CHAPTER XXIX
HER OTHER SELF
It was on an afternoon in mid-January that Maud found herself for thefirst time in the precincts of Burchester Castle. She had heard nothingof Lord Saltash since his departure for town, though gifts of flowersarrived at regular intervals from his hot-houses; and it seemed that hisabsence was to be indefinitely prolonged. She almost hoped that itwould be so, for though he was practically her only friend his presencewas not an unalloyed pleasure. She felt more at ease when he was away.
On this particular afternoon she had left Bunny wrapped up in his longchair and lying in the summer-house that overlooked the field where Jakewas occupied in breaking in a wild young colt. The day was fine andunusually warm. Bunny was in a contented mood and, since Jake was closeat hand, she did not see why she should not leave him for a space. Hehad been needing her less and less of late, and though his behaviourtowards herself had undoubtedly undergone a considerable improvement, itwas becoming very evident to her that he vastly preferred Jake'smasculine companionship to her own. He was in fact so devoted to Jakethat he would endure correction from him without a murmur, a state ofaffairs that Maud vaguely resented, without knowing why. They were suchclose allies that she often felt herself to be superfluous. Neither byday nor by night was her presence any longer essential.
She knew that she ought not to regret this, for it meant that Bunny'shealth was very materially improving; but yet at the heart of her thereoften came a pang. She missed his dependence upon her with a poignancythat was very hard to bear.
And so for the first time that afternoon she decided to avail herself ofLord Saltash's permission to use the piano at the Castle. She had anintense love of music and a natural gift for it which she had never beenable to develop very freely.
Charlie was musical too. Some of her happiest hours had been spent atthe piano with him in the old days. He was an accomplished musicianhimself, and he had given her many a lesson and valuable hint. Shesometimes thought that it was over the piano that her heart had firstgone out to his.
She did not want to recall those happy times they had had together.They lay far behind her with her buried youth. But the longing to makemusic was strong upon her. It had risen out of her loneliness like afiery thirst in the desert, and she yearned to gratify it.
And after all why should she not? Charlie was away. There was no one toknow or care how she spent her time. It was obviously and unquestionablyher own.
Jake had wholly ceased to take any interest in her doings. He treatedher as the most casual acquaintance. When he greeted her, he never somuch as touched her hand. He was everything to Bunny, he was nothing toher; and every day it seemed to her that he drew a little further awayfrom her. She had tried to make overtures more than once, but he neverseemed to understand. He would look at her in his straight,impenetrable way, and pass deliberately on to some other matter, whetherwith intention or not she could never wholly decide. He had never triedto be kind to her since the day that she had refused to hear hisproffered explanation.
A great bitterness was growing up within her. She felt as if he haddeprived her of all she cared for, and given her nothing in return. Itwas in part this bitterness of spirit that drove her to BurchesterCastle that day, and, added thereto, an intense and feverish desire toescape if only for an hour from the atmosphere of her daily existence.She felt as if it were crushing out her individuality, and she longeddesperately to be herself, her best and happiest self, if only for anhour.
So, with no word to any but Bunny of her intention, she passed up thelong fir avenue to the Castle with the winter sun sinking red behindher.
The great stone building frowned upon her as she drew near. Sheapproached it with a certain awe. The dark windows seemed to gaze ather. The massive entrance yawned to receive her.
She stepped into the echoing Gothic porch, and found herself confrontedby a massive oak door. The electric bell at the side of this, however,was reassuring, and she rang it without hesitation.
While she waited for the door to open she amused herself by examiningthe gargoyles that surmounted the pillars of the porch,--jeering, demonfaces that made her shiver. There was about the place an ecclesiasticaldignity at which those faces seemed to mock. The thought of Saltashwent through her. Saltash in a derisive mood was strikingly like one ofthese.
The door opened with noiseless state, and an ancient man-servant stoodbefore her. He looked at her with grave enquiry, and with a touch ofnervousness she explained her presence.
"I am Mrs. Bolton. Lord Saltash is away, I know; but he has given mepermission to use his piano. I thought I should like to do so thisafternoon."
The old man stood back and bowed before her. "Come in, madam!" he said.
She entered with a curious sensation of unreality, and found herself inan immense stone hall, carpeted with rich Persian rugs, and splendidlywarmed by a great fire that roared in an open fireplace. The sense ofecclesiastical austerity completely vanished as soon as the door closedbehind her. The whole atmosphere became luxurious, sensuous, Eastern.There were some wonderful pieces of statuary, some in marble and some inbronze, placed here and there, that were of anything but monasticaldesign. One in particular in a niche in the stone wall caught Maud'seyes as she followed her guide--a nude, female figure with wings, one ofwhich was spread like an eagle's pinion as though to soar, while theother trailed back, broken, drooping, powerless. It was a wonderfulmarble, and she paused before it almost involuntarily. The arms of thefigure were outstretched and straining upwards, the head flung back, andin the face such anguish, such longing, such passionate protest asthrilled her through and through.
The old butler paused also. "That," he said in his decorous monotone,"is Spentoli's _Fallen Woman_. His lordship prefers to call it _TheCaptured Angel_. A very valuable piece of sculptury, I believe, madam.Quite one of the features of the place. His lordship sets great storeby it, and it is universally admired by all visitors."
"It is wonderful," Maud said. But yet she turned her eyes away almostimmediately. There was something about that mute, agonized figure ofwomanhood that she felt she could not bear to look upon except insolitude.
The butler stumped on down the great hall, and she followed, to a grandoak staircase that divided into two half-way up and led to a panelledgallery that ran along three sides of the hall. Solemnly they mounted.A high oak door confronted them at the top which the old man threw openwith much ceremony.
"The grand piano, madam, is over by the west window," he said, and withanother deep bow withdrew, closing the door without sound behind her.
Maud went forward into the room. The first impression she received wasof great loftiness. It was a huge apartment, oak-panelled, and with afloor of polished oak. The whole of one side of the room was lighted bysouth windows that looked out over terraced gardens to the pine-woods ofthe park. At the end was a turret in the western angle of the wall, andhere stood the piano, full in the glow of the sinking sun. There weretwo fireplaces in the room, and in the one nearer to the piano a redstill fire was burning. A low couch stood before it, and a greattiger-skin--the only rug in the whole vast place--was spread on thehearth. There were other couches and strangely-shaped divans in theroom, but no chairs, and only one small table. The whole effect wasspacious and Eastern, curiously attractive to the senses and yetcuriously elusive.
Maud went over the uncovered floor, treading lightly, with a feeling ofhaving entered an enchanted land,--a feeling not wholly pleasant ofbeing caught in a fairy web of subtleties from which she might not findit easy to escape.
The whole atmosphere breathed of Saltash. She was sure that he haddesigned every elusive detail.
The piano was thrown invitingly open. A French song was on the rack.It had the appearance of having been placed there but a moment before.A sudden doubt assailed her, a sensation as of having walked unwittinglyinto a trap. Some force had dr
awn her hither, some magnetism had surelybeen at work.
The impulse came to her then to turn and go, yet she resisted it.Later, it seemed to her that she had lacked the motive power to do aughtbut move straight to the piano and drop onto the music-stool before thekeys. Her hands went out to them, and suddenly she was playing, atfirst very softly, then with gathering tone as she felt the instrumentrespond to her touch, till at length all sense of strangeness left her,and she began to sing the little French ditty that once had been one ofher favourites! She had never heard her own voice to greater advantagethan in that lofty music-room. It was a mezzo, sweet rather thanpowerful, with a ringing, bell-like quality that Charlie had been wontto compare to the tentative notes of a bullfinch. He had alwaysdeclared that she was afraid of the sound of it, but this was certainlynot the case to-day. The glad notes left her lips, true and free andbirdlike. The heart within her had suddenly grown light.
The song came to an end. Her fingers began to wander idly over thekeys. She played a dreamy air with an old-world waltz refrain, too lostin her trance of delight to realize what she played, and againhalf-unconsciously she was singing, as she had sung long ago before thegates of youth.
"There has fall'n a splendid tear, From the passion flower at the gate, She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate. The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is near'; And the white rose weeps, 'She is late'; The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear'; And the lily whispers, 'I wait.'"
Softly, sweetly, the notes stole through the room, wandered awhile, andceased. There fell a pause, and the girl's eyes rested dreaming on thelong dark line of pine-trees red-flushed in the glow of sunset.
Then, still following her dream, she sang on.
"She is coming, my own, my sweet, Were it ever so airy a tread My heart would hear her and beat Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red."
And then she was singing the refrain, and while she sang it she awoke.
"Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat night has flown; Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone, I am here at the gate alone."
She stopped suddenly with the conviction that a man's voice had joinedhers in the singing of that refrain. Yet, if this had been so, theaccompanying voice ceased as abruptly as her own. She found herselfsitting in absolute silence, with every pulse racing, every nervestrained to listen.
No sound came to her. The whole great chamber was as still as death.The fire burned red and silent. There was not so much as the ticking ofa clock to be heard. And yet it seemed to her that eyes watched her fromsome vantage point unseen. She had a firm conviction that she was notalone.
She controlled the curious excitement that possessed her, and slowly sether fingers once more on the keys. She played the old refrain again,singing it very softly, listening intently while she sang. This timeshe was sure--quite sure--that a man's voice hummed the air. She wenton to the end, and suffered her hands to fall.
"Charlie!" she said, without turning.
There came a slight sound behind her, the click as of a spring catch.She looked round, and saw him standing against the high panelling of thewall.
"What a childish game to play!" she said, with lips that slightlytrembled.
"We are all children," observed Saltash. "We may think ourselves mightyclever, but the fact remains. Greeting, my queen rose! I am enchantedto see you."
He came forward, his black brows working comically, his queer ugly facesmiling a welcome.
In spite of herself, Maud smiled in answer. "But why did you pretendyou weren't at home?" she said, in a voice of protest.
He laughed as he took her hand. "But I wasn't," he said. "I motoreddown on purpose to receive you. Are you so disappointed?"
She shook her head, but she still looked at him somewhat dubiously."You know, Charlie," she said, "I like people to behave quitestraightforwardly, and to tell the truth."
"Heavens above!" laughed Saltash. "Why so grievously moral? Well, lookhere, let me be quite, quite honest, and admit that it was wholly bychance that I came down here to-day. Chance or the beneficent will ofthe gods! Call it what you will! And, my dear girl, don't be prudishnow you are married! Remember, that though it is a state of bondagethere are certain liberties attached that are well worth having. Now,you are going to play and sing to me while I smoke and admire."
He turned from her and threw himself upon a low settee in the windowembrasure. The scent of his cigarette came to her, aromatic, Eastern,fragrant of many subtleties. She breathed it as one who inhales themagic of the gods.
"Now, play!" he commanded, his strange, restless eyes upon her. "Playas the spirit moves you! Never mind me! I am of no account."
She had done it often before in the old days. It was not difficult todo it now, with the spell of his personality upon her. Her own spiritresponded instinctively to the call of his. The sympathy between thembecame communion. She began to play, and, playing, lost herself in themusic as one inspired.
Saltash lay without moving, as if half-asleep. He also seemed as oneunder a charm.
And Maud played on and on, seeing visions, steeping her soul in romance,forgetful wholly of the chain by which she was bound; forgetful also ofher companion, or perhaps so merged in his individuality as to beunaware of any dividing line. It was the old, sweet dreamland that hadalways held them both.
Time passed, and the red sun with it. The early dark began to fall, theshining visions to wane. She came out of her trance at last with a deepsigh, and suffered her hands to fall.
Instantly Saltash sat up. "Bravo, _ma belle reine_! Your touch is likevelvet to the senses. You have scarcely sung to me at all. But nomatter! You have closed the gates now, and we can't go back. Butwasn't it good? Come, be honest and say so."
She lifted her eyes to his with something of her dream still lingeringthere. "It was--very good," she said.
"And you'll come again?" he insinuated.
The dream began to fade. With her right hand she picked out a nervouslittle air on the piano, saying no word.
He leaned towards her. "Maud," he insisted, "surely you'll come again!"
"I don't know," she said slowly.
"Surely!" he said again.
Her eyes grew troubled. "Charlie," she said, her fingers still softlypressing the keys, "I can't come here when you are here. I like tocome,--oh yes, I like to come. But I mustn't."
"Why not?" said Saltash. "Afraid of the cow-puncher?"
She shrank, and struck a sudden discordant chord. "I am not afraid ofanyone, but I must think of appearances. I owe it to myself. I shouldlike to come sometimes and play. But--with you here--I can't."
"All right," he said abruptly. "I'll go."
Her eyes flashed up to his. She took her hand from the piano and gaveit to him. "You are going to be a true friend to me, Charlie," shesaid.
He smiled rather wryly. "My friendship is to take a somewhat negativeform, it seems to me, but perhaps it will stand the strain. Have youheard anything yet about the American doctor?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing."
"And you have not laid my proposal before Jake, I gather?" he pursued,boldly keeping her hand in his.
"Not yet," she said.
"Have you given the matter your own august consideration?" he asked.
Her hand began to fidget for freedom. "I have thought about it,Charlie. I have not quite made up my mind. But you mustn't be hurt if Isay No."
"I shan't be hurt," he said, slowly relaxing his hold so that her handslipped free. "But I shall think that your love of propriety somewhatoutweighs your love for Bunny."
She flushed, and turned aside to take up her gloves in silence.
He stood and watched her. "That is so like you," he said, after amoment.
S
he glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
He laughed lightly, but without mockery. "Your stately silences! Doyou know I remember you best by your silences? It is there that youdiffer from all the rest of your charming sex. Other women, when theyare misjudged, clamour for redress. You endure in silence, too proud tocomplain. I wonder if Jake has realized your silences yet."
Maud stiffened a little. "I must be going," she said. "I promised BunnyI would be back to tea."
"I'll walk back with you," Saltash said.
She shook her head. "No, I would rather go alone."
"Why don't you tackle the situation boldly and ask me to tea?" he said.
She was walking down the long room, and he sauntered beside her, smokinga cigarette, careless and debonair.
"I think it wiser not, Charlie," she said.
He laughed. "As you will. But remember, life is short. We may as wellenjoy ourselves, while it lasts. Did old Billings show you up here? Heis the one respectable feature of this establishment."
"Yes, he certainly is respectable," she agreed, with a smile. "But wherewere you when I came in? You didn't come through this door."
He laughed again in a fashion half-mocking, half-secretive. "That is myaffair, _ma belle reine_. Some day I may show you--several things; butthat day has not dawned yet."
He threw open the door, and they found the great hall below them ablazewith electric light. "I suppose I may accompany you downstairs," heobserved.
"What a wonderful place it is!" Maud said.
Her eyes went almost involuntarily to the statue that had arrested herattention on entering. It shone from its niche with a white splendourthat seemed to give forth light.
"My _Captured Angel_ has the place of honour by night and by day," saidSaltash. "I have been wanting you to see her, or perhaps it would bemore correct to say, I have been wanting to see you together. Have youever met your other self before?"
"My other self?" She looked at him interrogatively.
He made her a quizzical bow. "Have you never seen that face before?"
She descended the stairs, and approached the statue. They stood togetherbefore it. She had desired to see it in solitude before, but withSaltash by her side that desire had left her. They viewed it from thesame standpoint, in that subtle communion of spirit that had alwayscharacterized their intercourse.
And she saw--as he saw--her own features carved in the marble, piteous,tragic, alive.
"Poor _Captured Angel_!" murmured Saltash softly. "So fair of face, sosad of soul!"
She did not respond. She felt as if in that recognition something hadpierced her heart. It was like a revelation of things to come. So forawhile she stood, gazing upon that tragic figure of broken womanhood;and finally in silence turned away.
He went with her to the door, but he did not offer a second time toaccompany her farther. On the threshold she gave him her hand infarewell.
"You will come again?" he said.
She met his strange, unstable eyes for a moment and fancied that theypleaded with her.
"Not to see you, Charlie," she said, and was conscious in a vaguelytroubled way that the words cost her an effort.
His eyes flashed her a laugh. "No, not to see me," he said lightly."Of course not. Just for your own enjoyment. You will enjoy thatpiano, you know. And you can have it all to yourself."
She smiled in spite of herself even against her will. "Very well," shesaid. "I will come again some day, And thank you very much."
"Oh, don't do that!" he protested. "It spoils everything."
She released her hand, and turned from him, still smiling. "Good-bye!"she said.
"Farewell, Queen of the roses!" he made light response.
She passed through the wide stone porch and out into the dark of thewinter evening.