Nor kind, nor cruel: He is strong and Lord.
’Am strong myself compared to yonder crabs
That march now from the mountain to the sea.
’Let twenty pass, and stone the twenty-first,
Loving not, hating not, just choosing so....”
ROBERT BROWNING: “CALIBAN UPON SETEBOS.”
When Eric came back to the hall, he was startled to find O’Rane still
sitting there.
“I’d entirely forgotten about you,” he exclaimed. “Have I been a
frightful time? You must forgive me. I’m becoming appallingly
absent-minded.”
“You haven’t been very long,” answered O’Rane; then he added
inconsequently, “I was beginning to fear she might not be so well.”
“A bit unstrung. I just want to scribble a note to Gaisford; then I
shall be ready for dinner.”
He hurried into the library, tripped over an unseen obstacle and had
almost overbalanced before he discovered that the lights were not
turned on.
“_I have told Ivy that you say I shall never be well enough to marry,_”
he wrote. “_This may surprise you, but you must back me up. I’m going
away as soon as I can get packed and tidied up; I shall be away for at
least your two years. I want you to tell people that it’s not serious,
but I also want you to convince Ivy that it’s all over. I’ll give you
the whole story if you want it; perhaps it’s enough for the present to
say that I want above all things to give her a free hand. After all, if
she’s still unmarried in two years’ time and if I’m a whole man by
then, we can revise our decision. She’s too young to be tied for two
years. You might burn this letter and keep the contents to yourself._”
Ivy had been crying as though her heart would break; and Eric had only
left her room because his presence seemed to excite her to fresh
outbursts, and she was reacting on him. While he wrote his letter, the
long-drawn breathless sobs seemed to fill the library—as they had
filled it once before on the night when he debated with Gaisford
whether he should come to her rescue—; it was imagination, of course,
but he wanted to get away as soon as possible, as far as possible. And
assuredly there must be no question of seeing her again....
He walked to the door and clutched at the handle as he listened. The
sobbing continued, and he wondered how long he would have to hear it.
It was almost too clear to be imaginary; O’Rane must be hearing it,
too... So might a man go on hearing that one accusing sound until he
went mad. He filled his lungs and walked erect into the hall.
“I’m ready now,” he said.
O’Rane felt for his hat and stood up.
“You think it’s all right to leave her?” he asked.
“Why not? The nurse is somewhere about.”
“She seems—rather upset.”
The crying was real, then, and some one else could hear it. O’Rane
spoke caustically, as though _he_ were responsible....
“I’m afraid I shall only make her worse... Shall we start? I’ll give
you a hand, if I may; the stairs are rather tricky. Are we going to
your place, or will you come with me to the club? I don’t want to meet
a lot of people. You said we should be by ourselves?”
One jerky question tumbled on to the heels of another. It was idle for
Eric to pretend that nothing had happened; it was impossible to remain
silent.
“It’ll be only the two of us,” said O’Rane.
“Let’s find a taxi.”
They had driven half-way to O’Rane’s house in Westminster, when Eric
leaned through the window without warning and countermanded the order.
“The club will be better,” he explained. “We may meet my agent,
Grierson, and I want to have a word with him. You don’t mind?”
“Not a bit... I think I’d better take charge, Eric. First of all, have
a cigarette. I don’t carry them myself, I’m afraid. Then don’t try to
talk, if you don’t feel like it; and don’t try to keep up appearances
on my account. I’m blind, to begin with; and I know what you’re going
through. Give me your hand. That’s right... Sorry! I didn’t mean to
hurt you; I suppose I’ve rather a powerful grip. Now, you’ve to make
the hell of a big effort—”
“I’ve made it,” Eric interrupted unsteadily.
“You’re only at the beginning. I take it you gave her free choice?”
“No, I decided for her. I had a moment of revelation and I jumped at
the opportunity. I knew that, if I didn’t take it then, I should go on
struggling until I could never take it. I cut my own throat. I lied to
her and said that I’d been forbidden even to think of marrying—ever.
That letter was to square Gaisford. She’s upset—on my account; but
she’ll forget it the first time she sees Gaymer. That brute... And a
month ago she was begging me to marry her without waiting, because she
was so sure of herself. I’ve taken your advice, Raney, with—interest.
I’ve handed her over without a fight. It’s been a—most valuable
experience,—something to think about when I’m abroad. I feel there’s a
tremendous joke somewhere, only I can’t see it. Shall we telephone to
Gaymer and see if he can help us? And she’s crying because I’ve been so
_good_ to her, she can’t _bear_ to think I’m ill, I must _know_ she’ll
wait till I’m well... _You_ can see the fun of it, can’t you, Raney?
The rollicking farce? If I died, she’d die too; a perfect sentiment.
We’re just by Buckingham Palace now. I was taking her home from the
opera, and Gaymer passed us in a car—on this spot—with another woman.
Gaymer, who’s going to make her happy! And she went and bearded him in
his own rooms; and he turned her out!... Just on this spot... That was
the beginning of everything. She’ll tell you that, when she got home
that night, she prayed that she might die....”
The taxi swerved to the kerb and stopped with a jerk. O’Rane relaxed
his grip on Eric’s hand and opened the door to let out the dog.
“A big effort!,” he whispered.
The lights of the hall and the hum of conversation in the dining-room
steadied Eric, and he discussed the bill of fare with a show of
interest, even stirring himself to nod or wave a hand to his friends,
as they threaded their way among the tables. Once he remembered that he
had done all this before, two nights ere he said good-bye to Barbara
Neave and to England. It would have been better, if he had never come
back; he never meant to come back, but he had been summoned. It was not
his fault; looking back on the past two months, could any one say that
he was to blame for anything? Was he to blame for sacrificing himself
now? Did it matter what any one did, so long as Providence punished
folly and wisdom equally? That was where God came in. Perhaps that was
the secret of this incomparable joke which he felt without
understanding....
“I know now why Adam and Eve were turned out of the Garden of Eden!,”
he exclaimed suddenly.
O’Rane looked up in surprise.
“Is this a new riddle?,” he asked.
“It’s the oldest riddle in the world. _They_ knew the difference
between good and evil; God never did. I sometimes wonder why any of us
try to lead a decent life or to do the right thing. It doesn’t pay in
this world, and I’m sure God only despises you in the next... You’d
like a glass of sherry, wouldn’t you?,” he added, as their waiter came
within ear-shot.
“I hardly ever touch wine, thanks...” O’Rane listened for a moment to
the departing footsteps, then lowered his voice. “If you feel like
that, Eric, you’ve only to go back and say that you want to be married
at once. She’ll do it. If you told her you were going straight to a
sanatorium—for the rest of your life—, you’ve only to ask her and
she’ll go with you. If you play that card, no one in the world can beat
you. And you know it.”
There was a long silence only broken by the drumming of nervous fingers
on the table.
“Yes. I know it,” Eric answered.
“Why don’t you play it?”
“Perhaps I don’t much care about the idea of bringing consumptive
children into the world.”
“She’ll wait till you’re cured... Don’t be a humbug, Eric. You’re going
to spoil everything, if you become bitter. Cynicism is a young man’s
substitute for knowledge. We’re not boys. We can see this
dispassionately; you’ve done the right thing, the only possible thing,
the inevitable thing. It hurts, but I can shew you a way of making it
hurt less. At present you’re seeing nothing but blackness ahead, but,
if you’ll come for a walk with me after dinner, I’ll put something in
place of all you think you’re losing.”
“I shall be interested to see you try.”
“My dear Eric, I shall succeed! I’ve never doubted in all my life. Will
you put yourself in my hands? We won’t discuss it now, because I want
to hear about your immediate plans. You’ll be away for two years? Have
you decided when you start and where you’re going?”
Eric had thought only that he was losing this girl whom he had so
unnecessarily allowed himself to love. He did not want to talk about
the islands of the South Pacific, but O’Rane would not leave him alone.
It was unseemly and brutal, this torrent of questions from a man who
was in no way concerned. O’Rane knew some one who would be only too
pleased to take over the lease of the Ryder Street flat; he knew some
one else who might usefully be employed to spread the news of his
departure through the Press; he knew men at every stopping-place
between Liverpool and the Marquesas, between Southampton and the Cape,
and letters of introduction were to be had for the asking.
“You’re giving me a wonderful funeral,” said Eric.
The words were rudely conceived and rudely spoken. It was a refinement
of cruelty to be whipped with questions, when his brain was too much
numbed to think of anything but Ivy.
“Hardly a funeral. But you’ve closed one chapter, and I want you to
begin the next. It doesn’t do any good to curse your luck. When I had
this accident to my eyes, I walked straight out of hospital into my
next job. Kind friends wanted to drive me in cars or to take my arm,
but I had to start on my own _some_ time. There’s such a lot to be done
in life that we’ve no leisure for thinking what fun it would be to have
three hands or a million pounds a minute. When King David was punished
in the person of his son, he did everything in his power to keep the
boy alive; when once the boy was dead, he rose up and washed his face
and put off all the signs of mourning and started on _his_ next job. If
you don’t begin to-night, it’ll be harder to begin to-morrow.”
“But there’s not very much I _can_ do to-night,” Eric objected wearily.
“I assure you there is. Did you find out whether your agent was in the
club? Well, get hold of him and make your arrangements. I can’t help
there, because I know nothing about the subject, but you and he must
know what you fixed when you went abroad before. In the meantime I’ll
get hold of my tame journalist. I’m going to say simply that you’re
going abroad immediately for the good of your health; I shan’t say
where or how long for. And the news won’t appear till the day after
to-morrow, so you’ll have time to warn your people. Then we’ll meet—is
half an hour long enough for you?—, and I shall have a lot for you to
do. I’m going to find out if Gaymer’s at home—”
“I’m not going to see _him_!” Eric broke in.
O’Rane looked up, with his head on one side, smiling to himself:
“If I convince you that you can contribute in any way to that girl’s
happiness? Dear man, don’t be absurd! I’m assuming that you love her.
That means that you’ll do everything you can for her and that you’ll
rack your brains to think of new things. D’you imagine that you’ve done
your utmost for her by clearing out of Gaymer’s way—with the worst
possible grace—and wishing them both joy of the other? You’re going to
help this thing through. You’re going to set her mind at rest, you’re
going to shake hands with him, you’re going to be the man they can both
turn to... This has to be done with a bit of a gesture, Eric.”
Forty minutes later they were walking towards Buckingham Gate. Eric did
not know what he was expected to say or do, but O’Rane assured him that
everything would be quite easy, and he was too tired to assert himself.
He hoped faintly that Gaymer would be sober and that they would have no
duel of words as on the occasion of his two other visits to the flat.
Perhaps O’Rane would keep the peace....
Gaymer opened the door himself, nodded perfunctorily to Eric and led
the way to his smoking-room. He could not wholly conceal his surprise
at their coming; and he busied himself unduly with chairs, cigars and
offers of drink until one of his visitors should think fit to explain
the purpose of the meeting. Each waited for his neighbour to speak
first; the last tumbler and cigar were distributed, and there was no
pretext for further delay. When the silence became unbearable, O’Rane
turned enquiringly to Eric.
“You were going to make a proposal?,” he began.
“No. I came here, because you asked me to. I don’t in the least know
what you want me to say.”
“I wanted you to explain; Gaymer’s in the dark still. Shall I give him
an outline?... Gaymer, you both of you love Miss Maitland, but you
can’t both of you marry her. I don’t think we need consider rights or
claims, because—quite obviously—neither of you would marry her against
her will—”
“I have every intention of marrying her,” Gaymer interrupted quietly.
“Not against her will. Lane or I have only to say a word to her, and
she’d marry him. I’m not bluffing, Gaymer; that’s quite certain. Lane
doesn’t want to force her hand, he wants her to marry the man who’ll
make her happiest. Don’t you want the same? This is the judgement of
Solomon, you know. Do you put yourself before her? If you do, you don’t
care for her, you don’t deserve her; and, Gaymer, you won’t get her.”
Gaymer kicked his heels on to the edge of a chair and slid lower into
his corner of the sofa:
“If she tries to marry Lane or any one else, I can have her back—in the
heel of my fist—within a week.”
“I can’t agree,” said O’Rane. “There are certain new factors of which
you know nothing. But, if it were all true, would you try to marry her
against her will?”
“No—”
“Come! That’s better.”
“But it’s not against her will. _She_ knows that. Simply looking at
_her_ happiness—”
“You won’t make her very happy in your present state, Gaymer,” said
O’Rane sharply. “It’s more than time for you to steady down and find
some work to do.”
“That’s my business,” murmured Gaymer unamiably.
“No, it’s ours, if you want our help. Lane has seen her this evening;
he’s come to the conclusion that she wants to marry you rather than
him. He’s given way in your favour. It’s not an easy thing to do, it’s
not an easy position for her; she’s torn in two and very unhappy.
Lane’s going abroad—for his health. He’s leaving her on such terms that
she can do what she likes without having any cause to reproach herself;
she can marry you with a good conscience. And you’ve to shew that
you’re worthy of what’s being done for you; she’s being made over to
your care. How long will it take you to find some work?”
Gaymer looked uncomprehendingly from one to the other.
“I don’t know,” he answered stupidly.
O’Rane turned to Eric.
“Have you any money?,” he asked.
“How much do you want?,” said Eric.
“Well, how much can you spare? You want to make a success of this,
don’t you? If there’s a question of their wanting money to marry on,
capital to start in business, you know, you could supply it? You must
have made a great deal the last few years; and you wouldn’t like Miss
Maitland to go short. Can I leave the question in your hands?”
Eric felt an insane impulse to laugh, but O’Rane’s face was serious.
“I hardly feel—,” he began.
“But you’re going to do everything in your power to make it a success!
They must have money, and I understand the judge is rather a screw. By
the way, we shall have to put some pressure on him. He’s got a great
opinion of you, Eric. I met him at dinner the other night, and he was
talking very warmly about you. You will have to do some propaganda for
Gaymer. And then we must find regular work... Can you manage five
hundred a year for a few years?”
As Eric hesitated in bewilderment, Gaymer intervened.
“We needn’t discuss this,” he said.
“If you don’t take it, I’ll see that your wife does,” said O’Rane. “You
could manage that, Eric?”
“I could.”
“Then you will?”
Eric felt himself being hypnotized. A voice that was not under his
control answered:
“I will.”
O’Rane stood up and called his dog.
“Lane has to go abroad for his lungs,” he explained. “He’ll be all
right in a year or two’s time, but he’s told Miss Maitland that he’ll
never be in a condition to marry; you must back up the story. Now
that’s pretty well all. Lane will be busy the next few days, so you’d
better not go near his place. After that, I understand that Miss
Maitland will have to go away to the country for a bit. When she comes
back, you can see her. If she shews any hesitation, you can tell her
that Lane himself provided the money for you to marry her on. That’ll
fix _that_... Now we must be going.”
He walked to the door and felt for the handle. Eric rose wearily and
followed him, hardly troubling to wonder where he was being taken.
Gaymer sat biting his nails and staring at the floor.
“Good-bye,” O’Rane called from the door.
There was an inarticulate grunt from the sofa. Eric was half-way across
the room, but he hesitated and came back to Gaymer.
“I don’t suppose I shall see you again,” he said. “Good-bye. Good luck.”
O’Rane was humming to himself in the hall. Gaymer looked towards the
door; then his eyes swept slowly round on a level with Eric’s waist;
they raised themselves diffidently, and he saw a hand stretched out to
him.
“Good-bye, Lane,” he said.
“Will you shake hands?”
“Why? We’re not friends. And you’ve not given me anything.”
The humming ceased, and O’Rane called out to know whether Eric was
coming.
“I’m too tired to wrangle,” sighed Eric. “Don’t shake hands, if you
don’t want to. Good-bye again.”
“Good-bye.”
Eric’s hand fell to his side, and he walked slowly to the door and
across the hall.
“What d’you want me to do now?,” he asked dully.
“I’ll take you home,” answered O’Rane. “I’m afraid Gaymer hasn’t
learned the art of being gracious; and he’ll be punished for it. I’m
prepared to bet he’s being punished now. Whenever he looks at his wife,
he’ll remember that you behaved well and he didn’t. He’ll try to forget
it; but she won’t let him, she’ll always know that, when you found you
couldn’t marry her yourself, you strained every nerve to get her
happily married to the man she loved better than you. If anything makes
Gaymer run straight, it’ll be that reflection. You’ve behaved
uncommonly well, Eric, if I may say so, though not better than she
deserved; you’re giving up everything to her, but she was ready to give
up everything to you. I’ve not finished with you yet; you’ve still to
give your blessing to the marriage. Tell her quite simply that, as you
can’t marry her yourself—Yes, you must do that... And that’s all you
_can_ do. If they’re coming to grief, you can’t stop them; you’ve
already done what only one man in ten million would do. In
future—you’re funking the future, aren’t you?”
“It seems a little—purposeless,” said Eric.
He wondered whether his voice trembled as much as his lips.
“One gets moments like that. It’s all due to our literary conception of
beginnings and ends. How long have we known each other? Fifteen years?
D’you remember your last Phoenix Club dinner with Sinclair as
president? Jim Loring was there; and George Oakleigh; and Jack Waring.
In those days I’d made up my mind to a great career; I was going to
make pots of money and I was going to be the great democratic leader...
Then the war came, just when I’d made the money and lost it; one was
incapacitated to a certain extent... But, even when I was lying in
hospital, I never said ‘This is the end’... You’re a bit incapacitated,
but this isn’t the end; you’ve just been pulled up by a big obstacle
and you’ve overdone it. I said I’d give you something in place of all
you were losing. Well, haven’t I? You could have kept that girl, but
you’ve done everything—at the heaviest possible cost—to serve her
interests. You’ve that to be proud of. What are the things one has to
overcome before one can attain greatness of spirit? Greed, fear,
selfishness? You’ve done that. Weakness?... I keep on thinking of
Sinclair’s dinner-party. You know that my wife was engaged to Jim
Loring before she married me; and you and Jack Waring were both in love
with Barbara Neave before she married George. ’Curious what havoc one
or two women can make in half a dozen men’s lives! It came near to
beating Jim; I believe it did beat Waring. But are you going to be
beaten and to let your life be spoiled for a woman? You’re bigger than
either of those two; you’ve had ill-health to contend with all your
life and you’ve made a world-wide reputation for yourself in spite of
it. And in those days Woman for us was a girl of eighteen that we
flirted with on the stairs at a dance... We underestimate them at
first, then we exaggerate them enormously, then we get them into
perspective; but Woman is not a man’s chief business in his prime. Did
you plan a wonderful career for yourself at that dinner? I told you
even then that you were the genius among us all.”
Eric looked back with a shudder over the devastation of fifteen years
to his last night as an undergraduate at Oxford.
“I suppose I did... Yes, it was a solemn moment, just when we were
going down. I dreamed that one day I should have the whole world at my
feet. People would whisper who I was when I came into a room... I
suppose I’ve got that. But it’s so small. I’m genuinely surprised when
I find that any one’s heard of me. I’m terrified when people come up
and congratulate me on my plays... If that’s fame... I think it was
when I found how unsatisfying it was that I began to yearn for
something more... You haven’t told me how I’m going to keep myself
amused for the next two years, Raney. I shall be allowed to do very
little work.”
“You won’t be amused. But you may be consoled to think that your soul’s
been in danger and that you’ve saved it by sacrifice. It was
touch-and-go whether you spoiled that girl’s life.”
“And I’ve given her life to Gaymer to spoil.”
“If he must. But you’ve set him an example that he won’t easily forget.
I still believe in sudden conversions; and I expect to find him a
different man from to-night. You must give time for the lesson to sink
in; he’s dazed at present—like you.”
Loathing of Gaymer was a feeling which Eric could not yet repress; he
brought his stick with a crash on to the pavement.
“Not he! You talked about a ‘gesture,’ and he knows it’s that and
nothing more. I’ve given her up because I couldn’t keep her... I don’t
complain. She had her choice of us, and the better man won.”
“It was the better man who made the gesture,” said O’Rane quietly. “Is
this the house? I don’t think I can do any good by coming in. Make her
see that you’re still her devoted friend and that love has no necessary
connection with marriage. You told me you were going to your people
to-morrow? You’ll find that devilish hard, but you mustn’t stand any
sympathy from them, or you’ll begin to pity yourself. Come and see me,
as soon as you’re back in London. I’ll organize a farewell dinner for
you. A bit ironical after your send-off in New York? I thought I’d
discount it by saying it first... Remember you have to go through this
with your head up. Good-night.”
He held out his hand, and Eric gripped it.
“Good-night and thank you. Can you get home all right?”
“I’m not going home. I’m going to do some propaganda with this girl’s
father.”
O’Rane turned with a wave of his hand, slipped his fingers through the
dog’s collar and strode towards St. James’ Street. Eric watched him
melting from sight and then walked upstairs. He tried to make a
picturesque comparison between his own disappearance into the solitude
of California and O’Rane’s eternal solitude of blindness; he wondered
why any one troubled to advise and guide him, why he so tamely
submitted. What was the sum of all this counsel?... He was
inexpressibly tired. And it was ironical that he should be spending
another night so close to Ivy when he had renounced her.
The light was burning in her room, and after some hesitation he put his
head in at the door. She seemed to be sleeping, but awoke as he looked
at her and cried out to know where he had been.