CHAPTER XXIII
A LIBEL
As Lydia hurried back to the cloister she had a humiliated sense ofhaving been in contact with something foul. Indignant at the trap whichhad been laid for her, sore at the struggle neither to listen nor todoubt, one thought only occupied her: to get back to the cloister andwash her mind and body clean of the whole concern.
She had not been allowed to respond to Neaera's invitation without along discussion with Irene and the Mother Superior. The compact uponwhich she had come to New York was that she was not to meet Chairothere; to insure this, it had been the unexpressed understanding thatshe would not leave the cloister until Chairo's case was judged--or atleast not leave it without the permission of the Demetrian authorities.So when Neaera's message was received, Lydia at once showed it toIrene.
Neaera's role in the whole matter was such an important one, and so muchdepended on what it could be proved to have been, that the MotherSuperior judged it worth the risk to allow Lydia to visit Neaera. When,therefore, Lydia returned to the cloister, Irene at once questioned heras to the result of the interview.
But Lydia was not prepared to lay bare even to Irene all she hadsuffered at Masters's rooms. It was already pitiful enough that her lovefor Chairo had become a subject for public discussion, and, indeed, amatter of political concern. This last agony she would keep to herself;she felt unable to talk about it to others, so she answered Ireneimploringly:
"Do not ask me. Nothing has come of it which can be of the slightestimportance to the cult or to any one. Neaera is a worse woman than Ithought."
Irene hesitated. She did not wish to intrude on Lydia, and yet she knewthe Mother Superior would not be satisfied with this answer. But therewas no reason for forcing an answer from Lydia at once, so sheaccompanied her to her room.
"I want a bath," said Lydia. "I feel contaminated."
"Physically contaminated?" asked Irene, smiling.
"The mere presence of that woman is a physical contamination," answeredLydia.
"Well, let us go down and take a plunge together," answered Irene,laughing.
"Will you?" asked Lydia. "And then we can go to the temple afterwards.That will be the best of all."
The two women stepped down to the swimming bath and donned theirswimming dress.
Lydia stood on the plunging board, and as she raised her beautiful armsabove her head and straightened herself for the plunge, she said:
"Ah! Irene, if life were all as simple and as wholesome and asdelightful as this!"
Reinvigorated by the fresh salt plunge, they resumed their draperies andwalked slowly to the temple. The service was coming to an end and theyknelt to hear the closing chorus of the Choephoroi. The words came withrefreshing distinctness to Lydia, and the hopefulness of them filled herheart with strength. They told of the beauty of women, of theirdevotion. Beauty was a snare, but it was also a sanctuary. For thegoddess gave beauty to the good and to the evil alike--so had the Fatesdecreed. And the evil would use it to the undoing of man, but the goodto the building of him up. And the goddess loved good and hated evil.
Then came the prayer of the women; they prayed to Demeter to give themcharm to delight and courage to renounce, that love and moderation bringin the end happiness and peace.
And the priest lifted his hand in benediction:
"Go forth, for the goddess hath blessed you, and hath bidden you takeheed that, pitiless though be Anagke, even her empire may at last bebroken by the fruit of your womb."
The congregation knelt at these words and remained kneeling while thechoir marched out singing a recessional, solemn and strong. Then camethe novices, the Demetrians, and, last of all, the high priest bearingthe sacred emblem.
When Lydia and Irene left the temple and followed the arcade to thecloister, all doubts and fears seemed to have fallen from Lydia, asscales from eyes blinded by cataract.
"How beautiful the cult of Demeter is!" exclaimed Lydia, "and howstrengthening."
Irene passed her arm round Lydia's waist. "You know now," she said, "howeasy my sacrifice has become! Oh, we have to pass through the fire, butonce the ordeal is over, happiness comes unbidden and unexpected. Cometo my boy--my boys, I should say. I left them at work and I shallprobably find them at play; but they are truthful and innocent. Theirinnocence is a daily delight to me."
And the two women returned to their duties. Lydia forgot that she hadheard Neaera whispering to Chairo. She had taken in a draught ofstrength, and she needed it, for another trial was at hand.
* * * * *
Lydia was allowed to sleep that night the sleep of the innocent, but thenext morning while she was engaged in the hospital ward, Irene came toher with an expression of agitation on her face that was unusual. Shecarried in her hand a newspaper, which Lydia was not slow inrecognizing, and asked Lydia when she would be through her work, as shehad an important word to say to her.
Lydia promised to hurry and be back in her room within ten minutes.Irene said she would go at once to her room and wait there. The momentIrene left the room the probable contents of the newspaper flashed uponher, and she saw the folly of her reticence. She was putting the lastbandage about the leg of a child when suddenly, at the thought of thefalse construction that might be placed upon her silence, a weaknesscame over her that made it almost impossible for her to finish her task.
"What is the matter, Aunt Lydia?" asked the child; "you look pale."
Lydia collected herself. "Nothing," she said, "I shall be all rightpresently." She passed her unoccupied hand over her eyes and was able toresume and complete her work.
When she had sewn up the bandage she put back the small wounded limbinto the bed, tucked in the sheets, and, preoccupied as she was with hernew concern, was moving away without giving the child the customarykiss.
"Aunt Lydia!" cried out the child, holding out its little hands.
"Darling," answered Lydia, and as the soft arms closed around her neckand she felt innocent lips upon her cheek, tears gushed from her eyes,of which--relief though they gave her--she was nevertheless ashamed.
The child looked wonderingly at her, and she said:
"It is nothing at all, and Aunt Lydia is very grateful for a sweetlittle kiss."
The child patted her cheek with a dimpled hand as she bent over him,and Lydia left, wondering how often she would have to be reminded thathappiness did not depend only upon the satisfaction of our own desires.She had left the temple full of this thought, and yet a suspectedattack, directed by a newspaper against her own particular designs, hadin a moment blackened her entire horizon. When she reached her room andfound Irene there she was once more calm and strong.
She found Irene sitting down, with the newspaper open on her knees. Itwas published by a few devotees in vindication of the cult, althoughlacking its support. The cult had, indeed, often tried to suppress itspublication but had not succeeded. It had been able only to compel thepublishers to change its name, for it had been published at first underthe title "The Demetrian." The cult had pointed out that this title gavethe impression that it was an authorized organ, whereas it was not onlyunauthorized but published in a spirit opposite to that taught by thecult. So the name had been changed to "Sacrifice," this word having beenselected in opposition to the word "Liberty"--the title of its rival.
In the issue of that morning was the following paragraph:
"We are incensed to learn that although Chairo was given his liberty onthe express understanding that he was not to use it in order toconsummate his outrage on Lydia, and although Lydia was allowed to cometo New York only on the condition that she was to remain confined to thecloister and not to see Chairo, these two, who have already scandalizedthe cult and the whole community beyond endurance, managed yesterday tomeet clandestinely at the rooms of Masters, between ten and eleven inthe morning. Masters is not in New York, so he cannot be heldresponsible for this assignation; and Masters being out of town it ishardly necessary to point out that on t
his occasion the guilty couplewere quite alone."
* * * * *
Lydia thought when she entered her room that she was braced to endureanything, but when she came to the closing words of the paragraph theblood rushed to her face. She managed, however, to avoid furtherexpression of her indignation.
"It is false, of course?" said Irene.
"No," answered Lydia, and with burning cheeks she turned her tired eyeson Irene. "It is not false--and it is not true."
"What do you mean?" asked Irene anxiously.
"Chairo was there."
"And you saw him?"
Irene was bending over her breathlessly.
A fearful agitation tormented Lydia. Must she indeed renew the anguishof that hour--nay, treble it, by laying it bare to all the world? Shecould have told it to Irene, but to tell it to her as a vindication ofherself would involve the telling of it to the Mother Superior and tothe rest. And who would believe that she had not seen or spoken toChairo, that far from seeing him, she had crouched in an adjoining roomwith her fingers at her ears in agony lest she should hear and lest sheshould not hear?
She remained silent, with her head bowed over the offending sheet.
"You _must_ tell me," Irene pleaded; "I need not tell it to any one--atleast I think I need not," added she, hesitating, "but I know you havedone no wrong; you must clear yourself, Lydia; for the love of thegoddess, tell me."
"For the love of the goddess," repeated Lydia slowly; she paused amoment, and then, mistress of herself again, she said:
"I neither saw Chairo nor spoke to him. _You_ will believe this, but whoelse will?"
"Your word is enough for me," answered Irene, "and I shall make itenough for them all."
The women arose and embraced each other, then Lydia said:
"Too much has been already said about the most secret as well as themost sacred matters of a woman's life. It belongs to us women topreserve the dignity that we derive from Demeter, and that we owe her. Ishall say no more on this matter. Am I not right?"