Love Eternal

  So that matter ended, and afterwards came silence and darkness whichendured for ten years or more. From his father he heard nothing, nor onhis part did he ever write to him again. Indeed the first newsconcerning him which reached Godfrey was that of his death whichhappened some seven years later, apparently after a brief illness. Evenof this he would not have learned, since no one took the trouble to putit in any paper that he saw, had it not chanced that the Rev. Mr.Knight died intestate, and that therefore his small belongingsdescended to Godfrey as his natural heir. With them were a number ofpapers, among which in the after days Godfrey found the very letterthat Isobel wrote to him which his father "posted" in his desk.

  For his son there was no word, a circumstance that showed theimplacability of this man's character. Notwithstanding his continualprofession of the highest Christian principles he could never forget orforgive, and this although it was he who was in fault. For what wronghad Godfrey done to him in loving a woman whom he did not chance tolike? So he died silent, bearing his resentment to the grave. And yetsome odd sense of justice prevented him from robbing Godfrey of hislittle inheritance, something under two thousand pounds, that came on apolicy of insurance and certain savings, a sum which in after yearswhen money was plentiful with him Godfrey appointed to the repair andbeautifying of the Abbey Church at Monk's Acre.

  Strangely enough, although from his childhood they had been alwaysestranged, Godfrey felt this conduct of his father very much indeed. Itseemed dreadful to him that he should vanish thus into the darkness,taking his wrath with him; and often he wondered if it still animatedhim there. Also he wondered what could be the possible purpose of itall, and indeed why his father was so fashioned that he could growvenomous over such a matter. To all of which questions no answer came,although one suggested itself to him--namely, that he was the victim ofsome hereditary taint, and therefore not in fact to blame.

  In the case of Isobel the darkness was equally dense, for both of themkept their word, and with the single exception of the episode of theexchange of rings, neither attempted to communicate with the otherdirectly or indirectly. From Mrs. Parsons he heard that Hawk's Hall wasshut up, and that Sir John and his daughter lived mostly in London orat a place that the former had bought in Scotland. Once indeed Mrs.Parsons did write, or got someone else to write, to him that she hadseen Isobel drive past her in the street, and that she looked well,though rather "stern and quiet-like."

  That was all the news Godfrey had of Isobel during those ten years,since she was not a person who advertised her movements in the papers,although for her sake he became a great student of society gossip. Alsohe read with care all announcements of engagements and marriages in_The Times_, and the deaths, too, for the matter of that, but happilyquite without result. Indeed in view of her declaration he ought tohave been, and, in fact, was, ashamed of his research; but then, whocould be quite sure of anything in this world?

  Sir John, he knew, was living, because from time to time he saw hisname in lists of subscriptions of a sort that appear under royalpatronage and are largely advertised.

  So between these two swung a veil of darkness, although, had he butknown it, this was not nearly so impenetrable to Isobel as to himself.Somehow--possibly Arthur Thorburn had friends with whom he correspondedin England who knew Isobel--she acquired information as to every detailof his career. Indeed when he came to learn everything he wasabsolutely amazed at the particulars with which she was acquainted,whereof there were certain that he would have preferred to have kept tohimself. But she had them all, with dates and surrounding circumstancesand the rest; thousands of miles of ocean had been no bar to hersearching gaze.

  For his part he was not without consolations, since, strangely enough,he never felt as if she were lost to him, or indeed far away; it wasalways as though she were in the next room, or at any rate in the nextstreet. There are individuals of sensitive mind, and he was one ofthem, who know well enough when such a total loss has occurred. It hasbeen well said that the dead are never really dead to us until they areforgotten, and the same applies to the living. While they remember us,they are never so very far away, and what is more we, or some of us,are quite aware if they have ceased to remember, for then the door isshut and the doorway built up and our hearts tell us that this has beendone.

  In Godfrey's case with Isobel, not only did the doorway remainedunfilled--the door itself was always ajar. Although seas divided themand over these no whisper came, yet he felt her thought leaping to himacross the world. Especially did this happen at night when he laidhimself down to sleep, perhaps because then his mind was mostreceptive, and since their hours of going to rest must have beendifferent, he being in India and she in England, she could scarcelyhave been reflecting on him as he fondly believed, at the moment whenshe, too, entered into the world called sleep.

  Therefore, either it was all imagination or he caught her wakingthoughts, or perhaps those that haunted her upon this border land weredelayed until his subtler being could interpret them. Who knows? Atleast, unless something had happened to disturb him, those nights wererare when as he was shutting his eyes, Godfrey did not seem to besensible of Isobel's presence. At any rate, he knew that she had notforgotten; he knew that somewhere in the vast world she was everthinking of him with more intensity than she thought of any other manor thing. And during all those lonely years this knowledge or beliefwas his greatest comfort.

  Not that Godfrey's life in India was in any way unhappy. On thecontrary it was a full and active life. He worked hard at hisprofession and succeeded in it to a limited extent, and he had hisfriends, especially his great friend Arthur Thorburn, who always clungto him. He had his flirtations also; being a man of susceptibility whowas popular with women, how could they be avoided? For above all thingsGodfrey was a man, not a hermit or a saint or an aesthete, but just aman with more gifts of a sort than have some others. He lived the lifeof the rest, he hunted, he shot tigers, doing those things that theAnglo-Indian officer does, but all the same he studied. Whether it wereof his trade of soldiering, or of the natives, or of Eastern thoughtand law, he was always learning something, till at last he knew a greatdeal, often he wondered to what end.

  And yet, with all his friends and acquaintances, in a way he remained avery lonely man, as those who are a little out of the ordinary oftendo. In the common groove we rub against the other marbles running downit, but once we leap over its edge, then where are we? We cannot wanderoff into space because of the attraction of the earth that is so nearto us, and yet we are alone in the air until with a bump we meet ournative ground. Therefore for the most of us the groove is much better.And yet some who leave it have been carried elsewhere, if only for alittle while, like St. Paul into the third heaven.