XX

Paliser, alighting, turned to help Cassy. But Cassy could get out

unassisted.

The gravel crunched beneath the wheels of the retreating car. From afar

came the bark of a dog, caught up and repeated. Otherwise the air was

still, very sweet. The house too was silent. In the hall and in the

windows there were lights, but there seemed to be nobody about and that

and the quiet gave her the delicious impression that the house was

enchanted. It was a very nonsensical impression, but it was the nonsense

that made it delicious.

Paliser was saying something, though what she did not hear. The sky now

was indigo and in it hung a yellow feather. On the Hudson it had been

very pale, the ghost of a feather. But, as Harlem receded, it had ridden

higher and brightened in the ride. Cassy had watched it, wishing that

Paliser would not talk. He had sat next to her, on the same seat, yet if

the portion of it which he occupied had been in a Queensland back-block,

he could not have been farther from her heart. He took her hand and she

let him. He kissed her and she submitted to that. But she wondered

whether courtesans do not hate the men who pay them, more than they hate

themselves. Was she any better? However a priest mumbled at her, she was

selling herself. Love alone is marriage. She had none, nor had he. The

whole thing was abominable, and, as he held her hand and pressed her

lips, her young soul rebelled. Even for her father's sake, this cup was

too much.

Now though, the empty hall and the great silent house took on the

atmosphere of the Palace of the White Cat. The cup became a philtre. The

abomination changed into deliciousness. There are fairy-tales that are

real. For all she knew, Paliser might change into Prince Charming and

certainly he looked it.

He had been saying something, what she did not hear. But on the steps

beneath the perron, she turned and saw that which previously she had not

realised, he was extraordinarily good-looking, and about her closed a

consciousness that her rowdy frock was a tissue of diamonds and that he

was in doublet and hose.

A moment only. But during it something melted about her. Immediately

aware of the phenomenon, she felt that she ought to freeze. She tried to

and failed. The atmosphere of deliciousness prevented and, though she

did not know the reason, she did know that she had failed and the fact

instead of annoying, amused. Then, as she followed Paliser into the

house, she told herself that she was an imbecile, that she did not know

her own mind and, without transition, wondered how her father was taking

it.

From the hall, they passed through a succession of rooms vacant,

subdued, rich, and on into that other room where she had sung. At the

farther end was a hyacinth curtain that masked a door. But near the

entrance through which she had come was an ivory chair. Cassy, seating

herself on it, wondered what had become of the bundle. She was sure that

it held everything except what she wanted. Then suddenly behind her blue

smock came a gnawing. She thought she would ask Paliser to have somebody

fetch her a sandwich, two sandwiches, or else some bread and butter,

but, now that she looked for him, he had gone.

She got up, crossed the room and sat down on another chair which was

black, probably ebony. It had a curial appearance that suggested the

senate, not the senate at Washington, but the S. P. Q. of Rome. It was

quite near the hyacinth curtain and behind the latter she heard voices.

Like the rooms they were subdued. She could distinguish nothing. Yet

there must be a bell somewhere and she decided that if Paliser did not

shortly return, she would ring. The gnawing was sharper. She was very

hungry.

Again she got up and looked from a window. It gave on a garden in which

there was underbush that the moon was chequering with amber spots. After

all, it was a queer sort of a wedding. But what had she expected? Grace

Church? St. Thomas'? Invitations a fortnight in advance, aisles banked

with flowers, filled with snobs and the garbage of the Wagner score that

Ma Tamby had tossed after her? Not by a long shot!

She turned. Paliser was entering. But the gnawing had nibbled away the

enchantment and, as she turned, she looked rather cross.

Paliser, noticing that but mistaking the cause, said very

sympathetically: "During the Terror, a princess jogged along, smelling a

rose. Marriage is no worse than the guillotine, besides being much less

summary. Will you come?"

"Less summary? I should say so!" Cassy retorted. "It is far too

lingering."

But she followed him out into another hall, one that was hung with

tapestries. They were dim and embroidered with what seemed to be pearls.

On the floor was a rug, dim also, narrow, very long, that extended to a

room, lined with high-placed bookcases and set with low-placed lights.

In the room stood a man. He wore a long black coat and a waistcoat that

reached to his collar. In his hand was a book.

"Dr. Grantly," said Paliser, who added, "Miss Cara."

Dr. Grantly bowed but without distinction. Because of the position of

the lights, his face was obscured and what Cassy could discern of it she

judged young and uninteresting. When Paliser had first mentioned

him--and how long ago it seemed!--she had fancied him old. She had

fancied too that he would have little side whiskers. The fact that he

was young was not a disappointment. Clergymen, whether old or young, did

not interest her. She did not care for them, or for churches, or the

services in them. The ceremonial of worship seemed to her empty. Creeds

professed but not practised seemed to her vain. But she would carry an

injured cat for miles. A lost dog was found the moment she spotted it.

She did what good she could, not because it is a duty, but for a

superior reason. She liked to do it. One may be a Christian without

caring for churches.

"Dearly beloved----"

In the depths over which she had passed, excitement and the novelty of

it had, until then, supported her. But at that exordium, instantly, they

fell away; instantly fear, like a wave, swept over her. Instantly she

felt, and the feeling is by no means agreeable, that she was struggling

with the intangible in a void. But she had not intended to drown, or no,

that was not it, she had not wanted to marry. Aware of the depths, not

until then had she known their peril. Until that moment she had not

realised their menace. Then abruptly it caught and submerged her.

"I require and charge you both as ye will answer at the dreadful day of

judgment----"

The solemnity of the sonorous exhortation was water in her ears. The

sound of it reached her confusedly, in a jumble. She was drowning and it

was unconsciously, in this condition, that poked by Paliser, she heard

herself uttering the consenting words that are so irrevocable and so

fluid.

It was over then--or nearly! The thought of it shook her from the mental

swoon. Behind her some one spoke and she wondered who it could be. But a

movement distracted her. Dr. Grantly had shifted the book from one hand

to the other and as absently she followed the movement, she saw that the

hand that now held the book was maimed or else malformed.

But what immediately occupied her were other words which, prompted by

him, she was automatically repeating. The words are very beautiful,

really exalting, they are words that spread peace as dawn spreads upon

the sea. Yet, in their delivery, twice Dr. Grantly tripped and, though

on each occasion he pulled himself up and went on again without

embarrassment, it seemed to Cassy that he did so without dignity.

The impression, which was but momentary, drifted; another distraction

intervened, her finger was being ringed. I'm done for! she despairingly

thought.

"Amen!"

"Ouf!" Cassy gasped. It was really over, over at last, and still a

little bewildered, she turned. The butler and the maid were leaving the

room, which they must have entered when the ceremony first over-whelmed

her. From the hall a slight cackle floated back.

It amused them, she generously reflected.

Paliser did not notice. He was addressing the clergyman. "Thank you very

much, doctor." He turned to his bride. "Cutting your head off may have

been worse, don't you think?"

If I can't be gay at least I should appear so, she told herself and

desperately she laughed.

Meanwhile the man of God, relapsing into the man of the world, or of its

neighbourhood, did not seem to know what to do with himself. He dropped

the book, picked it up, put it on the table. Considerately, in his

Oxford voice, Paliser instructed him.

"You must be going? Ah, well, I appreciate. Let me thank you again."

Dr. Grantly mumbled something, smiled at the bride, smiled at the happy

man or, more exactly, he smiled at an envelope which the happy man was

giving him and which, Cassy divined, contained his fee. How much? she

wondered. However much or little, it was excessive.

The hall took him and the groom grappled with the bride, embracing her

with that rudimentary paranoia which lawful passion comports.

She struggled free and, a bit breathless, but with the same desperate

gaiety, exclaimed: "If this is matrimony, give me war!"

"Perhaps you would prefer dinner first," Paliser, with recovered calm,

replied.

Wouldn't she, though! Now that she was definitely dished, hunger again

bit at her and she accompanied Paliser through the dim hall, through the

music-room, through the long suite, into the dining-room where, as

before, three men, with white sensual faces, stood waiting.

Paliser motioned. "Mrs. Paliser will sit there. Move the other chair

here." He drew a seat for her and gave additional instructions. "There

will be people here to-morrow. If we are motoring, have them wait."

"What people?" asked Cassy, before whom an uncomfortable vision of her

father and Ma Tamby jumped.