Myra Duquesne came under an arch of roses to the wooden seat where Robert Cairn awaited her. In her plain white linen1 frock, with the sun in her hair and her eyes looking unnaturally2 large, owing to the pallor of her beautiful face, she seemed to the man who rose to greet her an ethereal creature, but lightly linked to the flesh and blood world.
An impulse, which had possessed3 him often enough before, but which hitherto he had suppressed, suddenly possessed him anew, set his heart beating, and filled his veins4 with fire. As a soft blush spread over the girl's pale cheeks, and, with a sort of timidity, she held out her hand, he leapt to his feet, threw his arms around her, and kissed her; kissed her eyes, her hair, her lips!
There was a moment of frightened hesitancy ... and then she had resigned herself to this sort of savage5 tenderness which was better in its very brutality6 than any caress7 she had ever known, which thrilled her with a glorious joy such as, she realised now, she had dreamt of and lacked, and wanted; which was a harbourage to which she came, blushing, confused—but glad, conquered, and happy in the thrall8 of that exquisite9 slavery.
"Myra," he whispered, "Myra! have I frightened you? Will you forgive me?—"
She nodded her head quickly and nestled upon his shoulder.
"I could wait no longer," he murmured in her ear. "Words seemed unnecessary; I just wanted you; you are everything in the world; and,"—he concluded simply—"I took you."
[151]
She whispered his name, very softly. What a serenity10 there is in such a moment, what a glow of secure happiness, of immunity11 from the pains and sorrows of the world!
Robert Cairn, his arms about this girl, who, from his early boyhood, had been his ideal of womanhood, of love, and of all that love meant, forgot those things which had shaken his life and brought him to the threshold of death, forgot those evidences of illness which marred12 the once glorious beauty of the girl, forgot the black menace of the future, forgot the wizard enemy whose hand was stretched over that house and that garden—and was merely happy.
But this paroxysm of gladness—which Eliphas Lévi, last of the Adepts13, has so marvellously analysed in one of his works—is of short duration, as are all joys. It is needless to recount, here, the broken sentences (punctuated with those first kisses which sweeten the memory of old age) that now passed for conversation, and which lovers have believed to be conversation since the world began. As dusk creeps over a glorious landscape, so the shadow of Antony Ferrara crept over the happiness of these two.
Gradually that shadow fell between them and the sun; the grim thing which loomed14 big in the lives of them both, refused any longer to be ignored. Robert Cairn, his arm about the girl's waist, broached15 the hated subject.
"When did you last see—Ferrara?"
Myra looked up suddenly.
"Over a week—nearly a fortnight, ago—"
"Ah!"
Cairn noted16 that the girl spoke17 of Ferrara with an odd sort of restraint for which he was at a loss to account. Myra had always regarded her guardian's adopted son in the light of a brother; therefore her present attitude was all the more singular.
"You did not expect him to return to England so soon?" he asked.
"I had no idea that he was in England," said Myra,
[152]
"until he walked in here one day. I was glad to see him—then."
"And should you not be glad to see him now?" inquired Cairn eagerly.
"One day, last week," she replied slowly, "he—came here, and—acted strangely—"
"In what way?" jerked Cairn.
"Well?"
"You know how I have always liked Antony? I have always thought of him as my brother."
Again she hesitated, and a troubled expression crept over her pale face. Cairn raised his arm and clasped it about her shoulders.
"Tell me all about it," he whispered reassuringly21.
"Well," continued Myra in evident confusion, "his behaviour became—embarrassing; and suddenly—he asked me if I could ever love him, not as a brother, but—"
"I understand!" said Cairn grimly. "And you replied?"
"For some time I could not reply at all: I was so surprised, and so—horrified. I cannot explain how I felt about it, but it seemed horrible—it seemed horrible!—"
"But of course, you told him?"
"I told him that I could never be fond of him in any different way—that I could never think of it. And although I endeavoured to avoid hurting his feelings, he—took it very badly. He said, in such a queer, choking voice, that he was going away—"
"Away!—from England?"
"Yes; and—he made a strange request."
"What was it?"
"In the circumstances—you see—I felt sorry for him—I did not like to refuse him; it was only a trifling22 thing. He asked for a lock of my hair!"
"A lock of your hair! And you—"
[153]
"I told you that I did not like to refuse—and I let him snip23 off a tiny piece, with a pair of pocket scissors which he had. Are you angry?"
"Of course not! You—were almost brought up together. You—?"
"Then—" she paused—"he seemed to change. Suddenly, I found myself afraid—dreadfully afraid—"
"Of Ferrara?"
"Not of Antony, exactly. But what is the good of my trying to explain! A most awful dread24 seized me. His face was no longer the face that I have always known; something—"
Her voice trembled, and she seemed disposed to leave the sentence unfinished; then:
"Something evil—sinister, had come into it."
"And since then," said Cairn, "you have not seen him?"
"He has not been here since then—no."
Cairn, his hands resting upon the girl's shoulders, leant back in the seat, and looked into her troubled eyes with a kind of sad scrutiny25.
Myra shook her head.
"Yet you look as though something were troubling you. This house"—he indicated the low-lying garden with a certain irritation—"is not healthily situated27. This place lies in a valley; look at the rank grass—and there are mosquitoes everywhere. You do not look well, Myra."
The girl smiled—a little wistful smile.
"But I was so tired of Scotland," she said. "You do not know how I looked forward to London again. I must admit, though, that I was in better health there; I was quite ashamed of my dairy-maid appearance."
"You have nothing to amuse you here," said Cairn tenderly; "no company, for Mr. Saunderson only lives for his orchids28."
"They are very fascinating," said Myra dreamily, "I, too, have felt their glamour30. I am the only member of the household whom he allows amongst his orchids—"
[154]
"Perhaps you spend too much time there," interrupted Cairn; "that superheated, artificial atmosphere—"
Myra shook her head playfully, patting his arm.
"There is nothing in the world the matter with me," she said, almost in her old bright manner—"now that you are back—"
"I do not approve of orchids," jerked Cairn doggedly31. "They are parodies32 of what a flower should be. Place an Odontoglossum beside a rose, and what a distorted unholy thing it looks!"
"Unholy?" laughed Myra.
"Unholy,—yes!—they are products of feverish33 swamps and deathly jungles. I hate orchids. The atmosphere of an orchid29-house cannot possibly be clean and healthy. One might as well spend one's time in a bacteriological laboratory!"
"You must not let Mr. Saunderson hear you," she said. "His orchids are his children. Their very mystery enthrals him—and really it is most fascinating. To look at one of those shapeless bulbs, and to speculate upon what kind of bloom it will produce, is almost as thrilling as reading a sensational35 novel! He has one growing now—it will bloom some time this week—about which he is frantically36 excited."
"Where did he get it?" asked Cairn without interest.
"He bought it from a man who had almost certainly stolen it! There were six bulbs in the parcel; only two have lived and one of these is much more advanced than the other; it is so high—"
She held out her hand, indicating a height of some three feet from the ground.
"It has not flowered yet?"
"No. But the buds—huge, smooth, egg-shaped things—seem on the point of bursting at any moment. We call it the 'Mystery,' and it is my special care. Mr. Saunderson has shown me how to attend to its simple needs, and if it proves to be a new species—which is almost certain—he is going to exhibit it, and name it
[155]
after me! Shall you be proud of having an orchid named after—"
"After my wife?" Cairn concluded, seizing her hands. "I could never be more proud of you than I am already...."
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1
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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2
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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3
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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5
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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7
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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thrall
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| n.奴隶；奴隶制 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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10
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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11
immunity
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| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
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12
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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13
adepts
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| n.专家，能手( adept的名词复数 ) | |
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14
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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15
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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16
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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17
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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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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23
snip
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| n.便宜货，廉价货，剪，剪断 | |
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24
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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25
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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26
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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27
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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28
orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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29
orchid
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| n.兰花，淡紫色 | |
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30
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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31
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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32
parodies
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| n.拙劣的模仿( parody的名词复数 )；恶搞；滑稽的模仿诗文；表面上模仿得笨拙但充满了机智用来嘲弄别人作品的作品v.滑稽地模仿，拙劣地模仿( parody的第三人称单数 ) | |
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33
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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34
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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35
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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36
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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