“Now,” he said, “I propose to show you that temperature has nothing to do with it. Keep quiet. You are on skates, remember.” And he kissed her.
“You can kiss me again,” said Julia, after a moment or two.
“I thought so.” And he kissed her for several minutes.
“You look quite different,” murmured, Julia finally.
“I can look more so. Skates and worsted collars that take your ears off are infernally in the way.”
“Will you always joke?”
“My dear child, if I didn’t joke, I might really frighten you.”
Julia shivered. “I’ve been frightened for days. I knew this would come. If I’d been really wise, I’d have run away.”
“It wouldn’t have done you one bit of good. Never try that game. If you do, I’ll jump right up on the platform in Albert Hall and kiss you in the presence of ten thousand suffragettes—damnable word!”
“I believe you would.”
“I would.” And he kissed her again.
This time she didn’t respond, and he gave her a little shake. “Forget it. You’re to think of nothing but me this long day we have all to ourselves. Time enough in London for you to set up your ninepins for me to bowl over. You’ve shown what you can do. Lady Dark told me that you did nothing by halves, and you’ve just proved it. To-day for love. Do you hear?”
Julia smiled radiantly. “I couldn’t think of anything but you for more than a minute if I would. That was one thing that terrified me at night—when I had time to think— I had switched off with a vengeance! The past seemed blotted out. I wonder! I wonder!”
“I don’t. And I never saw a mortal woman look so happy. Your faculty of living in the moment is a grand asset, my dear. Ten months— Good lord! It takes all of that time to establish a residence in Nevada, and all the rest of it. However— Well, let us go for a walk in the woods.” He glanced about with a quickening breath. “Blessed spot! We’ll come back to it one of these days.”
XII
“It shows how much in love we are that we don’t mind this luncheon,” said Tay, who made a face, nevertheless. They had decided to remain away from the hotel all day, and were fortifying themselves at the inn on the lake. The meal was the usual one of watery veal, fried potatoes, and pastry. “I remember eating ‘kalb’ when I was in Germany before until I choked. Can any one explain why there are more calves in Germany than anywhere else on the face of the globe? You don’t see so many cows. The offspring must arrive in litters like pigs.”
“And the German, true to his creed, is furious if you flout his commonest staple.” Julia smiled, but, in truth, her mind was deeply perturbed, and she spoke mechanically. There had been no more love-making, for guests and peasants had met them at every turn of the woods. Her Hindu master had once told her that profound as were the suggestions he had given her, and systematic as was the control she had been taught to acquire over herself, either might suffer interruption unless she lived in India for many years longer. A violent awakening of the primal emotions, the assault of a mind and nature, temporarily, at least, stronger than her own, and that devil that lives in the subconsciousness would sit on his hind legs and chuckle.
During the hours that had succeeded those moments of unquestioning surrender on the lake, her thirty-four years with their highest accomplishment had crept back, and she had ceased forever to feel eighteen. The immediate future rose before her like a black wall pricked out with menacing fingers. There was no question as to where her duty lay for the moment, as to what she must accomplish before she could think of happiness. All the steel in her nature had reasserted itself, her brain was cold and keen. She would put an end to the present state of affairs this very day. But how? How?
She continued pleasantly.
“Perhaps it would have been better to go back to the hotel.”
“Not much. The hotel is associated with three evenings of fruitless manœuvrings to get you alone in one of those corners. Besides, Lady Dark may have recovered. I’ll take no chances. You are to be mine alone for an entire day.”
“We could stay a few days longer.”
“No, on the whole, I want to wind up London as quickly as possible. So must you. I shall send you on a steamer ahead to make sure of you.”
Julia laughed. “How like a man. We could hardly be happier than we are now. Why not let well enough alone, for a bit?”
“Well, you see, I am a man, and therefore differ from you as to what constitutes real happiness. I want to get the cursed Reno matter over as quickly as possible. Besides, I am due at home. The business might wait, but there’s a big piece of political work to pull off, and I must do my share in prying my poor rotten state out of the slough.”
Julia’s mind took a leap. “I believe you are really ambitious,” she said, with bright sympathetic eyes. “Politicians don’t work for nothing. Do you know you never have told me a word of your ultimate intentions?”
“I’ve been too busy talking about you. I was only too glad to side-track my own affairs for a time. We were all so strung up during the graft prosecution that we jumped at anything that would give us a chance to forget it, and recuperate our energies.”
“Well, you have had a change! Do tell me how you have planned out your life. Do you look forward to being President of the United States?”
“Not as much as when I was fifteen.”
“Oh, you will always joke! Can’t you fancy what your future is to me? You are capable of great things, and I don’t for a moment believe that you care for nothing but money making, varied by an occasional rush at reform. Do be serious.”
“My dear, I never felt more serious than I do at this moment. God knows I’m only too grateful for your interest. It struck me as ominous that you never asked me.”
“I didn’t dare,” murmured Julia. “A man’s career is a so much more brilliant thing than a woman’s ever can be, for he has two distinct sides. We women are bound by our physical limitations to one side. We must make new traditions—and new bodies to transmit —”
“Hold on! Let us avoid that subject as long as possible.”
“But tell me.”
“Well, here is the way I am fixed: I am for reform, my father is not. I am a full partner in the firm, but I can’t use the firm’s money for an object to which my father is bitterly opposed. But I have been making money on the outside, investing and reinvesting, and, in two years at most, I shall have an independent fortune, irrespective of my father’s large estate. Then I intend to go in for politics, doing all I can meanwhile to educate the people in the precepts of the true democracy and to keep the Reform party on top. I intend to hold conspicuous office in California, then go to Congress. You can call this ambition, if you like; no doubt ambition is mixed up with all deep sense of personal usefulness. It takes a good-sized ego to permit you to fancy yourself able to reform long-existing conditions; and egoism and ambition are good working partners. I shall work for my own state first, and then for the country at large. That is the way for Americans to begin, or, at all events, the way we do begin, our country being what it is. State pride is almost as strong as national. Moreover, a man must prove himself in his own state before he can get a chance to command the attention of the nation. If a man happens to belong to a notoriously corrupt state like California, and manages to shine by contrast, his opportunities are so much the greater! But the nation is the thing. Every Union man during the Civil War fought for his flag, not for his section. But our country is now a republic only in name. We are piling up problems our founders could not anticipate, and if they go on unchecked, they will land us either in an autocracy, or in the worst form of tyranny known to history,—mob rule. It is the business of a few of us to avert a French Revolution. Just at present we are between two camps, Monopoly and Labor-Unionism, and have almost forgotten that we are citizens of a free country. Our skins have been safe so far, owing to the lack of brains and initiative in the masses; also, because they are far from starvation. But let that condition arise—before the Money Power has been made to open its eyes, or has been controlled by legislation—then horrors beside which the French Revolution will be mere picturesque material for novelists. A few thinking men with money enough to give them weight with the solid moneyed class at the top—where the reform must begin—as well as to place them above suspicion, and who have cultivated common-sense and patriotism instead of greed, must do the business. Let’s get out of this.”
XIII
When they were walking over the crisp snow in the woods—now deserted, for hotel guests and peasants alike were at the long midday meal—he resumed the subject. Her vivid sympathy and interest had brought back the bitter struggle of the past two years with a rush.
“How I wish you had been with me when we made our graft fight,” he said, looking at her with fond eager eyes. “What a mate you would have been. When the whole town is howling at a man because he is trying to do the right thing, he needs just such a woman as you to keep the courage in him. The concerted opinion of the majority has an insidious power! Sometimes we wondered if we could be right, if we were not all dreamers, unpractical, doing our city more harm than good. The whole country was aghast at our exposures, business was almost dead, capital refused to come our way; the poor old city that had been wrecked by the most fearful natural calamity of modern times—$500,000,000 went up in smoke—seemed to cry out against us for holding her down, to beg for a chance to limp out of her bog. But we looked ahead, convinced that there could be no permanent prosperity for San Francisco until the sore was scraped to the bone and sterilized; in other words, until the political scoundrels and the get-rich-quick element, that obtained their crushing franchises by corrupting a packed Board of Supervisors, and bought everybody, from the boss and the mayor down to the man in the street with a vote to sell, were either gaoled or so discredited that they would be forced into private life or out of the state. We unseated the boss and the mayor, the supervisors having come through, and we were able to indict several of what we call the higher-ups—the men that had done the buying. I never had much hope of convicting these men, for in California, in its present state of moral development, it is next to impossible to convict a rich man. If you get an honest judge, there are always men in the jury that have got in for no purpose but to be bribed. But we won out in another way. The long trial aired the abominable practices of these corporations, and, together with the many sensational episodes—the shooting of the prosecuting attorney in court, and the suicide of the would-be murderer in prison before he could be put on the stand, the kidnapping of the only editor that fought with us,—woke up the state; it talked of little else, and talking, thought, and was ashamed. The city machine got ahead of us, for the mayor we had managed to seat was too virtuous to build up a machine of his own; but we hope for great things in the state itself when our Reform candidate runs for the office of governor this year. Perhaps it was unreasonable to hope for more at the beginning, and it was a tough fight to get that much.
“Oh, God!” he cried bitterly, “the rottenness of young communities with potentialities of wealth. Human nature in the raw, when it is still in the ingenuous stage of greed, is a damnable thing. It has never shown any originality since the world began. Socialism may clip its wings, if it ever gets control, but—here is the cursed anomaly: you can’t hope for Socialism until a miracle eliminates greed from the nature of man; for it is men that must grant Socialism, and Socialism means the balking of greed. Even if some unforeseen set of circumstances forced it upon us, I doubt if it would last. You can no more eliminate greed from men than you could eliminate sex by forcing men and women to dress alike, shave their heads, and say their prayers three times a day. But the world is better in some respects than it was a century ago, and this is primarily due to the untiring efforts of the minority. But, again, the work must be done by a few men—the few that are awake and can see farther than their noses. Well, my dear, I hope and pray that I am one of those men. There you have my program, so far as a mere finite mind can project it.”
“Now I know why I have been permitted to love you,” said Julia, softly, and looking at him with glowing eyes. “Hadji Sadrä told me that he should watch over me, and that if I dared love a man who would pull me down, instead of being far greater than I could ever hope to be, he would blast me, transform me into a mere commonplace female, but haunted by the memory of what I had been —”
“How much of all that do you believe?”
“Ah! I saw marvellous exhibitions of power. They are common enough in the East, but one would hardly dare relate them in this part of the world. If I longed with all the concentrated powers of my mind for Hadji Sadrä, he would come to me in a flash—with that secondary material body they call the astral, and we call the ghost. If I were terribly perplexed, I should send for him —”
“I want no go-betweens, particularly Mohammedan ghosts.”
But Julia had no intention of letting him down.
“I wonder I could remember him, or any one else! It was only because I suddenly realized what all this means—that I may have another and far greater part to play —”
“You see that at last! Perhaps I should have appealed to you before. But—it is only to-day that I have felt really close to you—really loved you, perhaps. I fancy I was merely infatuated before.” He took her in his arms, and she looked up at him with the deepest sympathy a woman can express, particularly when gifted with eyes that are the dazzling headlights of a finished and powerful machine behind. “Oh, if you could only know,” he continued in tones of intense feeling, “what it will mean to me to have you, not only to love, but to work with! I really want with all my soul to be of use to my country, to be one of the few that are willing to work for her unselfishly, to leave a decent name behind me. It is thankless work, fighting the majority, battling for an ideal nobody wants, to be the butt of the press, accused of sordid motives, balked at every turn. The only sort of patriotism the average American understands is sounding promises by ambitious politicians and huge donations from repentant millionnaires. To raise the morale of a people, and in the process prevent them from growing too rich, may mean the respect of posterity, but it also means the hatred of your contemporaries. The Big Voice! It confuses the mind and the standards. The constant failures, the recurring sense of hopelessness, of futility, the inevitable contempt for the masses you are striving to emancipate from themselves,—many a man that has started out with the loftiest and most selfless ideals loses courage, shrugs his shoulders, and falls back. I am no better and stronger than many of them. I have dreamed one minute, the next wondered how far I would go, how long my enthusiasm would last. Material success is easy enough, and always rewarded by approbation and respect! What is the use? I am young still, but I asked myself that question more than once, for even my family were all against me. My father was furious. He is honest, but his business has been his god. I left home and went to a hotel—to avoid the everlasting discussions at table. My old friends cut me on the street. I was regarded as an enemy of society, and society cast me out. The rest of our little group shared the same fate. We were obliged to keep one another’s courage up. That we carried our lives in our hands and were liable to assassination at any moment was the least of our trials. The Big Voice! We felt as if we were at the foot of an avalanche, or some other inexorable enemy in Nature herself, trying to push it back with our hands. Inevitably there were black moments when we felt we were fools, especially when we faced certain defeat. And it’s all to do again, not once, but many times. Do you wonder that the light side of my nature has given me many cynical moments, or that I have seethed with disgust, or wondered if I would last? But with you—ah! If I had ever dreamed you lived, I believe I never should have despaired for a moment. But my only memory of you was of a charming and lovely child. And it is only to-day, here, that I have realized what it means for any of us to stand alone. With your faith and your brain, with you always beside me, sympathizing, helping—I never shall lose courage for a moment. I could accomplish anything—everything —”
This sudden vehement disclosure of the serious depths of his nature under its surface gayety, with more than one glimpse of heights and powers she had barely divined, had thrilled Julia even more than his passionate love-making. All her own greatness responded, and for a moment or two she had been swept irresistibly on that tide of self-revealing words. She had a vision of the complete passion, the perfect union. But her brain remained cool. She never lost sight of her purpose.
She sprang from him suddenly and flung out her arms. Her eyes looked black. Her skin shone with a peculiar radiance like white fire. So she had looked more than once on the platform during her last moments of irresistible appeal; when her bewildered audiences had felt as if dissolving in a crucible from which there was no escape. “Oh,” she cried in low vibrating tones of intense passion, “now I know you—the real You! I’ll never fail you. You are wonderful, and I worship you! I believe we can be happier than any two mortals have ever been. But, Dan, I must go to you free, with a conscience as clean as your own. You must see that. You are too great not to see it. I must be tormented with no regrets, no remorse. If I should leave at this moment—‘rat’ like any scoundrelly selfish politician—desert these women publicly while all the world is watching them, make them ridiculous—oh, I don’t mean that I am indispensable; there are too many great women among them for that— But don’t you see that if I threw them over to follow an American to the other side of the world, now, while their fate hangs in the balance—why, it would amount to nothing less than a cynical declaration that we are all alike when it comes to a man—that we fight for a great impersonal cause only so long as no man comes along to play the old tune on our passions—why—Good God!—they would be the butt of every malicious wit in the kingdom. Their cause would be set back a generation. And I? I should be execrated by women the world over. I, who am now a sort of goddess. My immense following is due as much to the youth and beauty which I have appeared to immolate so indifferently, as to all my talents put together. What use should I be to you if I scuttled the ship and deserted it? What place could I take among the women of your country? Do you think they would listen to me, that I could teach them, help them? They would laugh in my face!”
She caught him by the shoulders, her eyes piercing into his, which stared at her full of sombre perplexity. She went on in a rapid monotonous voice, which fell on his brain like a rain of fire: “Why didn’t you come for me, as you promised? I should have gone. Four years ago! I was free. Something was always knocking at my mind. I knew that I had useful energies of some sort. They were always groping to find vent. If you had come, if you had told me then what you have told me to-day, I should not have hesitated a moment. I should have known that my work was to be done with you. But you forgot your promise. The bond was not strong enough. Why did you wait until I had become a public figure, written about daily—until I had hopelessly compromised myself? Oh, can’t you see that you have made me the most tragic figure among women? I love you so that I long with all those other and far greater forces within me—that you have brought to life—to go, to be happy, to give you all you want and deserve, to become truly great—with you! Oh, I am the most unhappy woman on earth—and the happiest!”
Tay had tried to interrupt her several times. But he was dazed. She looked like a sibyl. He felt disjointedly that he had less desire to claim her as a woman than to ascend with her to the plane whither she seemed to have borne herself. He had been shaken out of his own reserve and bared his soul for the first time in his life; his defences were down, she seemed to have entered his mind and taken possession. Human passion would appear to have fallen to ashes. His senses felt numb, he was vaguely conscious of a material dissolution that left his soul free to mingle with hers.
She gave him no chance to speak. Her words flowed on with the same fiery monotony.
“You have taught me what duty means. I believe I never was really capable of the sacrifice of self before. I worked to fill my time, to forget my depths. Then because the greatness of that work really put my womanhood to sleep! But you! I have not a personal ambition left, not a want apart from you, but this terrible duty. I want to live in you, for you. You! You! You!” Tay had a confused idea that he was turning into a demi-god. “But I must go to you free—that I may never look back—that I may know and give complete happiness. I must be all woman, not a mere brain, humiliated, ashamed, tortured by regrets. And you must go at once, at once, at once. If you stay, if you prove too strong for me, if you force me to go with you—and I love you so I might go—then we never shall know the meaning of happiness for a moment. I will follow you before long. If we don’t win the battle early this year, I will train some one to take my place. I shall speak, appear in public less and less, drop out by degrees. I shall soon be forgotten—long before I can marry you. But to leap from the front rank of these women straight into a divorce court in a city whose name is a synonym for vulgarity, that is never mentioned without a laugh or a sneer— Oh, you see! You see! What an anticlimax to all these years on a pedestal! What a wife for you, a public man! Oh, God! I should be the ruin of your own career —”
“Julia!” exclaimed Tay, trying to get his breath.
She fell back limply against a tree, as if exhausted with her own passion, but neither voice nor eyes lost their power.
“Oh, go! Go! Go! If you don’t, I shall be in the dust. I shall be incapable of love in my abasement. I know myself. To love, to be happy, I must be free. I must have my self-respect. I can’t love, tortured by shame and remorse. I want love and you more than anything on earth, but I want them utterly. Oh, go!”
For a moment or two Tay had been conscious of an angry struggle in the depths of his mind. He suddenly became master of himself. He shot a glance at Julia as piercing as her own, and she gasped and flung herself face downward on the snow and began to sob. He made no attempt to pick her up for the moment.
“You have strange powers, Julia,” he said. “If I were weaker than I am,—and God knows I am weak enough,—I should be slinking through the woods with my tail between my legs, hypnotized out of my manhood, and ready to lick your hand for the rest of my life.” Julia stopped sobbing and listened intently. Tay walked up and down before he spoke again. “But mind you, I don’t question your sincerity, your love, whatever the devilish arts you tried to practise on me. Every leader of a great revolution is a fanatic and a Jesuit. And, methods aside, every word you spoke was sound common-sense. I don’t care to assume the responsibility of injuring those women, and I believe you would be incapable of happiness if you handed their enemies another weapon—a pretty deadly one it would be!”
He picked her up and dusted her off. “I am going,” he went on grimly, “and I shall wait exactly six months. Or rather—” He caught her hands in his powerful grip, his eyes blazing into hers. “I shall never see you again, not even with your royal consent, unless you swear to me here that you’ll not try that on again. That you’ll be woman to my man from this time forth—that and nothing more. I’ll be damned if I’ll live with a woman who doesn’t play a square game. Swear it.”
“Oh, I do, I do! Oh, Dan!” The tears were running down her face, honest tears, for she was frightened, while rejoicing. “Do believe that I was only doing my best—I knew that you wouldn’t listen—I had only one object —”
“Oh, as I told you, I have never questioned your queer complicated honesty. Only, being a perfectly normal person myself, I prefer to postpone occult trickery until I reach the next world. No doubt it will be all in the day’s work there. But I’ve got my job cut out in this, matching my earthly wits against the next man’s. Now, you’ve given me your word! If you ever go back on it —”
“Oh, never!” Julia was now really limp, and looked wholly feminine. Tay took her in his arms once more and dried her tears. “It’s my fate to love you,” he said, with a sigh. “And that’s about the size of it. I’m sorry you ever went to your East, but live in the hope I can make you forget it.”
“And do you love me as much as ever?” asked Julia, unintellectually.
Tay laughed outright, the ancient formula almost routing the memory of those moments when the same woman that uttered them automatically had launched her ruthless will into his relaxing brain. “Oh, yes,” he said, “I love you, all right, and for good and all. Now, we’ll be practical. I shall leave England the day I wind up my affairs in London. That should be in less than a week. I am going to ask you to stay here until I sail. I am resigned to going without you, am willing to admit that a separation of a few months is inevitable—but, all the same, the less temptation, the better. Besides, I shall need all my wits in London— If you were there —”
“Oh, I’d rather stay, far, far rather! I don’t think I could stand it, either. Here, at least, I can keep out of doors, exercise until I am past thought —”
“Well, don’t change your mind. I insist that you stay here. If you return to London while I am there—well, I’ll not say just what I won’t do. Enough that I should not return to America alone. Come, let’s get back to the hotel.”
XIV
Julia went at once to Ishbel’s room. She found that conspirator sitting on the little balcony enjoying the view of ice peak and forest. Ishbel sprang to her feet when she saw Julia’s face.
“Oh— Ah— So—”
“Quite so,” said Julia, dryly. “But never mind. I have won out for a bit. He has promised to go to California at once and wait while I eliminate myself by degrees. I have promised to follow in six months. Of course I shall if I can. If I can’t—well, I must make him listen to reason again. But I hope —”
“Of course, you can’t bolt,” said Ishbel, who was burning with sympathy for both. “But surely you can manage to let yourself out in six months. Your vice-president is an efficient woman; and then we are sure to win this session —”
“I don’t know! If we did, of course I’d make some excuse and go at once. But—otherwise—I can’t leave them for a divorce court until I have taught them to forget me—disassociated myself from them —”
She dropped on the edge of the bed, face and body expressing utter discouragement. Ishbel half opened her lips, then went out upon the balcony lest she break her word and tell Julia that France was dying. But a moment’s reflection convinced her that this information would only complicate matters at present. She thought hard for a few minutes, then ran back into the room.
“Julia!” she exclaimed, “I have an idea! Why not go to Nevis? Your mother is very old. You haven’t seen her for many years. You can give out that she is ill—or I will if you won’t. My conscience wouldn’t hurt me a bit, for old people are always ill. No doubt you’ll find her with rheumatism, lumbago, dropsy, Bright’s disease, diabetes, tumors, or a few other ills incident to old age. It would make just the break you need; and it’s just the time to go, for your officers can attend to everything. Also—you could stay on and on.”
Julia looked up with some return of animation in her heavy eyes.
“It’s not a bad idea, if I could go.”
“Of course you could, and the minute I get to London I’ll set the whole shop to work on your tropic wardrobe. You can get many things ready-made, anyhow—people are always going out to India on a moment’s notice.”
“I’ll think it over while I’m here. I’m to stay until he sails.”
“Ah!—I hate to leave you alone. Shall I stay with you?”
“I think I’d rather be alone.”
“Yes, I understand.” She sat down on the bed and put her arm about Julia’s relaxed form. “I want you to promise me that you will marry Mr. Tay, whatever happens. You’ve a right to happiness, if ever a woman had, and this is your only chance, my dear. There’s only one real man in every woman’s life, and happiness is the inalienable right of all of us. Even Bridgit was forced to admit that.”
“Oh, I intend to marry him. But when? That is the question!”
“As soon as possible. You have given four uninterrupted years to this work, and you have done great things for it. That is enough —”
“We have all gone in—that inner band—to devote a lifetime to it if necessary.”
“Don’t you suspect that those women have an extra something in their make-up that the rest of us lack?”
“I have accomplished as much as any of them—”
“Quite so. And enough. Don’t you feel that the spring has gone out of you?”
“Just now, yes.”
“You’ll never work with the same spirit again, for you never can be impersonal again. You would feel a hypocrite, for you would always be resenting the loss of what you really want most in life. You’ve a duty to yourself, to say nothing of Mr. Tay; and you’re not going to a frivolous useless life—not with him! No one is indispensable to any real cause, and in ours there are too many to carry on the work without the supreme sacrifice on your part. Promise me, at least, that you will go at once to Nevis. It would be the beginning of the solution.”
“I’d like to go.”
“You really must want to see your mother, and your old home,” continued Ishbel, insinuatingly. “One’s mother and one’s birthplace are the great refuges in time of trouble. You were very fond of your mother when you were a child.”
“I’m fond of her now, but she seems to have lost all affection for me.”
“Never believe it. She is a strange proud old woman, but she has always loved you. Go back to her. There is your refuge.”
“You are playing on my deepest feelings, but you are right. Nevis! When you are crushed, your own land calls you. And, as you say, I haven’t much work in me at present.”
“Then you’ll go?”
“When you get to London, telegraph me how matters stand. If it looks as if the truce would be a long one—yes, I’ll go. I believe I want to go more than anything else in the world—except one! Perhaps I’ll get a grip on myself down there. Perhaps I’ll find that—well, that I love this great cause best, after all.”
“Not a bit of it!” cried Ishbel, in alarm. “Don’t try to persuade yourself of anything so unnatural and foolish. Do you realize how few women have complete happiness offered them? I could shake you.”
Then she reflected that Nevis was a tropical island; and another scheme was forming in her agile brain. “Well, never mind all that. You are worn out now. It is not a matter to discuss, anyhow. Stay out of doors here, and I will prepare your wardrobe. Then you can start as soon as you return to England. I will tell Collins to pack your other things. Eric will secure your accommodations on the first steamer that sails after Mr. Tay’s. Now lie down. Or shall you come down to our last dinner?”
“No, I am not going to see him again. I’ll be glad when he has gone, and that, at least, is over. But I’ll go to Nevis, if all is quiet in England.”
XV
They left on the evening train in order to catch the morning train out of Munich. Julia, who had been sitting inertly in her room, too listless to go to bed, heard the carriage rattle down the street, and sprang to her feet with a wild sense of protest and despair. It required all her self-control to refrain from ringing for a droschke and following before it was too late. Then, angry at this complete surrender to her femininity, she undressed and went to bed.
Here, she discovered to her dismay that California was not farther off than sleep. Perversely, she would not relax, nor go through any of the other forms with which she had always been able to summon sleep when excited. She doubted if they would conquer these new impressions, but refused to give them a trial. She lay awake until nearly dawn, the events of the day marching through her brain with maddening reiteration. She dreaded sleep, also, for now at least her brain was stimulated, and she guessed that it would be correspondingly depressed upon awakening. So it was. The weather, also, had changed. It was raining.
When Julia heard the heavy raindrops splashing on her balcony, she sat up with a gasp of horror, then laughed grimly. But this conspiracy of Nature gave her a certain obstinate fortitude, and she rose at once, took a cold bath, and dressed. But when she opened her door to go down to the dining-room, her courage failed her, and she rang and ordered breakfast to be brought upstairs.
“What am I to do?” she thought in terror. “What am I to do?”
It rained all day. Julia had brought no storm clothes. She prowled about the halls, getting what exercise she could, but dared not go downstairs. She sent for books from the library, but they might have been written in Greek. She summoned resolution to go to the dining-room at seven o’clock, but turned at the door, and ran back to her room. She saw Tay at every turn, and to sit alone at the table with his empty chair opposite, was beyond her endurance. Nor could she eat the food brought to her room. She went to bed again, and slept fitfully.
She awoke in the small hours to hear it still raining, and this time she fell into a fury over her demoralization.
“And this is love!” she thought. “Terrors! Ignominy! A will turned to water. I’d not be more helpless if I were in a hospital with typhoid fever.”
Her mind suddenly flew to the conversation with her friends on the night she had last dined with Ishbel. Should she go to Paris and rid herself of the disease once for all? What prospect of happiness if love were able to induce a misery keener than any of its compensations? If she could feel like this now, knowing that he loved her, and that the separation was but a matter of time, what might she not suffer if he ceased to love her, if he gave her cause for jealousy, if she found herself disappointed in him? It would be worse, far worse. Now, at least, she was—not free; no one ever felt more of a slave—but at least with the power to attain freedom. There would be a deep satisfaction, to say nothing of relief, in the knowledge that she never need think of him again—this man that had destroyed her fine poise, her remarkable powers, made her the slave of the race, the victim of the ancient instinct, a mere instrument upon which Nature was playing her old tune in contemptuous disregard of those years in which she had dwelt on impersonal heights seldom attained by young and beautiful women. She almost hated him. Better have done with it at once. In all her life with France she had never known depression like this, for love adds the sense of impotence to calamity.
She got out of bed, without ringing for her bath, and began to pack her trunk. She didn’t care if she never took a bath again. She hated herself, and she hated Tay. Above all she hated the rain.
But in the midst of her packing she sat back on the floor and scowled. To receive suggestions one must be perfectly amenable. There must be no reserve at the back of the head. Although she ground her teeth, she admitted that she would permit no man, no science, to destroy the image of Tay in her mind, root him out of her life. Nor would she confess herself a coward—nor violate the jealous instincts of her sex. If the time came when she must banish him, she would do it herself. Good God! She was female all through. Suffering was a part of her birthright. She would give up not the least of the accompaniments of love.
Cursing herself for a fool, she rang for her bath, dressed herself, and determined to walk out of doors, if the valley had turned into a lake.
But by the time she had swallowed her coffee and rolls the skies had cleared, and she started out with a guide and a sled. There was always excitement in tobogganing. For a bit the keen air revived her, but the hills and valley had new terrors, for every step reminded her of her lover. Black protest left her, but was followed by a sadness so profound that she feared to dissolve in the presence of her guide, and sent him home. She had planned to visit the lake, but she found that it would be as easy to break her word and follow Tay to London.
A new and horrid fear had begun to haunt her. Did he really love her as he had loved her before she had made him, for a few moments, at least, the plaything of her will and her science? He had forgiven her, but must not such a memory rankle, eventually induce a permanent resentment—fear—hatred possibly?
She returned to her room, the only place unassociated with him. But although it was a refuge in a sense, she found little comfort in it, for the very atmosphere was thick with her long hours of misery. She sat down and made a deliberate attempt to banish her depression, that manifest of Nature’s resentment at even the temporary balking of her desires.
“The ancient instinct!” she thought bitterly. “We are all the same fools when it comes to a man—the man—when the race is trying to struggle on through its victims.” She looked back upon the past eight years as upon a period of transcendent happiness. More than ever she was convinced that the only unmitigated happiness lay in self-completion, in independence of the sex in man. Love was a splendid disease induced by Nature to further her one end; accompanied by moments of hallucination called happiness, but which in the last analysis were but the prelude to a lifetime of every variety of sorrow and disillusion. On the other hand, the women that steered safely clear of this smiling island with a thousand jagged teeth beneath the rippling waters, and elected to stand alone, were free to accept the other great gifts of life, to attain to a form of serenity and content, beside which love and its delusions were the earthly hell. In the last four years she had never cast a thought to love, the future had loomed as perfect as the present. And she had weakly slid down into chaos!
The immortal women! Oh, lord! Oh, lord!
She reviewed her life from the time when, the wife of an abhorred husband, she had begun, unconsciously at first, to build up that strength, which, when the crucial tests came, enabled her to control, in a measure, the present, to exult in the knowledge that she had proved herself stronger than life; instead of losing her mind, or becoming the plaything of men. She had even dismissed Nigel Herbert when he came with freedom and something like happiness in his hand; proud of her strength to work out her destiny unaided.
Strength! Her mind flew from this vision of past solidarity to her years at the feet of the wise men of Benares. It was not pleasant to dwell upon the compliments of Hadji Sadrä, but she recalled his initiations and suggestions, and those of Swani Dambaba; they had given her a power over herself and others seldom possessed by Occidentals. But she could hardly formulate them; they were enveloped in a haze, as elusive and remote as dreams. Had she been but cunningly equipped to play her part in the great battle; and, the part played, was she perchance set free to follow the commoner destiny of woman? There was some satisfaction in the thought, but her ego felt slapped in the face. She had fancied her destiny mightily, and this anticlimax was no part of the program of the immortal women. Still, why not? Her inner vision, sharpened though it might have been by her masters, could not pierce the future, nor her judgment, while captive in the gray matter of the mortal brain, presume to determine exactly what destinies those immortal women had mapped out for themselves on earth. For all she knew Tay might have been composed to save his country, and hers the glorious part to help him.
But at this point she sat down on the floor once more and finished the packing of her trunk. None knew better than she the distinguished powers of the human mind for self-deception. With her own personal gift for subtle reasoning, to say nothing of her imagination, she could persuade herself in another fifteen minutes that it was her duty to take the first steamer for New York and await Tay in the facile state of Nevada. She should reason no more, but be guided by events. Meanwhile let love devour her, burn her up, torment her with fears, exalt her with visions of the perfect union. But not in Partenkirchen. She should amuse herself in Berlin until Tay’s final telegram set her free to go to Nevis. “The dog to its kennel,” she thought grimly. “That’s the place for me. I’ll find my balance there if anywhere.”
XVI
On the evening of Julia’s departure for Nevis, Ishbel entered her husband’s study and perched herself on the arm of his chair.
“Eric,” she said, “when you have made a promise you can’t break, is it wrong to get round it, if it is for the good of some one you are very fond of?”
“What are you driving at? Nothing more interesting than the workings of the female conscience under fire.”
“You like Mr. Tay?”
“Rather. Never liked a man more. Deuced good chap all round.”
“You think that he and Julia should marry?”
“I do. But am not so sure they will. Julia’s a hard nut to crack.”
“Quite so. But I want her to be as happy as I am.”
“Right you are. Tay’s the man.”
“There’s something I promised Bridgit not to tell either Julia or Mr. Tay. But I didn’t promise not to tell you.”
Dark laughed. “I begin to see daylight. I suppose even Bridgit doesn’t encourage you to have secrets from your husband.”
“You are a dear! Well, it’s this. France is very low, has a bad case of heart and may go any minute.”
Dark whistled. “That would simplify matters.”
“Yesterday I called at Kingsborough House and gently wormed the whole truth out of the duchess. The attacks are growing more and more frequent. The doctors don’t give him a fortnight.”
Dark stood up, “I see! I see!”
“I didn’t dare tell you until Mr. Tay and Julia had both left. If you had told him, he wouldn’t have gone, and Julia would hold out, here in England. But on Nevis, on a tropical island! All these associations and duties will seem like a dream down there, and one hasn’t much energy in the tropics, anyhow, to say nothing of being steeped in an atmosphere of romance. I want you to cable Mr. Tay—so that he will get your message when he arrives in New York day after to-morrow—that France is dying, that Julia has sailed for Nevis, and that if he is wise, he will go there at once—he can get there first, I should think, for the Royal Mail takes eighteen days—and marry her the moment he gets another cable from you announcing France’s death. Do you mind?”
“Rather not!”
“Tell him to say nothing to Julia about France’s condition until he is quite certain she is free —”
“Do you want me to go stony—”
“Oh, what do a few pounds matter—”
“When arranging people’s destinies! Well, go on.”
“Julia must not return to England. If she did, Mr. Tay would have to begin all over again. I don’t like anything that looks like treachery to the women, but still —”
“I do,” said Dark, dryly. “Permit me to take the whole matter over to my own conscience. That’s what a man is made for, among other things. Tay shall marry Julia if I can help him manage it, and the women can go where I’ve consigned them several times already. Now, I’ll go out and send that cablegram.”