the patrician-第24章

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imagination　at　all；　was　the　mere　combination　of　a　member　of　a　class；
traditionally　supposed　to　be　inclined　to　having　what　it　wanted；　with
a　lady　who　lived　alone！　　As　Harbinger　said：　It　was　really　devilish
awkward！　　For；　to　take　any　notice　of　it　would　be　to　make　more　people
than　ever　believe　it　true。　　And　yet；　that　it　was　working　mischief；
they　felt　by　the　secret　voice　in　their　own　souls；　telling　them　that
they　would　have　believed　it　if　they　had　not　known　better。　　They　hung
about；　waiting　for　Miltoun　to　come　in。

The　news　was　received　by　Lady　Valleys　with　a　sigh　of　intense　relief；
and　the　remark　that　it　was　probably　another　lie。　　When　Barbara
confirmed　it；　she　only　said：　〃Poor　Eustace！〃　and　at　once　wrote　off　to
her　husband　to　say　that　'Anonyma'　was　still　married；　so　that　the
worst　fortunately　could　not　happen。

Miltoun　came　in　to　lunch；　but　from　his　face　and　manner　nothing　could
be　guessed。　　He　was　a　thought　more　talkative　than　usual；　and　spoke　of
Brabrook's　speechsome　of　which　he　had　heard。　　He　looked　at　Courtier
meaningly；　and　after　lunch　said　to　him：

〃Will　you　come　round　to　my　den？〃

In　that　room；　the　old　withdrawing…room　of　the　Elizabethan　wingwhere
once　had　been　the　embroideries；　tapestries；　and　missals　of　beruffled
dames　were　now　books；　pamphlets；　oak…panels；　pipes；　fencing　gear；　and
along　one　wall　a　collection　of　Red　Indian　weapons　and　ornaments
brought　back　by　Miltoun　from　the　United　States。　　High　on　the　wall
above　these　reigned　the　bronze　death…mask　of　a　famous　Apache　Chief；
cast　from　a　plaster　taken　of　the　face　by　a　professor　of　Yale　College；
who　had　declared　it　to　be　a　perfect　specimen　of　the　vanishing　race。
That　visage；　which　had　a　certain　weird　resemblance　to　Dante's；
presided　over　the　room　with　cruel；　tragic　stoicism。　　No　one　could
look　on　it　without　feeling　that；　there；　the　human　will　had　been
pushed　to　its　farthest　limits　of　endurance。

Seeing　it　for　the　first　time；　Courtier　said：

〃Fine　thingthat！　　Only　wants　a　soul。〃

Miltoun　nodded：

〃Sit　down；〃　he　said。

Courtier　sat　down。

There　followed　one　of　those　silences　in　which　men　whose　spirits；
though　different；　have　a　certain　bigness　in　commoncan　say　so　much
to　one　another：

At　last　Miltoun　spoke：

〃I　have　been　living　in　the　clouds；　it　seems。　　You　are　her　oldest
friend。　　The　immediate　question　is　how　to　make　it　easiest　for　her　in
face　of　this　miserable　rumour！〃

Not　even　Courtier　himself　could　have　put　such　whip…lash　sting　into
the　word　'miserable。'

He　answered：

〃Oh！　　take　no　notice　of　that。　　Let　them　stew　in　their　own　juice。　　She
won't　care。〃

Miltoun　listened；　not　moving　a　muscle　of　his　face。

〃Your　friends　here；〃　went　on　Courtier　with　a　touch　of　contempt；　〃seem
in　a　flutter。　　Don't　let　them　do　anything；　don't　let　them　say　a　word。
Treat　the　thing　as　it　deserves　to　be　treated。　　It'll　die。〃

Miltoun；　however；　smiled。

〃I'm　not　sure；〃　he　said；　〃that　the　consequences　will　be　as　you　think；
but　I　shall　do　as　you　say。〃

〃As　for　your　candidature；　any　man　with　a　spark　of　generosity　in　his
soul　will　rally　to　you　because　of　it。〃

〃Possibly；〃　said　Miltoun。　　〃It　will　lose　me　the　election；　for　all
that。〃

Then；　dimly　conscious　that　their　last　words　had　revealed　the
difference　of　their　temperaments　and　creeds；　they　stared　at　one
another。

〃No；〃　said　Courtier；　〃I　never　will　believe　that　people　can　be　so
mean！〃

〃Until　they　are。〃

〃Anyway；　though　we　get　at　it　in　different　ways；　we　agree。〃

Miltoun　leaned　his　elbow　on　the　mantelpiece；　and　shading　his　face
with　his　hand；　said：

〃You　know　her　story。　　Is　there　any　way　out　of　that；　for　her？〃

On　Courtier's　face　was　the　look　which　so　often　came　when　he　was
speaking　for　one　of　his　lost　causesas　if　the　fumes　from　a　fire　in
his　heart　had　mounted　to　his　head。

〃Only　the　way；〃　he　answered　calmly；　〃that　I　should　take　if　I　were
you。〃

〃And　that？〃

〃The　law　into　your　own　hands。〃

Miltoun　unshaded　his　face。　　His　gaze　seemed　to　have　to　travel　from　an
immense　distance　before　it　reached　Courtier。　　He　answered：

〃Yes；　I　thought　you　would　say　that。〃




CHAPTER　XVII

When　everything；　that　night；　was　quiet；　Barbara；　her　hair　hanging
loose　outside　her　dressing　gown；　slipped　from　her　room　into　the　dim
corridor。　　With　bare　feet　thrust　into　fur…crowned　slippers　which　made
no　noise；　she　stole　along　looking　at　door　after　door。　　Through　a　long
Gothic　window；　uncurtained；　the　mild　moonlight　was　coming。　　She
stopped　just　where　that　moonlight　fell；　and　tapped。　　There　came　no
answer。　　She　opened　the　door　a　little　way；　and　said：

〃Are　you　asleep；　Eusty？〃

There　still　came　no　answer；　and　she　went　in。

The　curtains　were　drawn；　but　a　chink　of　moonlight　peering　through
fell　on　the　bed。　　This　was　empty。　　Barbara　stood　uncertain；
listening。　　In　the　heart　of　that　darkness　there　seemed　to　be；　not
sound；　but；　as　it　were；　the　muffled　soul　of　sound；　a　sort　of　strange
vibration；　like　that　of　a　flame　noiselessly　licking　the　air。　　She　put
her　hand　to　her　heart；　which　beat　as　though　it　would　leap　through　the
thin　silk　covering。　　From　what　corner　of　the　room　was　that　mute
tremor　coming？　　Stealing　to　the　window；　she　parted　the　curtains；　and
stared　back　into　the　shadows。　　There；　on　the　far　side；　lying　on　the
floor　with　his　arms　pressed　tightly　round　his　head　and　his　face　to
the　wall；　was　Miltoun。　　Barbara　let　fall　the　curtains；　and　stood
breathless；　with　such　a　queer　sensation　in　her　breast　as　she　had
never　felt；　a　sense　of　something　outraged…of　scarred　pride。　　It　was
gone　at　once；　in　a　rush　of　pity。　　She　stepped　forward　quickly　in　the
darkness；　was　visited　by　fear；　and　stopped。　　He　had　seemed　absolutely
himself　all　the　evening。　　A　little　more　talkative；　perhaps；　a　little
more　caustic　than　usual。　　And　now　to　find　him　like　this！　　There　was
no　great　share　of　reverence　in　Barbara；　but　what　little　she　possessed
had　always　been　kept　for　her　eldest　brother。　　He　had　impressed　her；
from　a　child；　with　his　aloofness；　and　she　had　been　proud　of　kissing
him　because　he　never　seemed　to　let　anybody　else　do　so。　　Those
caresses；　no　doubt；　had　the　savour　of　conquest；　his　face　had　been　the
undiscovered　land　for　her　lips。　　She　loved　him　as　one　loves　that
which　ministers　to　one's　pride；　had　for　him；　too；　a　touch　of　motherly
protection；　as　for　a　doll　that　does　not　get　on　too　well　with　the
other　dolls；　and　withal　a　little　unaccustomed　awe。

Dared　she　now　plunge　in　on　this　private　agony？　　Could　she　have　borne
that　anyone　should　see　herself　thus　prostrate？　　He　had　not　heard　her；
and　she　tried　to　regain　the　door。　　But　a　board　creaked；　she　heard　him
move；　and　flinging　away　her　fears；　said：　〃It's　me！　Babs！〃　and　dropped
on　her　knees　beside　him。　　If　it　had　not　been　so　pitch　dark　she　could
never　have　done　that。　　She　tried　at　once　to　take　his　head　into　her
arms；　but　could　not　see　it；　and　succeeded　indifferently。　　She　could
but　stroke　his　arm　continually；　wondering　whether　he　would　hate　her
ever　afterwards；　and　blessing　the　darkness；　which　made　it　all　seem　as
though　it　were　not　happening；　yet　so　much　more　poignant　than　if　it
had　happened。　　Suddenly　she　felt　him　slip　away　from　her；　and　getting
up；　stole　out。　　After　the　darkness　of　that　room；　the　corridor　seemed
full　of　grey　filmy　light；　as　though　dream…spiders　had　joined　the
walls　with　their　cobwebs；　in　which　innumerable　white　moths；　so　tiny
that　they　could　not　be　seen；　were　struggling。　　Small　eerie　noises
crept　about。　　A　sudden　frightened　longing　for　warmth；　and　light；　and
colour　came　to　Barbara。　　She　fled　back　to　her　room。　　But　she　could
not　sleep。　　That　terrible　mute　unseen　vibration　in　the　unlighted
room…like　the　noiseless　licking　of　a　flame　at　bland　air；　the　touch　of
Miltoun's　hand；　hot　as　fire　against　her　cheek　and　neck；　the　whole
tremulous　dark　episode；　possessed　her　through　and　through。　　Thus　had
the　wayward　force　of　Love　chosen　to　manifest　itself　to　her　in　all　its
wistful　violence。　　At　this　fiat　sight　of　the　red　flower　of　passion
her　cheeks　burned；　up　and　down　her；　between　the　cool　sheets；　little
hot　cruel　shivers　ran；　she　lay；　wide…eyed；　staring　at　the　ceiling。
She　thought；　of　the　woman　whom　he　so　loved；　and　wondered　if　she　too
were　lying　sleepless；　flung　down　on　a　bare　floor；　tr