That he deemed typical; she was far from ready yet to admit the extent of her commitment to him. But the newsof the Cardinal's death drove all thought of Justine away. Ten minutes later he was behind the wheel of aMercedes 280 SL, heading for the autobahn. The poor old man Vittorio would be so alone, and his burden washeavy at the best of times. Quicker to drive; by the time he fiddled5 around waiting for a flight, got to and fromairports, he could be at the Vatican. And it was something positive to do, something he could control himself,always an important consideration to a man like him. From Cardinal Vittorio he learned the whole story, tooshocked at first to wonder why Justine hadn't thought to contact him. "He came to me and asked me, did I knowDane was his son?" the gentle voice said, while the gentle hands smoothed the blue-grey back of Natasha.
"And you said?""I said I had guessed. I could not tell him more. But oh, his face! His face! I wept.""It killed him, of course. The last time I saw him I thought he wasn't well, but he laughed at my suggestion thathe see a doctor.""It is as God wills. I think Ralph de Bricassart was one of the most tormented7 men I have ever known. In deathhe will find the peace he could not find here in this life.""The boy, Vittorio! A tragedy.""Do you think so? I like rather to think of it as beautiful. I cannot believe Dane found death anything butwelcome, and it is not surprising that Our Dear Lord could not wait a moment longer to gather Dane untoHimself. I mourn, yes, not for the boy. For his mother, who must suffer so much! And for his sister, his uncles,his grandmother. No, I do not mourn for him. Father O'neill lived in almost total purity of mind and spirit. Whatcould death be for him but the entrance into everlasting9 life? For the rest of us, the passage is not so easy."From his hotel Rainer dispatched a cable to London which he couldn't allow to convey his anger, hurt ordisappointment. It merely said: MUST RETURN BONN BUT WILL BE IN LONDON WEEKEND STOPWHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME QUERY12 ALL MY LOVE RAINOn his desk in the office at Bonn were an express delivery letter from Justine, and a registered packet which hissecretary informed him had come from Cardinal de Bricassart's lawyers in Rome. He opened this first, to learnthat under the terms of Ralph de Bricassart's will he was to add another company to his already formidable list ofdirectorships. Michar Limited. And Drogheda. Exasperated14 yet curiously15 touched, he understood that this wasthe Cardinal's way of telling him that in the final weighing he had not been found wanting, that the prayersduring the war years had borne fruit. Into Rainer's hands he had delivered the future welfare of Meggie O'neilland her people. Or so Rainer interpreted it, for the wording of the Cardinal's will was quite impersonal16. It couldnot dare be otherwise. He threw the packet into the basket for general nonsecret correspondence, immediatereply, and opened the letter from Justine. It began badly, without any kind of salutation.
Thank you for the cable. You've no idea how glad I am that we haven't been in touch these last couple of weeks,because I would have hated to have you around. At the time all I could think when I thought of you was, thankGod you didn't know. You may find this hard to understand, but I don't want you anywhere near me. There isnothing pretty about grief, Rain, nor any way your witnessing mine could alleviate17 it. Indeed, you might say thishas proved to me how little I love you. If I did truly love you I'd turn to you instinctively18, wouldn't I? But I findmyself turning away. Therefore I would much rather that we call it quits for good and all, Rain. I have nothing togive you, and I want nothing from you. This has taught me how much people mean if they're around for twenty-six years. I couldn't bear ever to go through this again, and you said it yourself, remember? Marriage or nothing.
Well, I elect nothing.
My mother tells me the old Cardinal died a few hours after I left Drogheda. Funny. Mum was quite cut up abouthis dying. Not that she said anything, but I know her. Beats me why she and Dane and you liked him so much. Inever could, I thought he was too smarmy19 for words. An opinion I'm not prepared to change just because he'sdead.
And that's it. All there is. I do mean what I say, Rain. Nothing is what I elect to have from you. Look afteryourself.
She had signed it with the usual bold, black "Justine," and it was written with the new felt-tipped pen she hadhailed so gleefully when he gave it to her, as an instrument thick and dark and positive enough to satisfy her. Hedidn't fold the note and put it in his wallet, or burn it; he did what he did with all mail not requiring an answer-ran it through the electric shredder fixed20 to his wastebasket the minute he had finished reading it. Thinking tohimself that Dane's death had effectively put an end to Justine's emotional awakening21, and bitterly unhappy. Itwasn't fair. He had waited so long.
At the weekend he flew to London anyway but not to see her, though he did see her. On the stage, as the Moor'sbeloved wife, Desdemona. Formidable. There was nothing he could do for her the stage couldn't, not for a while.
That's my good girl! Pour it all out on the stage.
Only she couldn't pour it all out on the stage, for she was too young to play Hecuba. The stage was simply theone place offering peace and forgetfulness. She could only tell herself: Time heals all wounds while notbelieving it. Asking herself why it should go on hurting so. When Dane was alive she hadn't really thought verymuch about him except when she was with him, and after they were grown up their time together had beenlimited, their vocations23 almost opposed. But his going had created a gap so huge she despaired of ever filling it.
The shock of having to pull herself up in the midst of a spontaneous reaction-I must remember to tell Daneabout this, he'll get such a kick out of it-that was what hurt the most. And because it kept on occurring so often, itprolonged the grief. Had the circumstances surrounding his death been less horrifying24 she might have recoveredmore quickly, but the nightmare events of those few days remained vivid. She missed him unbearably25; her mindwould return again and again to the incredible fact of Dane dead, Dane who would never come back.
Then there was the conviction that she hadn't helped him enough. Everyone save her seemed to think he wasperfect, didn't experience the troubles other men did, but Justine knew he had been plagued by doubts, hadtormented himself with his own unworthiness, had wondered what people could see in him beyond the face andthe body. Poor Dane, who never seemed to understand that people loved his goodness. Terrible to remember itwas too late to help him now.
She also grieved for her mother. If his dying could do this to her, what must it have done to Mum? The thoughtmade her want to run screaming and crying from memory, consciousness. The picture of the Unks in Rome forhis ordination26, puffing27 out their proud chests like pouter pigeons. That was the worst of all, visualizing28 the emptydesolation of her mother and the other Drogheda people.
Be honest, Justine. Was this honestly the worst? Wasn't there something far more disturbing? She couldn't pushthe thought of Rain away, or what she felt as her betrayal of Dane. To gratify her own desires she had sent Daneto Greece alone, when to have gone with him might have meant life for him. There was no other way to see it.
Dane had died because of her selfish absorption in Rain. Too late now to bring her brother back, but if in neverseeing Rain again she could somehow atone29, the hunger and the loneliness would be well worth it.
So the weeks went by, and then the months. A year, two years. Desdemona, Ophelia, Portia, Cleopatra. Fromthe very beginning she flattered herself she behaved outwardly as if nothing had happened to ruin her world; shetook exquisite30 care in speaking, laughing, relating to people quite normally. If there was a change, it was in thatshe was kinder than of yore, for people's griefs tended to affect her as if they were her own. But, all told, she wasthe same outward Justine flippant, exuberant31, brash, detached, acerbic32. Twice she tried to go home to Droghedaon a visit, the second time even going so far as to pay for her plane ticket. Each time an enormously importantlast minute reason why she couldn't go cropped up, but she knew the real reason to be a combination of guilt33 andcowardice. She just wasn't able to nerve herself to confront her mother; to do so meant the whole sorry talewould come out, probably in the midst of a noisy storm of grief she had so far managed to avoid. The Droghedapeople, especially her mother, must continue to go about secure in their conviction that Justine at any rate was allright, that Justine had survived it relatively34 unscathed. So, better to stay away from Drogheda. Much better.
Meggie caught herself on a sigh, suppressed it. If her bones didn't ache so much she might have saddled a horseand ridden, but today the mere10 thought of it was painful. Some other time, when her arthritis35 didn't make itspresence felt so cruelly.
She heard a car, the thump36 of the brass37 ram's head on the front door, heard voices murmuring, her mother'stones, footsteps. Not Justine, so what did it matter?
"Meggie," said Fee from the veranda38 entrance, "we have a visitor. Could you come inside, please?"The visitor was a distinguished-looking fellow in early middle age, though he might have been younger than heappeared. Very different from any man she had ever seen, except that he possessed39 the same sort of power andself-confidence Ralph used to have. Used to have. That most final of tenses, now truly final.
"Meggie, this is Mr. Rainer Hartheim," said Fee, standing40 beside her chair. "Oh!" exclaimed Meggieinvoluntarily, very surprised at the look of the Rain who had figured so largely in Justine's letters from the olddays. Then, remembering her manners, "Do sit down, Mr. Hartheim."He too was staring, startled. "You're not a bit like Justine!" he said rather blankly.
"No, I'm not." She sat down facing him.
"I'll leave you alone with Mr. Hartheim, Meggie, as he says he wants to see you privately41. When you're readyfor tea you might ring," Fee commanded, and departed.
"You're Justine's German friend, of course," said Meggie, at a loss. He pulled out his cigarette case. "May I?""Please do.""Would you care for one, Mrs. O'neill?""Thank you, no. I don't smoke." She smoothed her dress. "You're a long way from home, Mr. Hartheim. Haveyou business in Australia?" He smiled, wondering what she would say if she knew that he was, in effect, themaster of Drogheda. But he had no intention of telling her, for he preferred all the Drogheda people to think theirwelfare lay in the completely impersonal hands of the gentleman he employed to act as his go-between.
"Please, Mrs. O'neill, my name is Rainer," he said, giving it the same pronunciation Justine did, while thinkingwryly that this woman wouldn't use it spontaneously for some time to come; she was not one to relax withstrangers. "No, I don't have any official business in Australia, but I do have a good reason for coming. I wantedto see you.""To see me?" she asked in surprise. As if to cover sudden confusion, she went immediately to a safer subject:
"My brothers speak of you often. You were very kind to them while they were in Rome for Dane's ordination."She said Dane's name without distress43, as if she used it frequently. "I hope you can stay a few days, and seethem.""1 can, Mrs. O'neill;" he answered easily.
For Meggie the interview was proving unexpectedly awkward; he was a stranger, he had announced that he hadcome twelve thousand miles simply to see her, and apparently44 he was in no hurry to enlighten her as to why. Shethought she would end in liking45 him, but she found him slightly intimidating46. Perhaps his kind of man had nevercome within her ken11 before, and this was why he threw her off-balance. A very novel conception of Justineentered her mind at that moment: her daughter could actually relate easily to men like Rainer MoerlingHartheim! She thought of Justine as a fellow woman at last. Though aging and white-haired she was still verybeautiful, he was thinking while she sat gazing at him politely; he was still surprised that she looked not at alllike Justine, as Dane had so strongly resembled the Cardinal. How terribly lonely she must be! Yet he couldn'tfeel sorry for her in the way he did for Justine; clearly, she had come to terms with herself. "How is Justine?" sheasked.
He shrugged47. "I'm afraid I don't know. I haven't seen her since before Dane died."She didn't display astonishment48. "I haven't seen her myself since Dane's funeral," she said, and sighed. "I'dhoped she would come home, but it begins to look as if she never will."He made a soothing49 noise which she didn't seem to hear, for she went on speaking, but in a different voice,more to herself than to him. "Drogheda is like a home for the aged8 these days," she said. "We need young blood,and Justine's is the only young blood left."Pity deserted50 him; he leaned forward quickly, eyes glittering. "You speak of her as if she is a chattel51 ofDrogheda," he said, his voice now harsh. "I serve you notice, Mrs. O'neill, she is not!""What right have you to judge what Justine is or isn't?" she asked angrily. "After all, you said yourself that youhaven't seen her since before Dane died, and that's two years ago!""Yes, you're right. It's all of two years ago." He spoke52 more gently, realizing afresh what her life must be like.
"You bear it very well, Mrs. O'neill.""Do I?" she asked, tightly trying to smile, her eyes never leaving his. Suddenly he began to understand what theCardinal must have seen in her to have loved her so much. It wasn't in Justine, but then he himself was noCardinal Ralph; he looked for different things. "Yes, you bear it very well," he repeated.
She caught the undertone at once, and flinched54. "How do you know about Dane and Ralph?" she askedunsteadily.
"I guessed. Don't worry, Mrs. O'neill, nobody else did. I guessed because I knew the Cardinal long before I metDane. In Rome everyone thought the Cardinal was your brother, Dane's uncle, but Justine disillusioned55 me aboutthat the first time I ever met her.""Justine? Not Justine!" Meggie cried.
He reached out to take her hand, beating frantically56 against her knee. "No, no, no, Mrs. O'neill! Justine hasabsolutely no idea of it, and I pray she never will! Her slip was quite unintentional, believe me.""You're sure?""Yes, I swear it.""Then in God's Name why doesn't she come home? Why won't she come to see me? Why can't she bring herselfto look at my face?" Not only her words but the agony in her voice told him what had tormented Justine's motherabout her absence these last two years. His own mission's importance dwindled57; now he had a new one, to allayMeggie's fears. "For that 1 am to blame," he said firmly.
"You?" asked Meggie, bewildered.
"Justine had planned to go to Greece with Dane, and she's convinced that had she, he'd still be alive.""Nonsense!" said Meggie.
"Q. But though we know it's nonsense, Justine doesn't. It's up to you to make her see it.""Up to me? You don't understand, Mr. Hartheim. Justine has never listened to me in all her life, and at this stageany influence I might once have had is completely gone. She doesn't even want to see my face."Her tone was defeated but not abject58. "I fell into the same trap my mother did," she went on matter-of-factly.
"Drogheda is my life . . . the house, the books . . . . Here I'm needed, there's still some purpose in living. Here arepeople who rely on me. My children never did, you know. Never did." "That's not true, Mrs. O'neill. If it was,Justine could come home to you without a qualm. You underestimate the quality of the love she bears you. WhenI say I am to blame for what Justine is going through, I mean that she remained in London because of me, to bewith me. But it is for you she suffers, not for me."Meggie stiffened59. "She has no right to suffer for me! Let her suffer for herself if she must, but not for me. Neverfor me!" "Then you believe me when I say she has no idea of Dane and the Cardinal?" Her manner changed, as ifhe had reminded her there were other things at stake, and she was losing sight of them. "Yes," she said, "I believeyou." "I came to see you because Justine needs your help and cannot ask for it," he announced. "You mustconvince her she needs to take up the threads of her life again-not a Drogheda life, but her own life, which hasnothing to do with Drogheda."He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and lit another cigarette. "Justine has donned some kind of hairshirt, but for all the wrong reasons. If anyone can make her see it, you can. Yet I warn you that if you choose todo so she will never come home, whereas if she goes on the way she is, she may well end up returning herepermanently.
"The stage isn't enough for someone like Justine," he went on, "and the day is coming when she's going torealize that. Then she's going to opt61 for people either her family and Drogheda, or me." He smiled at her withdeep understanding. "But people are not enough for Justine either, Mrs. O'neill. If Justine chooses me, she canhave the stage as well, and that bonus Drogheda cannot offer her." Now he was gazing at her sternly, as if at anadversary. "I came to ask you to make sure she chooses me. It may seem cruel to say this, but I need her morethan you possibly could."The starch62 was back in Meggie. "Drogheda isn't such a bad choice," she countered. "You speak as if it would bethe end of her life, but it doesn't mean that at all, you know. She could have the stage. This is a true community.
Even if she married Boy King, as his grandfather and I have hoped for years, her children would be as well caredfor in her absences as they would be were she married to you. This is her home! She knows and understands thiskind of life. If she chose it, she'd certainly be very well aware what was involved. Can you say the same for thesort of life you'd offer her?" "No," he said stolidly63. "But Justine thrives on surprises. On Drogheda she'dstagnate.""What you mean is, she'd be unhappy here.""No, not exactly. I have no doubt that if she elected to return here, married this Boy King-who is this Boy King,by the way?" "The heir to a neighboring property, Bugela, and an old childhood friend who would like to bemore than a friend. His grandfather wants the marriage for dynastic reasons; I want it because I think it's whatJustine needs." . "I see. Well, if she returned here and married Boy King, she'd learn to be happy. But happinessis a relative state. I don't think she would ever know the kind of satisfaction she would find with me. Because,Mrs. O'neill, Justine loves me, not Boy King.""Then she's got a very strange way of showing it," said Meggie, pulling the bell rope for tea. "Besides, Mr.
Hartheim, as I said earlier, I think you overestimate64 my influence with her. Justine has never taken a scrap65 ofnotice of anything I say, let alone want.""You're nobody's fool," he answered. "You know you can do it if you want to. I can ask no more than that youthink about what I've said. Take your time, there's no hurry. I'm a patient man."Meggie smiled. "Then you're a rarity," she said. He didn't broach66 the subject again, nor did she. During theweek of his stay he behaved like any other guest, though Meggie had a feeling he was trying to show her whatkind of man he was. How much her brothers liked him was clear; from the moment word reached the paddocksof his arrival, they all came in and stayed in until he left for Germany. Fee liked him, too; her eyes haddeteriorated to the point where she could no longer keep the books, but she was far from senile. Mrs. Smith haddied in her sleep the previous winter, not before her due time, and rather than inflict67 a new housekeeper68 onMinnie and Cat, both old but still hale, Fee had passed the books completely to Meggie and more or less filledMrs. Smith's place herself. It was Fee who first realized Rainer was a direct link with that part of Dane's life noone on Drogheda had ever had opportunity to share, so she asked him to speak of it. He obliged gladly, havingquickly noticed that none of the Drogheda people were at all reluctant to talk of Dane, and derived69 great pleasurefrom listening to new tales about him.
Behind her mask of politeness Meggie couldn't get away from what Rain had told her, couldn't stop dwelling70 onthe choice he had offered her. She had long since given up hope of Justine's return, only to have him almostguarantee it, admit too that Justine would be happy if she did return. Also, for one other thing she had to beintensely grateful to him: he had laid the ghost of her fear that somehow Justine had discovered the link betweenDane and Ralph.
As for marriage to Rain, Meggie didn't see what she could do to push Justine where apparently she had nodesire to go. Or was it that she didn't want to see? She had ended in liking Rain very much, but his happinesscouldn't possibly matter as much to her as the welfare of her daughter, of the Drogheda people, and of Droghedaitself. The crucial question was, how vital to Justine's future happiness was Rain? In spite of his contention71 thatJustine loved him, Meggie couldn't remember her daughter ever saying anything which might indicate that Rainheld the same sort of importance for her as Ralph had done for Meggie.
"I presume you will see Justine sooner or later," Meggie said to Rain when she drove him to the airport. "Whenyou do, I'd rather you didn't mention this visit to Drogheda.""If you prefer," he said. "I would only ask you to think about what I've said, and take your time." But even as hemade his request, he couldn't help feeling that Meggie had reaped far more benefit from his visit than he had.
When the mid-April came that was two and a half years after Dane's death, Justine experienced anoverwhelming desire to see something that wasn't rows of houses. Suddenly on this beautiful day of soft springair and chilly72 sun, urban London was intolerable. So she took a District Line train to Kew Gardens, pleased thatit was a Tuesday and she would have the place almost to herself. Nor was she working that night, so it didn'tmatter if she exhausted73 herself tramping the byways.
She knew the park well, of course. London was a joy to any Drogheda person, with its masses of formal flowerbeds, but Kew was in a class all its own. In the old days she used to haunt it from April to the end of October, forevery month had a different floral display to offer.
Mid-April was her favorite time, the period of daffodils and azaleas and flowering trees. There was one spot shethought could lay some claim to being one of the world's loveliest sights on a small, intimate scale, so she satdown on the damp ground, an audience of one, to drink it in. As far as the eye could see stretched a sheet ofdaffodils; in mid-distance the nodding yellow horde74 of bells flowed around a great flowering almond, itsbranches so heavy with white blooms they dipped downward in arching falls as perfect and still as a Japanesepainting. Peace. It was so hard to come by. And then, her head far back to memorize the absolute beauty of theladen almond amid its rippling76 golden sea, something far less beautiful intruded77. Rainer Moerling Hartheim, ofall people, threading his careful way through clumps78 of daffodils, his bulk shielded from the chilly breeze by theinevitable German leather coat, the sun glittering in his silvery hair.
"You'll get a cold in your kidneys," he said, taking off his coat and spreading it lining79 side up on the ground sothey could sit on it. "How did you find me here?" she asked, wriggling80 onto a brown satin corner. "Mrs. Kellytold me you had gone to Kew. The rest was easy. I just walked until I found you.""I suppose you think I ought to be falling all over you in gladness, tra-la?""Are you?""Same old Rain, answering a question with a question. No, I'm not glad to see you. I thought I'd managed tomake you crawl up a hollow log permanently60.""It's hard to keep a good man up a hollow log permanently. How are you?" "I'm all right.""Have you licked your wounds enough?"No.
"Well, that's to be expected, I suppose. But I began to realize that once you had dismissed me you'd never againhumble your pride to make the first move toward reconciliation82. Whereas I, Herzchen, am wise enough to knowthat pride makes a very lonely bedfellow.""Don't go getting any ideas about kicking it out to make room for yourself, Rain, because I'm warning you, I amnot taking you on in that capacity." "I don't want you in that capacity anymore."The promptness of his answer irritated her, but she adopted a relieved air and said, "Honestly?""If I did, do you think I could have borne to keep away from you so long? You were a passing fancy in thatway, but I still think of you as a dear friend, and miss you as a dear friend.""Oh, Rain, so do I!""That's good. Am I admitted as a friend, then?" "Of course."He lay back on the coat and put his arms behind his head, smiling at her lazily. "How old are you, thirty? Inthose disgraceful clothes you look more like a scrubby schoolgirl. If you don't need me in your life for any otherreason, Justine, you certainly do as your personal arbiter83 of elegance84." She laughed. "I admit when I thought youmight pop up out of the woodwork I did take more interest in my appearance. If I'm thirty, though, you're nospring chook yourself. You must be forty at least. Doesn't seem like such a huge difference anymore, does it?
You've lost weight. Are you all right, Rain?""I was never fat, only big, so sitting at a desk all the time has shrunk me, not made me expand."Sliding down and turning onto her stomach, she put her face close to his, smiling. "Oh, Rain, it's so good to seeyou! No one else gives me a run for my money.""Poor Justine! And you have so much of it these days, don't you?" "Money?" She nodded. "Odd, that theCardinal should have left all of his to me. Well, half to me and half to Dane, but of course I was Dane's solelegatee." Her face twisted in spite of herself. She ducked her head away and pretended to look at one daffodil in asea of them until she could control her voice enough to say, "You know, Rain, I'd give my eyeteeth to learn justwhat the Cardinal was to my family. A friend, only that? More than that, in some mysterious way. But just what,I don't know. I wish I did." "No, you don't." He got to his feet and extended his hand. "Come, Herzchen, I'll buyyou dinner anywhere you think there will be eyes to see that the breach85 between the carrot-topped Australianactress and the certain member of the German cabinet is healed. My reputation as a playboy has deterioratedsince you threw me out.""You'll have to watch it, my friend. They don't call me a carrot-topped Australian actress any more-these daysI'm that lush, gorgeous, titian-haired British actress, thanks to my immortal86 interpretation87 of Cleopatra. Don't tellme you didn't know the critics are calling me the most exotic Cleo in years?" She cocked her arms and hands intothe pose of an Egyptian hieroglyph88.
His eyes twinkled. "Exotic?" he asked doubtfully. "Yes, exotic," she said firmly.
Cardinal Vittorio was dead, so Rain didn't go to Rome very much anymore. He came to London instead. At firstJustine was so delighted she didn't look any further than the friendship he offered, but as the months passed andhe failed by word or look to mention their previous relationship, her mild indignation became something moredisturbing. Not that she wanted a resumption of that other relationship, she told herself constantly; she hadfinished completely with that sort of thing, didn't need or desire it anymore. Nor did she permit her mind to dwellon an image of Rain so successfully buried she remembered it only in traitorous89 dreams. Those first few monthsafter Dane died had been dreadful, resisting the longing90 to go to Rain, feel him with her in body and spirit,knowing full well he would be if she let him. But she could not allow this with his face overshadowed by Dane's.
It was right to dismiss him, right to battle to obliterate91 every last flicker92 of desire for him. And as time went onand it seemed he was going to stay out of her life permanently, her body settled into unaroused torpor93, and hermind disciplined itself to forget. But now Rain was back it was growing much harder. She itched94 to ask himwhether he remembered that other relationship-how could he have forgotten it? Certainly for herself she hadquite finished with such things, but it would have been gratifying to learn he hadn't; that is, provided of coursesuch things for him spelled Justine,, and only Justine. Pipe dreams. Rain didn't have the mien95 of a man who waswasting away of unrequited love, mental or physical, and he never displayed the slightest wish to reopen thatphase of their lives. He wanted her for a friend, enjoyed her as a friend. Excellent! It was what she wanted, too.
Only . . . could he have forgotten? No, it wasn't possible-but God damn him if he had! The night Justine'sthought processes reached so far, her season's role of Lady Macbeth had an interesting savagery96 quite alien to herusual interpretation. She didn't sleep very well afterward97, and the following morning brought a letter from hermother which filled her with vague unease. Mum didn't write often anymore, a symptom of the long separationwhich affected98 them both, and what letters there were were stilted99, anemic. This was different, it contained adistant mutter of old age, an underlying100 weariness which poked101 up a word or two above the surface inanities102 likean iceberg103. Justine didn't like it. Old. Mum, old! What was happening on Drogheda? Was Mum trying to concealsome serious trouble? Was Nanna ill? One of the Unks? God forbid, Mum herself? It was three years since shehad seen any of them, and a lot could happen in three years, even if it wasn't happening to Justine O'neill.
Because her own life was stagnant105 and dull, she ought not to assume everyone else's was, too. That night wasJustine's "off" night, with only one more performance of Macbeth to go. The daylight hours had draggedunbearably, and even the thought of dinner with Rain didn't carry its usual anticipatory106 pleasure. Their friendshipwas useless, futile107, static, she told herself as she scrambled108 into a dress exactly the orange he hated most.
Conservative old fuddy-duddy! If Rain didn't like her the way she was, he could lump her. Then, fluffing up thelow bodice's frills around her meager109 chest, she caught her own eyes in the mirror and laughed ruefully. Oh,what a tempest in a teacup! She was acting110 exactly like the kind of female she most despised. It was probablyvery simple. She was stale, she needed a rest. Thank God for the end of Lady M! But what was the matter withMum? Lately Rain was spending more and more time in London, and Justine marveled at the ease with which hecommuted-between Bonn and England. No doubt having a private plane helped, but it had to be exhausting.
"Why do you come to see me so often?" she asked out of the blue. "Every gossip columnist111 in Europe thinks it'sgreat, but I confess I sometimes wonder if you don't simply use me as an excuse to visit London.""It's true that I use you as a blind from time to time," he admitted calmly. "As a matter of fact, you've been dustin certain eyes quite a lot. But it's no hardship being with you, because I like being with you." His dark eyesdwelled on her face thoughtfully. "You're very quiet tonight, Herzchen. Is anything worrying you?""No, not really." She toyed with her dessert and pushed it aside uneaten. "At least, only a silly little thing. Mumand I don't write every week anymore it’s so long since we've seen each other there's nothing much to say-buttoday I had such a strange letter from her. Not typical at all." ,His heart sank; Meggie had indeed taken her timethinking about it, but instinct told him this was the commencement of her move, and that it was not in his favor.
She was beginning her play to get her daughter back for Drogheda, perpetuate112 the dynasty.
He reached across the table to take Justine's hand; she was looking, he thought, more beautiful with maturity113, inspite of that ghastly dress. Tiny lines were beginning to give her ragamuffin face dignity, which it badly needed,and character, which the person behind had always owned in huge quantities. But how deep did her surfacematurity go? That was the whole trouble with Justine; she didn't even want to look. "Herzchen, your mother islonely," he said, burning his boats. If this was what Meggie wanted, how could he continue to think himself rightand her wrong? Justine was her daughter; she must know her far better than he. "Yes, perhaps," said Justine witha frown, "but I can't help feeling there's something more at base of it. I mean, she must have been lonely foryears, so why this sudden whatever it is? I can't put my finger on it, Rain, and maybe that's what worries me themost.""She's growing older, which I think you tend to forget. It's very possible things are beginning to prey114 upon herwhich she found easier to contend with in the past." His eyes looked suddenly remote, as if the brain behind wasconcentrating very hard on something at variance115 with what he was saying. "Justine, three years ago she lost heronly son. Do you think that pain grows less as time passes? I think it must grow worse. He is gone, and she mustsurely feel by now that you are gone, too. After all, you haven't even been home to visit her."She shut her eyes. "I will, Rain, I will! I promise I will, and soon! You're right, of course, but then you alwaysare. I never thought I'd come to miss Drogheda, but lately I seem to be developing quite an affection for it. As if Iam a part of it after all."He looked suddenly at his watch, smiled ruefully. "I'm very much afraid tonight is one of those occasions whenI've used you, Herzchen. I hate to ask you to find your own way home, but in less than an hour I have to meetsome very important gentlemen in a top-secret place, to which I must go in my own car, driven by the triple-Asecurity-clearanced Fritz.""Cloak and dagger116!" she said gaily117, concealing118 her hurt. "Now I know why those sudden taxis! 1 am to beentrusted to a cabby, but not the future of the Common Market, eh? Well, just to show you how little I need ataxi or your security-clearanced Fritz, I'm going to catch the tube home. It's quite early." His fingers lay ratherlimply around hers; she lifted his hand and held it against her cheek, then kissed it. "Oh, Rain, I don't know whatI'd do without you!"He put the hand in his pocket, got to his feet, came round and pulled out her chair with his other hand. "I'm yourfriend," he said. "That's what friends are for, not to be done without."But once she parted from him, Justine went home in a ,v thoughtful mood, which turned rapidly into adepressed one. Tonight was the closest he had come to any kind of personal discussion, and the gist13 of it hadbeen that he felt her mother was terribly lonely, growing old, and that she ought to go home. Visit, he had said;but she couldn't help wondering if he had actually meant stay. Which rather indicated that whatever he felt forher in the past was well and truly of the past, and he had no wish to resurrect it. It had never occurred to herbefore to wonder if he might regard her as a nuisance, a part of his past he would like to see buried in decentobscurity on some place like Drogheda; but maybe he did. In which case, why had he re-entered her life ninemonths ago? Because he felt sorry for her? Because he felt he owed her some kind of debt? Because he felt sheneeded some sort of push toward her mother, for Dane's sake? He had been very fond of Dane, and who knewwhat they had talked about during those long visits to Rome when she hadn't been present? Maybe Dane hadasked him to keep an eye on her, and he was doing just that. Waited a decent interval119 to make sure she wouldn'tshow him the door, then marched back into her life to fulfill120 some promise made to Dane. Yes, that was verylikely the answer. Certainly he was no longer in love with her. Whatever attraction she had once possessed forhim must have died long since; after all, she had treated him abominably121. She had only herself to blame.
Upon the heels of which thought she wept miserably122, succeeded in getting enough hold upon herself to tellherself not to be so stupid, twisted about and thumped123 her pillow in a fruitless quest after sleep, then lay defeatedtrying to read a script. After a few pages the words began traitorously124 to blur125 and swim together, and try as shewould to use her old trick of bulldozing despair into some back corner of her mind, it ended in overwhelmingher. Finally as the slovenly126 light of a late London dawn seeped127 through the windows she sat down at her desk,feeling the cold, hearing the distant growl128 of traffic, smelling the damp, tasting the sourness. Suddenly the ideaof Drogheda seemed wonderful. Sweet pure air, a naturally broken silence. Peace. She picked up one of herblack felt-tipped pens and began a letter to her mother, her tears drying as she wrote.
I just hope you understand why I haven't been home since Dane died [she said], but no matter what you thinkabout that, I know you'll be pleased to hear that I'm going to rectify129 my omission130 permanently. Yes, that's right.
I'm coming home for good, Mum. You were right-the time has come when I long for Drogheda. I've had myflutter, and I've discovered it doesn't mean anything to me at all. What's in it for me, trailing around a stage forthe rest of my life? And what else is there here for me aside from the stage? I want something safe, permanent,enduring, so I'm coming home to Drogheda, which is all those things. No more empty dreams. Who knows?
Maybe I'll marry Boy King if he still wants me, finally do something worthwhile with my life, like having a tribeof little Northwest plainsmen. I'm tired, Mum, so tired I don't know what I'm saying, and I wish I had the powerto write what I'm feeling.
Well, I'll struggle with it another time. Lady Macbeth is over and I hadn't decided131 what to do with the comingseason yet, so I won't inconvenience anyone by deciding to bow out of acting. London is teeming132 with actresses.
Clyde can replace me adequately in two seconds, but you can't, can you? I'm sorry it's taken me thirty-one yearsto realize that. Had Rain not helped me it might have taken even longer, but he's a most perceptive133 bloke. He'snever met you, yet he seems to understand you better than I do. Still, they say the onlooker134 sees the game best.
That's certainly true of him. I'm fed up with him, always supervising my life from his Olympian heights. Heseems to think he owes Dane some sort of debt or promise, and he's forever making a nuisance of himselfpopping over to see me; only I've finally realized that I'm the nuisance. If I'm safely on Drogheda the debt orpromise or whatever it was is canceled, isn't it? He ought to be grateful for the plane trips I'll save him, anyway.
As soon as I've got myself organized I'll write again, tell you when to expect me. In the meantime, remember thatin my strange way I do love you.
She signed her name without its usual flourish, more like the "Justine" which used to appear on the bottom ofdutiful letters written from boarding school under the eagle eye of a censoring135 nun42. Then she folded the sheets,put them in an airmail envelope and addressed it. On the way to the theater for the final performance of Macbethshe posted it. She went straight ahead with her plans to quit England. Clyde was upset to the extent of ascreaming temper tantrum which left her shaking, then overnight he turned completely about and gave in withhuffy good grace. There was no difficulty at all in disposing of the lease to the mews flat for it was in a high-demand category; in fact, once the word leaked out people rang every five minutes until she took the phone offthe hook. Mrs. Kelly, who had "done" for her since those far-off days when she had first come to London,plodded dolefully around amid a jungle of wood shavings and crates137, bemoaning138 her fate and surreptitiouslyputting the phone back on its cradle in the hope someone would ring with the power to persuade Justine tochange her mind.
In the midst of the turmoil139, someone with that power did ring, only not to persuade her to change her mind;Rain didn't even know she was going. He merely asked her to act as his hostess for a dinner party he was givingat his house on Park Lane.
"What do you mean, house on Park Lane?" Justine squeaked140, astonished. "Well, with growing Britishparticipation in the European Economic Community, I'm spending so much time in England that it's becomemore practical for me to have some sort of local pied-a-terre, so I've leased a house on Park Lane," he explained.
"Ye gods, Rain, you flaming secretive bastard141! How long have you had it?" "About a month.""And you let me go through that idiotic142 charade143 the other night and said nothing? God damn you!" She was soangry she couldn't speak properly. "I was going to tell you, but I got such a kick out of your thinking I was flyingover all the time that I couldn't resist pretending a bit longer," he said with a laugh in his voice.
"I could kill you!" she ground from between her teeth, blinking away tears. "No, Herzchen, please! Don't beangry! Come and be my hostess, then you can inspect the premises144 to your heart's content.""Suitably chaperoned by five million other guests, of course! What's the matter, Rain, don't you trust yourselfalone with me? Or is it me you don't trust?""You won't be a guest," he said, answering the first part of her tirade145. "You'll be my hostess, which is quitedifferent. Will you do it?" She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and said gruffly, "Yes." It turnedout to be more enjoyable than she had dared hope, for Rain's house was truly beautiful and he himself in such agood mood Justine couldn't help but become infected by it. She arrived properly though a little too flamboyantlygowned for his taste, but after an involuntary grimace146 at first sight of her shocking pink slipper147 satin, he tuckedher arm through his and conducted her around the premises before the guests arrived. Then during the evening hebehaved perfectly148, treating her in front of the others with an offhand149 intimacy150 which made her feel both usefuland wanted. His guests were so politically important her brain didn't want to think about the sort of decisionsthey must have to make. Such ordinary people, too. That made it worse.
"I wouldn't have minded so much if even one of them had displayed symptoms of the Chosen Few," she said tohim after they had gone, glad of the chance to be alone with him and wondering how quickly he was going tosend her home. "You know, like Napoleon or Churchill. There's a lot to be said for being convinced one is a manof destiny, if one is a statesman. Do you regard yourself as a man of destiny?"He winced151. "You might choose your questions better when you're quizzing a German, Justine. No, I don't, andit isn't good for politicians to deem themselves men of destiny. It might work for a very few, though I doubt it,but the vast bulk of such men cause themselves and their countries endless trouble."She had no desire to argue the point. It had served its purpose in getting a certain line of conversation started;she could change the subject without looking too obvious. "The wives were a pretty mixed bunch, weren't they?"she asked artlessly. "Most of them were far less presentable than I was, even if you don't approve of hot pink.
Mrs. Whatsit wasn't too bad, and Mrs. Hoojar simply disappeared into the matching wallpaper, but Mrs.
Gumfoozler was abominable152. How does her husband manage to put up with her? Oh, men are such fools aboutchoosing their wives!""Justine! When will you learn to remember names? It's as well you turned me down, a fine politician's wife youwould have made. I heard you humming when you couldn't remember who they were. Many men withabominable wives have succeeded very well, and just as many with quite perfect wives haven't succeeded at all.
In the long run it doesn't matter, because it's the caliber153 of the man which is put to the test. There are few menwho marry for reasons purely154 politic2."That old ability to put her in her place could still shock; she made him a mock salaam155 to hide her face, then satdown on the rug. "Oh, do get up, Justine!"Instead she defiantly156 curled her feet under her and leaned against the wall to one side of the fireplace, strokingNatasha. She had discovered on her arrival that after Cardinal Vittorio's death Rain had taken his cat; he seemedvery fond of it, though it was old and rather crotchety. "Did I tell you I was going home to Drogheda for good?"she asked suddenly. He was taking a cigarette out of his case; the big hands didn't falter157 or tremble, butproceeded, smoothly158 with their task. "You know very well you didn't tell me," he said.
"Then I'm telling you now.""When did you come to this decision?""Five days ago. I'm leaving at the end of this week, I hope. It can't come soon enough.""I see.""Is that all you've got to say about it?""What else is there to say, except that I wish you happiness in whatever you do?" He spoke with such completecomposure she winced. "Why, thank you!" she said airily. "Aren't you glad I won't be in your hair much longer?""You're not in my hair, Justine," he answered. She abandoned Natasha, picked up the poker159 and began rathersavagely nudging the crumbling160 logs, which had burned away to hollow shells; they collapsed161 inward in a briefflurry of sparks, and the heat of the fire abruptly162 decreased. "It must be the demon22 of destructiveness in us, theimpulse to poke53 the guts163 out of a fire. It only hastens the end. But what a beautiful end, isn't it, Rain?"Apparently he wasn't interested in what happened to fires when they were poked, for he merely asked, "By theend of the week, eh? You're not wasting much time.""What's the point in delaying?""And your career?""I'm sick of my career. Anyway, after Lady Macbeth what is there left to do?""Oh, grow up, Justine! I could shake you when you come out with such sophomoric164 rot! Why not simply sayyou're not sure the theater has any challenge for you anymore, and that you're homesick?" "All right, all right, allright! Have it any way you bloody165 well want! I was being my usual flippant self. Sorry I offended!" She jumpedto her feet. "Dammit, where are my shoes? What's happened to my coat?" Fritz appeared with both articles ofclothing, and drove her home. Rain excused himself from accompanying her, saying he had things to do, but asshe left he was sitting by the freshly built up fire, Natasha on his lap, looking anything but busy.
"Well," said Meggie to her mother, "I hope we've done the right thing." Fee peered at her, nodded. "Oh, yes, I'msure of it. The trouble with Justine is that she isn't capable of making a decision like this, so we don't have anychoice. We must make it for her.""I'm not sure I like playing God. I think I know what she really wants to do, but even if I could tax her with itface to face, she'd prevaricate166." "The Cleary pride," said Fee, smiling faintly. "It does crop up in the mostunexpected people.""Go on, it's not all Cleary pride! I've always fancied there was a little dash of Armstrong in it as well."But Fee shook her head. "No. Whyever I did what I did, pride hardly entered into it. That's the purpose of oldage, Meggie. To give us a breathing space before we die, in which to see why we did what we did.""Provided senility doesn't render us incapable167 first," said Meggie dryly. "Not that there's any danger of that inyou. Nor in me, I suppose." "Maybe senility's a mercy shown to those who couldn't face retrospection. Anyway,you're not old enough yet to say you've avoided senility. Give it an- other twenty years.""Another twenty years!" Meggie echoed, dismayed. "Oh, it sounds so long!" "Well, you could have made thosetwenty years less lonely, couldn't you?" Fee asked, knitting industriously168.
"Yes, I could. But it wouldn't have been worth it, Mum. Would it?" She tapped Justine's letter with the knob ofone ancient knitting needle, the slightest trace of doubt in her tone. "I've dithered long enough. Sitting here eversince Rainer came, hoping I wouldn't need to do anything at all, hoping the decision wouldn't rest with me. Yethe was right. In the end, it's been for me to do.""Well, you might concede I did a bit too," Fee protested, injured. "That is, once you surrendered enough of yourpride to tell me all about it." "Yes, you helped," said Meggie gently.
The old clock ticked; both pairs of hands continued to flash about the tortoise-shell stems of their needles.
"Tell me something, Mum," said Meggie suddenly. "Why did you break over Dane when you didn't over Daddyor Frank or Stu?" "Break?" Fee's hands paused, laid down the needles: she could still knit as well as in the dayswhen she could see perfectly. "How do you mean, break?" "As though it killed you.""They all killed me, Meggie. But I was younger for the first three, so I had the energy to conceal104 it better. Morereason, too. Just like you now. But Ralph knew how I felt when Daddy and Stu died. You were too young tohave seen it." She smiled. "I adored Ralph, you know. He was . . . someone special. Awfully169 like Dane.""Yes, he was. I never realized you'd seen that, Mum -I mean their natures. Funny. You're a Darkest Africa tome. There are so many things about you I don't know.""I should hope so!" said Fee with a snort of laughter. Her hands remained quiet. "Getting back to the originalsubject-if you can do this now for Justine, Meggie, I'd say you've gained more from your troubles than I did frommine. I wasn't willing to do as Ralph asked and look out for you. I wanted my memories . . . nothing but mymemories. Whereas you've no choice. Memories are all you've got.""Well, they're a comfort, once the pain dies down. Don't you think so? I had twenty-six whole years of Dane,and I've learned to tell myself that what happened must be for the best, that he must have been spared someawful ordeal170 he might not have been strong enough to endure. Like Frank, perhaps, only not the same. There areworse things than dying, we both know that." "Aren't you bitter at all?" asked Fee.
"Oh, at first I was, but for their sakes I've taught myself not to be." Fee resumed her knitting. "So when we go,there will be no one," she said softly. "Drogheda will be no more. Oh, they'll give it a line in the history books,and some earnest young man will come to Gilly to interview anyone he can find who remembers, for the bookhe's going to write about Drogheda. Last of the mighty171 New South Wales stations. But none of his readers willever know what it was really like, because they couldn't. They'd have to have been a part of it.""Yes," said Meggie, who hadn't stopped knitting. "They'd have to have been a part of it."Saying goodbye to Rain in a letter, devastated172 by grief and shock, had been easy; in fact enjoyable in a cruelway, for she had lashed173 back then-I'm in agony, so ought you to be. But this time Rain hadn't put himself in aposition where a Dear John letter was possible. It had to be dinner at their favorite restaurant. He hadn'tsuggested his Park Lane house, which disappointed but didn't surprise her. No doubt he intended saying even hisfinal goodbyes under the benign174 gaze of Fritz. Certainly he wasn't taking any chances.
For once in her life she took care that her appearance should please him; the imp6 which usually prodded175 herinto orange frills seemed to have retired176 cursing. Since Rain liked unadorned styles, she put on a floor length silkjersey dress of dull burgundy red, high to the neck, long tight sleeves. She added a big fiat177 collar of tortuous178 goldstudded with garnets and pearls, and matching bracelets179 on each wrist. What horrible, horrible hair. It was neverdisciplined enough to suit him. More makeup180 than normal, to conceal the evidence of her depression. There. Shewould do if he didn't look too closely.
He didn't seem to; at least he didn't comment upon weariness or possible illness, even made no reference to theexigencies of packing. Which wasn't a bit like him. And after a while she began to experience a sensation that theworld must be ending, so different was he from his usual self. He wouldn't help her make the dinner a success,the sort of affair they could refer to in letters with reminiscent pleasure and amusement. If she could only havepersuaded herself that he was simply upset at her going, it might have been all right. But she couldn't. His moodjust wasn't that sort. Rather, he was so distant she felt as if she were sitting with a paper effigy181, one-dimensionaland anxious to be off floating in the breeze, far from her ken. As if he had said goodbye to her already, and thismeeting was a superfluity.
"Have you had a letter from your mother yet?" he asked politely. "No, but I don't honestly expect one. She'sprobably bereft182 of words." "Would you like Fritz to take you to the airport tomorrow?" "Thanks, I can catch acab," she answered ungraciously. "I wouldn't want you to be deprived of his services.""I have meetings all day, so I assure you it won't inconvenience me in the slightest.""I said I'd take a cab!"He raised his eyebrows183. "There's no need to shout, Justine. Whatever you want is all right with me."He wasn't calling her Herzchen any more; of late she had noticed its frequency declining, and tonight he had notused the old endearment184 once. Oh, what a dismal185, depressing dinner this was! Let it be over soon! She found shewas looking at his hands and trying to remember what they felt like, but she couldn't. Why wasn't life neat andwell organized, why did things like Dane have to happen? Perhaps because she thought of Dane, her moodsuddenly plummeted186 to a point where she couldn't bear to sit still a moment longer, and put her hands on thearms of her chair.
"Do you mind if we go?" she asked. "I'm developing a splitting headache." At the junction187 of the High Roadand Justine's little mews Rain helped her from the car, told Fritz to drive around the block, and put his handbeneath her elbow courteously188 to guide her, his touch quite impersonal. In the freezing damp of a London drizzlethey walked slowly across the cobbles, dripping echoes of their footsteps all around them. Mournful, lonelyfootsteps.
"So, Justine, we say goodbye," he said.
"Well, for the time being, at any rate," she answered brightly, "but it's not forever, you know. I'll be across fromtime to time, and I hope you'll find the time to come down to Drogheda."He shook his head. "No. This is goodbye, Justine. I don't think we have any further use for each other.""You mean you haven't any further use for me," she said, and managed a fairly creditable laugh. "It's all right,Rain! Don't spare me, I can take it!"He took her hand, bent189 to kiss it, straightened, smiled into her eyes and walked away.
There was a letter from her mother on the mat. Justine stooped to pick it up, dropped her bag and wrap where ithad lain, her shoes nearby, and went into the living room. She sat down heavily on a packing crate136, chewing ather lip, her eyes resting for a moment in wondering, bewildered pity on a magnificent head-and shoulders studyof Dane taken to commemorate190 his ordination. Then she caught her bare toes in the act of caressing191 the rolled-upkangaroo-fur rug, grimaced192 in distaste and got up quickly. A short walk to the kitchen, that was what she needed.
So she took a short walk to the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator, reached for the cream jug193, opened thefreezer door and withdrew a can of filter coffee. With one hand on the cold-water tap to run water for her coffee,she looked around wide-eyed, as if she had never seen the room before. Looked at the flaws in the wallpaper, atthe smug philodendron in its basket hung from the ceiling, at the, black pussy-cat clock wagging its tail androlling its eyes at the spectacle of time being so frivolously194 frittered away. PACKHAIRBRUSH, said the blackboard in large capitals. On the table lay a pencil sketch195 of Rain she had done someweeks ago. And a packet of cigarettes. She took one and lit it, put the kettle on the stove and remembered hermother's letter, which was still screwed up in one hand. May as well read it while the water heated. She sat downat the kitchen table, flipped196 the drawing of Rain onto the floor and planted her feet on top of it. Up yours, too,Rainer Moerling Hartheim! See if I care, you great dogmatic leather-coated Kraut twit. Got no further use forme, eh? Well, nor have I for you!
My dear Justine [said Meggie]
No doubt you're proceeding197 with your usual impulsive198 speed, so I hope this reaches you in time. If anything I'vesaid lately in my letters has caused this sudden decision of yours, please forgive me. I didn't mean to provokesuch a drastic reaction. I suppose I was simply looking for a bit of sympathy, but I always forget that under thattough skin of yours, you're pretty soft.
Yes, I'm lonely, terribly so. Yet it isn't anything your coming home could possibly rectify. If you stop to thinkfor a moment, you'll see how true that is. What do you hope to accomplish by coming home? It isn't within yourpower to restore to me what I've lost, and you can't make reparation either. Nor is it purely my loss. It's your losstoo, and Nanna's, and all the rest. You seem to have an idea, and it's quite a mistaken idea, that in some way youwere responsible. This present impulse looks to me suspiciously like an act of contrition199. That's pride andpresumption, Justine. Dane was a grown man, not a helpless baby. 1 let him go, didn't I? If I had let myself feelthe way you do, I'd be sitting here blaming myself into a mental asylum200 because I had permitted him to live hisown life. But I'm not sitting here blaming myself. We're none of us God, though I think I've had more chance tolearn that than you.
In coming home, you're handing me your life like a sacrifice. 1 don't want it. I never have wanted it. And Irefuse it now. You don't belong on Drogheda, you never did. If you still haven't worked out where you dobelong, I suggest you sit down right this minute and start some serious thinking. Sometimes you really areawfully dense201. Rainer is a very nice man, but I've never yet met a man who could possibly be as altruistic202 as youseem to think he is. For Dane's sake indeed! Do grow up, Justine! My dearest one, a light has gone out. For all ofus, a light has gone out. And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it, don't you understand? I'm notinsulting you by trying to pretend I'm perfectly happy. Such isn't the human condition. But if you think we hereon Drogheda spend our days weeping and wailing204, you're quite wrong. We enjoy our days, and one of the mainreasons why is that our lights for you still burn. Dane's light is gone forever. Please, dear Justine, try to . acceptthat. Come home to Drogheda by all means, we'd love to see you. But not for good. You'd never be happy settledhere permanently. It is not only a needless sacrifice for you to make, but a useless one. In your sort of career,even a year spent away from it would cost you dearly. So stay where you belong, be a good citizen of yourworld.
The pain. It was like those first few days after Dane died. The same sort of futile, wasted, unavoidable pain. Thesame anguished205 impotence. No, of course there was nothing she could do. No way of making up, no way.
Scream! The kettle was whistling already. Hush206, kettle, hush! Hush for Mummy! How does it feel to beMummy's only child, kettle? Ask Justine, she knows. Yes, Justine knows all about being the only child. But I'mnot the child she wants, that poor fading old woman back on the ranch75. Oh, Mum! Oh, Mum . . . Do you think ifI humanly could, I wouldn't? New lamps for old, my life for his! It isn't fair, that Dane was the one to die ....
She's right. My going back to Drogheda can't alter the fact that he never can. Though he lies there forever, henever can. A light has gone out, and I can't rekindle207 it. But I see what she means. My light still burns in her. Onlynot on Drogheda.
Fritz answered the door, not clad in his smart navy chauffeur's uniform, clad in his smart butler's morning suitinstead. But as he smiled, bowed stiffly and clicked his heels in good old-fashioned German manner, a thoughtoccurred to Justine; did he do double duty in Bonn, too? "Are you simply Herr Hartheim's humble81 servant, Fritz,or are you really his watchdog?" she asked, handing him her coat. Fritz remained impassive. "Herr Hartheim is inhis study, Miss O'neill." He was sitting looking at the fire, leaning a little forward, Natasha curled sleeping on thehearth. When the door opened he looked up, but didn't speak, didn't seem glad to see her.
So Justine crossed the room, knelt, and laid her forehead on his lap. "Rain, I'm so sorry for all the years, and Ican't atone," she whispered. He didn't rise to his feet, draw her up with him; he knelt beside her on the floor.
"A miracle," he said.
She smiled at him. "You never did stop loving me, did you?" "No, Herzchen, never." "I must have hurt youvery much." "Not in the way you think. I knew you loved me, and I could wait. I've always believed a patientman must win in the end.""So you decided to let me work it out for myself. You weren't a bit worried when I announced I was goinghome to Drogheda, were you?" "Oh, yes. Had it been another man I would not have been perturbed4, butDrogheda? A formidable opponent. Yes, I worried." "You knew I was going before I told you, didn't you?""Clyde let the cat out of the bag. He rang Bonn to ask me if there was any way I could stop you, so I told him toplay along with you for a week or two at any rate, and I'd see what I could do. Not for his sake, Herzchen. Formy own. I'm no altruist203." "That's what Mum said. But this house! Did you have it a month ago?" "No, nor is itmine. However, since we will need a London house if you're to continue with your career, I'd better see what Ican do to acquire it. That is, provided you like it. I'll even let you have the redecorating of it, if you promisefaithfully not to deck it out in pink and orange." "I've never realized quite how devious208 you are. Why didn't youjust say you still loved me? I wanted you to!" "No. The evidence was there for you to see it for yourself, and youhad to see if for yourself." "I'm afraid I'm chronically209 blind. I didn't really see for myself, I had to have somehelp. My mother finally forced me to open my eyes. I had a letter from her tonight, telling me not to comehome." "She's a marvelous person, your mother." "I know you've met her, Rain-when?" "I went to see her abouta year ago. Drogheda is magnificent, but it isn't you, Herzchen. At the time I went to try to make your mother seethat. You've no idea how glad I am she has, though I don't think anything I said was very enlightening." She puther fingers up to touch his mouth. "I doubted myself, Rain. I always have. Maybe I always will.""Oh, Herzchen, I hope not! For me there can never be anyone else. Only you. The whole world has known itfor years. But words of love mean nothing. I could have screamed them at you a thousand times a day withoutaffecting your doubts in the slightest. So I haven't spoken my love, Justine, I've lived it. How could you doubt thefeelings of your most faithful gallant210?" He sighed. "Well, at least it hasn't come from me. Perhaps you'll continueto find your mother's word good enough." "Please don't say it like that! Poor Rain, I think I've worn even yourpatience to a thread. Don't be hurt that it came from Mum. It doesn't matter! I've knelt in abasement211 at your feet!""Thank God the abasement will only last for tonight," he said more cheerfully. "You'll bounce back tomorrow."The tension began to leave her; the worst of it was over. "What I like-no, love-about you the most is that yougive me such a good run for my money I never do quite catch up." His shoulders shook. "Then look at the futurethis way, Herzchen. Living in the same house with me might afford you the opportunity to see how it can bedone." He kissed her brows, her cheeks, her eyelids212. "I would have you no other way than the way you are,Justine, Not a freckle213 of your face or a cell of your brain." She slid her arms around his neck, sank her fingersinto that satisfying hair. "Oh, if you knew how I've longed to do this!" she said. "I've never been able to forget."The cable said: HAVE JUST BECOME MRS RAWER MOERLING HARTHEIM STOP PRIVATECEREMONY THE VATICAN STOP PAPAL BLESSINGS214 ALL OVER THE PLACE STOP THAT ISDEFINITELY BEING MARRIED EXCLAMATION215 WE WILL BE DOWN ON A DELAYEDHONEYMOON AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT EUROPE IS GOING TO BEHOME STOP LOVE TO ALL AND FROM RAIN TOO STOP JUSTINE Meggie put the form down on thetable and stared wide-eyed through the window at the wealth of autumn roses in the garden. Perfume of roses,bees of roses. And the hibiscus, the bottlebrush, the ghost gums, the bougainvillea up above the world so high,the pepper trees. How beautiful the garden was, how alive. To see its small things grow big, change, and wither;and new little things come again in the same endless, unceasing cycle. Time for Drogheda to stop. Yes, morethan time. Let the cycle renew itself with unknown people. I did it all to myself, I have no one else to blame. AndI cannot regret one single moment of it. The bird with the thorn in its breast, it follows an immutable216 law; it isdriven by it knows not what to impale217 itself, and die singing. At the very instant the thorn enters there is noawareness in it of the dying to come; it simply sings and sings until there is not the life left to utter another note.
But we, when we put the thorns in our breasts, we know. We understand. And still we do it. Still we do it.
The End
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1
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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2
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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3
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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4
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5
fiddled
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| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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6
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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8
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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10
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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11
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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12
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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13
gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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14
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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15
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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16
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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17
alleviate
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| v.减轻，缓和，缓解(痛苦等) | |
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18
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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19
smarmy
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| adj.爱说奉承话的 | |
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20
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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21
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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22
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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23
vocations
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| n.（认为特别适合自己的）职业( vocation的名词复数 )；使命；神召；（认为某种工作或生活方式特别适合自己的）信心 | |
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24
horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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25
unbearably
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| adv.不能忍受地，无法容忍地；慌 | |
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26
ordination
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| n.授任圣职 | |
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27
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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28
visualizing
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| 肉眼观察 | |
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29
atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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30
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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31
exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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32
acerbic
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| adj.酸的，刻薄的 | |
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33
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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34
relatively
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| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
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35
arthritis
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| n.关节炎 | |
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36
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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37
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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38
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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39
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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41
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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42
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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43
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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44
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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45
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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46
intimidating
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| vt.恐吓，威胁( intimidate的现在分词) | |
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47
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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49
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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50
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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51
chattel
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| n.动产；奴隶 | |
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52
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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53
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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54
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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56
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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57
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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59
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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60
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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61
opt
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| vi.选择，决定做某事 | |
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62
starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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63
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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64
overestimate
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| v.估计过高，过高评价 | |
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65
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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66
broach
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| v.开瓶，提出(题目) | |
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67
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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68
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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69
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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70
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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71
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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72
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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73
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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74
horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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75
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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76
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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77
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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78
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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79
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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80
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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81
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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82
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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83
arbiter
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| n.仲裁人，公断人 | |
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84
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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85
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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86
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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87
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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88
hieroglyph
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| n.象形文字， 图画文字 | |
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89
traitorous
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| adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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90
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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91
obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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92
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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93
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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94
itched
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| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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96
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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97
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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stilted
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| adj.虚饰的；夸张的 | |
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100
underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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101
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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102
inanities
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| n.空洞( inanity的名词复数 )；浅薄；愚蠢；空洞的言行 | |
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103
iceberg
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| n.冰山，流冰，冷冰冰的人 | |
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104
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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105
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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106
anticipatory
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| adj.预想的，预期的 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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108
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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109
meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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110
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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111
columnist
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| n.专栏作家 | |
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112
perpetuate
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| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
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113
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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114
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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115
variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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116
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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117
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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118
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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119
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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120
fulfill
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| vt.履行，实现，完成；满足，使满意 | |
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121
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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122
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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123
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124
traitorously
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| 叛逆地，不忠地 | |
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125
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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126
slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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127
seeped
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的过去式和过去分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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128
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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129
rectify
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| v.订正，矫正，改正 | |
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130
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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131
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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132
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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133
perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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134
onlooker
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| n.旁观者，观众 | |
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135
censoring
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| 删剪（书籍、电影等中被认为犯忌、违反道德或政治上危险的内容）( censor的现在分词 ) | |
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136
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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137
crates
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| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
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138
bemoaning
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| v.为（某人或某事）抱怨( bemoan的现在分词 )；悲悼；为…恸哭；哀叹 | |
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139
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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140
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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141
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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142
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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143
charade
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| n.用动作等表演文字意义的字谜游戏 | |
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144
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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145
tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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146
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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147
slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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148
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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149
offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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150
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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151
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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152
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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153
caliber
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| n.能力；水准 | |
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154
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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155
salaam
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| n.额手之礼，问安，敬礼；v.行额手礼 | |
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156
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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157
falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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158
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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159
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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160
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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161
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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162
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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163
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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164
sophomoric
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| adj.一知半解的；大学或四年制中学的二年级的 | |
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165
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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166
prevaricate
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| v.支吾其词；说谎；n.推诿的人；撒谎的人 | |
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167
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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168
industriously
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169
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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170
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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171
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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172
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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173
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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174
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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175
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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176
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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177
fiat
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| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
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178
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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179
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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180
makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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181
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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182
bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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183
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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184
endearment
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| n.表示亲爱的行为 | |
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185
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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186
plummeted
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| v.垂直落下，骤然跌落( plummet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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187
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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188
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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189
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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190
commemorate
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| vt.纪念，庆祝 | |
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191
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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192
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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193
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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194
frivolously
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| adv.轻浮地，愚昧地 | |
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195
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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196
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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197
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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198
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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199
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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200
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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201
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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202
altruistic
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| adj.无私的，为他人着想的 | |
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203
altruist
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| n.利他主义者，爱他主义者 | |
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204
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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205
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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206
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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207
rekindle
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| v.使再振作；再点火 | |
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208
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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209
chronically
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| ad.长期地 | |
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210
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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211
abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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212
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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213
freckle
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| n.雀簧；晒斑 | |
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214
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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215
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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216
immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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217
impale
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| v.用尖物刺某人、某物 | |
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