The House of Defence v. 2

  CHAPTER I.

  Maud was lying in a long chair on the lawn after lunch the followingafternoon, defending Christian Science from the gibes (which were keen)of the mockers, who were many. She had an ally, it is true, in theperson of Alice Yardly, who, in her big hat and white dress, with a bluesash, looked like a doubtful Romney, and was smiling, literally with allher might. The more the mockers mocked, the kinder grew her smile, andthe more voluble her explanations. Maud, for her part, would sooner havedone battle alone, for all that Alice as an ally did was, with greatprecision and copious directions, to reveal to the enemy all the weakpoints in the fortifications (of which, it seemed to Maud, there werehundreds) and all the angles where an assault would probably meet withsuccess. Wherever, so it seemed, there was any possible difficulty in"the scheme of things entire," as understood by Christian scientists,there was poor dear Alice, waving a large and cheerful flag to callattention to it.

  "No, I am not a Christian Scientist, Thurso," Maud was saying, "becauseI think a lot of it is too silly--oh, well, never mind. But what I toldyou at lunch I actually saw with my own eyes. I will say it again. NurseMiles, who is optimistic, told me that Sandie was dying, and though itwas really no use, she wanted Dr. Symes to be sent for. Well, I didn'tsend for him, but I went upstairs with Mr. Cochrane, and I saw Mr.Cochrane--by means of Christian Science, I must suppose--pull Sandie outof the jaws of death."

  "Be fair, Maud," said Thurso. "Tell them what Dr. Symes said when hecame next morning."

  "I was going to. He said he had known cases where the temperature wentsuddenly down from high fever to below normal, and it had not meantperforation. It meant simply what it was--the sudden cessation of fever.Of course, such a thing is very rare, and it would be an odd coincidenceif----"

  Alice Yardly leaned forward, smiled, and interrupted violently andvolubly.

  "Mortal mind had caused the fever originally," she said, "and it wasthis that Mr. Cochrane demonstrated over, thus enabling Sandie to throwoff the false claim of fever and temperature, for he couldn't reallyhave fever, since fever is evil."

  "Is temperature evil, too?" asked Thurso. "And why is a temperature of104 degrees more evil than a normal temperature?"

  Alice did not even shut her mouth, but held it open during Thurso'sexplanation, so as to go on again the moment he stopped.

  "Neither heat nor cold really exist," she said, "any more than fever,since, as I was saying, fever is evil, and Infinite Love cannot sendevil to anybody, because it is All-Good. It was the demonstration ofthis that made his temperature go down and let him get well. It was onlywith his mortal mind, too, that he could think he had fever, since thereis no real sensation in matter, just as it was through mortal mind, andnot through All-Love, that he thought he had caught it. But ImmortalMind knows that there is no sensation in matter, and so no disease. AsDavid said, 'Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night, nor forthe arrow that flieth by day;' and when Sandie, by Mr. Cochrane'sdemonstration over mortal mind, perceived that--though he need not havebeen conscious that he perceived it--the false claim of fever left him,so, of course, his temperature went down."

  Maud gave a sigh, not of impatience, but of very conscious patience,which is very near akin to it.

  "Darling Alice," she said, "you haven't understood a single word fromthe beginning. Mr. Cochrane didn't make Sandie's temperature go down."

  Alice's mouth was still open. She interrupted like lightning.

  "No, of course not," she said. "It was not Mr. Cochrane: it was thebelief and trust in Immortal Mind that had reached Sandie. It is not thehealer who does it: it is Divine Love shining through the healer thatdisperses false claims. God is good and is All, and matter is nothing,because Life, God, Immortal Mind----"

  Maud sat up in her long chair and clapped her hands close to Alice'sface, so that she absolutely could not go on, in spite of theomnipotence of Immortal Mind.

  "I will finish one sentence--just one," she said, "whatever you say.You don't understand a single thing. It was the subsidence of hightemperature that was the dangerous symptom. Mr. Cochrane came in afterSandie's temperature had suddenly gone down. He had nothing to do withbringing it down. I took him up to Sandie, because Sandie's temperaturehad gone down. I am sure it is very difficult to understand, especiallyif you don't believe in temperature; but do draw a long breath and tryto grasp that. It wasn't Immortal Good, God, Mind, that brought Sandie'stemperature below normal: it was all, as you would say, a frightfullyfalse claim. It was a symptom of dangerous illness, not a symptom ofhealth. I wish you would attend more. You make me feel feverish inexplaining like this, darling."

  Alice's smile suffered no diminution. She was still quite ready toexplain anything.

  "As I said, fever cannot be sent by Divine Love," she remarked, "andtherefore, since there is nothing really existent in the world exceptDivine Love, it follows that fever cannot be real, and that the beliefin it is a function of mortal mind. No evil or pain or disease canhappen to anybody who has uprooted the false claim of mortal mind, andno drug can have any effect, either harmful or beneficial, on anyone whoknows the truth. The drug only acts on mortal mind, which is----"

  Thurso entered the arena.

  "I want to understand, Alice," he said. "Supposing I choose to drinklarge quantities of prussic acid for breakfast, under the convictionthat no poison exists for Immortal Mind, shall I live to take pints moreof it at lunch? Doesn't poison exist for mortal body?"

  "'If you drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt you,'" quoted Alice.

  "Souffle of nightshade for Alice this evening," said Maud cheerfully.

  Theodosia had been keeping up a general chattering noise, to which noone listened. Now she had her chance.

  "My!" she said. "You'd better become a Christian Scientist at once,Silas. Silas adores--he just adores--English beer, but he has a falseclaim that it disagrees with him. Now Mrs. Yardly tells us that there'sno such thing as poison. So, Silas, just take tight hold of that, andget a barrel. I may be left a widow, but try--just swill it."

  "Theodosia," began Silas; but he was not permitted to get further.

  "But intoxicant drinks are in themselves evil things," said Alice, "justas tobacco, which is only fed upon by a loathsome worm, is evil, as youwill find in Mrs. Eddy's miscellaneous writings. She has pronouncedagainst them."

  "But I thought there was no evil except in the false belief of mortalmind?" said Maud.

  "That is just what I have been saying," said Alice profusely. "The onlyreal existence is God, who is cause, source, origin, overlies andunderlies and encompasses."

  Rudolf Villars joined in.

  "And if Mrs. Eddy said that cream-cheese was evil, would that make itso?" he asked politely. "Cannot she have attacks of error and mortalmind? Is it not just possible, as Oliver Cromwell said, that she isoccasionally? I should have thought that instances might be found whereintoxicants had even saved life in cases of exhaustion or exposure."

  Maud broke in again.

  "You are all very flippant," she said. "It really does not matter whatMrs. Eddy thinks about tobacco, or whether darling Alice will not answerour questions. But I did see--and I stick to it--a man who was pasthuman power pulled back into life by Mr. Cochrane. How it was done Idon't know, but his own explanation was a perfectly simple one. He saidit was the direct healing power of God. After all, if we and doctorssay that there are healing powers in certain herbs which God made, whyshouldn't He heal direct?"

  The throb of a motor and the sound of its wheels crunching the gravelwas heard, and Thurso got up.

  "Well, we must settle something else just now," he said. "Who wants todrive over to Windsor, and who wants to go on the river, and who wantsto do nothing?"

  This broke up the conference, as it was designed to do, for Thurso feltliterally unable to stand much more: he was nervous, irritable, scarcelyin his own control. He had slept badly--indeed, he had hardly slept atall--and this stream of balderdash that spouted from Alice was quiteintolerable.
She, however, with undiminished cheerfulness, expressed apreference for the river, and made it impossible for Villars not tooffer his companionship. Ruby and Jim had not been seen since lunch.Theodosia and her husband went with Thurso to Windsor, and Mr. Yardlymurmured something about letters, which, rightly interpreted, meantslumber, and hastily betook himself to the house. In consequence, Maudand her sister-in-law, both of whom announced their intention of doingnothing of any description, were before long left in possession of thegarden. There had been a certain design about this, though successfullyveiled, on Catherine's part. She wanted to have a talk with Maud, andthe gentlest promptings had been sufficient to make other people chooseother things.

  The rest of the party dispersed in their various directions, and it wasnot till the motor had hooted at the entrance to the main road and thesteam launch puffed its way past the opening in the yew-hedge thatCatherine spoke again.

  "Tell me more about this Mr. Cochrane," she said.

  Maud was already half immersed in her book, and had been quiteunconscious of Catherine's diplomacy. She started a little when thequestion was put to her, and closed her book.

  "There is really no more to tell," she said. "I think I have told youall. Ah! no; there was one more thing, but they would all have howled soif I had said it. It was this: he told me that he was demonstrating overthe whole outbreak of typhoid. Well, it stopped quite suddenly. Thecases had been coming in hour after hour till it ceased like a tap beingturned off. And after that there were no more deaths. Of course, itsounds incredible, and if you ask me whether I really believe that itwas through him that it came to an end like that, I shouldn't say 'Yes.'I don't know."

  "I should like to see Mr. Cochrane," remarked Catherine.

  "You can if you like. He is coming to town, he told me, some day thismonth. Oh, Catherine, it is interesting, anyhow! He did cure Sandie;also, he cured Duncan Fraser's wife. I am convinced of that. And thenthe other fact of the typhoid ceasing like that! Of course, you may sayit was a pure coincidence; you may say that those other cures werecoincidences too. But when you get a set of coincidences all togetherlike that, you wonder if there is not--well, some law which lies behindthem, and accounts for them all."

  She paused a moment.

  "A lot of apples and other things fell to the ground," she said, "andNewton deduced the law of gravity. It accounted for them all."

  Catherine lit a cigarette, and threw the match away with great vigour.

  "_What_ a fool darling Alice is!" she observed. "I love Alice just asyou do--you can't help loving her--but, oh, what a fool! Somehow, if aperson talks such abject nonsense as that about anything, one concludesthat the subject is nonsense too. But it doesn't really follow. And Mr.Cochrane doesn't talk nonsense?" she asked.

  "No; he isn't the least nonsensical. As I have told you, he goes andcures people when they are ill, instead of gassing about it. He's a verygood fisherman, too."

  Catherine could not help laughing. Maud mentioned this in a voice ofsuch high approval.

  "But isn't that inconsistent?" she said. "I don't think a man whosewhole belief was in health and life should go and kill things."

  "Oh yes; I think it's inconsistent," said Maud, "and so does he. But didyou ever see anybody who wasn't inconsistent? I never did, and I neverwant to. He would be so extremely dull: you would know all about him atonce."

  "And you don't know all about Mr. Cochrane?" she asked.

  "No; I should like to know more. I think I never met anyone soarresting. You are forced to attend, whether you like it or not."

  "And I gather you like it?" asked Catherine.

  "Yes, certainly. I like vigour and certainty, and--oh, well, that sortof cleanness. He is like a nice boy at Cambridge, with all thisextraordinary strength behind."

  Catherine could not help making mental comments on this.

  "Ah, that attracts you?" she said. "It attracts me also. I like peopleto be strong and efficient; but, oh, Maud, how one's heart goes out tothem when they are helpless and enmeshed in what is stronger than they!"

  This was a clear change of subject. Mr. Cochrane was put aside for alittle, and Catherine could not help noticing that Maud seemed relieved.

  "Ah, you mean Thurso?" she said quickly, letting her book slide to theground.

  "Yes; and I want to talk to you about him, for I believe you are wise,and I feel helpless. I don't know what to do. Last night, I must tellyou, I went straight to his room after leaving you dressing. He had justtaken laudanum, not because he had any headache, but because he longedfor it."

  Maud clasped her hands together and gave a little pitiful sound, halfsigh, half moan.

  "Ah, the poor fellow!" she said. "Yes?"

  "And--and he lied to me," said Catherine, "and said he had not beentaking it, and there was the glass smelling of it by his side. Then hewas very angry with me for a little, and said I had spoiled everything,but eventually he gave me the bottle and let me pour it away. I did, andI threw the bottle into the shrubbery."

  Maud's eye brightened.

  "Ah! that's better," she said. "He can still fight it."

  Catherine shook her head.

  "That's not all," she said, "and the rest is so dreadful, and sopathetic. I couldn't sleep last night, and it must have been about twoin the morning when I got out of bed and went to the window and satthere a little. And I saw Thurso come along the path, and he lit a matchand found the bottle. Then he took it--it was bright moonlight; I couldsee quite clearly--and literally sucked it, to see if there was not adrop or two left."

  Maud had no reply to this. If it was despicable, it was, as Catherinehad said, dreadfully pathetic.

  "Advise me, dear Maud," she said at length. "I am horribly troubledabout it. The sight of him turning that damned little bottle--no, I'mnot sorry: I meant it--upside down in his mouth showed me how awfully hewanted it. I feel one shouldn't lose a day or a minute. The desire growslike an aloe-flower. But if he won't see a doctor, what is to be done? Ishall send for Sir James as soon as I get back to town, and tell him allabout it; but I can't force Thurso to see him. Besides----" and shestopped.

  "Yes?"

  "There is nothing in the world so hard to cure," she said. "It isdeadlier than a cancer."

  "But he still wants to free himself," said Maud.

  "Yes; so does a prisoner."

  There was a pause.

  "Or do you think I am taking too pessimistic a view?" asked Catherine.

  Maud could not help seeing the bright side of things. Sunshine appealedto her more strongly than shadow. It was more real to her.

  "Yes; I think you are," she said. "He let you pour the--well, the damnedstuff away. You influenced him more strongly than his desire."

  "Yes, than his satisfied desire," said Catherine with terriblecommonsense. "He had just taken it. Do you suppose he would have let mepour it away if he was just going to take it?"

  "I don't know. You are stronger than he, I think."

  Maud gave a great sigh, picking up her book.

  "I remember Mr. Cochrane practically offered to cure his neuralgia," shesaid, "but I knew it was perfectly useless to suggest it to Thurso; norat the time did I believe in Mr. Cochrane. But since then----"

  Catherine looked up, and saw in Maud's face what she had suspected.

  "Oh, Maud!" she said. "Are you in love with him?"

  Maud leaned forward, and her book again dropped face downwards on thegravel. She did not notice it.

  "Oh, I haven't the slightest idea," she said. "Catherine, I do like himawfully--I like him most awfully. No one has ever attracted me likethat. Good gracious! how indelicate I am! But I don't care one straw. Ishould like to put all my affairs and all poor Thurso's into his hands.I should do it with the utmost confidence, and I should then just curlround as one does in bed, and feel everything is all right. Is thatbeing in love? I don't know or care. He is so strong, and so windy andso sunny. He is surrounded by sun, and--and it is as if he had just hada cold bath and stepped into
the sun. I love that strength and wind.Don't you like it? I want somebody who would go on playing undoubledspades at bridge in the middle of an earthquake. He would--for ashilling a hundred. Am I in love with him? I tell you I don't know.Certainly this sort of thing has never happened to me before, and,again, I certainly have never been in love. So perhaps 'these are theones.' Oh, do tell me! When Thurso proposed to you, was it like that?Did you feel there wasn't anybody else who _really_ mattered? Oh dear!poor Mr. Cochrane, to have all this put upon him! He hasn't shown theslightest sign of doing more than admire my fishing. Lots of peoplehave done that. But about you and Thurso, did you feel that? Is that theone?"

  There was a fine irony about this, and Catherine, in spite of theprevious discussion on Christian Science, which laid down that all thathad any real existence was good, felt disposed to believe in the malicethat lurked in chance questions. She evaded the direct answer.

  "Oh, there are as many ways of love as there are people in the world,"she said. "But, dear, I regard you with suspicion. There are certainsymptoms----"

  "Oh, don't," said Maud.

  "Very well. But I feel with you about strength. It is an adorablequality to women. And it is that which so troubles me about Thurso. Iknow--the throwing away of the bottle proves it--that he is fighting;but is he strong enough? He was weak when he allowed himself to form ahabit that he knew was harmful."

  She threw her hands wide.

  "Oh, it is so awful!" she said. "One begins by saying, 'I shall do thiswhen I choose,' and so soon. This says, 'You shall do it when I choose.'Personally, I always make it a rule to give anything up before I beginto want it very badly."

  There was an irony in this, too. The remembrance of what chiefly kepther awake last night made her know that her rule was not always quiteeasy to follow. But this was secret from Maud.

  "You, who get all you want!" she said, speaking from outside.

  Catherine got up, and began walking up and down the small angle of lawnwhere they sat, bordering the deep flower-bed. All June was in flowerthere, just as in herself, to the outside view, all June seemed to beflowering. It was no wonder that Maud thought that. But all theemotional baggage which she had consistently thrown away all her lifeseemed to her to be coming back now in bales, returned to her by somedreadful dead-letter office--at least, she had hoped it was dead--and asudden bitterness, born of perplexity, invaded her.

  "Oh yes; everybody always thinks one is happy," she said, "if one hasgood digestion and a passable appearance, and heaps of things to do, andthe enjoyment in doing them which I have, and as much money as onewants. But all these things only give one pleasure. Do you think I amhappy? Do you really think so?"

  Maud dropped her eyes. When talk deepens it is well to talk in the dark,or to talk without the distraction of sight.

  "No, I don't think you are," she said, "if I look deep down."

  "Then you are two people," said Catherine rather fiercely--"thesuperficial Maud who just now said I had all I wanted, implyinghappiness, and another Maud, who has to be fished for."

  That was less personal, less intricate, and Maud looked up again,smiling.

  "Quite true," she said. "But so are you two Catherines; so is everybodywho is worth anything. I used to think you an ideally happy person,because, as far as one could see, you got all you wanted. I imagine itwas what you call the superficial Maud who thought that; I don't thinkthe deep-down 'you' is happy."

  Maud paused a moment, feeling that her sister-in-law was hanging on herwords. It did not seem to her that in this claim for unhappiness, so tospeak, that Catherine had made she had in her mind the drug-taking: itwas something different to that. Only lately, too, had she herself beenconscious of this "deeper Maud," which yet did not in the least affectthe workings of the more superficial self. The joy of morning andevening, the depression and irritation of east wind, the rapture ofcatching sea-trout, went on, on the surface, just as keenly as ever,but an interior life had awoke.

  "I used to envy you so, Cathy," she said--"at least, I used to envy lotsof things about you, when I thought that the 'you' which all the worldknew and admired so was all there was. But now I believe that there is agreater 'you' than that, and that a realer 'me' than the ordinary thingperceives it. And since you ask me, I don't think that essential part ofyou is happy, any more than Thurso is happy."

  Catherine sat down again, and thought over this before she answered.

  "I would give, or give up, a great deal to make Thurso happy," she saidwith absolute sincerity. "But I get on his nerves."

  Maud looked up, waiting for more--waiting for the completion of thesentence which she had heard not so long ago on Thurso's lips. It came.

  "And he bores me," said Catherine.

  There was a long silence. Bees buzzed in the flowers, making them bendand sway and nod to their weight; a grasshopper clicked and whirred onthe lawn; swifts swooped and chided together in sliding companies; whilethe splash of oars or churn of a steamer sounded from the river.Then--such is the habit of the world--it struck them both how unlikethemselves, unlike the ordinary presentment of themselves, that is tosay, they were being, and simultaneously they swam out of the depthsthat were in reality the much more essential abode of them both. But thereturn to normal levels was short; they soon went down again; sincethose who have met or seen each other below always go back there. It isonly those who have talked insincerely on deep matters who prefer tosplash about on the surface. But a few surface remarks followed.

  "Yet it is almost certainly one's own fault if one is bored," saidCatherine. "To be bored only shows that a bore is present--probablyoneself. Yet, Maud ... if I tell him about the bazaars, and sales, andspeeches, and so on, _he_ is bored; and they do make up a big part of mylife."

  "On the surface," said she, "since we are being frank."

  "No, not on the surface, since we are contradicting each other. Thedeepest and most real part of me that I know is sorry for poor devils,and it expresses itself in these ways. And it is exactly that which getson his nerves. If I get up from lunch because I have got to gosomewhere, he is irritated. He thinks I am restless. Well, so I am. Iwant to be doing things, not eating stupid cutlets. What do you want meto do? What does he want me to do? Eat opium instead?"

  Maud gave a long sigh.

  "Oh, Cathy, that was a pity!" she said.

  Catherine gave a little hopeless gesture.

  "Oh yes; it was a pity. Lots of things are. Our attitude towards eachother is a pity. But I'm sorry I said that. Oh, do help me! Let's bepractical. Remember, I am at home when I am doing things. And I want toknow what to do about a hundred things."

  Catherine got up again. She was, as she said, always practical, and shewas always restless. This afternoon in particular, after theinconclusive wakefulness of the night before, she longed to map outplans, rules of conduct, a line to take about all these complications.Yet, since all her life she had been chary of emotion, apt to regard itas useless, if not dangerous, stuff to have on board; now, when it wascertainly there, either through her will or in opposition to it, shefound herself--she, the ready speaker--destitute of words to deal withit to Maud. And in her silent search for expression again she paced upand down the busy bee-travelled flower-beds. Then there came a crispernote--the sound of crunched gravel--and a dog-cart drew up at thefront-door, some fifty yards only from where they sat. There was onlyone person in it, a young man, who dismounted and rang the bell, andstood at the pony's head waiting for it to be answered. But apparentlythe servants were drowsy too, as befitted Sunday afternoon, and after apause he rang again.

  No definite process of reasoning went on through Catherine's mind, butsomehow her heart sank. This was no caller, no one who would needentertainment; but there was something dimly familiar in that cart, andin the tradesman-like young man, that reminded her of medicines, of thetime when the children had the measles. Yes; it was a man from thechemist's ... and next moment she knew why her heart sank.

  "I will see who it is," she s
aid to Maud. "The servants seem to beasleep;" and she went across the grass to the front-door.

  She had a word with the man, who gave her a small package, neatlysealed. Then he touched his hat, mounted, and turned his horse.Catherine came back to where Maud was sitting.

  "It is directed to Thurso," she said, "and it is from the chemist inWindsor. Maud----"

  Maud understood; but she shook her head.

  "Oh, you can't open other people's things," she said--"you can't. Oh,Catherine, what are we to do?"

  Catherine sat down again, with the bottle--the shape of it was plain--inher hand. Then Maud spoke again.

  "But we must," she said. "Open it carefully, so that if it isn't what wethink we can do it up again. Oh, I hate it all; it seems mean, but Idon't care. I'll open it if you would rather not."

  Catherine seemed to think this unnecessary, and carefully broke theseals. There was a bottle of dark blue glass inside, with a red label of"Poison" on it. It was closed with a glass stopper, which she withdrew,and she smelled it. Then, paper and all, she passed it to Maud.

  Maud put the stopper back into the bottle, squeezed up the paper andstring in which it had been wrapped into a tight ball, and threw it deepinto the flower-bed. Then she went to the opening in the yew-hedge andflung the bottle itself into mid-stream.

  "So we've both had a hand in it," she said when she returned. "Oh,Cathy, last night only he let you throw the wretched stuff out of thewindow, and the very next day has to go and order some more. Poor dearold boy! He must have ordered it when he went in with Theodosia afterlunch. He must have told them he wanted it quickly. It's death and hell,you know. I didn't stop to think. I had to throw it into the river. Whatnext? Are we to know anything about it or not?"

  "Yes; he would find out in any case. The chemist's man would say hegave it to me. But there is no reason why you should come into it."

  "Oh, give me my share," said Maud quickly. "I want to help."

  "Of course you can help; but I am quite willing to take the wholeresponsibility for what we have done," said Catherine.

  "No; I want it to come from both of us," said Maud, "if that is of anyuse."

  Catherine considered this.

  "It is," she said. "You have more weight with him than I have, youknow."

  There was no trace of any bitterness in her tone. It was plainunemotional speech, but it struck Maud as one of the saddest things shehad ever heard said. She had long known, of course, that the marriedlife of her brother and Catherine was not very happy, but this afternoonthe tragedy of it was becoming, by these little trivial words,infinitely more real. And the materials for tragedy were beingdreadfully augmented. This little bottle she had just thrown into theThames was like one of those little incidents in the first act of aplay, from which disaster will certainly be evolved later. What hideousscene in the last act did the great Playwright of life mean to make outof this?

  Then suddenly some memory of things Mr. Cochrane had said to her up inScotland, some sentences from a book concerning Christian Science whichhe had lent her, came back to her mind. He had warned her that she wouldfind in it certain things which would seem to her ridiculous, and he hadasked her to pass over those. But he had told her that she would alsofind there certain things which were indisputably true, and, rememberingone of them, she told herself now that she was thinking wrongly inanticipating evil like this. If she was to be of any use in the world,or produce any happiness in herself or others, she must turn away fromevil, must deny it, and look at and affirm this great reality of Loveand Good. To dwell on sin and error and on their consequences was toinvite them, to make them her guests. It was another Guest--a verywilling One--that was to be made welcome, but He was autocratic: you hadto do His bidding all the time, even in details.

  "Yes, let me help," she said. "And we must tell him at once what we havedone. Don't let us deceive him, even if we could."

  "He will be furious," said Catherine.

  "We can't help that. We have certainly got to tell him. Besides, wedon't want to conceal what we have done; we don't want to think of someplan for preventing it coming to his knowledge. We are not ashamed ofit. Wouldn't you do it again? I would. I would throw all the laudanumbottles in the world into the Thames if I could prevent the stuffreaching him."

  * * * * *

  People began to gather again after this. Rudolf Villars and hiscompanion came back from the river, he looking fatigued, while Alicewas fresher than paint. Her husband came out from the house withconsiderable alertness, as if letter-writing had been an unconsciousrecuperative process. A few people from neighbouring houses came, byroad or river, to look in at tea-time; and when Thurso, with the twoAmericans, returned from Windsor, there was a rather numerous company onthe lawn. He went into the house before joining the others, and wasthere some minutes, during which time they heard a bell ring furiouslywithin. Catherine's eyes and Maud's met over this; and when he came out,another piece of silent telegraphy went on between them, and Maud got upand went straight to him before he joined the tea-table group.

  Catherine could not go with her, being busy with her entertaining, butbetween sentences she watched them. They were not far distant when theymet, and Thurso's face was towards her. She saw it get suddenly white,and he gave one furious gesticulation, then turned and went backtowards the house again, without joining them. He did not go in, butwalked down the shrub-set road that led to the stables.

  Maud came back to the tea-table, spoke to friends, and gradually gotclose to Catherine.

  "He is going back to Windsor to get more," she said quietly. "Yes, nosugar, thanks. He would not listen to me. I have never seen him soangry."

  Catherine just nodded, and then, since, whatever private tragedy wasbeing played, the public comedy had to go on, she was, with thesurface-Catherine, no more than an admirable hostess, charmed to see herguests, eager to interest them. But below, courageous though she was,and little as she regretted what Maud and she had done, though it turnedout to be futile, she feared what was coming, for she hated anger, andshe hated, also, to think that just now, when, for reasons of which Maudknew nothing, she wanted Thurso's friendship and companionship so much,there should open this fresh breach between them. But it was no goodthinking of that: here was Villars at her elbow, and here was Thursoalready on his way back to Windsor, for she had heard the motor start bythe back way from the stables. And only last night he had let her pourthe foul stuff away, and had thanked her for doing it!

  Meantime the tinkle of drawing-room philosophy went on round her, and itwas a relief, in its way, to join in it. It was so perfectly easy.

  "Yes, it is necessary for all of us to have some fad which for the timebeing is quite the most serious thing in the world," she said to LadySwindon, who had come down the river from Cookham. "We do the seriousthings lightly, but we take our fads in deadly earnest. Two years ago,do you remember, we never wore hats in the country. I didn't get as faras wearing none in town, though I remember you did; but in the countryI felt that golden hours were wasted if I had a hat on. Then last yearthere was the simple life. I retain pieces of that still."

  Lady Swindon laughed.

  "I know you do, darling Catherine, but you are so busy that you findtime for everything. I gave it up because it was so very complicated.One had to provide two sorts of lunches and two sorts of dinners everyday--one for the simple-life people who ate curried lentils and all themost expensive fruits, and one for the people who ate beef. Swindonalways ate both, to show he wasn't bigoted, and so, of course, he hadtwo months at Carlsbad instead of one. The simple life, anyhow, isfinished with: it was too difficult. Do tell me what the next fad isgoing to be. You always are a full fad ahead of the rest of us."

  "I wish I knew. I thought it would be spiritualism at one time, but Idon't believe now that it will come off. Such confusing things happen.I went to a _seance_ the other day, and the most wonderfulmaterialisation occurred, and I recognised the figure at once, and forcertain, as
being my grandmother. But in the same breath MajorTwickenham over there recognised it as being his great-aunt, who wasAustrian, and is no more a relation of mine than I am of the Shah's. Themedium subsequently explained it as being a spiritual coalition, butpersonally I felt rather inclined to explain it as being the medium."

  Lady Swindon looked thoroughly disappointed.

  "Oh, I did hope it was going to be spiritualism," she said. "I doautomatic writing every evening, unless I am really tired--because it'sno use then, is it?--and sometimes it says _the_ most extraordinarythings. Haven't you ever tried it? It is quite fascinating, especiallyif you use a stylograph pen, which seems to go easier. And Swindon and Ihave heard the most awful raps--like the postman. But if it is not goingto be the craze I shall give it up. One has no time for a privatehobby: one has to ride the public hobby all the time. Are you sure youare right? Think of the Zigzags. I never can remember their name. Andwhat about Christian Science? I hear it is spreading tremendously. Ordeep breathing?"

  The smile on Alice Yardly's face widened and deepened as she heard thesacred word. But at this moment she was being talked to, and could notjoin in with her long and lucid explanations, though the scientificstatement of Being--cause, source, origin--was trembling on her lips.

  "I have tried deep breathing," said Catherine, "but there really isn'ttime. You can't do anything else while you are doing it; you can't talkeven, because your mouth is closed, and you breathe in through onenostril and breathe out through the other. Perhaps it will be ChristianScience, though, do you know, I think some of it is too serious andsensible to be a fad, whereas the other half is too silly. On that sidetalk to Alice, or read what Mark Twain says. But on the seriousside--the side that is sensible--get Maud to tell you about the typhoidup at Achnaleesh and her Mr. Cochrane."

  "Her Mr. Cochrane?" asked Lady Swindon, with the alertness of the world.

  But the unconsciousness of the world, no less important an equipment,answered her.

  "Oh, only 'hers' because she told me about him; no other reason. Thursoand she were up there together."

  "And Thurso--isn't he here?"

  "Oh yes," said Catherine, "but tea-time isn't his hour. Tea-time iswomen's hour; it corresponds to men's after-dinner talk when we havegone upstairs."

  "But we have women's hour then, too," said Lady Swindon. "I suppose wehave got more to say?"

  Lady Thurso laughed.

  "Oh, I don't think that," she said. "I think we only take longer to sayit. Tea, Theodosia?"

  Theodosia had truly American ideas about being introduced. It was hercustom--and a genial one--to make all her guests formally known to eachother by name, and she expected the same formality.

  "Kindly introduce me, Catherine," she said.

  "Lady Swindon--my cousin, Mrs. Morton."

  "Very happy to make your acquaintance, Lady Swindon," said Theodosia;"and don't you think that Catherine's place down here is just thecunningest spot you ever saw? Why, look at that yew-hedge! Iguess--expect, I mean--that Noah planted it before the Flood, or,anyhow, soon after, to have made it that height. But, then, allCatherine has is perfect, is it not? I adore her things and her. My! Inever saw such a wonderful black pearl as that you've got around yourneck. It looks as if it came straight from the Marquis of Anglesea'stie-pin."

  "I think not; I inherited it," said Lady Swindon rather icily.

  "Well, there you are," said the prompt Theodosia. "That's what comes ofbeing an Englishwoman of the upper classes. You inherit things, andwe've got to buy them. Why, this afternoon Lord Thurso and my husbandand I drove over to Windsor, and I never saw a spot that looked soinherited as that. You can't buy that look: it's just inheritance. Doyou know my husband? Ah! he's talking to Count Villars over there; andwhat a lovely man he is! And we had the loveliest time to-day! I neversaw Windsor before; and fancy inheriting that! But I'm afraid LordThurso is sick. He called at a chemist's, and told them to send somemedicine out here right away. I guess he pined for that medicine. Andhe's not here, is he? I shouldn't wonder if he went straight in to takeit. I guess he's taking it now. Catherine, I think your husband is theloveliest man! I hope he's not real sick. But he just pined for thatmedicine."

  Tea was no longer in demand, and Catherine got up. The whole situationwas beginning to get on her nerves. Theodosia, with her awful Americanmanner, was on her nerves; this dreadful information about the call atthe chemist's was there also, and she felt sure that Lady Swindon, forall her "darling Catherines," was that sort of friend who likes knowingthe weak points of others, not necessarily with the object of theirmalicious use, but as useful things to have in your pocket. Theodosia,as she was aware, when she got up now to get out of immediate range ofthat rasping voice, was one of her weak points: the mention of Thurso'smedicine and his anxiety to get it were others. Theodosia touched themwith the unerring instinct of the true and tactless bungler. SoCatherine, with the higher courage that wants not to know the worst, ifTheodosia was going to throw more sidelights on the subject of thismedicine, moved out of earshot.

  Lady Swindon justified her position of a true friend to Catherine, andbecame markedly more cordial to Theodosia. She wanted to know more aboutthis, and proceeded in the spirit of earnest inquiry.

  "What a charming afternoon you must have had!" she said. "To see Windsorfor the first time is delightful, is it not? and to have Lord Thurso asa companion is delightful at any time. But he is not ill, is he?"

  "He seemed just crazy to get to that chemist's," said Theodosia, "and heseemed just crazy to get back home again. They tell me you have aspeed-limit for motors over here, but if we didn't exceed it, I don'tsee that it can be of much service."

  Now, Lady Swindon was not really more malicious than most people, inspite of her weakness for her friends' weaknesses, and it was in themain her truly London desire to be always well up in current scandals,and know the details of all that may perhaps soon be beginning to bewhispered, that led her to "pump" (if a word that implies effort may beused about so easy a process) Theodosia on this subject. Thurso's longabsence in Scotland, to begin with, had seemed to her queer, and torequire explanation. It did not seem likely, somehow, that he had gonethere after a woman, but, on the other hand, she personally thought itimprobable that he had really gone to look after fever-stricken tenants.As a matter of fact, of course he had done so, but the truth usuallyescapes these earnest inquirers, especially if it is quite simple andstraightforward. But here was a fresh fact: he had been crazy to get tothe chemist's and had raced home. She felt she had guessed.

  "He used to have dreadful headaches," she observed. "Perhaps he had onethis afternoon."

  "He didn't seem that way," said Theodosia, "and I know about headaches,because Silas used to have them, arising from faulty digestion, to whichhe is a martyr. He took opium for them."

  "Yes?" said Lady Swindon.

  "That always cured him. Why, here's Count Villars. Count Villars, Ihaven't set eyes on you since lunch, and I feel bad because you areneglecting me. Let me present you to Lady Swindon."

  Villars bowed.

  "I think we were introduced about twelve years ago," he observed. "Howare you, Lady Swindon? You have come down the river from your charmingCookham?"

  Lady Swindon got up, turning her back on Theodosia, for whom she had nofurther use.

  "Yes, and I am just going back there. How clever of you to rememberwhere we live! Will you take me to my boat? Let us walk round the gardenfirst. It is charming to see you again."

  They strolled a few yards down the path between the two tall herbaceousborders, while she rapidly ran over in her mind what information shewanted from him. It was very quickly done.

  "And you are staying here?" she asked. "How do you find Catherine? I amsure you walked together last night after dinner, and joined oldmemories onto the present."

  Lady Swindon was colossal in her impertinence. It struck Villars afreshafter his long absence from England how very ill-bred a well-bredEnglishwoman can be. But he was more than
a match for her.

  "Ah, my dear lady," he said, "we found that the two needed no link. Weneither of us have that faculty, which, no doubt, is often convenient,of forgetting old friends. As always, I adore her; as always, shereceives my adoration from her infinite height. The Madonna still smileson her worshipper. He asks no more."

  It was admirably done, for it told her nothing. She tried again.

  "Indeed? I thought you had once asked more," she said. "We all supposedso."

  "There is no limit to what people of brilliant and vivid imagination maynot suppose," said he.

  She could not help smiling at her own defeat. His refusals to givedirect answers were so very silken.

  "And the truth always exceeds one's imagination, does it not?" she said.

  "It is usually different from it," observed he.

  This would not do. She tried something else.

  "And Thurso?" she said. "How do you think he is?"

  Villars looked at her in bland surprise.

  "Very well, surely, is he not?" he said. "Why should you thinkotherwise?"

  "Only something I heard about his calling at a chemist's and racing homeafterwards."

  "Indeed!" said Villars.

  Lady Swindon was afraid there was no more to be got there, and he handedher into her launch.

  "But I am so glad, so very glad you think he is well," she said. "Docome and spend a Sunday with us some week. I will try to get Catherineto come and meet you."

  He murmured gratitude of the non-committal sort, and stood a littlewhile looking after her launch, which sped like an arrow up-stream,raising a two-foot wave in its wake, and nearly upset half a dozen boatsin its passage. Then he strolled back to the lawn again. He had not thefaintest intention of staying with Lady Swindon, but, on the other hand,he did not at all desire to be on bad terms with her, for, little as herespected her, he had a profound respect for her supreme mischief-makingcapabilities. She had got hold of something about Thurso, too, andperhaps it was as well she had not seen him. In that case, his ownbland assertion that he considered him very well would not have been ofmuch use.

  Lady Swindon's departure had acted as a signal for a general move, andwhen Villars got back, Lady Thurso was just saying good-bye to the lastof her guests. On the moment, the butler came out of the house and spoketo her.

  "His lordship begs that you and Lady Maud will go to his room for amoment as soon as you are disengaged, my lady," he said.

  "Tell his lordship we will come immediately. Ah, Count Villars, we weregoing on the river, were we not? Could you wait a few minutes? Thursowants to see me about something."

  Maud joined her, and they went together to Thurso's sitting-room at theend of the house. He was sitting at his table in the window, and, withhis usual courtesy, got up as they entered. On the table in front of himstood a bottle of dark blue glass. He had just finished unpacking thisas they entered, and threw the corrugated paper in which it had beenwrapped into the waste-paper basket.

  "A cigarette, Catherine?" he said, offering her one. "I want a fewminutes' talk with you both."

  She took one, and he waited till she had lit it, and sat down.

  "Maud tells me," he said, "that you and she undid a package that arrivedhere this afternoon addressed to me, and threw it away. That is so, Ibelieve?"

  She did not answer--it seemed unnecessary--and he raised his voice alittle.

  "Will you kindly say whether that is so?" he said.

  "Yes; quite right," she said.

  Again he raised his voice, that shook with suppressed rage.

  "And do you make a habit of doing such things, both of you? Do you openmy letters, other people's letters?"

  "Oh, Thurso, don't be a fool!" said Maud quietly.

  His face went very white.

  "Maud, I am trying to be courteous," he said, "under a good deal ofprovocation. You might make an effort to follow my example."

  "Is it courteous to ask Catherine and me whether we are in the habit ofopening other people's letters?" she asked.

  "Your behaviour this afternoon seems to me to warrant my question," hesaid.

  "No, Thurso, it does not," said his wife. "I think you know it, too."

  He looked first at the one, then at the other, and his hand moved as ifinstinctively towards the bottle on the table.

  "I don't want to make a scene with either of you," he said, "and I don'twant to detain you. I wish to say, however, that I think you behavedquite outrageously. And I require you both to promise never again to actin such a way. You are absolutely unjustified in touching or interferingwith my things in this way from whatever motive."

  He took up the bottle.

  "You see how little good your interference has done in this instance,"he said, "and it will do as little in any other. You will merely obligeme to adopt methods as underhand as your own."

  "There was nothing underhand," said Catherine. "We were going to tellyou what we had done. Indeed, Maud did tell you."

  "I should have said that stealing was underhand," said he very evilly,"though perhaps you think differently. As to your telling me, you knewit was inevitable that I should find out."

  "That has nothing to do with it," said Maud quickly. "Even if you couldnever have found out otherwise, we should have told you."

  "Ah!" said he.

  Maud looked at him in amazement. She had been told by Catherine thisafternoon that there were two Mauds, and here indeed was a Thurso whomshe would scarcely have known for her brother. His manner was quitequiet and courteous again now, but it seemed as if he was possessed.There was a world of sneering incredulity in that one word.

  "You don't believe what I say?" she asked.

  He was silent; he smiled a little, and raised his eyebrows. There was noneed for him to speak; he could not have shouted his meaning nearly soclearly.

  "Then where is the use of our giving you any promise for the future, ifyou don't believe what we say?" she asked.

  "I ask for your promise, however," he said.

  "And if we don't give it you?" said Catherine.

  He looked at her closely, and she felt that he hated her at thatmoment.

  "I shall merely have to find some other way of getting thingsdelivered," he said, "so that you shall not st--intercept them."

  There was silence.

  "I ask for your promise," he repeated.

  Maud threw back her head.

  "I promise," she said. "It is no use refusing."

  "And I," said Catherine, getting up. "Is that all, Thurso?"

  Thurso put his hand to his head suddenly, with a wince of pain he couldnot control.

  "Yes, on that point that is all," he said. "Let us agree to say nothingmore about a most unpleasant subject. But I want to tell you this: I amsuffering so hideously at the present moment that I hardly know what Iam saying. Agitation and anger, for which you two are responsible, havebrought on about the worst attack I ever had. Very likely I should nothave taken laudanum from that bottle you threw away; in any case, Ishould have struggled hard not to. I struggled yesterday, with theresult that I allowed Catherine to pour away all I had in the house. ButI am not going to struggle now, thank you. The pain is intolerable, andI believe it to have been brought on by what you did. Your interferencehas not done the slightest good; it has only given me an hour of hell."

  Then, quite suddenly, his mood changed. "I have said abominable thingsto you both," he said. "My only excuse is that I am in torments. I begthe forgiveness of both of you."

  Here was the real Thurso again, looking out like a soul in prison,trying to burst through the bars, and there was a dreadful, hopelesspathos about him. Catherine laid her hand on his shoulder.

  "Ah, Thurso, of course we forgive you," she said. "But for God's sakedon't give up. I suppose you must take this now because of your pain,but say you will go on fighting it again. It's--it's damnation, youknow."

  He looked at her with agonised eyes.

  "I will do my best," he said. "Now go, pleas
e. Make my excuses to theothers if I don't appear at dinner. But I expect I shall; I have twohours yet."

  The women went out together, but before the door was closed they heardthe clink of glass.