Chapter THREE
Though "The Hurst" was, as befitted its Chatelaine, the mostElizabethanly complete abode in Riseholme, the rest of the village inits due degree, fell very little short of perfection. It had but itsone street some half mile in length but that street was a gem ofmediaeval domestic architecture. For the most part the houses thatlined it were blocks of contiguous cottages, which had been convertedeither singly or by twos and threes into dwellings containing thecomforts demanded by the twentieth century, but externally theypreserved the antiquity which, though it might be restored orsupplemented by bathrooms or other conveniences, presented a trulyElizabethan appearance. There were, of course, accretions such as oldinn signs above front-doors and old bell-pulls at their sides, but thedoors were uniformly of inconveniently low stature, roofs were of stoneslabs or old brick, in which a suspiciously abundant crop ofantirrhinums and stone crops had anchored themselves, and there washardly a garden that did not contain a path of old paving-stones, amulberry-tree and some yews cut into shape.
Nothing in the place was more blatantly mediaeval than the villagegreen, across which Georgie took his tripping steps after leaving thepresence of his queen. Round it stood a row of great elms, and in itscentre was the ducking-pond, according to Riseholme tradition, thoughperhaps in less classical villages it might have passed merely for aduck-pond. But in Riseholme it would have been rank heresy to dream,even in the most pessimistic moments, of its being anything but aducking-pond. Close by it stood a pair of stocks, about which there wasno doubt whatever, for Mr Lucas had purchased them from a neighbouringiconoclastic village, where they were going to be broken up, and, afterhaving them repaired, had presented them to the village-green, andchosen their site close to the ducking pond. Round the green weregrouped the shops of the village, slightly apart from the residentialstreet, and at the far end of it was that undoubtedly Elizabethanhostelry, the Ambermere Arms, full to overflowing of ancient tables andbible-boxes, and fire-dogs and fire-backs, and bottles and chests andsettles. These were purchased in large quantities by the Americantourists who swarmed there during the summer months, at a high profitto the nimble proprietor, who thereupon purchased fresh antiquities totake their places. The Ambermere Arms in fact was the antique furnitureshop of the place, and did a thriving trade, for it was much moreinteresting to buy objects out of a real old Elizabethan inn, than outof a shop.
Georgie had put his smart military cape over his arm for his walk, andat intervals applied his slim forefinger to one nostril, while hebreathed in through the other, continuing the practice which he hadobserved going on in Mrs Quantock's garden. Though it made him a littledizzy, it certainly produced a sort of lightness, but soon heremembered the letter from Mrs Quantock which Lucia had read out,warning her that these exercises ought to be taken under instruction,and so desisted. He was going to deliver Lucia's answer at MrsQuantock's house, and with a view to possibly meeting the Guru, andbeing introduced to him, he said over to himself "Guru, Guru, Guru"instead of doing deep breathing, in order to accustom himself to theunusual syllables.
It would, of course, have been very strange and un-Riseholme-like tohave gone to a friend's door, even though the errand was so impersonala one as bearing somebody else's note, without enquiring whether thefriend was in, and being instantly admitted if she was, and as a matterof fact, Georgie caught a glimpse, when the knocker was answered (MrsQuantock did not have a bell at all), through the open door of thehall, of Mrs Quantock standing in the middle of the lawn on one leg.Naturally, therefore, he ran out into the garden without any furtherformality. She looked like a little round fat stork, whose legs had notgrown, but who preserved the habits of her kind.
"Dear lady, I've brought a note for you," he said, "it's from Lucia."
The other leg went down, and she turned on him the wide firm smile thatshe had learned in the vanished days of Christian Science.
"Om," said Mrs Quantock, expelling the remainder of her breath. "Thankyou, my dear Georgie. It's extraordinary what Yoga has done for mealready. Cold quite gone. If ever you feel out of sorts, or depressedor cross you can cure yourself at once. I've got a visitor staying withme."
"Have you indeed?" asked Georgie, without alluding to the thrillingexcitements which had trodden so close on each other's heels sinceyesterday morning when he had seen the Guru in Rush's shop.
"Yes; and as you've just come from dear Lucia's perhaps she may havesaid something to you about him, for I wrote to her about him. He's aGuru of extraordinary sanctity from Benares, and he's teaching me theWay. You shall see him too, unless he's meditating. I will call to him;if he's meditating he won't hear me, so we shan't be interrupting him.He wouldn't hear a railway accident if he was meditating."
She turned round towards the house.
"Guru, dear!" she called.
There was a moment's pause, and the Indian's face appeared at a window.
"Beloved lady!" he said.
"Guru dear, I want to introduce a friend of mine to you," she said."This is Mr Pillson, and when you know him a little better you willcall him Georgie."
"Beloved lady, I know him very well indeed. I see into his clear whitesoul. Peace be unto you, my friend."
"Isn't he marvellous? Fancy!" said Mrs Quantock, in an aside.
Georgie raised his hat very politely.
"How do you do?" he said. (After his quiet practice he would have said"How do you do Guru?" but it rhymed in a ridiculous manner and his redlips could not frame the word.)
"I am always well," said the Guru, "I am always young and well becauseI follow the Way."
"Sixty at least he tells me," said Mrs Quantock in a hissing aside,probably audible across the channel, "and he thinks more, but the yearsmake no difference to him. He is like a boy. Call him 'Guru.'"
"Guru,--" began Georgie.
"Yes, my friend."
"I am very glad you are well," said Georgie wildly. He was greatlyimpressed, but much embarrassed. Also it was so hard to talk at asecond-story window with any sense of ease, especially when you had toaddress a total stranger of extraordinary sanctity from Benares.
Luckily Mrs Quantock came to the assistance of his embarrassment.
"Guru dear, are you coming down to see us?" she asked.
"Beloved lady, no!" said the level voice. "It is laid on me to waithere. It is the time of calm and prayer when it is good to be alone. Iwill come down when the guides bid me. But teach our dear friend what Ihave taught you. Surely before long I will grasp his earthly hand, butnot now. Peace! Peace! and Light!"
"Have you got some Guides as well?" asked Georgie when the Gurudisappeared from the window. "And are they Indians too?"
"Oh, those are his spiritual guides," said Mrs Quantock, "He sees themand talks to them, but they are not in the body."
She gave a happy sigh.
"I never have felt anything like it," she said. "He has brought such anatmosphere into the house that even Robert feels it, and doesn't mindbeing turned out of his dressing-room. There, he has shut the window.Isn't it all marvellous?"
Georgie had not seen anything particularly marvellous yet, except thephenomenon of Mrs Quantock standing on one leg in the middle of thelawn, but presumably her emotion communicated itself to him by thesubtle infection of the spirit.
"And what does he do?" he asked.
"My dear, it is not what he does, but what he is," said she. "Why, evenmy little bald account of him to Lucia has made her ask him to hergarden-party. Of course I can't tell whether he will go or not. Heseems so very much--how shall I say it?--so very much sent to Me. But Ishall of course ask him whether he will consent. Trances and meditationall day! And in the intervals such serenity and sweetness. You know,for instance, how tiresome Robert is about his food. Well, last nightthe mutton, I am bound to say, was a little underdone, and Robert wasbeginning to throw it about his plate in the way he has. Well, my Gurugot up and just said, 'Show me the way to kitchen'--he leaves outlittle words sometimes, because they don't matter--and
I took him down,and he said 'Peace!' He told me to leave him there, and in ten minuteshe was up again with a little plate of curry and rice and what had beenunderdone mutton, and you never ate anything so good. Robert had mostof it and I had the rest, and my Guru was so pleased at seeing Robertpleased. He said Robert had a pure white soul, just like you, only Iwasn't to tell him, because for him the Way ordained that he must findit out for himself. And today before lunch again, the Guru went down inthe kitchen, and my cook told me he only took a pinch of pepper and atomato and a little bit of mutton fat and a sardine and a bit ofcheese, and he brought up a dish that you never saw equalled.Delicious! I shouldn't a bit wonder if Robert began breathing-exercisessoon. There is one that makes you lean and young and exercises theliver."
This sounded very entrancing.
"Can't you teach me that?" asked Georgie eagerly. He had been ratherdistressed about his increasing plumpness for a year past, and abouthis increasing age for longer than that. As for his liver he always hadto be careful.
She shook her head.
"You cannot practise it except under tuition from an expert," she said.
Georgie rapidly considered what Hermy's and Ursy's comments would beif, when they arrived tomorrow, he was found doing exercises under thetuition of a Guru. Hermy, when she was not otter-hunting, could be verysarcastic, and he had a clear month of Hermy in front of him, withoutany otter-hunting, which, so she had informed him, was not possible inAugust. This was mysterious to Georgie, because it did not seem likelythat all otters died in August, and a fresh brood came in likecaterpillars. If Hermy was here in October, she would otter-hunt allmorning and snore all afternoon, and be in the best of tempers, but theAugust visit required more careful steering. Yet the prospect of beinglean and young and internally untroubled was wonderfully tempting.
"But couldn't he be my Guru as well?" he asked.
Quite suddenly and by some demoniac possession, a desire that had beenonly intermittently present in Mrs Quantock's consciousness took fullpossession of her, a red revolutionary insurgence hoisted its banner.Why with this stupendous novelty in the shape of a Guru shouldn't shelead and direct Riseholme instead of Lucia? She had long wondered whydarling Lucia should be Queen of Riseholme, and had, by momentaryillumination, seen herself thus equipped as far more capable ofexercising supremacy. After all, everybody in Riseholme knew Lucia'sold tune by now, and was in his secret consciousness quite aware thatshe did not play the second and third movements of the MoonlightSonata, simply because they "went faster," however much she might cloakthe omission by saying that they resembled eleven o'clock in themorning and 3 p.m. And Mrs Quantock had often suspected that she didnot read one quarter of the books she talked about, and that she got upsubjects in the Encyclopaedia, in order to make a brave show thatcovered essential ignorance. Certainly she spent a good deal of moneyover entertaining, but Robert had lately made twenty times daily whatLucia spent annually, over Roumanian oils. As for her acting, had shenot completely forgotten her words as Lady Macbeth in the middle of thesleep-walking scene?
But here was Lucia, as proved by her note, and her A. D. C. Georgie,wildly interested in the Guru. Mrs Quantock conjectured that Lucia'splan was to launch the Guru at her August parties, as her owndiscovery. He would be a novelty, and it would be Lucia who gaveOm-parties and breathing-parties and standing-on-one-leg parties, whileshe herself, Daisy Quantock, would be bidden to these as a humbleguest, and Lucia would get all the credit, and, as likely as not,invite the discoverer, the inventress, just now and then. MrsQuantock's Guru would become Lucia's Guru and all Riseholme would flockhungrily for light and leading to The Hurst. She had written to Luciain all sincerity, hoping that she would extend the hospitality of hergarden-parties to the Guru, but now the very warmth of Lucia's replycaused her to suspect this ulterior motive. She had been tooprecipitate, too rash, too ill-advised, too sudden, as Lucia would say.She ought to have known that Lucia, with her August parties coming on,would have jumped at a Guru, and withheld him for her own parties,taking the wind out of Lucia's August sails. Lucia had already subornedGeorgie to leave this note, and begin to filch the Guru away. MrsQuantock saw it all now, and clearly this was not to be borne. Beforeshe answered, she steeled herself with the triumph she had once scoredin the matter of the Welsh attorney.
"Dear Georgie," she said, "no one would be more delighted than I if myGuru consented to take you as a pupil. But you can't tell what he willdo, as he said to me today, apropos of myself, 'I cannot come unlessI'm sent.' Was not that wonderful? He knew at once he had been sent tome."
By this time Georgie was quite determined to have the Guru. The measureof his determination may be gauged from the fact that he forgot allabout Lucia's garden-party.
"But he called me his friend," he said. "He told me I had a clean whitesoul."
"Yes; but that is his attitude towards everybody," said Mrs Quantock."His religion makes it impossible for him to think ill of anybody."
"But he didn't say that to Rush," cried Georgie, "when he asked forsome brandy, to be put down to you."
Mrs Quantock's expression changed for a moment, but that moment was tooshort for Georgie to notice it. Her face instantly cleared again.
"Naturally he cannot go about saying that sort of thing," she observed."Common people--he is of the highest caste--would not understand him."
Georgie made the direct appeal.
"Please ask him to teach me," he said.
For a moment Mrs Quantock did not answer, but cocked her head sidewaysin the direction of the pear-tree where a thrush was singing. It fluteda couple of repeated phrases and then was silent again.
Mrs Quantock gave a great smile to the pear-tree.
"Thank you, little brother," she said.
She turned to Georgie again.
"That comes out of St. Francis," she said, "but Yoga embraces all thatis true in every religion. Well, I will ask my Guru whether he willtake you as a pupil, but I can't answer for what he will say."
"What does he--what does he charge for his lesson?" asked Georgie.
The Christian Science smile illuminated her face again.
"The word 'money' never passes his lips," she said. "I don't think hereally knows what it means. He proposed to sit on the green with abeggar's bowl but of course I would not permit that, and for thepresent I just give him all he wants. No doubt when he goes away, whichI hope will not be for many weeks yet, though no one can tell when hewill have another call, I shall slip something suitably generous intohis hand, but I don't think about that. Must you be going? Good night,dear Georgie. Peace! Om!"
His last backward glance as he went out of the front door revealed herstanding on one leg again, just as he had seen her first. He remembereda print of a fakir at Benares, standing in that attitude; and if thestream that flowed into the Avon could be combined with the Ganges, andthe garden into the burning ghaut, and the swooping swallows into thekites, and the neat parlour-maid who showed him out, into a Brahmin,and the Chinese gong that was so prominent an object in the hall into apiece of Benares brassware, he could almost have fancied himself asstanding on the brink of the sacred river. The marigolds in the gardenrequired no transmutation....
Georgie had quite "to pull himself together," as he stepped round MrsQuantock's mulberry tree, and ten paces later round his own, before hecould recapture his normal evening mood, on those occasions when he wasgoing to dine alone. Usually these evenings were very pleasant and muchoccupied, for they did not occur very often in this whirl of Riseholmelife, and it was not more than once a week that he spent a solitaryevening, and then, if he got tired of his own company, there were halfa dozen houses, easy of access where he could betake himself in hismilitary cloak, and spend a post-prandial hour. But oftener than notwhen these occasions occurred, he would be quite busy at home, dustinga little china, and rearranging ornaments on his shelves, and, afterputting his rings and handkerchief in the candle-bracket of the piano,spending a serious hour (with the soft pedal down, for fe
ar ofirritating Robert) in reading his share of such duets as he would belikely to be called upon to play with Lucia during the next day or two.Though he read music much better than she did, he used to "go over" thepart alone first, and let it be understood that he had not seen itbefore. But then he was sure that she had done precisely the same, sothey started fair. Such things whiled away very pleasantly the hourstill eleven, when he went to bed, and it was seldom that he had to setout Patience-cards to tide him over the slow minutes.
But every now and then--and tonight was one of those occasions--thereoccurred evenings when he never went out to dinner even if he wasasked, because he "was busy indoors." They occurred about once a month(these evenings that he was "busy indoors")--and even an invitationfrom Lucia would not succeed in disturbing them. Ages ago Riseholme haddecided what made Georgie "busy indoors" once a month, and so none ofhis friends chatted about the nature of his engagements to anyone else,simply because everybody else knew. His business indoors, in fact, wasa perfect secret, from having been public property for so long.
June had been a very busy time, not "indoors," but with otherengagements, and as Georgie went up to his bedroom, having been told byFoljambe that the hair-dresser was waiting for him, and had beenwaiting "this last ten minutes," he glanced at his hair in theCromwellian mirror that hung on the stairs, and was quite aware that itwas time he submitted himself to Mr Holroyd's ministrations. There wascertainly an undergrowth of grey hair visible beneath his chestnutcrop, that should have been attended to at least a fortnight ago. Alsothere was a growing thinness in the locks that crossed his head; MrHolroyd had attended to that before, and had suggested a certainremedy, not in the least inconvenient, unless Georgie proposed to beathletic without a cap, in a high wind, and even then not necessarilyso. But as he had no intention of being athletic anywhere, with orwithout a cap, he determined as he went up the stairs that he wouldfollow Mr Holroyd's advice. Mr Holroyd's procedure, without this addedformula, entailed sitting "till it dried," and after that he would havedinner, and then Mr Holroyd would begin again. He was a very cleverperson with regard to the face and the hands and the feet. Georgie hadbeen conscious of walking a little lamely lately; he had been even moreconscious of the need of hot towels on his face and the "tap-tap" of MrHolroyd's fingers, and the stretchings of Mr Holroyd's thumb acrossrather slack surfaces of cheek and chin. In the interval between thehair and the face, Mr Holroyd should have a good supper downstairs withFoljambe and the cook. And tomorrow morning, when he met Hermy andUrsy, Georgie would be just as spick and span and young as ever, if notmore so.
Georgie (happy innocent!) was completely unaware that the whole ofRiseholme knew that the smooth chestnut locks which covered the top ofhis head, were trained like the tendrils of a grapevine from the roots,and flowed like a river over a bare head, and consequently when MrHolroyd explained the proposed innovation, a little central wig, theedges of which would mingle in the most natural manner with his ownhair, it seemed to Georgie that nobody would know the difference. Inaddition he would be spared those risky moments when he had to take offhis hat to a friend in a high wind, for there was always the danger ofhis hair blowing away from the top of his head, and hanging down, likethe tresses of a Rhine-maiden over one shoulder. So Mr Holroyd wascommissioned to put that little affair in hand at once, and when thegreyness had been attended to, and Georgie had had his dinner, therecame hot towels and tappings on his face, and other ministrations. Allwas done about half past ten, and when he came downstairs again for ashort practice at the bass part of Beethoven's fifth symphony,ingeniously arranged for two performers on the piano, he looked withsincere satisfaction at his rosy face in the Cromwellian mirror, andhis shoes felt quite comfortable again, and his nails shone like pinkstars, as his hands dashed wildly about the piano in the quickerpassages. But all the time the thought of the Guru next door, underwhose tuition he might be able to regain his youth without recourse tothose expensive subterfuges (for the price of the undetectable_toupet_ astonished him) rang in his head with a melody morehaunting than Beethoven's. What he would have liked best of all wouldhave been to have the Guru all to himself, so that he should remainperpetually young, while all the rest of Riseholme, including Hermy andUrsy, grew old. Then, indeed, he would be king of the place, instead ofserving the interests of its queen.
He rose with a little sigh, and after adjusting the strip of flannelover the keys, shut his piano and busied himself for a little with asoft duster over his cabinet of bibelots which not even Foljambe wasallowed to touch. It was generally understood that he had inheritedthem, though the inheritance had chiefly passed to him through themedium of curiosity shops, and there were several pieces ofconsiderable value among them. There were a gold Louis XVI snuff box, aminiature by Karl Huth, a silver toy porringer of the time of QueenAnne, a piece of Bow china, an enamelled cigarette case by Faberge. Buttonight his handling of them was not so dainty and delicate as usual,and he actually dropped the porringer on the floor as he was dustingit, for his mind still occupied itself with the Guru and the practicesthat led to permanent youth. How quick Lucia had been to snap him upfor her garden-party. Yet perhaps she would not get him, for he mightsay he was not sent. But surely he would be sent to Georgie, whom heknew, the moment he set eyes on him to have a clean white soul....
The clock struck eleven, and, as usual on warm nights Georgie openedthe glass door into his garden and drew in a breath of the night air.There was a slip of moon in the sky which he most punctiliouslysaluted, wondering (though he did not seriously believe in itssuperstition) how Lucia could be so foolhardy as to cut the new moon.She had seen it yesterday, she told him, in London, and had taken nonotice whatever of it.... The heavens were quickly peppered with prettystars, which Georgie after his busy interesting day enjoyed looking at,though if he had had the arrangement of them, he would certainly haveput them into more definite patterns. Among them was a very red planet,and Georgie with recollections of his classical education, easilyremembered that Mars, the God of War, was symbolized in the heavens bya red star. Could that mean anything to peaceful Riseholme? Wasinternal warfare, were revolutionary movements possible in so serene arealm?