A tranquil time now ensued; a time which, though I knew it not, was just
that singular pause so frequently observed in nature before a storm, and
in human life before a crushing calamity. I put aside all troublesome
and harassing thoughts, and became oblivious of everything save my own
personal satisfaction in the renewal of the comradeship between myself
and Lucio. We walked together, rode together, and passed most of our
days in each other's company,--nevertheless though I gave my friend much
of my closest confidence I never spoke to him of the moral obliquities
and perversions I had discovered in Sibyl's character,--not out of any
consideration for Sibyl, but simply because I knew by instinct what his
reply would be. He would have no sympathy with my feelings. His keen
sense of sarcasm would over-rule his friendship, and he would retort
upon me with the question--What business had I, being imperfect myself,
to expect perfection in my wife? Like many others of my sex I had the
notion that I, as man, could do all I pleased, when I pleased and how I
pleased; I could sink to a level lower than that of the beasts if I
chose,--but all the same I had the right to demand from my wife the most
flawless purity to mate with my defilement. I was aware how Lucio would
treat this form of arrogant egoism,--and with what mocking laughter he
would receive any expression of ideas from me on the subject of morality
in woman. So I was careful to let no hint of my actual position escape
me,--and I comported myself on all occasions to Sibyl with special
tenderness and consideration, though she, I thought, appeared rather to
resent my playing the part of lover-husband too openly. She was herself,
in Lucio's presence, strangely erratic of humour, by turns brilliant and
mournful,--sometimes merry and anon depressed: yet never had she
displayed a more captivating grace and charm of manner. How foolish and
blind I was all the while!--how dead to any perception of the formation
and sequence of events! Absorbed in gross material pleasures, I ignored
all the hidden forces that make the history of an individual life no
less than of a whole nation, and looked upon each day that dawned almost
as if it had been my own creation and possession, to waste as I thought
fit,--never considering that days are but so many white leaflets from
God's chronicle of human life, whereon we place our mark, good or bad,
for the just and exact summing-up of our thoughts and deeds here after.
Had any one dared to say this truth to me then, I should have bade him
go and preach nonsense to children,--but _now_,--when I recall those
white leaves of days that were unrolled before me fresh and blank with
every sunrise, and with which I did nothing save scrawl my own Ego in a
foul smudge across each one, I tremble, and inwardly pray that I may
never be forced to send back my self-written record! Yet of what use is
it to pray against eternal Law? It is eternal Law that we shall
ourselves count up our own misdeeds at the final reckoning,--hence it is
no wonder that many are found who prefer not to believe in a future
after death. Rightly do such esteem it better to die utterly, than be
forced to live again and look back upon the wilful evil they have done!
October ripened slowly and almost imperceptibly towards its end, and the
trees put on their gorgeous autumnal tints of burning crimson and gold.
The weather remained fine and warm, and what the French Canadians
poetically term the 'Summer of all Saints' gave us bright days and
cloudless moonlit evenings. The air was so mild that we were always
able to take our coffee after dinner on the terrace overlooking the lawn
in front of the drawing-room,--and it was on one of these balmy nights
that I was the interested spectator of a strange scene between Lucio and
Mavis Clare,--a scene I should have thought impossible of occurrence had
I not myself witnessed it. Mavis had dined at Willowsmere; she very
rarely so honoured us; and there were a few other guests besides. We had
lingered over the coffee longer than usual, for Mavis had given an extra
charm to the conversation by her eloquent vivacity and bright humour,
and all present were anxious to hear, see and know as much of the
brilliant novelist as possible. But when a full golden moon rose in
mellow splendour over the tree-tops, my wife suggested a stroll in the
grounds, and everyone agreeing to the proposal with delight, we
started,--more or less together,--some in couples, some in groups of
three or four. After a little desultory rambling however, the party got
separated in the rose-gardens and adjacent shrubberies, and I found
myself alone. I turned back to the house to get my cigar-case which I
had left on a table in the library, and passing out again in another
direction I strolled slowly across the grass, smoking as I went, towards
the river, the silver gleam of which could clearly be discerned through
the fast-thinning foliage overhanging its banks. I had almost reached
the path that followed the course of the winding water, when I was
brought to a standstill by the sound of voices--one, a man's, low and
persuasive,--the other a woman's, tender, grave and somewhat tremulous.
Neither voice could be mistaken; I recognized Lucio's rich penetrating
tones, and the sweet _vibrante_ accents of Mavis Clare. Out of sheer
surprise I paused,--had Lucio fallen in love, I wondered,
half-smiling?--was I about to discover that the supposed 'woman-hater'
had been tamed and caught at last? By Mavis too!--little Mavis, who was
not beautiful according to accepted standards, but who had something
more than beauty to enravish a proud and unbelieving soul,--here, as my
thoughts ran on, I was conscious of a foolish sense of jealousy,--why
should he choose Mavis, I thought, out of all women in the world? Could
he not leave her in peace with her dreams, her books and her
flowers?--safe under the pure, wise, impassive gaze of Pallas Athene,
whose cool brows were never fevered by a touch of passion? Something
more than curiosity now impelled me to listen, and I cautiously advanced
a step or two towards the shadow of a broad elm where I could see
without being seen. Yes, there was Rimânez,--standing erect with folded
arms, his dark, sad, inscrutable eyes fixed on Mavis, who stood opposite
to him a few paces off, looking at him in her turn with an expression of
mingled fascination and fear.
"I have asked you Mavis Clare,"--said Lucio slowly--"to let me serve
you. You have genius--a rare quality in a woman,--and I would advance
your fortunes. I should not be what I am if I did not try to persuade
you to let me help on your career. You are not rich,--I could show you
how to become so. You have a great fame--that I grant; but you have many
enemies and slanderers who are for ever trying to pull you down from the
throne you have won. I could bring these to your feet, and make them
your slaves. With your intellectual power, your personal grace and gifts
of temperament, I could, if you would let me guide you, give you such
far-reaching influence as no woman has possessed in this century. I am
no boaster,--I can do what I say and more; and I ask nothing from you in
return except that you should follow my advice implicitly. My advice,
let me tell you is not difficult to follow; most people find it easy!"
His expression of face, I thought, was very singular as he spoke,--it
was so haggard, dreary and woe-begone that one might have imagined he
was making some proposal that was particularly repugnant to him, instead
of offering to perform the benevolent action of helping a hard-working
literary woman to achieve greater wealth and distinction. I waited
expectantly for Mavis to reply.
"You are very good, Prince Rimânez," she said, after a little pause--"to
take any thought for me at all. I cannot imagine why you should do so;
for I am really nothing to you. I have of course heard from Mr Tempest
of your great wealth and influence, and I have no doubt you mean kindly.
But I have never owed anything to any one,--no one has ever helped
me,--I have helped myself, and still prefer to do so. And really I have
nothing to wish for,--except--when the time comes--a happy death. It is
true I am not rich,--but then I do not want to be rich. I would not be
the possessor of wealth for all the world! To be surrounded with
sycophants and flatterers,--never to be able to distinguish false
friends from true,--to be loved for what you _have_ and not for what you
_are_!--oh no, it would be misery to me. And I have never craved for
power,--except perhaps the power to win love. And that I have,--many
people love my books, and through my books love me,--I feel their love,
though I may never see or know them personally. But I am so conscious of
their sympathy that I love them in return without the necessity of
personal acquaintance. They have hearts which respond to _my_
heart,--that is all the power I care about."
"You forget your numerous enemies!" said Lucio, still morosely regarding
her.
"No, I do not forget them,"--she returned,--"But--I forgive them! They
can do me no harm. As long as I do not lower myself, no one else can
lower me. If my own conscience is clear, no reproaches can wound. My
life is open to all,--people can see how I live, and what I do. I try to
do well,--but if there are those who think I do ill, I am sorry,--and if
my faults can be amended I shall be glad to amend them. One must have
enemies in this world,--that is, if one makes any sort of
position,--people without enemies are generally nonentities. All who
succeed in winning some little place of independence must expect the
grudging enmity of hundreds who cannot find even the smallest foothold,
and are therefore failures in the battle of life,--I pity these
sincerely, and when they say or write cruel things of me, I know it is
only spleen and disappointment that moves both their tongues and pens,
and freely pardon them. They cannot hurt or hinder me,--in fact, no one
can hurt or hinder me but myself."
I heard the trees rustle slightly,--a branch cracked,--and peering
through the leaves, I saw that Lucio had advanced a step closer to where
Mavis stood. A faint smile was on his face, softening it wonderfully and
giving an almost supernatural light to his beautiful dark features.
"Fair philosopher, you are almost a feminine Marcus Aurelius in your
estimate of men and things!"--he said; "But--you are still a woman--and
there is one thing lacking to your life of sublime and calm
contentment--a thing at whose touch philosophy fails, and wisdom withers
at its root. Love, Mavis Clare!--lover's love,--devoted love, blindly
passionate,--this has not been yours as yet to win! No heart beats
against your own,--no tender arms caress you,--you are alone. Men are
for the most part afraid of you,--being brute fools themselves, they
like their women to be brute fools also,--and they grudge you your keen
intellect,--your serene independence. Yet which is best?--the adoration
of a brute fool, or the loneliness pertaining to a spirit aloft on some
snowy mountain-peak, with no companions but the stars? Think of it!--the
years will pass, and you must needs grow old,--and with the years will
come that solitary neglect which makes age bitter. Now, you will
doubtless wonder at my words--yet believe me I speak the truth when I
say that I can give you love,--not _my_ love, for I love none,--but I
can bring to your feet the proudest men in any country of the world as
suitors for your hand. You shall have your choice of them, and your own
time for choosing,--and whomsoever you love, him you shall wed, ...
why--what is wrong with you that you shrink from me thus?"
For she had retreated, and was gazing at him in a kind of horror.
"You terrify me!" she faltered,--and as the moonlight fell upon
her I could see that she was very pale--"Such promises are
incredible--impossible! You speak as if you were more than human! I do
not understand you, Prince Rimânez,--you are different to anyone I ever
met, and ... and ... something in me stronger than myself warns me
against you. What are you?--why do you talk to me so strangely? Pardon
me if I seem ungrateful ..., oh, let us go in--it is getting quite late
I am sure, and I am cold ..."
She trembled violently, and caught at the branch of a tree to steady
herself,--Rimânez stood immovably still, regarding her with a fixed and
almost mournful gaze.
"You say my life is lonely,"--she went on reluctantly and with a note of
pathos in her sweet voice--"and you suggest love and marriage as the
only joys that can make a woman happy. You may be right. I do not
presume to assert that you are wrong. I have many married
women-friends--but I would not change my lot with any one of them. I
have dreamed of love,--but because I have not realized my dream I am not
the less content. If it is God's will that I should be alone all my
days, I shall not murmur, for _my_ solitude is not actual loneliness.
Work is a good comrade,--then I have books, and flowers and birds--I am
never really lonely. And that I shall fully realize my dream of love one
day I am sure,--if not here, then hereafter. I can wait!"
As she spoke, she looked up to the placid heavens where one or two stars
twinkled through the arching boughs,--her face expressed angelic
confidence and perfect peace,--and Rimânez advancing a step or two,
fully confronted her with a strange light of exultation in his eyes.
"True,--you can wait, Mavis Clare!" he said in deep clear tones from
which all sadness had fled--"You can afford to wait! Tell me,--think for
a moment!--can you remember me? Is there a time on which you can look
back, and looking, see my face, not here but elsewhere? Think! Did you
ever see me long ago--in a far sphere of beauty and light, when you were
an Angel, Mavis,--and I was--not what I am now! How you tremble! You
need not fear me,--I would not harm you for a thousand worlds! I talk
wildly at times I know;--I think of things that are past,--long long
past,--and I am filled with regrets that burn my soul with fiercer heat
than fire! And so neither world's wealth, world's power, nor world's
love will tempt you, Mavis!--and you,--a woman! You are a living miracle
then,--as miraculous as the drop of undefiled dew which reflects in its
tiny circumference all the colours of the sky, and sinks into the earth
sweetly, carrying moisture and refreshment where it falls. I can do
nothing for you--you will not have my aid--you reject my service? Then
as I may not help you, you must help _me_!"--and dropping before her, he
reverently took her hand and kissed it--"I ask a very little thing of
you,--pray for me! I know you are accustomed to pray, so it will be no
trouble to you,--_you_ believe God hears you,--and when I look at you,
_I_ believe it too. Only a pure woman can make faith possible to man.
Pray for me then, as one who has fallen from his higher and better
self,--who strives, but who may not attain,--who labours under heavy
punishment,--who would fain reach Heaven, but who by the cursëd will of
man, and man alone, is kept in Hell! Pray for me, Mavis Clare! promise
it!--and so shall you lift me a step nearer the glory I have lost!"
I listened, petrified with amazement. Could this be Lucio?--the mocking,
careless, cynical scoffer I knew, as I thought, so well?--was it really
he who knelt thus like a repentant sinner, abasing his proud head before
a woman? I saw Mavis release her hand from his, the while she stood
looking down upon him in alarm and bewilderment. Presently she spoke in
sweet yet tremulous accents--
"Since you desire it so earnestly, I promise,"--she said--"I will pray
that the strange and bitter sorrow which seems to consume you may be
removed from your life----"
"Sorrow!" he echoed, interrupting her and springing to his feet with an
impassioned gesture--"Woman,--genius,--angel, whatever you are, do not
speak of _one_ sorrow for me! I have a thousand thousand sorrows!--aye a
million million, that are as little flames about my heart, and as deeply
seated as the centres of the universe! The foul and filthy crimes of
men,--the base deceits and cruelties of women,--the ruthless, murderous
ingratitude of children,--the scorn of good, the martyrdom of intellect,
the selfishness, the avarice, the sensuality of human life, the hideous
blasphemy and sin of the creature to the Creator--these are _my_ endless
sorrows!--these keep me wretched and in chains, when I would fain be
free. These create hell around me, and endless torture,--these bind and
crush me and pervert my being till I become what I dare not name to
myself, or to others. And yet, ... as the eternal God is my witness, ...
I do not think I am as bad as the worst man living! I may tempt--but I
do not pursue,--I take the lead in many lives, yet I make the way I go
so plain that those who follow me do so by their own choice and free
will more than by my persuasion!" He paused,--then continued in a softer
tone--"You look afraid of me,--but be assured you never had less cause
for terror. You have truth and purity--I honour both. You will have none
of my advice or assistance in the making of your life's
history,--to-night therefore we part, to meet no more on earth. Never
again, Mavis Clare!--no, not through all your quiet days of sweet and
contented existence will I cross your path,--before Heaven I swear it!"
"But why?" asked Mavis gently, approaching him now as she spoke, with a
soft grace of movement, and laying her hand on his arm--"Why do you
speak with such a passion of self-reproach? What dark cloud is on your
mind? Surely you have a noble nature,--and I feel that I have wronged
you in my thoughts, ... you must forgive me--I have mistrusted you--"
"You do well to mistrust me!" he answered, and with these words he
caught both her hands and held them in his own, looking at her full in
the face with eyes that flashed like jewels, "Your instinct teaches you
rightly. Would there were many more like you to doubt me and repel me!
One word,--if, when I am gone, you ever think of me, think that I am
more to be pitied than the veriest paralysed and starving wretch that
ever crawled on earth,--for he, perchance, has hope--and I have none.
And when you pray for me--for I hold you to this promise,--pray for one
who dares not pray for himself! You know the words, 'Lead us not into
temptation but deliver us from evil'? To-night you have been led into
temptation, though you knew it not, but you have delivered yourself from
evil as only a true soul can. And now farewell! In life I shall see you
no more:--in death,--well! I have attended many death-beds in response
to the invitations of the moribund,--but I shall not be present at
yours! Perhaps, when your parting spirit is on the verge between
darkness and light, you may know who I was, and am!--and you may thank
God with your last breath that we parted to-night--as we do
now--forever!"
He loosened his grasp of her,--she fell back from him pale and
terrified,--for there was something now in the dark beauty of his face
that was unnatural and appalling. A sombre shadow clouded his
brows,--his eyes had gleams in them as of fire,--and a smile was on his
lips, half tender, half cruel. His strange expression moved even me to a
sense of fear, and I shivered with sudden cold, though the air was warm
and balmy. Slowly retreating, Mavis moved away, looking round at him now
and then as she went, in wistful wonder and alarm,--till in a minute or
two her slight figure in its shimmering silken white robe, had vanished
among the trees. I lingered, hesitating and uncertain what to do,--then
finally determining to get back to the house if possible without being
noticed, I made one step, when Lucio's voice, scarcely raised, addressed
me--
"Well, eavesdropper! Why did you not come out of the shadow of that
elm-tree and see the play to a better advantage?"
Surprised and confused, I advanced, mumbling some unintelligible excuse.
"You saw a pretty bit of acting here," he went on, striking a match and
lighting a cigar the while he regarded me coolly, his eyes twinkling
with their usual mockery--"you know my theory, that all men and all
women are purchaseable for gold? Well, I wanted to try Mavis Clare. She
rejected all my advantageous offers, as you must have heard, and I could
only make matters smooth by asking her to pray for me. That I did this
very melodramatically I hope you will admit? A woman of that dreamy
idealistic temperament always likes to imagine that there is a man who
is grateful for her prayers!"
"You seemed very much in earnest about it!" I said, vexed with myself
that he had caught me spying.
"Why, of course!" he responded, thrusting his arm familiarly through
mine--"I had an audience! Two fastidious critics of dramatic art heard
me rant my rantings,--I had to do my best!"
"Two critics?" I repeated perplexedly.
"Yes. You on one side,--Lady Sibyl on the other. Lady Sibyl rose, after
the custom of fashionable beauties at the opera, before the last scene,
in order to get home in good time for supper!"
He laughed wildly and discordantly, and I felt desperately
uncomfortable.
"You must be mistaken Lucio--" I said--"That _I_ listened I admit,--and
it was wrong of me to do so,--but my wife would never condescend ..."
"Ah, then it must have been a sylph of the woods that glided out of the
shadow with a silken train behind her and diamonds in her hair!" he
retorted gaily--"Tut Geoffrey!--don't look so crestfallen. I have done
with Mavis Clare, and she with me. I have not been making love to
her,--I have simply, just to amuse myself, tested her character,--and I
find it stronger than I thought. The combat is over. She will never go
my way,--nor, I fear, shall I ever go hers!"
"Upon my word, Lucio," I said with some irritation--"Your disposition
seems to grow more and more erratic and singular every day!"
"Does it not!" he answered with a droll affectation of interested
surprise in himself--"I am a curious creature altogether! Wealth is mine
and I care not a jot for it,--power is mine and I loathe its
responsibility;--in fact I would rather be anything but what I am! Look
at the lights of your 'home, sweet home' Geoffrey!" this he said as we
emerged from among the trees on to the moonlit lawn, from whence could
be seen the shining of the electric lamps in the drawing-room--"Lady
Sibyl is there,--an enchanting and perfect woman, who lives but to
welcome you to her embracing arms! Fortunate man!--who would not envy
you! Love!--who would, who could exist without it--save me! Who, in
Europe at least, would forego the delights of kissing,--(which the
Japanese by-the-by consider a disgusting habit),--without embraces,--and
all those other endearments which are supposed to dignify the progress
of true love! One never tires of these things,--there is no satiety! I
wish I could love somebody!"
"So you can, if you like,"--I said, with a little uneasy laugh.
"I cannot. It is not in me. You heard me tell Mavis Clare as much. I
have it in my power to make other people fall in love, somewhat after
the dexterous fashion practised by match-making mothers,--but for
myself, love on this planet is too low a thing--too brief in duration.
Last night, in a dream,--I have strange dreams at times,--I saw one whom
possibly I could love,--but she was a Spirit, with eyes more lustrous
than the morning, and a form as transparent as flame;--she could sing
sweetly, and I watched her soaring upward, and listened to her song. It
was a wild song, and to many mortal ears meaningless,--it was something
like this ..." and his rich baritone pealed lusciously forth in
melodious tune--
Into the Light,
Into the heart of the fire!
To the innermost core of the deathless flame
I ascend,--I aspire!
Under me rolls the whirling Earth
With the noise of a myriad wheels that run
Ever round and about the sun,--
Over me circles the splendid heaven
Strewn with the stars of morn and even,
And I a queen
Of the air serene,
Float with my flag-like wings unfurled,
Alone--alone--'twixt God and the world!
Here he broke off with a laugh. "She was a strange Spirit,"--he
said--"because she could see nothing but herself ''twixt God and the
world.' She was evidently quite unaware of the numerous existing
barriers put up by mankind between themselves and their Maker. I wonder
what unenlightened sphere she came from!"