the dark flower-第33章

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It's　nothing　more　than　after　Carmen！　　She　doesn't　know　what　I　am
feeling！　　But　he　was　conscious　of　a　mad　desire　to　clutch　her　to
him。　　The　touch　of　her　had　demolished　all　his　vagueness；　made
things　only　too　plain；　set　him　on　fire。

He　said　uncertainly：

〃Come　to　the　fire；　my　child；　and　tell　me　all　about　it。〃

If　he　did　not　keep　to　the　notion　that　she　was　just　a　child；　his
head　would　go。　　Perdita'the　lost　one'！　　A　good　name　for　her；
indeed；　as　she　stood　there；　her　eyes　shining　in　the　firelightmore
mesmeric　than　ever　they　had　been！　　And；　to　get　away　from　the　lure
of　those　eyes；　he　bent　down　and　raked　the　grate；　saying：

〃Have　you　seen　Sylvia？〃　　But　he　knew　that　she　had　not；　even　before
she　gave　that　impatient　shrug。　　Then　he　pulled　himself　together；
and　said：

〃What　has　happened　to　you；　child？〃

〃I'm　not　a　child。〃

〃No；　we've　both　grown　older。　　I　was　forty…seven　the　other　day。〃

She　caught　his　handHeavens！　how　supple　she　was！and　murmured：

〃You're　not　old　a　bit；　you're　quite　young。〃　　At　his　wits'　end；　with
his　heart　thumping；　but　still　keeping　his　eyes　away　from　her；　he
said：

〃Where　is　Oliver？〃

She　dropped　his　hand　at　that。

〃Oliver？　　I　hate　him！〃

Afraid　to　trust　himself　near　her；　he　had　begun　walking　up　and　down。
And　she　stood；　following　him　with　her　gazethe　firelight　playing
on　her　red　frock。　　What　extraordinary　stillness！　　What　power　she
had　developed　in　these　few　months！　　Had　he　let　her　see　that　he　felt
that　power？　　And　had　all　this　come　of　one　little　moment　in　a　dark
corridor；　of　one　flower　pressed　into　his　hand？　　Why　had　he　not
spoken　to　her　roughly　thentold　her　she　was　a　romantic　little
fool？　　God　knew　what　thoughts　she　had　been　feeding　on！　　But　who
could　have　supposedwho　dreamed？　　And　again　he　fixed　his　mind
resolutely　on　that　thought：　She's　a　childonly　a　child！

〃Come！〃　he　said：　〃tell　me　all　about　your　time　in　Ireland？〃

〃Oh！　it　was　just　dullit's　all　been　dull　away　from　you。〃

It　came　out　without　hesitancy　or　shame；　and　he　could　only　murmur：

〃Ah！　you've　missed　your　drawing！〃

〃Yes。　　Can　I　come　to…morrow？〃

That　was　the　moment　to　have　said：　No！　　You　are　a　foolish　child；　and
I　an　elderly　idiot！　　But　he　had　neither　courage　nor　clearness　of
mind　enough；　northe　desire。　　And；　without　answering；　he　went
towards　the　door　to　turn　up　the　light。

〃Oh；　no！　please　don't！　　It's　so　nice　like　this！〃

The　shadowy　room；　the　bluish　dusk　painted　on　all　the　windows；　the
fitful　shining　of　the　fire；　the　pallor　and　darkness　of　the　dim
casts　and　bronzes；　and　that　one　glowing　figure　there　before　the
hearth！　　And　her　voice；　a　little　piteous；　went　on：

〃Aren't　you　glad　I'm　back？　　I　can't　see　you　properly　out　there。〃

He　went　back　into　the　glow；　and　she　gave　a　little　sigh　of
satisfaction。　　Then　her　calm　young　voice　said；　ever　so　distinctly：

〃Oliver　wants　me　to　marry　him；　and　I　won't；　of　course。〃

He　dared　not　say：　Why　not？　　He　dared　not　say　anything。　　It　was　too
dangerous。　　And　then　followed　those　amazing　words：　〃You　know　why；
don't　you？　　Of　course　you　do。〃

It　was　ridiculous；　almost　shameful　to　understand　their　meaning。
And　he　stood；　staring　in　front　of　him；　without　a　word；　humility；
dismay；　pride；　and　a　sort　of　mad　exultation；　all　mixed　and　seething
within　him　in　the　queerest　pudding　of　emotion。　　But　all　he　said
was：

〃Come；　my　child；　we're　neither　of　us　quite　ourselves　to…night。
Let's　go　to　the　drawing…room。〃


IX


Back　in　the　darkness　and　solitude　of　the　studio；　when　she　was　gone；
he　sat　down　before　the　fire；　his　senses　in　a　whirl。　　Why　was　he　not
just　an　ordinary　animal　of　a　man　that　could　enjoy　what　the　gods　had
sent？　　It　was　as　if　on　a　November　day　someone　had　pulled　aside　the
sober　curtains　of　the　sky　and　there　in　a　chink　had　been　April
standingthick　white　blossom；　a　purple　cloud；　a　rainbow；　grass
vivid　green；　light　flaring　from　one　knew　not　where；　and　such　a
tingling　passion　of　life　on　it　all　as　made　the　heart　stand　still！
This；　then；　was　the　marvellous；　enchanting；　maddening　end　of　all
that　year　of　restlessness　and　wanting！　　This　bit　of　Spring　suddenly
given　to　him　in　the　midst　of　Autumn。　　Her　lips；　her　eyes；　her　hair；
her　touching　confidence；　above　allquite　unbelievableher　love。
Not　really　love　perhaps；　just　childish　fancy。　　But　on　the　wings　of
fancy　this　child　would　fly　far；　too　farall　wistfulness　and　warmth
beneath　that　light　veneer　of　absurd　composure。

To　live　againto　plunge　back　into　youth　and　beautyto　feel　Spring
once　moreto　lose　the　sense　of　all　being　over；　save　just　the　sober
jogtrot　of　domestic　bliss；　to　know；　actually　to　know；　ecstasy
again；　in　the　love　of　a　girl；　to　rediscover　all　that　youth　yearns
for；　and　feels；　and　hopes；　and　dreads；　and　loves。　　It　was　a
prospect　to　turn　the　head　even　of　a　decent　man。　。　。　。

By　just　closing　his　eyes　he　could　see　her　standing　there　with　the
firelight　glow　on　her　red　frock；　could　feel　again　that　marvellous
thrill　when　she　pressed　herself　against　him　in　the　half…innocent；
seducing　moment　when　she　first　came　in；　could　feel　again　her　eyes
drawingdrawing　him！　　She　was　a　witch；　a　grey…eyed；　brown…haired
witcheven　unto　her　love　of　red。　　She　had　the　witch's　power　of
lighting　fever　in　the　veins。　　And　he　simply　wondered　at　himself；
that　he　had　not；　as　she　stood　there　in　the　firelight；　knelt；　and
put　his　arms　round　her　and　pressed　his　face　against　her　waist。　　Why
had　he　not？　　But　he　did　not　want　to　think；　the　moment　thought　began
he　knew　he　must　be　torn　this　way　and　that；　tossed　here　and　there
between　reason　and　desire；　pity　and　passion。　　Every　sense　struggled
to　keep　him　wrapped　in　the　warmth　and　intoxication　of　this
discovery　that　he；　in　the　full　of　Autumn；　had　awakened　love　in
Spring。　　It　was　amazing　that　she　could　have　this　feeling；　yet　there
was　no　mistake。　　Her　manner　to　Sylvia　just　now　had　been　almost
dangerously　changed；　there　had　been　a　queer　cold　impatience　in　her
look；　frightening　from　one　who　but　three　months　ago　had　been　so
affectionate。　　And；　going　away；　she　had　whispered；　with　that　old
trembling…up　at　him；　as　if　offering　to　be　kissed：　〃I　may　come；
mayn't　I？　　And　don't　be　angry　with　me；　please；　I　can't　help　it。〃　　A
monstrous　thing　at　his　age　to　let　a　young　girl　love　himcompromise
her　future！　　A　monstrous　thing　by　all　the　canons　of　virtue　and
gentility！　　And　yetwhat　future？with　that　naturethose　eyes
that　originwith　that　father；　and　that　home？　　But　he　would　not
simply　must　not　think！

Nevertheless；　he　showed　the　signs　of　thought；　and　badly；　for　after
dinner　Sylvia；　putting　her　hand　on　his　forehead；　said：

〃You're　working　too　hard；　Mark。　　You　don't　go　out　enough。〃

He　held　those　fingers　fast。　　Sylvia！　　No；　indeed　he　must　not　think！
But　he　took　advantage　of　her　words；　and　said　that　he　would　go　out
and　get　some　air。

He　walked　at　a　great　paceto　keep　thought　awaytill　he　reached
the　river　close　to　Westminster；　and；　moved　by　sudden　impulse；
seeking　perhaps　an　antidote；　turned　down　into　that　little　street
under　the　big　Wren　church；　where　he　had　never　been　since　the　summer
night　when　he　lost　what　was　then　more　to　him　than　life。　　There　SHE
had　lived；　there　was　the　housethose　windows　which　he　had　stolen
past　and　gazed　at　with　such　distress　and　longing。　　Who　lived　there
now？　　Once　more　he　seemed　to　see　that　face　out　of　the　past；　the
dark　hair；　and　dark　soft　eyes；　and　sweet　gravity；　and　it　did　not
reproach　him。　　For　this　new　feeling　was　not　a　love　like　that　had
been。　　Only　once　could　a　man　feel　the　love　that　passed　all　things；
the　love　before　which　the　world　was　but　a　spark　in　a　draught　of
wind；　the　love　that；　whatever　dishonour；　grief；　and　unrest　it　might
come　through；　alone　had　in　it　the　heart　of　peace　and　joy　and
honour。　　Fate　had　torn　that　love　from　him；　nipped　it　off　as　a　sharp
wind　nips　off　a　perfect　flower。　　This　new　feeling　was　but　a　fever；
a　passionate　fancy；　a　grasping　once　more　at　Youth　and　Warmth。　　Ah；
well！　but　it　was　real　enough！　　And；　in　one　of　those　moments　when　a
man　stands　outside　himself；　seems　to　be　lifted　away　and　see　his　own
life　twirling；　Lennan　had　a　vision　of　a　shadow　driven　here　and
there；　a　straw　going　round　and　round；　a　midge　in　the　grip　of　a　mad
wind。　　Where　was　the　home　of　this　mighty　secret　feeling　that　sprang
so　suddenly　out　of　the　dark；　and　caught　you　by　the　throat？　　Why　did
it　come　now　and　not　then；　for　this　one　and　not　that　other？　　What
did　man　know　of　it；　save　that　it　made　him　spin　and　hoverlike　a
moth　intoxicated　by　a　light；　or　a　bee　by　some　dark　sweet　flower；
save　that　it　made　of　him　a　distraught；　humble；　eager　puppet　of　its
fancy？　　Had　it　not　once　already　driven　him　even　to　the　edge　of
death；　and　must　it　now　come　on　him　again　with　its　sweet　madness；
its　drugging　scent？　　What　was　it？　　Why　was　it？　　Why　these
passionate　obsessions　that　could　not　decently　be　satisfied？　　Had
civilization　so　outstripped　man　that　his　nature　was　cramped　into
shoes　too　smalllike　the　feet　of　a　Chinese　woman？　　What　was　it？
Why　was　it？

And　faster　than　ever　he　walked　away。

Pall　Mall　brought　him　back　to　that　counterfeit　presentment　of　the
realreality。　　There；　in　St。　James's　Street；　was　Johnny　Dromore's
Club；　and；　again　moved　by　impulse；　he　pushed　open　its　swing　door。
No　need　to　ask；　for　there　was　Dromore　in　the　hall；　on　his　way　from
dinner　to　the　card…room。　　The　glossy　tan　of　hard　exercise　and　good
living　lay　on　his　cheeks　as　thick　as　clouted　cream。　　His　eyes　had
the　peculiar　shine　of　superabundant　vigour；　a　certain　sub…festive
air　in　face　and　voice　and　movements　suggested　that　he　was　going　to
make　a　night　of　it。　　And　the　sardonic　thought　flashed　through
Lennan：　Shall　I　tell　him？

〃Hallo；　old　chap！　　Awfully　glad　to　see　you！　　What　you　doin'　with
yourself？　　Workin'　hard？　　How's　your　wife？　　You　been　away？　　Been
doin'　anything　great？〃　　And　then　the　question　that　would　have　given
him　his　chance；　if　he　had　liked　to　be　so　cruel：

〃Seen　Nell？〃

〃Yes；　she　came　round　this　afternoon。〃

〃What　d'you　think　of　her？　　Comin'　on　nicely；　isn't　she？〃

That　old　query；　half　furtive　and　half　proud；　as　much　as　to　say：　'I
know　she's　not　in　the　stud…book；　but；　dn　it；　I　sired　her！'　　And
then　the　old　sudden　gloom；　which　lasted　but　a　second；　and　gave　way
again　to　chaff。

Lennan　stayed　very　few　minutes。　　Never　had　he　felt　farther　from　his
old　school…chum。

No。　　Whatever　happened；　Johnny　Dromore　must　be　left　out。　　It　was　a
position　he　had　earned　with　his　goggling　eyes；　and　his　astute
philosophy；　from　it　he　should　not　be　disturbed。

He　passed　along　the　railings　of　the　Green　Park。　　On　the　cold　air　of
this　last　October　night　a　thin　haze　hung；　and　the　acrid　fragrance
from　little　bonfires　of　fallen　leaves。　　What　was　there　about　that
scent　of　burned…leaf　smoke　that　had　always　moved　him　so？　　Symbol　of
parting！that　most　mournful　thing　in　all　the　world。　　For　what
would　even　death　be；　but　for　parting？　　Sweet；　long　sleep；　or　new
adventure。　　But；　if　a　man　loved　othersto　leave　them；　or　be　left！
Ah！　and　it　was　not　death　only　that　brought　partings！

He　came　to　the　opening　of　the　street　where　Dromore　lived。　　She
would　be　there；　sitting　by　the　fire　in　the　big　chair；　playing　with
her　kitten；　thinking；　dreaming；　andalone！　　He　passed　on　at　such　a
pace　that　people　stared；　till；　turning　the　last　corner　for　home；　he
ran　almost