Head of me, heart of me, stupid as a stone:
Tongue-tied now, now blaspheming like a Turk;
When, in a moment just a knock, call, cry,
"What, and is it really you again?" quoth I.
"I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She.
The Householder.
The gas was not carried up to the attics5 of No. 22 Canning Street. Late-comers had to stumble in the dark up the last flight of stairs, and bark their shins over the brooms and pails which Beatrice invariably left standing6 about on the landing. One evening in April Lettice was sitting at work, brow buried in her hands, tensely courting the Muse7, when she was startled by a sudden tremendous clatter8. The door burst open and Denis fell into the room, in company with a mop and a banister brush.
"Dear, dear!" said Lettice with her usual inadequacy9.
"I wish you'd not keep an ironmonger's shop on your landing," said Denis, annoyed, and rubbing his knee.
"You, you—you are so violent!" Lettice protested in her pianissimo drawl. She went outside for a moment. "There, I've put them all away in the cupboard, so you won't have to break your poor nose when you go home," she consoled him. "Now, how nice it is to see you again! And what have you been doing with yourself all this long time?"
"Selling four monoplanes to the War Office," said Denis, with the simple satisfaction of bygone days. "What do you think of that?"
"No! have you really?"
"A man I used to know in the Sappers came over to[Pg 211] Dent-de-lion and fixed10 up the order last Saturday. It's been in the air for some time, but of course I couldn't say anything till it was settled. Wandesforde's awful pleased. It's no end of a leg-up for us."
"Four all at once!" cooed his sympathetic hostess.
"Yes, the Government's rather keen on the Air Service these days. There's a lot goin' on we don't hear anything about—a lot; and they don't mean to be caught napping."
"Did your friend tell you that?" asked Lettice, interested, as always, in politics.
Denis nodded. "He did. And more. He was askin' me, among other things, what percentage of our civilian11 flyers would volunteer in case of a war."
"Oh! What did you say?"
"You'd go yourself?"
"Rather so! What do you take me for? I should join up with the R.F.C. at once. Oh, it's coming, and they know it's coming; that's been obvious ever since Agadir. The only question is, when. I hope I shan't smash myself first. I'd be sorry to be out of the fun."
He lapsed14 into silence, leaning back in the big chair which Lettice kept on purpose for him, his long legs extended half across the hearth15. How many months was it since he had last filled that place? Lettice had not so much as seen him since the Olympia day; but neither by word nor look did she remind him of the gap. She was an adept16 at taking things for granted. It was enough to see him sitting there, the same old Denis, talking in the same old way. And yet, not quite the same. Even in his silence there was a new quality. He had matured; he had lived through the wreck17 of an ideal, and built up his faith again, steady and sure, upon a rock.
Lettice put away her papers with delicate neatness, and sat down in a low chair with her needlework—not a green dragon this time, but a pair of combinations, which she darned serenely18 under the masculine eye. Denis had a nice[Pg 212] mind, he would never see. Now if it had been a certain other person—Lettice made a graceful19 figure, soft brown hair and hazel eyes, long throat and little head, slight drooping20 shoulders and slim waist, set off by the soft gray-blue silk of her dress. She was fond of that peculiarly soft and feminine fabric21 known to dressmakers as crêpe de Chine. She could not spend much on her clothes, but she chose and wore them with that French fineness and perfection of detail which she, in common with her sisters, had learned from their foreign upbringing.
"Well, I didn't come here to talk about German invasions," said Denis, rousing himself. "The fact is, I'm rather badly worried about Gardiner, Lettice. I didn't like that last piece of news at all. Did you?"
"You've not heard anything fresh?" asked Lettice quickly, her work dropping in her lap.
"Not a syllable22; and can't till June. That's the worst of it; it's such a deadly long time. I'd half thought of running down there and lookin' up little Scott—he's quite a decent little chap, and he'd know. But I suppose it wouldn't do."
"I suppose not," agreed Lettice, who was, as has been said, a dandy in affairs of honor. She made her funny little pause to collect words before she got rid of her next speech. "I suppose if it had gone any further we should have heard by now."
"Heard?"
"The prison people would have let us know."
"Let us know what?"
"Why, if he'd been ill, or gone off his head, or anything of that sort."
"You think there's a danger of his going off his head?"
"Well, that's what you're talking about, isn't it?"
"No," said Denis, "I'd not got so far as that." He regarded her thoughtfully. "I wish you'd tell me how it strikes you, Lettice. I can't see my way at all."
"There's nothing to tell," said Lettice, a trifle restless at being asked to explain the obvious. "He must have[Pg 213] been off his balance to hit a warder, mustn't he? And when that begins, with anybody like him, you never know where it will stop. He isn't any too steady."
(Certainly there was no one like Lettice for pulling things off pedestals. Hitting a warder—it didn't sound nearly so bad as assaulting an officer!)
"Well, I've known Gardiner five and twenty years, and I'd never have called him unsteady. Hard as nails, more like."
"So he is that too."
"Now what on earth do you mean?"
"Well, of course he'd be hard so long as he hadn't anything to face he really minded, wouldn't he? And till this he didn't, did he? It's what you said yourself—he's always been lucky. But if you get him off his guard he's rather unusually sensitive. Look at the way he feels pain!"
"Well, but can't you tell he would, by the set of his lips?"
"No," said Denis, "I can't. I've not your imagination."
To this Lettice made no reply, unless one might count the slight derisive26 lift of her chin. She never would take up the personal question. She would never, if she could help it, say: "I thought." She was sometimes driven to say, "I did," but even then she kept to the bald facts, uncolored by her personality. Denis, shifting in his chair to a more convenient angle, continued to regard her with attention, in which now mingled27 some amusement.
"Oh ah," he said, "you were there when he damaged his hand, weren't you? I'd forgotten. How long was it you stayed on at Rochehaut after I left?"
"About six weeks."
"And you were actin' as his secretary all that time?"
"Part of it."
"Of course that accounts."
"Accounts what for?" asked Lettice unwisely, with her little air of distraction28.
[Pg 214]
"For the sympathetic insight you display," said Denis, now openly smiling. Lettice had chaffed him all her life; it was a new thing for him to turn the tables. "He swears it was you sent him back, and I believe him now. You've eased my mind quite a lot. He won't go under. He may knock out a warder or so, but he'll come through all right in the end—with such backin'!"
"Rubbish," said Lettice with acerb decision. She folded her work, got up, lighted a small paraffin lamp and carried it outside. Denis watched her hang it on the wall above the stairs.
"Is that a gentle hint to me to be off?" he asked, still smiling, as she re?ntered. "Because if so I'm not takin' any. I'll go when my time comes, but there's ten minutes yet."
"It's not for you at all, it's for Dot O'Connor."
"For Dot O'Connor!"
"She always tumbles over the brooms worse than you did," Lettice explained, "so I give her a light on the stairs when I'm expecting her to supper. I'd have given you one, too, if I'd known you were coming."
She had banished29 Denis's smile. He shifted in his chair once more, but this time away from her. "Dot O'Connor!" he repeated for the third time, in that altered voice. "Do you mean Mrs. Trent?"
"She doesn't like being called that now."
"Do you see much of her?"
"So so," said Lettice. She had mentioned Dorothea, not to get away from Denis's chaff—that would have been too cruel—but of set purpose, because there was something she had to say before he went. "Will you stay and have supper with us? I think there'll be enough to go round, if you aren't too hungry."
"No, Lettice."
"I don't see why you shouldn't."
"Don't you?"
His tone was not encouraging, but it made not a pin's difference to Lettice; her difficulties came always from within,[Pg 215] not from without, and once she had made up her mind to speak all the king's horses and all the king's men would not have stopped her. She did not imagine that she could move Denis, but there were certain things he ought to know, and which, in justice to Dorothea, she meant to set before him. They would not move him now, but he would not forget them; and in time to come they might sink in and soften30 his judgment31.
"I don't see why you shouldn't forgive her," she pronounced.
"I'd rather not discuss it."
"Very well, don't you say anything, but will you listen?" Denis moved restlessly in his chair. "You're too hard on her," said Lettice, hitting straight and hard. "You will treat her as a woman, when she's only a child. And you don't realize what marrying a—a beast like that does to a girl. It bruises32 her innocence33. It's like tearing open the eyes of a blind kitten. You can't expect her to see right and wrong like other people." So far beyond herself had Lettice been carried by that potent34 loosener of tongues, a sense of injustice35! She went on with the same resolute36 candor37: "Besides, there's another thing. She loves you. And she can love; you won't meet what she has to give twice in a lifetime. I know"—Lettice spoke38 with an effort; it was as near to an avowal39 as she could go, and the fact that she thought her cause worth such a sacrifice added tenfold to the weight of her words—"I know she's often made me ashamed of my stockishness. Are you prepared to throw all that away?"
She had finished, and she stopped. Denis sat silent, staring into the fire and pulling absently at his forelock, a trick he had when deep in thought. The soft sounds of Lettice's business did not break the stillness of the room. The alarm clock which Denis had given her to get up by in the morning (Lettice had long been mortally afraid of the alarm, and she still handled it as gingerly as if she expected it to explode) ticked on through the stillness. It struck seven; Denis glanced at his watch, and got up.
[Pg 216]
"I must go," he said confusedly. "I—I'd no idea it was so late."
He took his hat and stick, and Lettice thought he was really going then and there, without another word; but he thought better of it, and from the landing came back and stood in the doorway40, visibly struggling with himself. "You—you mustn't think I mind what you said, Lettice," he got out. "I'd always listen to you. But I can't do this—I can't—"
Lettice looked him in the face. "She would have something to forgive you now," she said deliberately41.
"No, she would not," said Denis with equal deliberation; and he met her eyes, fair and square. "But that's not anything to do with it. It's not a question of forgiveness. It's—I—oh, I can't do it, Lettice—I can't explain—"
"Well—" said Lettice, summing up with that sad, vague word which looks back, unsatisfied, over the past, and forward, unhopeful, towards the future. And that was all she learned, then or for many months to come, of Denis's feelings for Dorothea, of his wanderings in the wilderness42, of the manner of his deliverance. Not till many months later, in alien scenes, in unimaginable circumstances, in a different world, did he reopen that subject.
He straightened himself, glancing again at his watch. "I really must go. I'm dinin' with the Wandesfordes, to celebrate, and I'll never hear the last of it if I'm late. Wandesforde always thinks he can do the funny dog about Irish people—silly ass23. Wish you were coming too."
"Me?" asked Lettice, opening her eyes.
"You. It's not much fun sittin' here alone and thinkin' about things—is it?" said Denis; and to her wide amazement43 he put a brotherly arm round her and kissed her cheek. Lettice turned slowly and deeply pink; not on account of the kiss, however. She took her lamp and stood torch-bearer to light him down the stairs. When the quick military tread had reached the lower landing she was turning back to her room, but a quick scuffle in the cupboard and a breathless voice stopped her.
[Pg 217]
"Lettice—wait!"
And Dorothea scrambled44 out from among the brooms and brushes, bringing a shower of them with her. "Oh, bother!" said she, turning to stuff them back unceremoniously, and precipitating45 a fresh avalanche46. Lettice found her voice again.
"You—you've got a black on your nose," she remarked originally.
"So would any one have, in this horrid47 little hole! I'd just reached the landing when your door opened, and I bundled straight in here, and all the things fell every which way, and I had to clutch them up in both hands all the time. I made sure you'd hear."
"I did," said Lettice, "but I thought it was Black Maria."
"Well, I'd be Black Maria if I could, I know you'd like me better," retorted Dorothea, expending48 the last of her temper in a spiteful kick at a pail, and slamming the door before more disasters could happen. "But oh, Lettice, oh, Lettice, isn't it glorious news?"
"You heard what we were saying?"
"Well, of course. How could I help it? You can't put your fingers in your ears when you're holding up six brooms and a mop. I heard every word. And I don't care! I don't care a scrap49! Oh, I am so glad!"
"Glad?" Lettice repeated. She had not known quite what to expect; certainly not this. How the child's eyes were sparkling!
"Well, of course!" she cried. "Didn't you hear? Didn't you see what he was like? Oh! now I know that's all right I don't care about anything else—I don't care what happens, so long as that doesn't!"
She flung herself down on the rug with a tempestuous50 sigh, and tried to dry her eyes on a wisp of lace. That proving inadequate51, she rummaged52 through half a dozen pockets and dragged out a dingy53 red square which had evidently been used as an oil rag. She held it out by the corners. "Oh dear, I must have stolen Turner's—oh dear, I wish I could manage to hit something between a doily[Pg 218] and a duster—never mind, a hanky's a hanky," said she, and blew her nose and dried her tears forthwith. Then, looking up sharply, "Lettice! why don't you say something? Aren't you pleased too?"
"O-oh, oh yes," said Lettice hastily; "only you see I'd had time to get over it before you came."
"I shan't get over it—I shan't ever get over it," murmured Dorothea, nestling round to gaze into the fire. "You don't know how awful it's been to feel that on me. I'd rather I killed him than see that woman—Do you know, Lettice, I do think there must be a God after all. I didn't ever use to, but ever since that Olympia day I've been praying, oh! so hard, that He'd save Denis—I didn't see how even God could stop him then, but there wasn't anything else I could do, and I just had to do something. And now you see he has. He didn't tell you anything about how it happened?" Lettice shook her head. "Oh, well, that doesn't really matter, it's his being saved that counts," said Dorothea, relapsing again into one of her boneless attitudes, and smiling rosily54 over clasped hands into the fire.
"Did you hear—" began Lettice.
"What he said about me? Oh yes. Well, of course I'd love to have him forgive me, but I know he couldn't possibly, and anyway I don't matter about," said Dorothea, her voice softened55 into dreams. "It's him—it's him. It does mean such a lot, Lettice! It isn't only that he is what he used to be, what I thought he never could be again; it's ever so much more than that. Denis wasn't made to think of women as he thought of—of me and Mrs. Byrne. He was made to marry, Lettice. Can't you see how perfectly56 sweet he'd be to his wife?—yes, and to his boys and girls too; how he'd love them (I expect he'd have a pet little girl, and call her Letty), and how they'd all adore him? He's one of those men who—who only truly mellow57 in their own homes. If he could only find some nice girl who'll love him—no, not better than me, nobody ever could do that, but well enough to make up to him for the horrid little wretch58 I've been—I [Pg 219]wish you would, Lettice, but I'm afraid that's past praying for."
"Me?" said Lettice. "I don't think that would do."
"Why not?" demanded Dorothea. Lettice failing to reply at once, she whisked round suddenly, with an eel-like twist. "Why do you say it like that? Why aren't you gladder? Is there anything wrong? There is, there is! Oh, Lettice, what is it?"
She was kneeling up now, and had seized Lettice's hands. "You're making me spill the milk, and I can't get any more," Lettice warned her; but she was not to be diverted. "You've been worried for ages, only I've been such a blind donkey thinking of Denis I haven't noticed," she cried. "Why did he say you oughtn't to be let sit alone and think? What did he mean? Lettice—oh, Lettice! is it about Mr. Gardiner? Have you any bad news? Oh, don't, don't tell me I've done that too!"
Lettice freed herself summarily. Dorothea had room in her little head for but one idea at a time, and therefore was apt to overlook what lay under her little nose; but, her attention once aroused, she was keen on a scent59, and her intuition, the prerogative60 of semi-civilized minds, had a way of landing her dead on the truth. Now there were certain things which Denis might be permitted to see, but which Dorothea might not—no! not on any account.
"There isn't any news at all, if you want to know," she said. "He hit a warder, so all his letters and things have been stopped off."
"But isn't Denis going to visit him quite soon?"
"That's stopped too."
"Oh!" said Dorothea blankly, "oh dear! I see."
She did see, only too plainly. Oh, what a little donkey she had been! But who would ever have imagined that Lettice—and with Mr. Gardiner, of all people! oh, how could she? She did, though, no doubt about that, and with Lettice that would mean a dreadfully big thing, the whole of her life, and—oh, good gracious! how she would simply hate to have[Pg 220] any one know! Oh, she mustn't, she mustn't be allowed to guess! All this passed through Dorothea's mind in the space of half-a-second, and under the stimulus61 of that last thought she pulled herself round, with a mighty62 effort, to ask as innocently as she could: "Did—did Denis know about this the day of the show?"
"He'd just heard."
"Oh," said Dorothea, "oh, I wonder he didn't strike me to the ground! Oh, how wicked, how wicked I've been!"
There was nothing visible but the red handkerchief. Lettice looked at her sharply; but the pose was so natural, and any pose seemed so foreign to Dorothea, and Lettice so much wanted to be taken in, that she was. Not wholly; but she stuck her head in the sand and refused to see her own doubts. And behind the red handkerchief Dorothea, too much overwhelmed to cry, sat among the ruins which she had pulled down on her own head and wondered helplessly when she would see the end of all the harm she had done. "I was so happy about Denis, and now there's this!" Her love for Denis had been a sort of sublimated63 selfishness, but now she was thinking about other people—about Lettice, yes, and about Gardiner, though there she was all at sea. "I don't know what I've done to him, but it must be something very bad for Lettice to be like this!" she reflected. "But, oh dear! after all, what should I feel like if it were Denis in prison? And what would he feel like himself? And Mr. Gardiner's led such a free sort of out-of-doors life—"
In the depths below a bell rang; Beatrice's feet pounded up from the basement. They came on from flight to flight, up the bare boards to the attics, and ended with a single bang on the door. "Miss Lettus, 's a letter for you!" Lettice went with her soft, unhurried step to take it in. She carried it to the lamp, and stood arrested, staring at the envelope.
Dorothea was sitting up, her dark hair tumbling about her eyes. "Oh, Lettice, what is it?"
"From the prison," said Lettice, opening the envelope and drawing out the enclosure with a steady hand. From across[Pg 221] the room Dorothea could see that it was not in Gardiner's handwriting; and then she saw Lettice's face change, and her heart turned over in her breast.
"Lettice—!"
"What?" said Lettice, absorbed. "O-oh no, it's all right; it's only that—he's hurt his hand—"
Dorothea turned her face to the wall and said her prayers.
This was the letter which Lettice received:
Dear Miss Smith,—I have permission to write you a short note on business.
I am anxious about my hotel. It has been in the hands of a caretaker all winter; but for the summer season I had arranged for my housekeeper64 to come back, and most of the servants. The housekeeper is a trustworthy person, and quite competent to run the place herself; but I can't very well give her carte blanche with my banking65 account, and I'm sure she wouldn't accept it if I did. What I want is somebody to sign checks, manage the correspondence, and act as figurehead. Practically what you did last year. Will you take it on again? I should have every confidence in you, and of course it is your proper place. As far as I know at present, I propose, if it suits you, to be married as soon as I leave in October, and go out to Rochehaut for the winter. Please let me know if this fits in with your views.
I must apologize for my writing, but I have been laid up in hospital with a touch of the old trouble in my hand. When I come out, I believe I am to go on the farm. The governor has most kindly66 remitted67 the rest of my punishment, and I shall be allowed to see a visitor next month as usual. Will you let Merion-Smith know, if you are writing to him?
Sincerely,
H. C. Gardiner.
Dorothea at first had turned her eyes scrupulously68 away; but they were back now, and searching Lettice's face for news. That face wore a decidedly queer and pensive69 look. She refolded the letter with careful exactness.
[Pg 222]
"Well? What does he say?"
"O-oh, he wants me to go out to Rochehaut and look after his old hotel."
"Then he's all right? He isn't ill or anything? Denis won't have to be anxious any more?"
"He's in hospital, but it's nothing much." Lettice read out what Gardiner said about his hand, and the description of her duties as well. But she did not read those sentences of barefaced70 impudence71 which transformed an apparently72 decorous business communication into a proposal of marriage. Dorothea drew a long breath.
"And you'll do it, Lettice? You'll go? Oh! may I come too? I won't be intense, truly I won't, and perhaps I might even help you a little—I would love to do something for Mr. Gardiner, to try and make up for all the harm I've done him! You are going yourself, anyhow, aren't you?"
"Oh, I suppose so," said Lettice, with a long-suffering air.
This was in the month of April, 1914.
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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attics
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standing
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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adept
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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serenely
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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drooping
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fabric
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syllable
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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brutally
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robust
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derisive
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mingled
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distraction
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banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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soften
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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precipitating
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| adj.急落的，猛冲的v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的现在分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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expending
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| v.花费( expend的现在分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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rosily
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| adv.带玫瑰色地，乐观地 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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sublimated
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| v.（使某物质）升华( sublimate的过去式和过去分词 )；使净化；纯化 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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remitted
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| v.免除（债务），宽恕( remit的过去式和过去分词 )；使某事缓和；寄回，传送 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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barefaced
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| adj.厚颜无耻的，公然的 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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