CHAPTER XXII
Lady Gleeson had heard from a Promethean what had transpired in thestudio after she had left, and her interest was immensely stimulated.These details she had not known when she had driven her hero home, andhad felt so strangely drawn to him that she had kissed him in front ofDr. Fillery as though she caressed a prisoner under the eyes of thewarder.
She made her little plans accordingly. It was some days, however,before they bore fruit. The telephone at last rang. It was Dr. Fillery.The nerves in her quivered with anticipation.
Devonham, it appeared, had been away, and her "kind letters andpresents," he regretted to find, had remained unanswered andunacknowledged. Mr. LeVallon had been in the country, too, with hiscolleague, and letters had not been forwarded. Oh, it would "do himgood to see people." It would be delightful if she could spare a momentto look in. Perhaps for a cup of tea to-morrow? No, to-morrow shewas engaged. The next day then. The next day it was. In the morningarrived a brief letter from Mr. LeVallon himself: "You will come to teato-morrow. I thank you.--JULIAN LeVALLON."
Yet there was something both in Dr. Fillery's voice, as in thisenigmatic letter, that she did not like. She felt puzzled somewhere.The excitement of a novel intrigue with this unusual youth, none theless, was stimulating. She decided to go to tea. She put off a coupleof engagements in order to be free.
A servant let her in. She went upstairs. There was no sign of Dr.Fillery nor, thank heaven, of Devonham either. Tea, she saw, was laidfor two in the private sitting-room. LeVallon, seated in an arm-chairby the open window, looked "magnificent and overpowering," as shecalled it. He rose at once to greet her. "Thank you," he said in hisgreat voice. "I am glad to see you." He said it perfectly, as though ithad been taught him. He took her hand. Her ravishing smile, perhaps, hedid not notice. His face, at any rate, was grave.
His height, his broad shoulders, his inexperienced eyes and manneragain delighted Lady Gleeson.
The effect upon her receptive temperament, at any rate, wasinstantaneous. That he showed no cordiality, did not smile, and thathis manner was constrained, meant nothing to her--or meant what shewished it to mean. He was somewhat overcome, of course, she reflected,that she was here at all. She began at once. Sitting composedly on theedge of the table, so that her pretty silk stockings were visible tothe extent she thought just right, she dangled her slim legs and lookedhim straight in the eyes. She was full of confidence. Her attitude saidplainly: "I'm taking a lot of trouble, but you're worth it."
"Mr. LeVallon," she purred in a teasing yet determined voice, "why doyou ignore me?" There was an air of finality about the words. She meantto know.
LeVallon met her eyes with a look of puzzled surprise, but did notanswer. He stood in front of her. He looked really magnificent, aperfect study of the athlete in repose. He might have been a fine Greekstatue.
"Why," she repeated, her lip quivering slightly, "do you ignore me? Iwant the truth," she added. She was delighted to see how taken aback hewas. "You don't dislike me." It was not a question.
Into his eyes stole an expression she could not exactly fathom. Shejudged, however, that he felt awkward, foolish. Her interest doubtlessrobbed him of any _savoir faire_ he might possess. This talk face toface was a little too much for any young man, but for a simple countryyouth it was, of course, more than disconcerting.
"I'm Lady Gleeson," she informed him, smiling precisely in the wayshe knew had troubled so many other men. "Angela," she added softly."You've had my books and flowers and letters. Yet you continue toignore me. Why, please?" With a different smile and a pathetic,childish, voice: "Have I offended you somehow? Do I displease you?"
LeVallon stared at her as though he was not quite certain who sheactually was, yet as though he ought to know, and that her words nowreminded him. He stared at her with what she called his "awkward andconfused" expression, but which Fillery, had he been present, wouldhave recognized as due to his desire to help a pitiful and hungrycreature--that, in a word, his instinct for service had been a littlestirred.
The scene was certainly curious and unusual.
LeVallon, with his great strength and dignity, yet something tender,pathetic in his bearing, stood staring at her. Lady Gleeson, brimmingwith a sense of easy victory, sat on the table-edge, her pretty legswell forward, knowing herself divinely gowned. She had her victim,surely, at a disadvantage. She felt at the same time a faint uneasinessshe could not understand. She concealed it, however.
"I suffer here," he said suddenly in a quiet tone.
She gave a start. It was the phrase he had used before. She thrilled.She hitched her skirt a fraction higher.
"Julian, poor boy," she said--then stared at him. "How innocent youare!" She said it with apparent impulse, though her little frenziedmind was busy calculating. There came a pause. He said nothing. He was,apparently, quite innocent, extraordinarily, exasperatingly innocent.
In a low voice, smiling shyly, she added--as though it cost her a greateffort:
"You do not recognize what is yours."
"You are sacred!" he replied with startling directness, as though hesuddenly understood, yet was stupidly perplexed. "You already have yourman."
Lady Gleeson gulped down a spasm of laughter. How slow these countrymencould be! Yet she must not shock him. He was suffering, besides. Thisyokel from the woods and mountains needed a little coaxing. It wasnatural enough. She must explain and teach, it seemed. Well--he wasworth the trouble. His beauty was mastering her already. She loved, inparticular, his innocence, his shyness, his obvious respect. She almostfelt herself a magnanimous woman.
"My man!" she mentioned. "Oh, he's finished with me long ago. He'sbored. He has gone elsewhere. I am alone"--she added with an impromptuinspiration--"and free to choose."
"It must be pain and loneliness to you."
LeVallon looked, she thought, embarrassed. He was struggling withhimself, of course. She left the table and came up close to him. Shestood on tiptoe, so that her breath might touch his face. Her eyesshone with fire. Her voice trembled a little. It was very low.
"I choose--_you_," she whispered. She cast down her shining eyes. Herlips took on a prim, inviting turn. She knew she was irresistible likethat. She stood back a step, as if expecting some tumultuous onslaught.She waited.
But the onslaught did not come. LeVallon, towering above her, merelystared. His arms hung motionless. There was, indeed, expression in hisface, but it was not the expression that she expected, longed for,deemed her due. It puzzled her, as something entirely new.
"Me!" he repeated, in an even tone. He gazed at her in a peculiar way.Was it appraisement? Was it halting wonder at his marvellous goodfortune? Was it that he hesitated, judging her? He seemed, she thoughtonce for an instant, curiously indifferent. Something in his voicestartled her.
The moment's pause, at any rate, was afflicting. Her spirit burnedwithin her. Only her supreme belief in herself prevented a prematureexplosion. Yet something troubled her as well. A tremor ran throughher. LeVallon, she remembered, was--LeVallon.
His own thought and feeling lay hidden from her blunt perception sinceshe read no signs unless they were painfully obvious. But in hismind--in his feeling, rather, since he did not think--ran evidentlythe sudden knowledge of what her meaning was. He understood. But also,perhaps he remembered what Fillery had told him.
For a long time he kept silent, the emotions in him apparently atgrips. Was he suddenly going to carry her away as he had done to that"little Russian poseuse"? She watched him. He was intensely busy withwhat occupied his mind, for though he did not speak, his lips weremoving. She watched him, impatience and wonder in her, impatienceat his slowness, wonder as to what he would do and say when at lasthis simple mind had decided. And again the odd touch of fear stoleover her. Something warned her. This young man thrilled her, but hecertainly was strange. This was, indeed, a new experience. Whateverwas he thinking about? What in the world was he going to say? His lipswere still moving. There was a light in his face. She
imagined the verywords, could almost read them, hear them. There! Then she heard them,heard some at any rate distinctly: "You are an animal. Yet you walkupright...."
The scene that followed went like lightning.
Before Lady Gleeson could move or speak, however, he also said anotherthing that for one pulsing second, and for the first time in her life,made her own utter worthlessness become appallingly clear to her.It explained the touch of fear. Even her one true thing, her animalpassion, was a trumpery affair:
"There is nothing in you I can work with," he said with gentle, pityingsympathy. "Nothing I can use."
Then Lady Gleeson blazed. Vanity instantly restored self-confidence. Itseemed impossible to believe her ears.
What had he done? What had he said that caused the explosion? Hewatched her abrupt, spasmodic movements with amazement. They were sougly, so unrhythmical. Their violence was so wasteful.
"You insult me!" she cried, making these violent movements of her wholebody that, to him, were unintelligible. "How dare you? You----" Thebreath choked her.
"Cad," he helped her, so suddenly that another mind not far away mightalmost have dropped the word purposely into his own. "I am so pained,"he added, "so pained." He gazed at her as though he longed to help."For you, I know, are valuable to him who holds you sacred--to--yourhusband."
Lady Gleeson simply could not credit her ears. This neat, thoughunintentional, way of transferring the epithet to her who deserved it,left her speechless. Her fury increased with her inability to expressit. She could have struck him, killed him on the spot. Her face changedfrom white to crimson like some toy with a trick of light inside it.She seemed to emit sparks. She was transfixed. And the shiver that ranthrough her was, perhaps, for once, both sexual and spiritual at once.
"You insult me," she cried again helplessly. "You insult me!"
"If there was something in you I could work with--help----" he began,his face showing a tender sympathy that enraged her even more. Hestarted suddenly, looking closer into her blazing eyes. "Ah," he saidquickly below his breath, "the fire--the little fire!" His expressionaltered. But Lady Gleeson, full of her grievance, did not catch thewords, it seemed.
"--In my tenderest, my most womanly feelings," she choked on, yetnoticing the altered expression on his face. "How _dare you_?" Hervoice became shrill and staccato. Then suddenly--mistaking the lookin his eyes for shame--she added: "You shall apologize. You shallapologize at once!" She screamed the words. They were the only onesthat her outraged feelings found.
"You show yourself, my fire," he was saying softly in his deep resonantvoice. "Oh, I see and worship now; I understand a little."
His look astonished her even in the middle of her anger--the pity,kindness, gentleness in it. The bewilderment she did not notice. It wasthe evident desire to be of service to her, to help and comfort, thatinfuriated her. The superiority was more than she could stand.
"And on your knees," she yelped; "on your knees, too!"
Drawing herself up, she pointed to the carpet with an air of sometragedy queen to whom a lost self-respect came slowly back. "Downthere!" she added, as the gleaming buckle on her shoe indicated thespot. She did not forget to show her pretty stockings as well.
The picture was comic in the extreme, yet with a pathetic twist aboutit that, had she possessed a single grain of humour, must have madeher feel foolish and shamed until she died, for his kneeling positionrendered her insignificance so obvious it was painful in the extreme.LeVallon clasped his hands; his face, wearing a dignity and tendernessthat emphasized its singular innocence and beauty, gazed up into hertrivial prettiness, as she sat on the edge of the table behind her,glaring down at him with angry but still hungry eyes.
"I should have helped and worshipped," his deep voice thrilled. "I amashamed. Always--you are sacred, wonderful. I did not recognize yourpresence calling me. I did not hear nor understand. I am ashamed."
The strange words she did not comprehend, even if she heard themproperly. For one moment she knew a dreadful feeling that they werenot addressed to her at all, but the sense of returning triumph, theburning desire to extract from him the last ounce of humiliation, tomake him suffer as much as in her power lay, these emotions deadenedany perceptions of a subtler kind. He was kneeling at her feet,stammering his abject apology, and the sight was wine and food to her.Though she could have crushed him with her foot, she could equallyhave flung herself in utter abandonment before his glorious crouchingstrength. She adored the scene. He looked magnificent on his knees. Hewas. She believed she, too, looked magnificent.
"You apologize to me," she said in a trembling voice, tense withmingled passions.
"Oh, with what sadness for my mistake you cannot know," was his strangereply. His voice rang with sincerity, his eyes held a yearning thatalmost lent him radiance. Yet it was the sense of power he gave thatthrilled Lady Gleeson most. For she could not understand it. Again apassing hint of something remote, incalculable, touched her sense ofawe. She shivered slightly. LeVallon did not move.
Appeased, yet puzzled, she lowered her face, now pale and intense witheagerness, towards his own, hardly conscious that she did so, while thefaint idea again went past her that he addressed his astonishing wordselsewhere. Blind vanity at once dismissed the notion, though the shockof its brief disthroning had been painful. She found satisfaction forher wounded soul. A man who had scorned her, now squirmed before herbeauty on his knees, desiring her--but too late.
"You have _some_ manhood, after all!" she exclaimed, still fierce, theupper lip just revealing the shining little teeth. Her power at lasthad touched him. He suffered. And she was glad.
"I worship," he repeated, looking through her this time, if notactually past her. "You are sacred, the source of all my life andpower." His pain, his worship, the aching passion in him made herforget the insult. Upon that face upturned so close to hers, she nowbreathed softly.
"I'll try," she said more calmly. "I'll try and forgive you--just thisonce." The suffering in his eyes, so close against her own, dawnedmore and more on her. "There, now," she added impulsively, "perhaps Iwill forgive you--altogether!"
It was a moment of immense and queenly generosity. She felt sublime.
LeVallon, however, made no rejoinder; one might have thought he had notheard; only his head sank lower a little before her.
She had him at her mercy now; the rapt and wonderful expression inhis eyes delighted her. She bent slightly nearer and made as thoughto kiss him, when a new idea flashed suddenly through her mind. Thisforgiveness was a shade too quick, too easy. Oh, she knew men. She wasnot without experience.
She acted with instant decision upon her new idea, as though delaymight tempt her to yield too soon. She straightened up with a suddenjerk, touched his cheek with her hand, then, with a swinging swish ofher skirts, but without a single further word, she swept across theroom. She went out, throwing him a last glance just before she closedthe door. At his kneeling figure and upturned face she flung this lastglance of murderous fascination.
But LeVallon did not move or turn his head; he made no sign; hisattitude remained precisely as before, face upturned, hands clasped,his expression rapt and grave as ever. His voice continued:
"I worship you for ever. I did not know you in that little shape. Owondrous central fire, teach me to be aware of you with awe, with joy,with love, even in the smallest things. O perfect flame behind allform...."
For a long time his deep tones poured their resonant vibration throughthe room. There came an answering music, low, faint, continuous, along, deep rhythm running in it. There was a scent of flowers, of openspace, a fragrance of a mountain top. The sounds, the perfume, thetouch of cool refreshing wind rose round him, increasing with everyminute, till it seemed as though some energy informed them. At thecentre he knelt steadily, light glowing faintly in his face and on hisskin. A vortex of energy swept round him. He drew upon it. His ownenergy was increased and multiplied. He seemed to grow more radiant....
A few m
inutes later the door opened softly and Dr. Fillery looked in,hesitated for a second, then advanced into the room. He paused beforethe kneeling figure. It was noticeable that he was not startled andthat his face wore no expression of surprise. A smile indeed lay on hislips. He noticed the scent of flowers, a sweetness in the air as afterrain; he felt the immense vitality, the exhilaration, the peace andpower too. He had made no sound, but the other, aware of his presence,rose to his feet.
"I disturbed you," said Fillery. "I'm sorry. Shall I go?"
"I was worshipping," replied "N. H." "No, do not go. There was alittle flash"--he looked about him for an instant as if slightlybewildered--"a little sign--something I might have helped--but it hasgone again. Then I worshipped, asking for more power. _You_ notice it?"he asked, with a radiant smile.
"I notice it," said Fillery, smiling back. He paused a moment. Hiseye took in the tea-things and saw they were untouched; he felt thetea-pot. It was still warm. "Come," he said happily; "we'll have sometea together. I'll send for a fresh brew." He rang the bell, thenarranged the chairs a little differently. "Your visitor?" he asked."You are expecting someone?"
"N. H." looked round him suddenly. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "but--she hasgone!"
His surprise was comical, but the expression on the face changed in hisrapid way at once. "I remember now. Your Lady Gleeson came," he added,a touch of gentle sadness in his voice, "I gave her pain. You had toldme. I forgot----"
"You did well," Fillery commented with smiling approval as though theentire scene was known to him, "you did very well. It is a pity, only,that she left too soon. If she had stayed for your worship--your windand fire might have helped----"
"N. H." shook his head. "There is nothing I can work with," he replied."She is empty. She destroys only. Why," he added, "does she walkupright?"
But Lady Gleeson held very different views upon the recent scene.This magnificent young male she had put in his place, but she had notfinished with him. No such being had entered her life before. She waswoman enough to see he was unusual. But he was magnificent as well,and, secretly, she loved his grand indifference.
She left the house, however, with but an uncertain feeling that thehonours were with her. Two days without a word, a sign, from her wouldbring him begging to her little feet.
But the "begging" did not come. The bell was silent, the post broughtno humble, passionate, abandoned letter. She fumed. She waited. Herhusband, recently returned to London and immensely preoccupied with hisconcessions, her maid too, were aware that Lady Gleeson was impatient.The third, the fourth day came, but still no letter.
Whereupon it occurred to her that she had possibly gone too far. Havingleft him on his knees, he was, perhaps, still kneeling in his heart,even prostrate with shame and disappointment. Afraid to write, afraidto call, he knew not what to do. She had evidently administered toosevere a lesson. Her callers, meanwhile, convinced her that she wasirresistible. There was no woman like her in the world. She had, ofcourse, been too harsh and cruel with this magnificent and innocentyouth from the woods and mountains....
Thus it was that, on the fourth day, feeling magnanimous and generous,big-hearted too, she wrote to him. It would be foolish, in any case, tolose him altogether merely for a moment's pride:
"DEAR MR. LeVALLON,--I feel I must send you a tiny word to let you know that I really have forgiven you. You behaved, you know, in a way that no man of my acquaintance has ever done before. But I feel sure now you did not really mean it. Your forest and mountain gods have not taught you to understand civilized women. So--I forgive.
"Please forget it all, as I have forgotten it.--Yours, "ANGELA GLEESON.
"P. S.--And you may come and see me soon."
To which, two days later, came the reply:
"DEAR LADY GLEESON,--I thank you. "JULIAN LeVALLON."
Within an hour of its receipt, she wrote:
"DEAR JULIAN,--I am so glad you understand. I knew you would. You may come and see me. I will prove to you that you are really forgiven. There is no need to feel embarrassed. I am interested in you and can help you. Believe me, you need a woman's guidance. All--_all_ I have, is yours.
"I shall be at home this afternoon--alone--from 4 to 7 o'clock. I shall expect you. My love to you and your grand wild gods!--Yours, "ANGELA.
"P. S.--I want you to tell me more about your gods. Will you?"
She sent it by special messenger, "Reply" underlined on the envelope.He did not appear at the appointed hour, but the next morning shereceived his letter. It came by ordinary post. The writing on theenvelope was not his. Either Devonham or Fillery had addressed it. Anda twinge of unaccustomed emotion troubled her. Intuition, it seems,survives even in the coarsest, most degraded feminine nature, ruins ofsome divine prerogative perhaps. Lady Gleeson, at any rate, flincheduneasily before she opened the long expected missive:
"DEAR LADY GLEESON,--Be sure that you are always under the protection of the gods even if you do not know them. They are impersonal. They come to you through passion but not through that love of the naked body which is lust. I can work with passion because it is creative, but not with lust, for it is destructive only. Your suffering is the youth and ignorance of the young uncreative animal. I can strive with young animals and can help them. But I cannot work with them. I beg you, listen. I love in you the fire, though it is faint and piti-ful. "JULIAN."
Lady Gleeson read this letter in front of the looking-glass, thenstared at her reflection in the mirror.
She was dazed. But in spite of the language she thought "silly,"she caught the blunt refusal of her generous offer. She understood.Yet, unable to believe it, she looked at her reflection again--then,impulsively, went downstairs to see her husband.
It really was more than she could bear. The man was mad, but that didnot excuse him.
"He is a beast," she informed her husband, tearing up the letterangrily before his eyes in the library, while he watched her with aslavish admiration that increased her fury. "He is nothing but ananimal," she added. "He's a--a----"
"Who?" came the question, as though it had been asked before. For SirGeorge wore a stolid and a patient expression on his kindly face.
"That man LeVallon," she told him. "One of Dr. Fillery's cases I triedto--to help. Now he's written to me----"
George looked up with infinite patience and desire in his kindly gaze.
"Cut him out," he said dryly, as though he was accustomed to suchscenes. "Let him rip. Why bother, anyway, with 'patients'?"
And he crossed the room to comfort her, knowing that presently thereaction must make him seem more desirable than he really was....
"Never in my house again," she sighed, as he approached her lovingly,his fingers in his close brown beard. "He is simply a beast--ananimal!"