That was their endowment of light and lustre simply, and the mystical curve of the lids. For so they could look only because the heart was disengaged from them. They were but heavenly orbs.
The ladys elbow was on an arm of her chair, her forefinger at her left temple. Her mind was away, one might guess; she could hardly be interested in talk of soldiering and of foreign army systems, jealous English authorities and officials, games, field-sports. She had personal matters to think of.
Adieu until to-morrow to the homes she inhabited! The street was a banishment and a relief when Weyburns first interview with Lord Ormont was over.
He rejoiced to tell his previous anticipations that he had not been disappointed; and he bade hero-worshippers expect no gilded figure. We gather heroes as we go, if we are among the growing: our constancy is shown in the not discarding of our old ones. He held to his earlier hero, though he had seen him, and though he could fancy he saw round him.
Another, too, had been a hero-lover. How did that lady of nights eyes come to fall into her subjection?
He put no question as to the name she bore; it hung in a black suspensevividly at its blackest illuminated her possessor. A man is a hero to some effect who wins a woman like this; and, if his glory bespells her, so that she flings all to the winds for him, burns the world; if, for solely the desperate rapture of belonging to him, she consents of her free will to be one of the nameless and discoloured, he shines in a way to make the marrow of men thrill with a burning envy. For that must be the idolatrous devotion desired by them all.
Weyburn struck down upon his mans naturethe bad in us, when beauty of woman is viewed; or say, the old original revolutionary, best kept untouched; for a touch or a meditative pause above him, fetches him up to roam the civilized world devouringly and lawlessly. It is the special peril of the young lover of life, that an inflammability to beauty in women is in a breath intense with him. He is, in truth, a thinly-sealed volcano of our imperishable ancient father; and has it in him to be the multitudinously-amorous of the mythologic Jove. Give him head, he can be civilizations devil. Is she fair and under a shade?then is she doubly fair. The shadow about her secretes mystery, just as the forest breeds romance: and mystery is a measureless realm. If we conceive it, we have a mysterious claim on her who is the heart of it.
He marched on that road to the music of sonorous brass for some drunken minutes.
The question came, What of the man who takes advantage of her self-sacrifice?
It soon righted him, and he did Lord Ormont justice, and argued the case against Lady Charlottes naked hints.
This dark-eyed heroines bearing was assured, beyond an air of dependency. Her deliberate short nod to him at his leave-taking, and the toneless few words she threw to my lord, signified sufficiently that she did not stand defying the world or dreading it.
She had by miracle the eyes which had once charmed himcould againwould always charm. She reminded him of Aminta Farrells very eyes under the couchant-dove browssomething of her mouth, the dimple running from a corner. She had, as Aminta had, the self-collected and self-cancelled look, a realm in a look, that was neither depth nor fervour, nor a bestowal, nor an allurement; nor was it an exposure, though there seemed no reserve. One would be near the meaning in declaring it to bewilder men with the riddle of openhandedness. We read itall may read itas we read inexplicable plain life; in which let us have a confiding mind, despite the blows at our heart, and some understanding will enter us.
He shut the door upon picture and speculations, returning to them by another door. The lady had not Amintas freshness: she might be taken for an elder sister of Aminta. But Weyburn wanted to have her position defined before he set her beside Aminta. He writhed under Lady Charlottes tolerating scorn of the young woman. It roused an uneasy sentiment of semi-hostility in the direction of my lord; and he had no personal complaint to make.
Lord Ormont was cordial on the day of the secretarys installation; as ifif one might dare to guess itsome one had helped him to a friendly judgement.
The lady of Amintas eyes was absent at the luncheon table. She came into the room a step, to speak to Lord Ormont, dressed for a drive to pay a visit.
The secretary was unnoticed.
Lord Ormont put inquiries to him at table, for the why of his having avoided the profession of arms; and apparently considered that the secretary had made a mistake, and that he would have committed a greater error in becoming a soldierin this country. A man with a grievance is illogical under his burden. He mentioned the name Lady Ormont distinctly during some remarks on travel. Lady Ormont preferred the Continent.
Two days later she came to the armchair, as before, met Weyburns eyes when he raised them; gave him no home in hersnot a temporary shelter from the pelting of interrogations. She hardly spoke. Why did she come?
But how was it that he was drawn to think of her? Absent or present, she was round him, like the hills of a valley. She was round his thoughtscaged them; however high, however far they flew, they were conscious of her.
She took her place at the midday meal. She had Amintas voice in some tones; a mellower than Amintasthe voice of one of Amintas family. She had the trick of Amintas upper lip in speaking. Her look on him was foreign; a civil smile as they conversed. She was very much at home with my lord, whom she rallied for his addiction to his Club at a particular hour of the afternoon. She conversed readily. She reminded him, incidentally that her aunt would arrive early next day. He informed her, some time after, of an engagement to tiffin with a brother officer, and she nodded.
They drove away together while the secretary was at his labour of sorting the heap of autobiographical scraps in a worn dispatch-box, pen and pencil jottings tossed to swell the mess when they had relieved an angry reminiscence. He noticed, heedlessly at the moment, feminine handwriting on some few clear sheets among them.
Next day he was alone in the library. He sat before the box, opened it and searched, merely to quiet his annoyance for having left those sheets of the fair amanuensis unexamined. They were not discoverable. They had gone.
He stood up at the stir of the door. It was she, and she acknowledged his bow; she took her steps to her chair.
He was informed that Lord Ormont had an engagement, and he remarked, I can do the work very well. She sat quite silent.
He read first lines of the scraps, laid them in various places, as in a preparation for conjurers tricks at cards; refraining from a glance, lest he should disconcert the eyes he felt to be on him fitfully.
At last she spoke, and he knew Aminta in his hearing and sight.
Is Emile Grenat still anglomane?
An instant before her voice was heard he had been persuading himself that the points of unlikeness between his young Aminta and this tall and stately lady of the proud reserve in her bearing flouted the resemblance.
CHAPTER V. IN WHICH THE SHADES OF BROWNY AND MATEY ADVANCE AND RETIRE
Emile is as anglomane as ever, and not a bit less a Frenchman, Weyburn said, in a tone of one who muffles a shock at the heart.
It would be the poorer compliment to us, she rejoined.
They looked at one another; she dropped her eyelids, he looked away.
She had the grand manner by nature. She was the woman of the girl once known.
A soldier, is he?
It would be the poorer compliment to us, she rejoined.
They looked at one another; she dropped her eyelids, he looked away.
She had the grand manner by nature. She was the woman of the girl once known.
A soldier, is he?
Emiles profession and mine are much alike, or will be.
A secretary?
Her deadness of accent was not designed to carry her opinion of the post of secretary.
It brought the reply: We hope to be schoolmasters.
She drew in a breath; there was a thin short voice, hardly voice, as when one of the unschooled minor feelings has been bruised. After a while she said
Does he think it a career?
Not brilliant.
He was formed for a soldier.
He had to go as the road led.
A young man renouncing ambition!
Considering what we can do best.
It signifies the taste for what he does.
Certainly that.
Weyburn had senses to read the word schoolmaster in repetition behind her shut mouth. He was sharply sensible of a fall.
The task with his papers occupied him. If he had a wish, it was to sink so low in her esteem as to be spurned. A kick would have been a refreshment. Yet he was unashamed of the cause invoking it. We are instruments to the touch of certain women, and made to play strange tunes.
Mr. Cuper flourishes?
The school exists. I have not been down there. I met Mr. Shalders yesterday. He has left the school.
You come up from Olmer?
I was at Olmer last week, Lady Ormont.
An involuntary beam from her eyes thanked him for her title at that juncture of the dialogue. She grew more spirited.
Mr. Shalders has joined the Dragoons, has he?
The worthy man has a happy imagination. He goes through a campaign daily.
It seems to one to dignify his calling.
I like his enthusiasm.
The lady withdrew into her thoughts; Weyburn fell upon his work.
Mention of the military cloak of enthusiasm covering Shalders, brought the scarce credible old time to smite at his breast, in the presence of these eyes. A ringing of her title of Lady Ormont rendered the present time the incredible.
I can hardly understand a young Frenchmans not entering the army, she said.
The Napoleonic legend is weaker now, said he.
The son of an officer!
Grandson.
It was his choice to be,he gave it up without reluctance?
Emile obeyed the command of his parents, Weyburn answered; and he was obedient to the veiled direction of her remark, in speaking of himself: I had a reason, too.
One wonders!
It would have impoverished my mothers income to put aside a small allowance for me for years. She would not have hesitated. I then set my mind on the profession of schoolmaster.
Emile Grenat was a brave boy. Has he no regrets?
Neither of us has a regret.
He began ambitiously.
Its the way at the beginning.
It is not usually abjured.
Im afraid we neither of us dignify our calling by discontent with it!
A dusky flash, worth seeing, came on her cheeks. I respect enthusiasms, she said; and it was as good to him to hear as the begging pardon, though clearly she could not understand enthusiasm for the schoolmasters career.
Light of evidence was before him, that she had a friendly curiosity to know what things had led to their new meeting under these conditions. He sketched them cursorily; there was little to telllittle, that is; appealing to a romantic mind for interest. Aware of it, by sympathy, he degraded the narrative to a flatness about as cheering as a suburban London Sundays promenade. Sympathy caused the perverseness. He felt her disillusionment; felt with it and spread a feast of it. She had to hear of studies at Caen and at a Paris Lycee; French fairly mastered; German, the same; Italian, the same; after studies at Heidelberg, Asti, and Florence; between four and five months at Athens (he was needlessly precise), in tutorship with a young nobleman: no events, nor a spot of colour. Thus did he wilfully, with pain to himself, put an extinguisher on the youth painted brilliant and eminent in a maidens imagination.
So there can no longer be thought of the army, she remarked; and the remark had a sort of sigh, though her breathing was equable.
Unless a big war knocks over all rules and the country comes praying us to serve, he said.
You would not refuse then?
Not in case of need. One may imagine a crisis when they would give commissions to men of my age or older for the cavalryheavy losses of officers.
She spoke, as if urged by a sting to revert to the distasteful: That professionmust you not take enter into orders if you aim at any distinction?
And a member of the Anglican Church would not be allowed to exchange his frock for a cavalry sabre, said he. That is true. I do not propose to settle as a schoolmaster in England.
Where?
On the Continent.
Would not America be better?
It would not so well suit the purpose in view for us.
There are others besides?
Besides Emile, there is a German and an Italian and a Swiss.
It is a Company?
A Company of schoolmasters! Companies of all kinds are forming. Colleges are Companies. And they have their collegians. Our aim is at pupils; we have no ambition for any title higher than School and Schoolmaster; it is not a Company.
So, like Nature parading her skeleton to youthful adorers of her face, he insisted on reducing to hideous material wreck the fair illusion, which had once arrayed him in alluring promise.
She explained; I said, America. You would be among Protestants in America.
Catholics and Protestants are both welcome to us, according to our scheme. And Germans, French, English, Americans, Italians, if they will come; Spaniards and Portuguese, and Scandinavians, Russians as well. And Jews; Mahommedans too, if only they will come! The more mixed, the more it hits our object.
You have not stated where on the Continent it is to be.
The spot fixed on is in Switzerland.
You will have scenery.
I hold to that, as an influence.
A cool vision of the Bernese Alps encircled the young schoolmaster; and she said, It would influence girls; I dare say.
A harder matter with boys, of courseat first. We think we may make it serve.
And where is the spot? Is that fixed on?
Fifteen miles from Berne, on elevated land, neighbouring a water, not quite to be called a lake, unless in an auctioneers advertisement.
I am glad of the lake. I could not look on a country home where there was no swimming. You will be head of the school.
There must be a head.
Is the school likely to be established soon?
He fell into her dead tone: Money is required for establishments. I have a Reversion coming some day; I dont dabble in post obits.
He waited for farther questions. They were at an end.
You have your work to do, Mr. Weyburn.
Saying that, she bowed an implied apology for having kept him from it, and rose. She bowed again as she passed through the doorway, in acknowledgment of his politeness.
Here; then, was the end of the story of Browny and Matey. Such was his thought under the truncheon-stroke of their colloquy. Lines of Brownys letters were fiery waving ribands about him, while the coldly gracious bow of the Lady wrote Finis.