“A GIFT, A FRIEND, A FOE, A BEAU, A JOURNEY TO GO.”
To return again for a brief interval to that day following Christmas
Day. Mr. Barringcourt, when he had left Mariana, went to see the Great
High Priest, and afterwards attended with many others the Service of
Dedication of the Curtain. Miss Crokerly was there, but not Rosalie.
Afterwards Mr. Barringcourt said to the new High Priest when left alone
together, and the guests departed:
“Why didn’t you invite Miss Paleaf?”
“I have told you why. I am only waiting for a sufficiently good
opportunity to bring forward the trial.”
Mr. Barringcourt’s lips set. “You make a great stir about nothing,” said
he.
“I don’t forget the awkward time at which she spoke.”
“And when do you propose to send out the summons?”
“On New Year’s Day. A public trial and an ecclesiastical court.”
“And you as judge?”
“Oh, no! There is Golden Priest Ferdinand. I take no further steps in
the matter publicly.”
“And the punishment?”
“Life-time imprisonment.”
Mr. Barringcourt looked at him and laughed.
“You laugh? After all, it is worth nothing better. People must be taught
a proper respect for established religion.”
“In childhood, yes. I doubt when they get older it’s too late. And so
you contemplate lifetime imprisonment?”
“Could you suggest anything better?”
“Well, there’s escape. What do you say to that?”
“Futile. Absolutely futile.”
“The Devil has helped her once; he may do so again.”
“The Devil! Who or what is that?”
(They were ignorant of such a person on Lucifram.)
“Ah! I had forgotten. He was never fashionable here. The Devil is a
libel on virtue; the exact imitator of God.”
“And she is on familiar terms with this—this atrocity?”
“I owe a general pardon. I was confounding him with a Superior Being, an
error commoner than one thinks of.”
“You speak in riddles,” said the Great High Priest, and his tone was
irritable.
“I mean to say God helped her to escape twice before—nay, three times.
You are brave, to say nothing more of it, to put another spoke in the
wheel.”
“By God do I understand you to mean the Serpent?”
“As you will. To my certain knowledge she has kissed the Serpent. The
sensation must have been a new one, almost a dangerous one. After ages
spent hearing the dull praise of men coming from lips all stereotyped,
one soft kiss would have its—er—its value.”
The Great High Priest looked at him sternly, as became his office.
“The Serpent is above such petty considerations,” said he. “You speak
with too much levity of sacred things.”
“A fault of my education. Forgive me for it. And the summons is to be
issued on New Year’s Day?”
“Or on the eve.”
“I understand you. God and his counterfeit will help or hinder you.
Good-night!”
Next morning, walking in the Park, he came on Rosalie walking with the
frog. Quite unconscious of the impending trial, she stopped on meeting
him.
“Good morning!” said she. “You look very thoughtful.”
“Yes. I’m thinking of taking a very unusual step.”
“What, pray?”
“Paying a visit to my mother,” and he looked at her.
“That means your father, too, does it not?”
“No,” he answered, still looking at her in the same thoughtful, absent
way. “I frequently visit him. At present they are separated.”
Now it was her turn to be thoughtful. “That’s very sad, isn’t it?”
“Sadder than you’d think of; for, but for the irony of Fate, they would
be quite inseparable.”
“And is it an unusual thing for you to visit her?”
“Yes; I do not care to burden her with my presence, unless there is some
reason in it.”
“That sounds unnatural. Does she love you?”
“As much as I love her.”
“That conveys nothing to my mind. Your powers of love are very
enigmatical.”
“They’re simple enough on a worthy object.”
“And she is very worthy?”
He made no answer, but said presently, with sudden decision:
“Mariana has begun upon the dress. It will be finished on New Year’s
Eve.”
“And I to wear it?”
“Yes.”
“I went to see her. You guessed at it. But she seemed more dead than
living.”
“A little extra sleep. She said she needed it.”
“What of the jewel that I lent you?”
“It is very safe. I have a request to make to you.”
“What is it?”
“I wish to beg the jewel for my mother.”
“What is she like?”
He smiled.
“Words cannot describe her; to my eyes, the perfection of beauty and
loveliness. As innocent and simple and free from care or evil as the
light.”
“You don’t resemble her, do you?” asked Rosalie, unconscious of the
bitterness of her remark.
He laughed, perceiving it.
“You may rest safely assured there. I know no one who resembles her.”
“Is she kind?”
“The essence of it.”
“Then what of Mariana, and such as she?”
His brow clouded. “You ask questions I’m not disposed to answer.”
“Ah! but I’m thinking of my jewel. I love it so. Your mother would not
value it a tenth part as much as I. Nay, before to-day it, and others
like it, have been reckoned rubbish. She might think so too.”
“Give me leave to take it to her, and await her verdict. If she
underrates it, I’ll bring it back to you.”
“I’m afraid I must give the dragon so strong a dose there’ll be no life
left in it.”
“If it is what you told me, the more honour remains to you in killing it
with such a potion.”
And Rosalie laughed, but her eyes were wonderfully serious, and she said
simply:
“I’ll give it to you, Mr. Barringcourt, because it seems to me to love
one’s mother is the greatest and the simplest thing in the duty towards
one’s neighbour, if that mother is as she should be. And it is more than
pleasant to me to know that somewhere in the wide universe there is
someone who has broken through the natural hardness of your heart, and
called forth a respect and love of which I never thought you capable.”
The remaining days till New Year’s Eve passed quickly. The weather was
gloriously fine, the sunsets unequalled.
Early in the evening Mariana arrived, and brought with her a large box
containing the dress and other things. She came in a carriage drawn by
chestnut horses, not occupants of the stables at Marble House.
Rosalie came out into the hall to meet her, and kissed her with
affection, which Mariana in her colder way returned.
Together they went upstairs, Rosalie suddenly finding herself very short
of words to express her delight at meeting this old friend.
And it was Mariana who dressed her completely, from the arranging of her
hair to the tying on of her clog-shaped, satin-jewelled slippers.
And oh! what a dress! With designs of lovers’ knots worked in
delicately-tinted jewels all over its shining surface, and a train that
hung from the shoulders in showers of priceless lace. It was studded
with jewels in the bodice, and on her hair was placed a tiara that stood
high, and had the same design worked in diamonds. Clasps of gold and
jewels were on her arms, and round her neck one fine chain of gold—no
other ornament.
“I’m afraid, after all, Mariana,” said she at length, “your great
ambition has not come to pass.”
“What thing was that?”
“You wished it for a wedding-dress.”
“I am content to see it as it is, and you so beautiful.”
“And when to-night is over you will want it back?”
But Mariana smiled, half dreamily.
“To-night is not yet over, and you will never wish to part with such a
robe. You begged it from the Master, and you’ll keep it I know none
other who would care to bear so great a load, though in its beauty all
forget to think of that.”
“I do not find it very heavy.”
“It’s well.”
Suddenly Rosalie laughed.
“I say, Mariana,” said she, “suppose—suppose when I come to Marble House
it should shine red all round about me. They’d take me for a veritable
scarlet woman. I have misgivings. I remember once before.”
But Mariana shook her head.
“I heard from the Master you had gained strength from weakness; and I
heard from Everard you had jewels of your own that you have worn to
counteract the fatal charm of these.”
“Not of my own, Mariana; they were of God.” “Ah, God! I had forgotten
Him. The dream has passed so long ago.”
“God is no dream, but a living reality, Mariana.”
“I was once bitten by a snake, and here they call the Serpent God. I
love not such an image, but live in the never-ending twilight. I think
it is the shadowed light the idol throws, placing itself betwixt the
world and God.”
And suddenly Rosalie took her hands in hers, and drew her to her with a
gentle force, and kissed her lips and forehead, saying:
“But soon the idol will vanish out of sight, and the true light come.
You needn’t live in the twilight, Mariana, any more than I. You only
need to trust the Glorious Spirit working behind the leaden cloud, and
struggle silently toward the healing light. And some day, even though
the waiting time be long, the icy burden will be rolled away, and you
all warm and bright again to love and honour God with strength
unfettered.”
And then Brightcoat said: “I should like to go with Mariana back to
Marble House.”
“Do you care for such a companion?” asked Rosalie of Mariana.
But the frog jumped across and settled on her shoulder.
“You need me no more now, Rosalie. I have done what work I could for
you. But now to Mariana. She may need me as once you did. And though her
heart is cold to-day, the New Year dawns, and with it in the distance I
see a fairer prospect and a warmer light breaking upon the horizon of
heaven.”
And so with this new companion Mariana went away back to the Marble
House. Into that gloomy dwelling, though now all brilliantly lit, the
frog entered unafraid, and none thought to harm it, for the charm had
worked, or perhaps was working.