CHAPTER X
THE DWELLER ALONE
"Well, Sarah Brown, here we are," said the witch, her Byronic hairflying as she sat perilously on the rail of the deck. The distant flyingbuttresses of New York were supporting a shining sky, and north and eastlay the harbour and sea, and many ships moving with the glad gait ofhome-comers after perilous voyaging.
Every minute upon the sea is a magic minute, but the voyage of the witchand Sarah Brown had been unmarked by any supernatural activities on thepart of the witch. She had been more or less extinguished by thepresence of five hundred Americans, not one of whom had ever heard theword "magic" used, except by advertisers in connection with their wares.
Miss Ford had been left behind, cured for ever of nerve-storms. She hadbecome unexpectedly engaged to Mr. Bernard Tovey while looking for aporter on Lime Street Station, Liverpool, and had returned with him toLondon to celebrate the event by means of a Super-Wednesday. The Mayoralso had failed to embark. Indeed the unfortunate man had not beenheard of since his seizure on the night of the fire, and I believe thatthe London police are still trying to arrest him as a German spy.
"Here we are," said the witch to Sarah Brown. "At least, I suppose thisCity on its Tiptoes is New York. Do you think I ought to call theattention of the Captain to that largish lady on our left, who seems tobe marooned upon a rock, and signalling to us for help?"
"That is the Statue of Liberty," said three neighbouring Americans inchorus.
"How d'you mean--Liberty?" asked the witch.
The three Americans froze her with three glances.
"America is the home of Liberty," they said all together.
"Oh yes, of course, how stupid of me," said the witch. "I ought to haveremembered that every country is the Home of Liberty. Such a pity thatLiberty never seems to begin at home. Every big shop in London, youknow, is labelled Patronised by Royalty, yet I have bought haberdasheryby the hour without running across a single queen. I suppose if youdidn't have this big label sticking up in your harbour, you Americansmight forget that America is the Home of Liberty. I know quite a lotabout America from a grey squirrel who rents my may-tree on MittenIsland. It is a long time since he came over, but he still chitters witha strong New England accent. He came away because he was a socialist. Igather America is too full of Liberty to leave room for socialism, isn'tthat so? My squirrel says there are only two parties in America,Republicans and Sinners--at least I think that was what he said--andanybody who belongs to neither of these parties is given penal servitudefor life. So I understood, but I may be wrong. I am not very good atpolitics. Anyway, my squirrel had to leave the Home of Liberty and cometo England, so as to be able to say what he thought. I wish I were theretoo. Sarah Brown, I don't yet know why you brought me here."
"I brought you here to escape the Law," said Sarah Brown.
"How d'you mean--escape the Law? Didn't you know that all magic livesand thrives on the wrath of the Law? Have you forgotten our heroictradition of martyrdom and the stake? Isn't the world tame enoughalready? What do you want Magic to become? A branch of the CivilService?"
"I spent all I had in bringing you here," said Sarah Brown. "I left allI loved to bring you here. I am as if dead in England now. Nobody therewill ever think of me again, except as a thing that has been heard thelast of."
The witch looked kindly at her. "You know," she said, "when you firsttold me to go away, after Harold made that bad landing on a policeman, Ithought perhaps you were a sort of cinema villainess, driving me awayfrom my house and heritage. At first I thought of arguing the matter,but then I remembered that villains always have a rotten time, withoutbeing bullied and persecuted by the rest of us. Besides solid things arenever worth fighting over. So I have been patient with you all thistime, and have fallen in courteously with all your fiendish plans--as Ithought--and now I am glad I was patient, for I see you meant well.Dear Sarah Brown, you did mean well. How sad it is that people who haveonce lived in the House of Living Alone can never make a success offriendship. You say you left all you loved--what business have you withlove? Thank you, my dear, for meaning so well, and for these fair daysat sea. But I mustn't stay with you. I mustn't set foot on this land--Ican smell cleverness and un-magic even from here. I must go back to mylittle Spring island, and my parish of Faery...."
"Ah, witch, don't leave me, don't leave me like this, ill and bewilderedand so far from home...."
"How can you ever be far from home, you, a dweller in the greatest homeof all. Did you think you had destroyed the House of Living Alone? Didyou think you could escape from it?"
Sarah Brown said nothing. She watched the witch call Harold herBroomstick to her, and adjust the saddle and tighten the strap round hismiddle. She watched her mount and embark upon the sunny air. The threeAmericans were talking politics, and did not notice anything but eachother. The witch alighted for a moment on one spike of the crown ofLiberty, and climbing carefully down on to the lady's parting, was seenby Sarah Brown to bend down till her head hung apoplectically upsidedown, and gaze long and curiously into that impassive bronze eye.Presently she remounted Harold, and, with a flippant and ambiguousgesture of her foot, launched herself eastward. She disappeared withoutlooking back.
The dock was reached. Sarah Brown collected David her Dog, and Humphreyher Suit-case. Hers was a very wieldy family. An official asked hersomething, using one side of his mouth only to do so, in the alarmingmanner of American officials.
"I cannot hear you," said Sarah Brown. "I am stone deaf."
And she stepped over the threshold of the greater House of Living Alone.
THE END
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh._
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