strike. At sunset the wind had dropped dead. In the small +hours it began to rise, and before dawn to freshen, veering to another +quarter. Softly at first, and then with richer diapason, the cedar tree +greeted its mysterious comrade, singing of far-distant times and +places, and of the permanence of nature as against the fitful +evanescent life of man. That husky singing soothed Dominic Iglesias, +and calmed him, assuring him that in the hands of the Almighty are all +things, small and great, past, present, and to come. There is neither +haste, nor omission, nor accident, nor oversight in the divine plan; +but that plan is large beyond the possibility of human intellect to +grasp or comprehend, therefore humble faith is also highest wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +As the dawn quickened into day Dominic drew aside the curtain and +looked out. Behind the dark branches, where they cleared the housetops +and met the open sky, thrown wide upward to the zenith, was the +rose-scarlet of sunrise, holding, as it seemed to him, at once the +splendour of battle and the peace of crowned achievement and—was it +but a pretty conceit or a truth of happiest import?—the colour of +certain flaring omnibus knifeboard bills and the colour of a certain +woman's name. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap36"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXVI +</h3> + +<p> +The narrow lane, running back at right angles to the great +thoroughfare, was filled with blurred yellowish light and covered in +with gloom, low-hanging and impenetrable. The high, blank buildings on +either side of it looked like the perpendicular walls of a tunnel, the +black roof they apparently supported being as solid and substantial as +themselves. The effect thereby produced was suspect and prison-like, as +of a space walled in and closed from open air and day. Outside the +stage entrance of the Twentieth Century Theatre a small crowd had +collected and formed up in two parallel lines across the pavement to +the curb, against which a smart single brougham and some half a dozen +four-wheelers and hansoms were drawn up. The crowd, which gathered and +broke only to gather again, was composed for the main part of persons +of the better artisan class, respectable, soberly habited, evidently +awaiting the advent of relations employed within the theatre. There was +also a sprinkling of showy young women, attended by undersized youths +flashily dressed. On the fringes of it night-birds, male and female, of +evil aspect, loitered, watchful of possible prey; while two or three +gentlemen, correct, highly-civilised, stood smoking, each with the air +of studied indifference which defies attempted recognition on the part +of friend or foe. +</p> + +<p> +And among these last Dominic Iglesias must be counted; though, in his +case, indifference was not assumed but real. His surroundings were +novel, it is true, and produced on him clear impressions both pictorial +and moral; but those impressions were of his surroundings in and for +themselves, rather than in any doubtfulness of their relation to +himself. For his mind was occupied with problems painful in character +and difficult of solution; and to the said problems, heightening the +emotional strain of them, his surroundings—the sense of feverish life, +of all-encompassing restless humanity; the figures anxious, degraded, +of questionable purpose or merely frivolous, which started into +momentary distinctness; the scraps of conversation, caught in passing, +instinct with suggestion, squalid or passionate; along with the +ceaseless tramp of footsteps, and tumult of the great thoroughfare just +now packed with the turn-out of neighbouring places of +entertainment—supplied a background penetratingly appropriate. +</p> + +<p> +For a good half-hour Mr. Iglesias stood there. At intervals the doors +of the stage entrance swung open, causing a movement of interest and +comment among the crowd. One by one hansoms and four-wheelers, +obtaining fares, rattled away over the stones. Yet the Lady of the +Windswept Dust tarried. It grew late, and Iglesias greatly desired her +coming, greatly desired to speak with her, and speaking to find +approximate solution, at least, of some of the problems which lay so +heavy upon his mind. Meanwhile, the crowd melted and vanished, leaving +him alone in the blurred yellowish light beneath the low-hanging roof +of impenetrable gloom, save for the haunting presence of some few of +those terrible human birds of prey. +</p> + +<p> +He was about to turn away also, not particularly relishing the +remaining company, when, with a rush, Poppy was beside him, in stately +garments of black velvet and glimmering tissue of silver; her head and +shoulders draped with something of daring and magnificence, in her +blue-purple jewelled dragon-embroidered scarf. She caught Iglesias' +right hand in both of hers and held it a moment against her breast. And +during that brief interval he registered the fact that, notwithstanding +her beauty, the force of her personality and richness of her dress, she +did not look out of place in this somewhat cut-throat alley, with the +questionable sights and sounds of midnight London all about her; but +vivid, exultant, true daughter of great cities, fearless manipulator of +the very varied opportunities they offer, past-master, for joy and +sorrow, in the curious arts they teach. +</p> + +<p> +"Get into the brougham, dear man," she said, "and let me talk. There, +put up the window on the traffic side. I have been in the liveliest +worry about you. Had the house turned out of windows to find you—and +gave things in general the deuce of a time.—The brougham's +comfortable, isn't it? Fallowfeild's jobbed it for the winter for +me.—All the same I played like an angel, out of pure desperation, +thinking you might be ill. I made the audience cry big, big tears, +bless 'em. And it wasn't the part—not a bit of it. It was you, just +simply you.—And then I dawdled talking to Antony Hammond about some +lines in the second act I want altered, so as to let myself down easy +before digesting the disappointment of driving back to Bletchworth +Mansions alone. I wanted so very badly to have you see me. Beloved and +most faithless of beings, why the mischief didn't you come?" +</p> + +<p> +And Iglesias sitting beside her watching her joyous face, crowned by +her dark hair, set in the gleaming folds of her jewelled scarf, as +passing lights revealed it clearly, or shifting left it in soft shadow, +divined rather than actually seen, became sadly conscious that the +problems which oppressed him were not only hard of solution but hard of +statement likewise. It seemed heartless to propound them in this, her +hour of success. Yet, unless he was deeply mistaken, the statement of +them must tell for emancipation and relief in the end. +</p> + +<p> +"The play has gone well, and you are happy?" he asked her. +</p> + +<p> +"Gorgeously—I grant you I was a bit nervous as to whether during these +years of—well—love in idleness, I had not lost touch with my art. But +I haven't. I have only matured in mind and in method. I am not +conceited, dear man, truly I am not; but I am neither too lazy nor too +modest to use my brains. What I know I am not afraid to apply. I've +very little theory, but a precious deal of practice—and that's the way +to get on. Don't talk about your ideas—just use them for all you're +worth.—But this is beside the mark. You're trying to head me off. Why +didn't you come?" +</p> + +<p> +"I would gladly have come," Iglesias answered. "My disappointment has +been quite as great as yours." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless your heart!" Poppy murmured under her breath. +</p> + +<p> +"But it was impossible for me to come. I was detained until it was too +late." He paused, uncertain how best to say that which had to be said. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! fiddle!" Poppy cried, with a lift of her head. "I stand first. You +ought not to have let yourself be detained. After all, it's not every +day someone you know blazes from a farthing dip into a star of the +first magnitude. You might very well have crowded other things aside. I +feel a trifle hurt, dear man, really I do." +</p> + +<p> +"Believe me, no ordinary matter would have prevented my coming," +Iglesias answered. To his relief the carriage just then turned into the +comparative peace of Langham Place. It became possible to speak softly. +"There was a death in the house last night," he went on, "that of a +person with whom I have been rather closely associated. He died under +circumstances demanding investigations of a distressing character. No +one save myself was qualified, or perhaps willing, to assume the +responsibility of calling in the authorities." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias glanced at his companion, conscious that while he spoke her +attitude and humour had altered considerably. She was motionless. He +saw her profile, dark against the square light of window-glass. Her +mouth was slightly open, as with intensity of attention. +</p> + +<p> +"Well—well—what then?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"The man had just suffered a heavy reverse. He had staked all his +hopes, all his future, upon a single venture. It proved a failure. He +could not accept the fact, and believed himself the victim of gross +injustice and of organised conspiracy." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you believe it, too?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," Iglesias answered. "I have an immense pity for him, as who would +not. Still, I am compelled to believe that failure came from within, +rather than from without. He overrated his own powers." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy held up her hand imperiously. "Wait half a minute," she said, in +an oddly harsh voice. Leaning forward she put down the front glass and +called to the coachman:—"Don't go to Bletchworth Mansions. Drive on. +Never mind where, so long as you keep to empty streets. Drive on and +on—do you hear?—till I tell you to stop." +</p> + +<p> +She put the window up again and settled herself back in her place, +dragging the scarf from off her head and baring her throat. She looked +full at Mr. Iglesias, her face showing ghostly white against the dark +upholstery of the carriage. Her eyes were wide with question and with +fear, which was also, in some strange way, hope. +</p> + +<p> +"Now you can speak, dear friend," she said quite steadily. "I shall be +glad to hear the whole of it, though it is an ugly story. The man was +miserable, and he is dead, and the circumstances of his death point +to—what—suicide?" +</p> + +<p> +In reply Iglesias told her how that morning, the servants failing to +get any response to their knocking, the upper part of the house being, +moreover, pervaded by a sickening smell of gas, help had been called +in; and, de Courcy Smyth's door being forced open, he had been found +lying, fully clothed, stark and cold upon his bed, an empty phial of +morphia and an empty glass on the table beside him, both gas-jets +turned full on though not alight. +</p> + +<p> +At the top of Portland Place the coachman took his way northwestward, +first skirting the outer ring of Regent's Park and then making the +gradually ascending slope of the Finchley Road. The detached houses on +either side, standing back in their walled gardens, were mostly blind. +Only here and there, behind drawn curtains, a window glowed, telling of +intimate drama gallant or mournful within. The wide grey pavements were +deserted; the place arrestingly quiet, save for the occasional heavy +tread of a passing policeman on beat, and the rhythmical trot of the +horse. And the Lady of the Windswept Dust was quiet likewise, looking +straight before her, sitting stiffly upright, her hands clasped in her +lap, the shifting lights and shadows playing queerly over her face and +her bare neck, causing her to appear unsubstantial and indefinite as a +figure in a dream. Yet a strange energy possessed her and emanated from +her, so that the atmosphere about her was electric, oppressive to +Iglesias as with a brooding of storm. Her very quietness was agitating, +weighed with meaning which challenged his imagination and even his +powers of reticence and self-control. Opposite Swiss Cottage Station, +where the main road forks, a string of market waggons—slouching, +drowsy car-men, backed by a pale green wall of glistening cabbages, +nodding above their slow-moving teams—passed, with a jingle of +brass-mounted harness and grind of wheels. This roused Poppy, and the +storm broke. +</p> + +<p> +"Dominic," she said breathlessly, "do you at all know that you've just +told me means to me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have never known positively until now; but it was impossible that I +should not have entertained suspicions." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he—you know who I mean—ever speak of me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think," Iglesias said, "he came very near doing so, more than once. +But I put a stop to the conversation." +</p> + +<p> +"You frightened him," Poppy rejoined. "I know one could do that. It was +a last resource, a hateful one. Is there anything so difficult to +forgive as being driven to be cruel? One was bound to be cruel in +self-defence, or one would have been stifled, utterly degraded by +self-contempt, bled to death not only in respect of money but of +self-esteem." +</p> + +<p> +She threw up her hands with a gesture at once fierce and despairing. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! the weak, the weak," she cried, "of how many crimes they are the +authors! Crimes more particularly abominable when the weak one is the +man, and woman—poor brute—is strong." +</p> + +<p> +She settled herself sideways in the corner of the carriage, turning her +face once more full upon her companion. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here," she said, "I don't want to whitewash myself. What I've +done I've done. I don't pretend it's pretty or innocent, or that I +haven't jolly well got to pay the price of it—though I think a good +deal has been paid by now. But it seems to me my real crime was in +marrying him, rather than in leaving him. It was a crime against +love—love, which alone, if you've any real sense of the inherent +decencies of things, makes marriage otherwise than an outrage upon a +woman's pride and her virtue. But, then, one doesn't know all that when +one's barely out of one's teens. And, you see, like a fool I took the +first comer out of bravado, just that people mightn't see how awfully +hard hit I was by his people interfering and preventing my marrying the +poor, dear boy who gave me this"—Poppy spread out the end of her +dragon scarf—"I've told you about him.—Stage people are absurdly +simple in some ways, you know. They live in such a world of pretences +and fictions that they lose their sense of fact, or rather they never +develop it. They're awfully easily taken in. Words go a tremendous long +way with them. And de Courcy could talk. He was appallingly fluent, +specially on the subject of himself. He made be believe he was rather +wonderful, and I wanted to believe he was wonderful. I wanted to +believe he was all the geniuses in creation rolled into one. All the +more I wanted to believe it because I wasn't one scrap in love with +him." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy beat with one hand almost roughly on Mr. Iglesias' arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you see, do you see, do you see?" she repeated. "Do you understand? +I want you so badly to understand." +</p> + +<p> +And he answered her gently and gravely: "Do not be afraid, dear friend. +I see with your eyes. I feel with your heart. As far as one human being +can enter into and share the experience of another, I do understand." +</p> + +<p> +"But the nuisance is," she went on, the corners of her mouth taking a +wicked twist, "you know so very much more about a man after you've +married him. Other people are inclined to forget that sometimes. +Consuming egoism is hideous at close quarters. It comes out in a +thousand ways, in mean little tyrannies and absurd jealousies which +would never have entered into one's head.—I don't want to go into all +that. It's better forgot.—Only they piled up and up, till the shadow +of them shut out the sunshine; and I got so bored, so madly and +intolerably bored. You see, I had tried to believe in him at first. In +self-defence I had done so, and stood by him, and done my very best to +put him through. But when I began to understand that there was nothing +to stand by or put through, that his talent was not talent at all, but +merely a vain man's longing to possess talent—well, the situation +became pretty bad. I tried to be civil. I tried to hold my tongue, +indeed I did. But to be bullied and grumbled at, and expected to work, +so as to give him leisure and means for the development of gifts which +didn't exist—it wasn't good enough." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy put up her hands and pushed the masses of her hair from her +forehead. And all the while the shifting lights and shadows played over +her white face and bare neck, and the horse trotted on, past closed +shops and curtained windows, farther out of London and into the night. +</p> + +<p> +"He didn't do anything which the world calls vicious," she continued +presently. A great dreariness had come into the tones of her voice. "He +was faithful to me, as the world counts faithfulness, simply because he +didn't care for women—except for philandering with sentimental sillies +who thought him an unappreciated eighth wonder of the world, and pawed +over and pitied him. La! La! The mere thought of it makes me sick! But +he was too much in love with himself to be capable of even an animal +passion for anybody else. And he made a great point of his virtue. I +heard a lot about it—oh! a lot!" +</p> + +<p> +For a minute or two Poppy sat silent. Then she turned to Mr. Iglesias, +smiling, as those smile who refuse submission to some cruel pain. +</p> + +<p> +"I wasn't born bad, dear man," she said, "and I held out longer than +most women in my profession would, where morals are easy and it's +lightly come and lightly go in respect of lovers and love. But one fine +day I packed up my traps and cleared out. He'd been whining for years, +and some little thing he said or did—I really forget exactly +what—raised Cain in me, and I thought I'd jolly well give him +something to whine about. I knew perfectly well he wouldn't divorce me. +He wanted me too much, at the end of a string, to torment, and to get +money from when times were bad. Not that I cared for a divorce. I +consider it the clumsiest invention out for setting wrongs right. I +have too great a respect for marriage, which ought, if it means +anything, to mean motherhood and children, and a clean, wholesome start +in life for the second generation. When a woman breaks away and crosses +the lines, she only makes bad worse, in my opinion, by the hypocritical +respectability of a marriage while her husband is still alive. Let's be +honest sinners any way, if sin we must." +</p> + +<p> +Again she paused, looking backward in thought, seeing and hearing +things which, for the honour of others, it was kindest not to repeat. +The carriage moved slowly, the horse slackening its pace in climbing +the last steep piece of hill which leads to the pond on Hampstead Heath. +</p> + +<p> +"And now it's over," Poppy said, letting her hands drop in her lap. +"Done with. The poor wretched thing's dead—has killed himself. That is +a fitting conclusion. He was always his own worst enemy.—Well, as far +as I am concerned, let him rest in peace." +</p> + +<p> +"Amen," Iglesias responded, "so let him rest. 'Shall not the judge of +all the world do right,' counting his merits as well as his demerits, +making all just excuses for his lapses and wrong-doings; knowing, as we +can never know, exactly how far he was and was not accountable for his +own and for others' sins. And now, dear friend, as you have said, this +long misery is over and done with. Whatever remains of practical +business you can leave safely to me. His memory shall be shielded as +far as foresight and sympathy can shield it, and your name need not +appear." +</p> + +<p> +The Lady of the Windswept Dust took his hand and held it. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," she said brokenly, "why all this should all come upon +you." +</p> + +<p> +"For a very simple reason," he answered. "What did you tell me +yourself? You stand first. And that is true." +</p> + +<p> +But it may be remarked in passing that there are limits to the passive +obedience of even the best-trained of men-servants. Those of Poppy's +coachman had been reached. At the top of the hill he drew up, +vigorously determined to drive no farther into the wilderness, without +renewed and very distinct information as to why and where he went, +perceiving which Dominic Iglesias opened the carriage door and stepped +out. +</p> + +<p> +"The night is fine and dry," he said. "Let us walk a little, and then +let us drive home. You have your work to-morrow—or, rather, +to-day—and you must have a reasonable amount of rest first. The stream +of your life has been arrested, diverted from its natural channel; but +it still runs strong and clear yet. You have genius, real, not +imagined, so you must husband your energies.—Come and walk. Let the +air soothe and calm you; and then, leaving all the past in Almighty +God's safe keeping, go home and rest." +</p> + +<p> +Here the high-road stretches along the ridge of the hill, a giant +causeway, the broken land of the open heath falling away sharply to +left and right. It was windless. The sky was covered, and the +atmosphere, though not foggy at this height, was thick as with smoke; +so that the road, with its long avenue of sparse-set lamps—dwindling +in the extreme distance to faintest sparks—was as a pale bridge thrown +across the void of black unsounded space. All, save the road itself, +the lamps, and seats, and broken fringe of grass edging the raised +footpath of it, was formless and vague, peopled by shapes, dark against +darkness, such as the eye itself fearfully produces in straining to +penetrate unyielding obscurity. The effect was one of intense +isolation, of divorce from humanity and the works and ways of it, so +present and overpowering it might well seem that, reaching the far end +of that pale bridge, the wayfarer would part company with the things of +time altogether and pass into another state of being. +</p> + +<p> +And this so worked upon Poppy that, some fifty yards along the +causeway, her black and silver skirts gathered ankle-high about her, +she stopped, drawing very close to Iglesias and laying her hand upon +his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen to the silence," she said. "Look at the emptiness. I don't +quite like it, even with you. It's too suggestive of death, death with +no sure hope of life beyond it.—I am quite good now, quite sane and +reasonable. I have put aside all bitterness. I'll never say another +hard word of him, or, in as far as I can, think a hard thought." +</p> + +<p> +Then turning, suddenly she gave a cry, perceiving that east and south +all London lay below them—formless, too, indefinite, enormous, a City +of the Plains, unseen in detail but indicated through the gloom as a +vast semi-circle of smouldering fire. +</p> + +<p> +Poppy stretched out both arms, letting her splendid draperies trail in +the dust. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! how I love it, how I love it," she cried. "Let us go back, dear +man. For it belongs to me and I belong to it. In the name of my art I +must try conclusions with it. I must play to it, and conquer it, and +enchant, and possess it, since I am free at last—I am free." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap37"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXVII +</h3> + +<p> +Serena's manner, though gracious, was lofty, almost regal. She had, +indeed, lately looked upon crowned heads, and the glory of them seemed, +somehow, to have rubbed off on her. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she said, "I came up for the Queen's funeral. Lady Samuelson +felt it was a thing I ought not to miss, and I agreed with her. It was +inconvenient to leave home, because I had a number of engagements. +Still, I felt I might regret it afterwards if I did not see it. And +then, of course, Lady Samuelson was so kind the year before last, when +I had so very much to worry me, that I feel I owe it to her to stay +with her whenever she asks me to do so. Where did you see the +procession from, Rhoda?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, on the whole I thought it better to remain at home," Mrs. +Lovegrove confessed, "though Georgie was most pressing I should go with +him. You are slender, Serena, and that makes a great deal of difference +in going about. But I find crowds and excitement very trying. And then +it must all have been very affecting and solemn. I doubted if I could +witness it without giving way too much and troubling others. It is +mortifying to feel you are spoiling the pleasure of those that are with +you, and I wanted poor Georgie to enjoy himself as much as he could." +</p> + +<p> +"In that case it was certainly better to remain at home," Serena +rejoined. "I have my feelings very much under control. Even when I was +quite a child that used to be said of me. It used to irritate Susan." +</p> + +<p> +"Susan has a more impetuous nature," Mrs. Lovegrove observed. The day +of domestic eclipse was happily passed. She had come into her own +again; consequently she was disposed to be slightly argumentative, +sitting here upon her own Chesterfield sofa in her own drawing-room, +even with Serena. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if she has—I mean I wonder whether Susan really has a more +impetuous nature," the latter rejoined, "or whether she is only more +wanting in self-control. I often think people get credit for strong +feelings, when it is only that they make no effort to control +themselves. And that is unfair. I never have been able to see why it +was considered so creditable to have strong feelings. They usually give +a lot of inconvenience to other people. I am not sure that it is not +self-indulgent to have strong feelings.—We had excellent places just +opposite the Marble Arch. Of course Lady Samuelson has a great deal of +interest; and we saw everything. In some ways I think, as a sight, the +procession was overrated. But I am glad I went. You can never tell +whether anything is worth seeing or not until you have seen it; and so +I certainly might have regretted if I had not gone. Still, I think you +were quite wise in not going, Rhoda, if you were likely to be upset; +and then, as you say, it must be unpleasant getting about if one is +very stout. Of course, I cannot really enter into that. I take after +mamma's family. They are always slender. But the Lovegroves often grow +stout. George, of course, has, and I should not be surprised if Susan +did when she is older. But then Susan and I are entirely different in +almost everything." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you have heard of our dear vicar being appointed to the new +bishopric of Slowby, Serena," Mrs. Lovegrove remarked. The amplitude, +or non-amplitude, of the family figure was beginning to get upon her +nerves. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! dear, yes, of course I have," Serena answered with raised eyebrows +and a condescending expression of countenance. "Not that it will make +very much difference to me, I suppose. I am so little at home now. But +naturally people, hearing we knew the Nevingtons, came to us for +information about them. I don't think anybody had ever heard of Dr. +Nevington at Slowby, and so they were very glad to learn anything we +could tell them. Of course it is a very great rise for Dr. Nevington, +though he will only be a suffragan bishop. Still, he must be very much +flattered, after merely having a parish of this kind. Susan is very +pleased at the appointment. She wrote to Dr. Nevington immediately and +has had a number of letters from him. I was quite willing she should +write, but she told him how popular his appointment was in +Midlandshire. And I thought that was going rather far, because Susan +has no real means of knowing whether it is popular or not. She could +only know that she thought she liked it herself, and had praised him +among her friends. And I wonder whether she is right—I mean I wonder +whether she really will like it. Of course Susan has been very +prominent and has had everything her own way with most of the +clergymen's wives in Slowby. I think that has been rather bad for Susan +and given her an undue idea of her own importance. Now naturally Mrs. +Nevington will be the head of everything and the clergymen's wives will +go for advice to her. I do not see how Susan can help disliking that. +And then Mrs. Nevington is said to be a very good public speaker. I am +perfectly certain Susan will dislike that. For I always observe that +people who speak a great deal themselves, like Susan, never get on well +with other good speakers."—She moved a little, throwing back the +fronts of her black beaded jacket—her complimentary mourning was +scrupulously correct—and adjusting the black silk tie at her throat. +"Of course I may be mistaken," she added, "but if you ask me, Rhoda, I +fancy you will find that Susan and Mrs. Nevington will not remain +friends for very long." +</p> + +<p> +"I am distressed to hear you express such an opinion, Serena," Mrs. +Lovegrove returned. The tone of mingled patronage and possession in +which her guest spoke of her own two particular sacred totems, vicar +and vicaress, incensed her highly. She wished she had not introduced +the subject of the Slowby bishopric.—"When the object in view is a +truly good one," she added, with some severity, "I should suppose all +right-meaning people would strive to sink petty rivalries and +cooperate. I should quite believe it would prove so in Susan's case." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course she would not give Mrs. Nevington's speaking well as her +reason, if they did not remain on friendly terms," Serena returned +negligently. "But then people so very seldom give their real reasons +for what they do, Rhoda. Surely you must have observed that. I think +they are generally very willing to deceive themselves a good deal." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid it is so with too many, Serena, and with some who would be +the last to own it when applied to themselves."—Then the wife +determined by a piece of daring strategy to carry the war into the +enemy's country.—"And that reminds me," she said. "I suppose you have +heard that Mr. Iglesias has left Trimmer's Green?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not the least know what right you have to suppose anything of the +kind, Rhoda," the lady addressed replied with a haste and asperity far +from regal. "You must have very odd ideas of the people I meet, either +at Lady Samuelson's or at Slowby, if you imagine I am likely to hear +anything about Mr. Iglesias from them. If I had not met him here, of +course, I should never have heard of him at all; and if I had never +heard of him I should have been spared a great deal. Still, after all +that has occurred, I can quiet see that Mr. Iglesias might find it +better to leave Trimmer's Green." +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Eliza Hart, if you please, ma'am," this from the +house-parlourmaid. +</p> + +<p> +In accordance with established precedent, Serena should have risen from +the place of honour, upon the sofa, making room for the newcomer. But +she defied precedent. Acknowledging the said newcomer with the stiffest +of bows, she sat tight. Her hostess, however, proved equal to the +occasion. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear me, Miss Hart," she began, "I am sure you are quite the stranger. +Take that chair, will you not? And how is Mrs. Porcher? The numbers, I +trust, filling up again at Cedar Lodge? Mr. Lovegrove and myself did +truly sympathise in Mrs. Porcher's trouble in the autumn. Such a +terrible occurrence to have in your house! Of course very damaging, for +a time, to all prospects. And I shall always believe it was the great +exertions he made then that broke down poor Mr. Iglesias' health.—Yes, +indeed, Miss Hart, I regret to say he does remain very ailing. Mr. +Lovegrove sees him almost daily. He has run round to Holland Street +now, has Georgie; but I expect him back any minute.—We were just +speaking of Mr. Iglesias—were we not, Serena?—and I was about to tell +Miss Lovegrove what a sweet pretty house he has. You have seen it often +no doubt, Miss Hart." +</p> + +<p> +But here Serena arose, with much dignity, and retired in the direction +of the window. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray do not think about me, Rhoda," she said over her shoulder, "or +let me interrupt your and your friend's conversation. I am going to see +if the carriage is here. Lady Samuelson said she might be able to send +it for me. She could not be sure, but she might. And I told her I would +be on the watch, as she objects to the horses being kept standing in +this weather. But pray do not think about me. Until it comes I can +quite well amuse myself." +</p> + +<p> +Holding aside the lace curtain she looked out. Upon the rawly green +grass remnants of discoloured snow lay in unsightly patches, while the +bare branches of the plane-trees and balsam-poplars shuddered in the +harsh blast. The prospect was far from alluring, and Serena surveyed it +with a wrathful eye. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Rhoda's behaviour to me is most extraordinary," she said to +herself. "I had to mark my displeasure. For poor George's sake she +ought not to be allowed to go too far. She has grown so very +self-assertive. Last year her manner was much better. I suppose she and +George have made it up again. People who are not really ladies, like +Rhoda, are always so very much nicer when they are depressed. I wonder +what has happened to make George make it up with her!" +</p> + +<p> +And then she fell very furiously to listening. +</p> + +<p> +"We did talk it over, did Peachie Porcher and myself," the great Eliza +was saying, "for I do not deny, at the time of our trouble, a certain +gentleman came out very well. He may have had his reasons, but I will +not go into that, Mrs. Lovegrove. I am all for giving everybody his +due. But Peachie felt when he left it would be better the connection +should cease as far as visiting went. 'Should Mr. Iglesias call here, +dear Liz,' she said to me, 'I should not refuse to see him. But, after +what has passed and situated as I am, I cannot be too careful. And +calling on a bachelor living privately, with whom your name has been at +all associated, must invite comment. Throughout all,' she said, 'my +conscience tells me I have done my duty, and in that I must find my +reward.' Very affecting, was it not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," the other lady admitted, candour and natural goodness of heart +getting the better alike of resentment and diplomacy. "I always have +maintained there were many sterling qualities in Mrs. Porcher." +</p> + +<p> +"So there are, the sweet pet!" Eliza responded warmly. "And I sometimes +question, Mrs. Lovegrove, whether a certain gentleman, now that he has +cut himself adrift from her, may not be beginning to find that out and +wish he had been less stand-offish and stony. Not that it would be any +use now. For, if he did not appreciate Peachie Porcher, there are other +and younger gentlemen, not a thousand miles from here, who do. I am not +at liberty to speak more plainly at present, as the poor young fellow +is very shy about his secret. A long attachment, and some might think +it rather derogatory to Peachie's position to entertain it. But straws +tell which way the wind blows; and a little bird seems to twitter to +me, Mrs. Lovegrove, that if Charlie Farge did come to the point—why—" +</p> + +<p> +Miss Hart shook her leonine mane and laid her finger on her lip in an +arch and playful manner. But before her hostess could rally +sufficiently from the stupor into which this announcement plunged her +to make suitable rejoinder, a fine booming clerical voice and large +clerical presence invaded the room. +</p> + +<p> +"How d'ye do, Mrs. Lovegrove? I come unannounced but not unsanctioned. +I met with your good husband in the street just now, and he encouraged +me to look in on you. Good-day to you, Miss Hart. All is well, I trust, +with our excellent friend Mrs. Porcher.—Ah! and here is Miss Serena +Lovegrove.—An unexpected piece of good fortune." +</p> + +<p> +Promptly Serena had emerged from her self-imposed exile; and it was +with an air of assured proprietorship that she greeted the clergyman. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Nevington heard from your kind sister only this morning," he +continued. "Full of active helpfulness as usual, Mrs. Lovegrove.—She +proposes that we should quarter ourselves upon you and her for a few +days, Miss Serena, while we are seeking a temporary residence. She +kindly gives us the names of several houses which she considers worth +inspection." +</p> + +<p> +Here by an adroit flank movement, rapidly executed, Serena managed to +possess herself once again of the seat of honour upon the sofa, thereby +interposing a thin but impenetrable barrier between her hostess and the +latter's own particular fetish, the bishop-designate. +</p> + +<p> +"You have enough room? I do not crowd you, Rhoda?" she remarked +parenthetically. Then turning sideways, so as to present an expanse of +neatly clad back and shoulder to her outraged relative, she +continued:—"I wonder which, Dr. Nevington—I mean I wonder which +houses Susan has recommended. Of course there is the Priory. But nobody +has lived in it for ages and ages. It is in a very low neighbourhood, +close to the canal and brickfields on the Tullingworth Road. I should +think it was dreadfully damp and unwholesome. And there is old Mrs. +Waghorn's in Abney Park. That is well situated and the grounds are +rather nice. But the reception-rooms are poor, I always think. Susan +was fond of Mrs. Waghorn. I cannot say I ever cared for her myself; but +there is a tower to it, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! we hardly need towers yet, Miss Lovegrove. A 'suffering +bishop'—you recall the well-worn joke?—such as myself, must not +aspire to anything approaching castles or palaces, but be content with +a very modest place of residence." +</p> + +<p> +Here his unhappy hostess, sitting quite perilously near the edge of the +sofa, craned round the interposing barrier. +</p> + +<p> +"But that is only a matter of time, Dr. Nevington," she said, "surely. +There is but one voice all round the Green, and through the parish +generally, that this is but the first step for you; and that it will +lead on—though I am far from wishing to hasten the death of the +present archbishop—to the primacy." +</p> + +<p> +"Hardly that, hardly that," he rejoined with becoming modesty. Yet the +speech was not unpalatable to him. "Out of the mouth of babes," he said +to himself, leaning back in his chair, and eyeing—in imagination—the +chaste outline of an episcopal apron and well-cut black gaiter, while +visions of Lambeth and Canterbury floated enticingly before +him.—"Hardly that. This is little more than an embryo bishopric. +Still, though it is a wrench to leave my dear old congregation, here in +this wonderful London of ours, I cannot refuse the call to a wider +sphere of usefulness. My views as a churchman are well known. I have +never, even though it might have been professionally advantageous to me +to do so, attempted any concealment." +</p> + +<p> +"No, truly," Rhoda put in, still balancing and craning. "Everyone, I am +sure, must bear witness you have always been most nobly outspoken." +</p> + +<p> +"I trust so," he returned. "I have never disguised the fact that I take +my stand upon the Reformation Settlement. Therefore I cannot but think +it a most hopeful sign of the times that I should receive this call to +the episcopate.—Ah, here is Lovegrove. You find us deep in matters +ecclesiastical. I only hope I am not taxing your ladies' patience too +heavily by talking on such serious subjects.—In Slowby itself that +grand old stalwart, the late Dr. Colthurst—a positively Cromwellian +figure—has left a sound Protestant tradition. But I hear—your good +sister confirms the rumour, Miss Serena—that there is a strong +ritualistic party at Tullingworth. I shall deal very roundly with +persons of that persuasion. My conviction is that we must suit our +teaching to the progressive spirit of this modern world of ours. +Personally I am willing, if necessary, to sacrifice very much so-called +dogma to conciliate our worthy Nonconformist brethren; while I shall +lose no opportunity of cutting at the roots of those Romanising +tendencies which are so lamentably and insidiously active in the very +heart of our dear old National Church." +</p> + +<p> +While the great drum-like voice was thus rolling and booming, George +Lovegrove had shaken hands with Serena. But there was none of the +accustomed respectful enthusiasm in his greeting. He wore a preoccupied +and dejected air. For once he looked upon that pearl of spinsterhood +with a lack-lustre and indifferent eye. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder what can have happened to George," the lady in question said +to herself, in high displeasure. "I think his manner is really very +odd—nearly as odd as Rhoda's. I wish I had not come. But then if I had +not come I should have had no opportunity of showing Rhoda what +intimate terms Susan and I are upon with the Nevingtons. And I think it +is right she should know.—Oh! that detestable Miss Hart is going. What +a dreadfully vulgar purple blouse she has on! And her hair is so +unpleasant. It always looks damp and shows the marks of the comb. I +wonder why hair of that particular colour always does look damp." Here +she bowed stiffly without rising.—"I shall simply ignore George, and +not speak to him. I think that will be sufficiently marked. But I shall +stay as long as Dr. Nevington does—I don't for one moment believe +Miranda Samuelson really intended to send the carriage—so I will just +wait and go when he goes. I think I owe it to myself to show George and +Rhoda that they cannot drive me away against my will, however much they +may wish to do so." +</p> + +<p> +Having come to which amiable decision Serena turned her mind and +conversation to questions of house-hunting in Slowby. The subject, +however, began to pall, before long, upon her companion. Dr. Nevington +changed his position more than once. His replies became vague and +perfunctory, while his attention evidently strayed to the conversation +taking place at the other end of the sofa. +</p> + +<p> +"I fear you did not find Mr. Iglesias very bright then to-day?" the +wife was inquiring in her kindliest tones. +</p> + +<p> +George Lovegrove shook his head sadly. "No, my dear, I am sorry to say +not. I have been rather broken up. I will tell you all later." +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman had risen. +</p> + +<p> +"Iglesias?—ah yes," he said. "I remember meeting a person of that name +here once, eh, Lovegrove? One of our parochial oversights, +unfortunately. He proved to be a dweller. His appearance pleased me and +I proposed to call on him; and then in the press of my many duties the +matter was forgotten." +</p> + +<p> +Serena had risen likewise. A spot of colour burned on either of her +cheeks. Her eyes snapped. She carried her small head high. Her presence +asserted itself quite forcibly. Her skirts rustled. At that moment she +was young and very passably pretty—an elegant spirited Serena of +eighteen, rather than a faded and, alas! spiteful Serena of close upon +fifty. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! really, I think it was just as well you did not call, Dr. +Nevington," she cried. "I do not think it would have been in the least +suitable. Of course I may be wrong, but I do not think you would have +found anything to like in Mr. Iglesias. There was so much that was +never really explained about him.—You know you acknowledged that +yourself at one time, Rhoda. But now you and George seem to have gone +round again completely.—One cannot help knowing he associated with +such very odd people; and then the way in which he turned Roman +Catholic, all of a sudden, really was disgraceful." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Nevington's cold, watchful glance steadied on to the speaker, then +travelled to the two other members of the little company in sharp +inquiry. George Lovegrove's innocent countenance bore an expression of +agonised entreaty, of yearning, of apology, yet of defiance. The +corners of Rhoda's mouth drooped, her large soft cheeks shook; yet she +stood firm, her sorrow tempered, and her whole warm-hearted person +rendered stubborn, by virtuous indignation. +</p> + +<p> +"You forget yourself greatly, Serena," she said, "and when you have +time to think it over will repent having passed such cruel remarks. +They are liable to create a very wrong impression, and cannot fail to +cause severe pain to others." +</p> + +<p> +For an appreciable space the clergyman hesitated. But Slowby and the +bishopric were ahead of him; Trimmer's Green and all its quaint +unimportant little inhabitants behind. She was tedious, no doubt; but +her sister promised to be very useful, so he threw in his lot with +Serena. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, well, ah, well, for I my part I admire zeal, I must confess, Mrs. +Lovegrove," he said. "No doubt these terrible lapses will occur. +Superstition and bigotry will claim their victims even in our +enlightened century, and this free England of ours. I would not judge +the case of this poor fellow, Iglesias, too harshly. Race influences +are strong; and we of the Anglo-Saxon stock, with our enormous +advantages of brain, and grit, and hard-headed manliness of character, +can afford—deeply though we deplore their weakness and errors—to be +lenient toward the less favoured foreigner. Our mission is to educate +him.—And this I think you should not have forgotten, Lovegrove. You +should have acted upon it. You should have brought your unfortunate +friend to me. I should have been quite willing to give him half an +hour, or even longer. A few facts, a little plain speaking, might have +saved him from more than I quite care to contemplate, both here and +hereafter.—However, good-bye to you, Mrs. Lovegrove. You are starting, +too, Miss Serena? Assure your good, kind sister, when you write, how +gladly Mrs. Nevington and I shall avail ourselves of her proffered +hospitality." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't fret, don't take it too much to heart, Georgie dear," the wife +said soothingly later. "The vicar did seem very stern, but that was +owing to Serena. I am afraid she's a terrible mischief-maker, is +Serena. She turns things inside out so in saying them, that you do not +recognise your own words again. All this afternoon she was most trying. +If Dr. Nevington heard the real story, he would never blame you. You +must not fret." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not fretting about Dr. Nevington," he answered, "but about +Dominic. I am afraid we shall not have him with us very much longer, +Rhoda." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! dear, oh! dear, you don't mean it? Never!" she cried in accents of +genuine distress. "Did you see him, Georgie?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Miss St. John was there." +</p> + +<p> +The wife's large cheeks shook again. +</p> + +<p> +"You know," she said, "I am never very partial to hearing anything +about that Miss St. John. Actresses are all very well in the theatre, I +daresay, but they are out of place in private houses. And from what I +hear, though there may be nothing really wrong with many of them, they +are all sadly free in their manners. I should be very hurt if you got +into the habit of frequenting their society much, Georgie.—But there, +I'm sure I cannot tell what is coming to all the women nowadays! You +don't seem as if you could be safe with any one of them. To think of a +middle-aged person like Mrs. Porcher, for instance, taking up with that +little snip of a Farge, and she old enough to be his mother!" +</p> + +<p> +The wife bustled about the room straightening the chairs, patting +cushions into place, folding up the handkerchief which, in the +interests of human conversation, had been thrown over the cage of the +all-too-articulate parrot. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel terribly stirred up somehow," she said, "what with the vicar, +and Serena, and all the talk about Roman Catholics and Protestants, and +Mrs. Porcher's engagement, too, and then this bad news of Mr. +Iglesias—not but that I am sure enough we shall meet him in heaven +some day, if we can ever contrive to get there ourselves in all this +chatter and worry—" +</p> + +<p> +She laid the handkerchief away in the drawer of the work-table. +</p> + +<p> +"Such an afternoon," she declared, "what with one thing and another! I +always do say there's nothing for making unpleasantnesses like religion +and marriages.—But, thank God, through all of it you are spared to me, +Georgie." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap38"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXXVIII +</h3> + +<p> +Outside, the slanting spring sunshine visited the sheltered strip of +garden in clear lights and transparent shadows. The small grass-plat +surrounding the rockery was brightly green. In the stone basin the +surface of the water trembled, glistening in broken curves of silver +white. Along the narrow border, beneath the soot-stained eastern wall, +yellow and mauve crocuses and yellow aconites opened wide, greeting the +gentle warmth. Trees in the neighbouring gardens were thick with bud. +Busily the sparrows and starlings came and went. +</p> + +<p> +Within, the house—though not uncheerful, thanks to a scrupulous +cleanliness, warm colourings, and the peculiar mellowness which comes +to rooms and furnishings that, through prolonged association, have +grown in a great mutual friendliness of aspect—was very still, with +the strange, almost eerie, stillness which seems to listen and to +wait.—A singular stillness, from which the rough utilitarian +activities of ordinary life are banished, the rude noise of them +suspended, while spiritual presences, rare apprehensions, exquisite +memories and hopes, mysterious invitations of mingled alarm and +ecstasy, come forth, taking on form and voice, passing lightly to and +fro—an enchantment, yet in a manner fearful from the subtlety of their +being and piercing intimacy of their speech. Personality, that supreme +moral and emotional factor in human life, must of necessity create an +atmosphere about it, permeated with its individual tastes and mental +attributes, distinct and powerful in proportion to its individual +distinction and its strength. And, without being overfanciful, it may +be confidently asserted that, for some weeks now, ever since indeed the +specialists—summoned in consultation at the good Lovegroves' and the +Lady of the Windswept Dust's urgent request—had pronounced the cardiac +affection, from which Dominic Iglesias suffered, likely to terminate +fatally in the near future, this living stillness, this alert +tranquillity, had been more or less sensible to all those who entered +the house, offering an arresting contrast to the multitudinous rush and +clamour of London without. But to-day the impression was no longer an +intermittent and fugitive one, as heretofore. It was constant and +complete, those spiritual visitants being, as it would seem, in full +possession; so that the hours appeared to move reluctantly, and as +though enjoining watchfulness, a carefulness and economy even in +prevailing repose, lest any remaining moment and the message of it +should be overlooked and lost. +</p> + +<p> +It was characteristic of Iglesias that learning, in as far as the +consultant doctors could diagnose it, the exact conditions of his +physical state, he should refuse all experiment, however humane in +intention or plausible in theory. For he had no sympathy with the +modern greediness and worship of physical life, which is willing to +sacrifice the decencies and dignities of it to its possible +prolongation. Courteously but plainly he bade his advisers depart. The +body, though an excellent servant, is a contemptible master; and +Iglesias proposed that, while his soul continued to inhabit it, it +should, as always before, be kept very much in its place. It must +remain unobtrusive, obedient, not daring to usurp, in its present hour +of failure and impediment, an interest and consideration to which, in +its full usefulness and vigour, it had not presumed to aspire. +Therefore Dominic Iglesias held calmly on his way, seeing the circle of +his occupations, pleasures, and activities dwindle and decrease, yet +maintaining not only his serenity of mind, but his accustomed +self-respecting outward refinement of bearing and habit. To meet death +with a gracious stoicism, well-dressed and standing upright, is, +rightly considered, a very fine art, reflecting much credit upon the +successful professor of it. +</p> + +<p> +And it was thus that, on the day in question, Mr. Iglesias sat waiting, +in the quaint irregularly shaped drawing-room of the old house in +Holland Street, himself the centre of that peopled stillness, that +alert tranquillity, which so strangely and sensibly filled it. Looking +out of the low window, he could see the shadow of the houses shrink and +the light broaden in the little garden below, as the sun travelled +westward. Looking into the room itself, the many familiar objects and +rich sober colours of it, quickened by a flickering of fire-light, were +pleasant to his sense. The images which passed before him, whether +actually visible or not he hardly knew, appeared beautiful. Words and +phrases which occurred to him were beautiful likewise. But all were +seen and heard remotely, as through some softly dazzling medium which, +while heightening the charm of them, produced a delicate confusion +leaving him uncertain whether he really slept or woke. More than once, +not without effort, he roused himself; but only to slip back again into +the same state of fair yet gently distracted vision. +</p> + +<p> +At last the sound of opening casements in the dining-room underneath +and of a voice, touched with laughter, reached him. +</p> + +<p> +"There, you absurdities—skip, scuttle, take exercise, catch birds, +improve your figures!" Poppy cried, clapping her hands encouragingly as +she stood at the head of the flight of iron steps down which, with her +foot, she shot the toy spaniels unceremoniously into the sunny garden +below. +</p> + +<p> +The little creatures, welcoming their freedom, forgetful for once of +their languid overbred airs, scampered away yapping and skirmishing in +the merriest fashion about the grass-plat and flower-beds. The window +closed again and there followed a sound of voices, interjectional on +Poppy's part, low and continuous on that of Mrs. Peters, the +house-keeper. Then a pause, so prolonged that Iglesias, who had rallied +all his energy and prepared to rise and to go forward to meet his +guest, sank away once more into half-consciousness which neither +actually sleeps or wakes. When he came fully to himself Poppy was +sitting on the low window-seat close beside him. Her back was to the +light and his sight was somewhat clouded, so that at first he failed to +see her clearly; but he knew that her mood had changed and her laughter +departed, through the sympathy of her touch, she holding his hand as it +lay along the arm of the chair. He would have spoken, but she stopped +him. +</p> + +<p> +"No, dear man, don't hurry," she said. "I know already. Peters has just +told me, now, downstairs, that you received the Last Sacraments this +morning. That's why I didn't come up sooner. I couldn't see you +directly, somehow. I had—well, I had to get my second wind, dearly +beloved, so to speak. You see it's such a heavenly day that I couldn't +help feeling happier about you. I had persuaded myself those doctors +were a pack of croaking old grannies whose collective wisdom had +eventuated in a wild mistake, and that, given time and summer weather, +you would be better again—you know you have had ups and downs lots of +times before—and that then, when the theatre closes and I have my +holiday, I'd carry you off, somewhere, anywhere, back to your own +fierce, passionate Spain, perhaps, and nurse and coax and care for you +till living grew so pretty a business you really wouldn't have the +conscience to quit." +</p> + +<p> +Poppy's voice was sweet with caressing tones, sympathetic in quality as +her lingering touch. +</p> + +<p> +"Haven't you, perhaps, been a little premature after all?" she said. +"Has it really and truly come to that? Mightn't you have put off those +last grim ceremonies a trifle longer, and let them wait?" +</p> + +<p> +"They are not grim, dearest friend, but full of strong consolation," +Iglesias answered, smiling. He began to see her face more clearly. Her +expression was tragic, a world of anguish in it, for all the restraint +of her manner and playful glibness of her speech. "Nor, in any case," +he added, "can they hasten the event." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not altogether sure of that," Poppy declared rebelliously. +</p> + +<p> +"I could not quite trust myself as to what the day might bring forth," +Iglesias continued. "In point of fact, I have gained strength as it has +gone on.—And so it seemed wisest and most fitting to ask for the +performance of those sacred rites while I was still of sound mind, and +ready in my perception of that in which I was taking part." +</p> + +<p> +"You have suffered?" Poppy said. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing unendurable. The nights are somewhat wearisome, since I cannot +lie down, in ordinary fashion, to rest. But I sit here, or wander +through the quiet, kindly house, contentedly enough. And I am well +cared for—have no fear as to that. Peters is a faithful creature. She +nursed my mother at the last, and her presence is grateful to me, for +association's sake." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias straightened himself up. +</p> + +<p> +"There, there," he said, "do not be too sad. The road is not such a +very hard one to tread. The last few months have been the happiest I +remember since my childhood. Any anxieties I felt concerning you are +set at rest. You are famous, and will be more famous yet, and I know I +shall live in your remembrance while you live. It is no slight thing, +after all, for a man to have been loved so well by the two women whom +he loved. And for the rest, dearest friend, as one draws near to the +edge of the great shadow, which we call death, one begins to trust more +and fuss less; looking to the next step only, so that one may take it +neither with faltering nor with presumptuous haste." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" Poppy cried, "that's all very well for you. But where do I come +in? I lose you." +</p> + +<p> +Iglesias smiled, lifting his shoulders slightly and raising his hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said, "it seems that sorrow, here on earth, is always, sooner +or later, the guerdon of love. Why, I know not; but so it is, as the +most sacred and august of all examples testifies. Only let us be +thankful, you and I, that to us this parting, and the inevitable pain +of it, comes while love is still in its full strength, having endured +nothing unworthy, no shame, or diminution, or disillusionment. The more +bitter the wrench, the finer the memory, and the more desirable the +meeting which lies ahead, however far distant in time it may be and in +difference of condition." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dear man, yes, I dare say—no doubt," Poppy answered brokenly. +"Only I can't rise to these philosophic heights. I'm right here, don't +you see, my feet well on the floor, planted in brutal commonplace. I +shall want you—just simply I shall want you, and you won't be there, +and I shall be most cut-throat horribly lonely and sad. But, looking at +you, still I don't believe it. I won't believe it. I shall keep you a +long while yet." +</p> + +<p> +She leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I must go," she said, "if I'm to get any dinner before the +theatre. I would have liked to stay, and put my poor little understudy +on, so as to give her a chance. She's a nice little girl—not half +stupid, and really keen to learn and to work. But I can't. I'm in +honour bound to appear to-night. You see, it's our second century—the +first one we could not observe, because it came at the end of January +just in the general mourning—so there's an awful to-do and tomasha +to-night, souvenir programmes and I don't know what all, also a rather +extra special audience. It would be little too bad if I played them +false. But," she added, rising, "when it's over I shall come back—yes, +I will, I will, I tell you. Don't flatter yourself you can prevent me, +beloved lunatic, for you jolly well can't.—I shall come back directly +the performance is over, and watch with you, through the bad hours till +the dawn." +</p> + +<p> +Dominic Iglesias had risen, too. He crossed the room, going to the door +and holding it open for her; then, standing on the little landing, he +watched her as she went down the narrow crooked stairs. And so doing, +it came to him, with a movement of thankfulness and of satisfied pride, +how very fully in the past six months the Lady of the Windswept Dust +had realised and fulfilled all the finer promise of her complex nature. +Just as her figure had matured, retaining its admirable proportions and +suppleness while gaining in distinction and dignity, her mind had +matured likewise. Her splendid fearlessness was no longer that of +naughty dare-devil audacity, but of secure position and recognised +success. Indeed, she had grown into a somewhat imperial creature, for +whom the world, and rightly, is very willing to make place. +</p> + +<p> +At the bottom of the flight Poppy paused, looking up and kissing her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Till to-night," she cried. "Now I go to herd those two small miseries, +W. O. and Cappadocia.—Take most precious care of yourself until I come +back, dear man. Good-bye and God keep you, till to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Iglesias crossed the drawing-room, glad at heart, erect and stately +as in the fulness of health. For a minute or so he stood looking out +into the garden, at the stone basin full to the lip—in which the +sparrows, relieved of the presence of the toy spaniels, washed with +much fluttering of sooty wings—and at the spring flowers, beginning to +close their delicate blossoms as the sun declined towards its setting +in the gold and grey of the west. In the recovered stillness, those +same spiritual presences, rare apprehensions, exquisite memories, +mysterious invitations, once again obtained possession, coming forth, +passing lightly to and fro, filling all the place. In aspect and +sentiment they were benign, all fearfulness having gone from out +them—they telling of fair things only, of human relations unbroken by +treachery or self-seeking, unsullied by lust; telling, too, of godly +endeavour faithfully to travel the road which leads to the far horizon +touched by the illimitable glory of the Uncreated Light. +</p> + +<p> +But presently Dominic Iglesias became aware that he was very, very +tired. He sat down in the chair again. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy," he murmured, crossing himself. "I +think the day's work is over. I will sleep." +</p> + +<p> +That night Poppy St. John played as she had never played before; and +her audience, taking her astonishing manifestation of talent as a +compliment to themselves, cried with her and laughed with her in most +wholehearted fashion. +</p> + +<p> +Antony Hammond, in the stage box on the right, turned to Adolphus Carr, +his companion, saying: +</p> + +<p> +"Did I really write such admirable drama as this? I have girded at that +term, 'creating a part,' as an example of the colossal vanity of the +actor, and his very inadequate reverence for his maker, the playwright. +But, I give you my word, after to-night I hide my diminished head. The +player and playing are greater than any fondest conception of mine, +when I put those words on paper." +</p> + +<p> +And Lionel Gordon, his habitual imperturbability altogether broken up +by excitement, stamped up and down stammering: +</p> + +<p> +"Ge-ge-hanna, gehanna, what possesses the woman? I'd tour creation with +her. She must be made to sign a three years' contract. If she can act +like this there's nothing less than a cool half-million sterling in +her." +</p> + +<p> +And Alaric Barking, lean and haggard, invalided home from South Africa, +escaping for one evening from the ministrations of gentle Lady +Constance Decies and his pretty <i>fiancee</i>, sat huddled together at the +end of a row at the back of the pit, hoping, "The deuce! nobody would +see him," with a choke in his throat. He would love, honour, and +cherish his pretty, high-bred, innocent maiden; but Poppy's voice tore +at his very vitals. And he asked himself how had he ever borne to give +her up, forgetting, as is the habit of civilised man in such slightly +humiliating circumstances, that it was Poppy herself, not he, who loved +and rode away. +</p> + +<p> +Twice the curtain was raised at the end of the performance, and the +Lady of the Windswept Dust made her bow with the rest of the +company.—Now she could depart; thank heaven! she could go back to the +strangely still house in Holland Street and fulfil her promise to +Dominic Iglesias to watch with him till dawn. All through the play, the +passion and excitement and pathos and mirth of it, her anxiety had +deepened, her yearning increased, so that the joy of her public triumph +was barred and seared by intimate pain. Now she could go. Already the +carpenters were beginning their nightly work of destruction, +metamorphosing the so-lately brilliant stage into a vast unsightly +cavern of gaunt timbers, creaking pulleys, noisy mechanical +contrivances, gaudy painted surfaces of canvas and paper, piled-up +properties, of uncertain lights and draughts many and chill. Careless +of all save that determination of going, Poppy moved away. But still +the unseen audience clamoured. A fury had taken it, a madness such as +will sometimes attack even the soberest and most aristocratic crowd, +excitement reacting upon itself and stimulating excitement, till the +demand which had begun in kindly enthusiasm became oddly violent, even +brutal, men and women standing up, applauding, drumming, shouting a +single name. +</p> + +<p> +"There, it's over, thank the powers! Now let me get out of all this +infernal din," she said, putting her hands over her ears as she pushed +into the wings. +</p> + +<p> +But Lionel Gordon met her, barring her passage, his face working with +nervous agitation, and caught hold of her unceremoniously by both arms. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter?" she cried angrily. "I can't stay. I have a case of +illness on hand." +</p> + +<p> +"Hang illness!" he answered. "My good girl, pull yourself together. Go +back. Don't be a blooming fool. Listen—it's you they're splitting +their throats for—yes, you—about the most fastidious audience in +Europe yelling like a pack of drunken bookies! Gehenna! you're the +luckiest woman living. You're made, great heavens, you're made!" +</p> + +<p> +He dragged her aside, pushing her into the mouth of the narrow passage +between the curtain and the footlights, where the roar of the house and +the welter of faces met her like a breaking wave. +</p> + +<p> + * * * * *<br /> +</p> + +<p> +Standing against the edge of the pavement in front of Mr. Iglesias' +house, in Holland Street, was a covered van. As Poppy drove up a couple +of men came down the steps, in the black and white of the moonlight. +Their dark clothing and somewhat sleek appearance were repulsive to +her. She swept past them, swept past Frederick holding open the door, +and on up the stairs. Her hands were encumbered by her trailing +draperies of velvet and silver tissue, and by an extravagant bouquet of +orchids, lilies, and roses, with long yellow satin streamers to it. She +had not stayed even to wash the grease paint off her face. Just as she +was, the stamp of her calling upon her, eager, fictitious, courageous, +triumphant, pushed by a great fear, she came. But in the doorway she +faltered, set her teeth, bowed her head, and paused. +</p> + +<p> +For in the centre of the room a bier was dressed, and on either side of +it stood lighted tapers of brownish wax, in tall black and gold +candlesticks. At the foot, some distance apart, two low-seated +rush-bottomed high-backed <i>prie-dieu</i> had been placed. Upon the one on +the left a little nun knelt, her loose black habit concealing all the +outline of her figure. The white linen pall was turned back, across the +chest of the corpse, to where the shapely long-fingered hands were +folded upon an ebony and silver crucifix. By some harsh irony of +imagination Lionel Gordon's voice rang in Poppy's ears: "My good girl, +pull yourself together. Gehenna! you're the luckiest woman living. +You're made, great heavens, you're made!"—while, blank despair in her +heart, she went forward, the little nun looking up momentarily from her +prayers, and stood beside the bier. Beautiful in death as in life, +serene, proud, austere, but young now with the eternal youth of those +who have believed, and attained, and reached the Land of the Far +Horizon, Dominic Iglesias lay before her. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a sound of sobbing broke up the stillness, and turning, Poppy +descried good George Lovegrove, sitting in the dusky far corner of the +room, his knees wide apart, his shiny forehead showing high above the +handkerchief he pressed against his eyes. She backed away from the +corpse, as in all reverence from the presence of a personage august and +sacred. Coming close to him, she laid her hand gently upon George +Lovegrove's shoulder. "Go home, my best beetle," she said, very +tenderly. "You're worn out with sorrow. Come back in the morning if you +will. I promised Dominic I would watch with him till the dawn. I keep +my promise." +</p> + +<p> +Then the Lady of the Windswept Dust laid her extravagant bouquet with +its yellow streamers, on the floor, at the foot of the bier; and +kneeling upon the vacant <i>prie-dieu</i>, beside the little nun, buried her +painted face in her hands and wept. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Far Horizon, by Lucas Malet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAR HORIZON *** + +***** This file should be named 8569-h.htm or 8569-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/5/6/8569/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Danny Wool, Lorna Hanrahan, +Mary Musser, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. 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