But, if you feel like that, why began Linda quickly.
Ah! cried Jonathan. And that ah! was somehow almost exultant. There you have me. Why? Why indeed? Theres the maddening, mysterious question. Why dont I fly out again? Theres the window or the door or whatever it was I came in by. Its not hopelessly shutis it? Why dont I find it and be off? Answer me that, little sister. But he gave her no time to answer.
Im exactly like that insect again. For some reasonJonathan paused between the wordsits not allowed, its forbidden, its against the insect law, to stop banging and flopping and crawling up the pane even for an instant. Why dont I leave the office? Why dont I seriously consider, this moment, for instance, what it is that prevents me leaving? Its not as though Im tremendously tied. Ive two boys to provide for, but, after all, theyre boys. I could cut off to sea, or get a job up-country, or Suddenly he smiled at Linda and said in a changed voice, as if he were confiding a secret, Weak weak. No stamina. No anchor. No guiding principle, let us call it. But then the dark velvety voice rolled out:
Would ye hear the story
How it unfolds itself
and they were silent.
The sun had set. In the western sky there were great masses of crushed-up rose-coloured clouds. Broad beams of light shone through the clouds and beyond them as if they would cover the whole sky. Overhead the blue faded; it turned a pale gold, and the bush outlined against it gleamed dark and brilliant like metal. Sometimes when those beams of light show in the sky they are very awful. They remind you that up there sits Jehovah, the jealous God, the Almighty, Whose eye is upon you, ever watchful, never weary. You remember that at His coming the whole earth will shake into one ruined graveyard; the cold, bright angels will drive you this way and that, and there will be no time to explain what could be explained so simply But to-night it seemed to Linda there was something infinitely joyful and loving in those silver beams. And now no sound came from the sea. It breathed softly as if it would draw that tender, joyful beauty into its own bosom.
Its all wrong, its all wrong, came the shadowy voice of Jonathan. Its not the scene, its not the setting for three stools, three desks, three inkpots and a wire blind.
Linda knew that he would never change, but she said, Is it too late, even now?
Im oldIm old, intoned Jonathan. He bent towards her, he passed his hand over his head. Look! His black hair was speckled all over with silver, like the breast plumage of a black fowl.
Linda was surprised. She had no idea that he was grey. And yet, as he stood up beside her and sighed and stretched, she saw him, for the first time, not resolute, not gallant, not careless, but touched already with age. He looked very tall on the darkening grass, and the thought crossed her mind, He is like a weed.
Jonathan stooped again and kissed her fingers.
Heaven reward thy sweet patience, lady mine, he murmured. I must go seek those heirs to my fame and fortune He was gone.
Chapter 1.XI
Light shone in the windows of the bungalow. Two square patches of gold fell upon the pinks and the peaked marigolds. Florrie, the cat, came out on to the veranda, and sat on the top step, her white paws close together, her tail curled round. She looked content, as though she had been waiting for this moment all day.
Thank goodness, its getting late, said Florrie. Thank goodness, the long day is over. Her greengage eyes opened.
Presently there sounded the rumble of the coach, the crack of Kellys whip. It came near enough for one to hear the voices of the men from town, talking loudly together. It stopped at the Burnells gate.
Stanley was half-way up the path before he saw Linda. Is that you, darling?
Yes, Stanley.
He leapt across the flower-bed and seized her in his arms. She was enfolded in that familiar, eager, strong embrace.
Forgive me, darling, forgive me, stammered Stanley, and he put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to him.
Forgive you? smiled Linda. But whatever for?
Good God! You cant have forgotten, cried Stanley Burnell. Ive thought of nothing else all day. Ive had the hell of a day. I made up my mind to dash out and telegraph, and then I thought the wire mightnt reach you before I did. Ive been in tortures, Linda.
But, Stanley, said Linda, what must I forgive you for?
Linda!Stanley was very hurtdidnt you realizeyou must have realizedI went away without saying good-bye to you this morning? I cant imagine how I can have done such a thing. My confounded temper, of course. Butwelland he sighed and took her in his arms againIve suffered for it enough to-day.
Whats that youve got in your hand? asked Linda. New gloves? Let me see.
Oh, just a cheap pair of wash-leather ones, said Stanley humbly. I noticed Bell was wearing some in the coach this morning, so, as I was passing the shop, I dashed in and got myself a pair. What are you smiling at? You dont think it was wrong of me, do you?
On the con-trary, darling, said Linda, I think it was most sensible.
She pulled one of the large, pale gloves on her own fingers and looked at her hand, turning it this way and that. She was still smiling.
Stanley wanted to say, I was thinking of you the whole time I bought them. It was true, but for some reason he couldnt say it. Lets go in, said he.
Chapter 1.XII
Why does one feel so different at night? Why is it so exciting to be awake when everybody else is asleep? Lateit is very late! And yet every moment you feel more and more wakeful, as though you were slowly, almost with every breath, waking up into a new, wonderful, far more thrilling and exciting world than the daylight one. And what is this queer sensation that youre a conspirator? Lightly, stealthily you move about your room. You take something off the dressing-table and put it down again without a sound. And everything, even the bed-post, knows you, responds, shares your secret
Youre not very fond of your room by day. You never think about it. Youre in and out, the door opens and slams, the cupboard creaks. You sit down on the side of your bed, change your shoes and dash out again. A dive down to the glass, two pins in your hair, powder your nose and off again. But nowits suddenly dear to you. Its a darling little funny room. Its yours. Oh, what a joy it is to own things! Minemy own!
My very own for ever?
Yes. Their lips met.
No, of course, that had nothing to do with it. That was all nonsense and rubbish. But, in spite of herself, Beryl saw so plainly two people standing in the middle of her room. Her arms were round his neck; he held her. And now he whispered, My beauty, my little beauty! She jumped off her bed, ran over to the window and kneeled on the window-seat, with her elbows on the sill. But the beautiful night, the garden, every bush, every leaf, even the white palings, even the stars, were conspirators too. So bright was the moon that the flowers were bright as by day; the shadow of the nasturtiums, exquisite lily-like leaves and wide-open flowers, lay across the silvery veranda. The manuka-tree, bent by the southerly winds, was like a bird on one leg stretching out a wing.
But when Beryl looked at the bush, it seemed to her the bush was sad.
But when Beryl looked at the bush, it seemed to her the bush was sad.
We are dumb trees, reaching up in the night, imploring we know not what, said the sorrowful bush.
It is true when you are by yourself and you think about life, it is always sad. All that excitement and so on has a way of suddenly leaving you, and its as though, in the silence, somebody called your name, and you heard your name for the first time. Beryl!
Yes, Im here. Im Beryl. Who wants me?
Beryl!
Let me come.
It is lonely living by oneself. Of course, there are relations, friends, heaps of them; but thats not what she means. She wants some one who will find the Beryl they none of them know, who will expect her to be that Beryl always. She wants a lover.
Take me away from all these other people, my love. Let us go far away. Let us live our life, all new, all ours, from the very beginning. Let us make our fire. Let us sit down to eat together. Let us have long talks at night.
And the thought was almost, Save me, my love. Save me!
Oh, go on! Dont be a prude, my dear. You enjoy yourself while youre young. Thats my advice. And a high rush of silly laughter joined Mrs. Harry Kembers loud, indifferent neigh.
You see, its so frightfully difficult when youve nobody. Youre so at the mercy of things. You cant just be rude. And youve always this horror of seeming inexperienced and stuffy like the other ninnies at the Bay. Andand its fascinating to know youve power over people. Yes, that is fascinating
Oh why, oh why doesnt he come soon?
If I go on living here, thought Beryl, anything may happen to me.
But how do you know he is coming at all? mocked a small voice within her.
But Beryl dismissed it. She couldnt be left. Other people, perhaps, but not she. It wasnt possible to think that Beryl Fairfield never married, that lovely fascinating girl.
Do you remember Beryl Fairfield?
Remember her! As if I could forget her! It was one summer at the Bay that I saw her. She was standing on the beach in a blueno, pinkmuslin frock, holding on a big creamno, blackstraw hat. But its years ago now.
Shes as lovely as ever, more so if anything.
Beryl smiled, bit her lip, and gazed over the garden. As she gazed, she saw somebody, a man, leave the road, step along the paddock beside their palings as if he was coming straight towards her. Her heart beat. Who was it? Who could it be? It couldnt be a burglar, certainly not a burglar, for he was smoking and he strolled lightly. Beryls heart leapt; it seemed to turn right over, and then to stop. She recognized him.
Good evening, Miss Beryl, said the voice softly.
Good evening.
Wont you come for a little walk? it drawled.
Come for a walkat that time of night! I couldnt. Everybodys in bed. Everybodys asleep.
Oh, said the voice lightly, and a whiff of sweet smoke reached her. What does everybody matter? Do come! Its such a fine night. Theres not a soul about.
Beryl shook her head. But already something stirred in her, something reared its head.
The voice said, Frightened? It mocked, Poor little girl!
Not in the least, said she. As she spoke that weak thing within her seemed to uncoil, to grow suddenly tremendously strong; she longed to go!
And just as if this was quite understood by the other, the voice said, gently and softly, but finally, Come along!
Beryl stepped over her low window, crossed the veranda, ran down the grass to the gate. He was there before her.
Thats right, breathed the voice, and it teased, Youre not frightened, are you? Youre not frightened?
She was; now she was here she was terrified, and it seemed to her everything was different. The moonlight stared and glittered; the shadows were like bars of iron. Her hand was taken.
Not in the least, she said lightly. Why should I be?
Her hand was pulled gently, tugged. She held back.
No, Im not coming any farther, said Beryl.
Oh, rot! Harry Kember didnt believe her. Come along! Well just go as far as that fuchsia bush. Come along!
The fuchsia bush was tall. It fell over the fence in a shower. There was a little pit of darkness beneath.
No, really, I dont want to, said Beryl.
For a moment Harry Kember didnt answer. Then he came close to her, turned to her, smiled and said quickly, Dont be silly! Dont be silly!
His smile was something shed never seen before. Was he drunk? That bright, blind, terrifying smile froze her with horror. What was she doing? How had she got here? the stern garden asked her as the gate pushed open, and quick as a cat Harry Kember came through and snatched her to him.
Cold little devil! Cold little devil! said the hateful voice.
But Beryl was strong. She slipped, ducked, wrenched free.
You are vile, vile, said she.
Then why in Gods name did you come? stammered Harry Kember.
Nobody answered him.
Chapter 1.XIII
A cloud, small, serene, floated across the moon. In that moment of darkness the sea sounded deep, troubled. Then the cloud sailed away, and the sound of the sea was a vague murmur, as though it waked out of a dark dream. All was still.
2. THE GARDEN PARTY
And after all the weather was ideal. They could not have had a more perfect day for a garden-party if they had ordered it. Windless, warm, the sky without a cloud. Only the blue was veiled with a haze of light gold, as it is sometimes in early summer. The gardener had been up since dawn, mowing the lawns and sweeping them, until the grass and the dark flat rosettes where the daisy plants had been seemed to shine. As for the roses, you could not help feeling they understood that roses are the only flowers that impress people at garden-parties; the only flowers that everybody is certain of knowing. Hundreds, yes, literally hundreds, had come out in a single night; the green bushes bowed down as though they had been visited by archangels.
Breakfast was not yet over before the men came to put up the marquee.
Where do you want the marquee put, mother?
My dear child, its no use asking me. Im determined to leave everything to you children this year. Forget I am your mother. Treat me as an honoured guest.
But Meg could not possibly go and supervise the men. She had washed her hair before breakfast, and she sat drinking her coffee in a green turban, with a dark wet curl stamped on each cheek. Jose, the butterfly, always came down in a silk petticoat and a kimono jacket.
Youll have to go, Laura; youre the artistic one.
Away Laura flew, still holding her piece of bread-and-butter. Its so delicious to have an excuse for eating out of doors, and besides, she loved having to arrange things; she always felt she could do it so much better than anybody else.
Four men in their shirt-sleeves stood grouped together on the garden path. They carried staves covered with rolls of canvas, and they had big tool-bags slung on their backs. They looked impressive. Laura wished now that she had not got the bread-and-butter, but there was nowhere to put it, and she couldnt possibly throw it away. She blushed and tried to look severe and even a little bit short-sighted as she came up to them.
Good morning, she said, copying her mothers voice. But that sounded so fearfully affected that she was ashamed, and stammered like a little girl, Oherhave you comeis it about the marquee?