*CHAPTER XII*
Through the shining tropic sea sped the _Dunrobin Castle_, homewardbound, a speck of scarlet and grey in a waste of still, oily blue.Canvas awnings glared white in the morning sunlight; pitch bubbled inthe seams of the holystoned decks; from metal-work and fitting, flashesof light smote blindingly on the eye. Over the towering oval-shapedfunnels a faint shimmer hovered; from clanging engine-room rose the reekof oil and steam mingling with the hot air above; wire stays quivereddizzily to the dull throbbing of the screw.
On one side of the ship, where a faint breeze blew, a row of chairsstretched along the deck, their occupants reading, chatting, or lazilylooking on at games of deck billiards, quoits, or bull, played by themore energetic of the passengers; on the other, now invaded halfwayacross by the glare of the slanting sunlight, there were only twofigures, the one that of Hector Graeme, the other--the length of thedeck away--of a girl, Stara Selbourne.
Both were apparently reading, but neither had turned a page for an hour,their thoughts being of one another. Stara wondered why, since this manwas so obviously interested in her, he declined to avail himself ofboard-ship licence and speak instead of staring. Hector revolved in hismind for the hundredth time suitable words with which to begin, andcursed the curious awkwardness that inevitably assailed him when in hervicinity, impelling him to pass her by without a word when he hadapproached her with the object of commencing the attack.
This stupidity on his part, moreover, apart from its novelty, was themore galling, as for the first time in ten years he found himselfdesirous of talking to a woman other than his wife; in fact, even in theshort space of two days this desire had begun to take possession of himto the exclusion of all else, even to that of the perusal of a parcel ofnew books with which he had intended to occupy his whole time when onboard.
It is perhaps unnecessary to mention, Hector's attention having beenthus aroused, that Stara Selbourne was possessed of personalattractions, these being of that soft, essentially feminine kind beforewhich the strength of men evaporates.
Looking at her now as she lay, lazily disposed among a heap ofpink-and-white cushions, the short-lipped, sensuous mouth half open, andsoft, dimpled cheek resting on a tiny white hand; noting, moreover, thefineness of cambric blouse and skirt, the sheen of tightly-stretchedsilken stocking, and the amber combs in the elaborately curled hair, oneknew instinctively that this daintiness was not mere outward show, butpart of her nature, and that, strip off the outward husk, noincongruities would stand revealed, no monstrosities of wool andflannel, the unseen would be a wonder of snowy and beribboned delicacy.In hunting parlance indeed, Stara, even where no such catastrophe was tobe apprehended, was, and always would be, dressed "for a fall."
Nevertheless, despite this general appearance of femininity, signs wereto be observed of other characteristics, signs of a somewhat startlinglycontradictory nature. The chin, for instance, though soft and white, wasmost unfemininely firm, almost hard; while the eyes, long in shape andblack-lashed though they were, were not of blue, as to be in keepingthey ought to have been, but of light grey, clear, steady and rathercold--in no way languishing.
These eyes she now kept fixed on her book, firmly determined to run norisk of meeting even one of the frequent glances directed at her fromthe other end of the deck; of which glances, as also of Hector's mentalrestlessness, she was at the same time perfectly aware.
"Let him come and talk if he wants to," she thought impatiently; "oglingis a practice I abominate; it's a servant-maid's trick." And Stara atlast turned another page, forcing her attention once more back to therelation of the adventures of one Mademoiselle de Maupin, Hector at thesame time returning to the theory of heredity as expounded by ArthurSchopenhauer of pessimistic notoriety.
"Physical qualities from the father's, mental from the mother's side,"he reflected, laying the book down again. "Well, that seems true, mymother was clever enough, though a bit cranky. He's a bit out, though,about the other, poor old governor was rather an ugly chap."
He yawned, stretched himself, and once more his eyes wandered to the farend of the deck. "Still there," he murmured. "Wherever I am, there sheis too; must do it on purpose; wants me to talk to her, I suppose;doesn't know I'm married; if she did, her interest would very soon die.Bah! what humbug it is, that a man should be debarred from amusementbecause of a mere conventional tie. No wonder those other fellows,Nelson, Suvarov, and the rest, revolted; they couldn't stand restraintany more than I can.
"Mustn't, you're married, family man and so forth, it's just that makesone want to do things. Damn it, for years I've never looked at a womanexcept Lucy, and see the result, I've become a fossil; don't even knowhow to begin. I've been only half alive all this time, and I want tolive, and I think somehow that girl would help me. She looks as ifshe'd love well. I've a good mind to try it, just for the voyage. I'mstrong enough, thank God, to pull up when I want to. Hanged if I don'tlet myself go all I know; no, I'm bothered if I do; she'd only laugh atme if she knew and that I could not stand."
Again he took up his book and began to turn over the pages. "'Ethics.'Don't know what they are, and don't want to either. 'Man's need formetaphysics.' Have none myself. Ah! 'On Woman;' that sounds better.Oho!" reading; "this is capital.
"'Injustice is the fundamental failing of the female character. Thisarises from the want of reason and reflection, and is assisted by thefact that they, as the weaker sex, are driven by nature to have recoursenot to force but to cunning, hence their instinctive treachery andirremediable tendency to lying. For as nature has armed the lion withclaws, the bull with horns, and the sepia with ink which blackens water,so has nature armed woman with powers of deception for her protection.'
"I'd like to read that aloud to you," muttered Hector, again glancingup; "shake your conceit a bit, I should say, or ought to."
He went on reading:
"'Only the male intellect befogged through the sexual impulse could callthat undersized, narrow-shouldered, broad-hipped and short-legged sexfair, for in the sexual impulse resides its whole beauty.'
"Beastly way of putting it," murmured Hector, who possessed the ultrarefinement that is usually a characteristic of those in whom the moralsense is deficient, "and it's not true either--she's neither undersizednor short-legged. I'll take a walk past her now and look, to make sure,rather interesting this."
He rose, and moved slowly up the deck towards the reclining figure, who,at his approach, turned another page.
"I really believe he's going to at last," she thought, with a faintfeeling of excitement. "No, he's not, he's shied again," as Hector wentby looking straight before him. "Oh, this is too absurd, I must helphim, I suppose." Whereupon away fluttered Stara's bookmarker, acrossthe deck, a low exclamation of annoyance escaping her as she watched itnearing the ship's side.
Hector, turning at the sound and noting its cause, picked up the errantbookmarker and brought it back, indulging himself, as he did so, with astraight, steady stare into her eyes, and, meeting them, one of the oddfits of giddiness, which of late had been increasing in frequency, cameover him; the sweat stood out on his forehead and the girl's figure washidden for a moment in mist. He reeled, catching at the back of herchair for support; then fingers of steel gripped his arm and he foundhimself in Stara's chair, she standing looking down upon him, her eyesalert and interested.
"Damn!" said Graeme, when the mists had gone and he realised thesituation.
"Certainly 'damn' if you like," was the answer in clear tones, "butdon't move, stay where you are; d'you hear me?"
"I certainly won't, why should I?"
"Because I tell you to. I'm a nurse, and know what I'm about."
"You ... a nurse?"
"Yes, but never mind about that. Why do you sit in the sun, if itaffects you like this?"
"Because I like it, but I'm hanged if I'll sit here while you'restanding. I'll fetch my chair and bring it over."
"No, I'll g
o," and Stara walked leisurely away, and returned draggingthe chair, in which she proceeded to settle herself.
"What a beast of a chair," she said, wriggling; "not nearly so comfy asmine. Oh, there's a book here, what is it? Ah, Schopenhauer," pickingit up and opening it, the pages falling apart where Graeme had last beenreading, 'On Woman.' "Oh!"
"Don't read the stuff, please, Miss Selbourne; it's rubbish frombeginning to end, that chapter."
"Don't be alarmed, Colonel Graeme; I've read all his works, and aboutthis essay, personally I think it very true, though perhaps a littleviolent. I wonder, though, whether he made it up with her afterwards."
"Her, who?"
"The woman that essay was written at. Pique and disappointment show inevery line. He was certainly in love when he wrote it."
"Surely a man like Schopenhauer would be above such weakness."
"Above humanity? I think not, Colonel Graeme."
"You think, then, that every man must--must----"
"I don't think at all about it, I'm sure. That's what he exists for,and woman too, though she pretends not to. I should say I know mySchopenhauer better than you do, Colonel Graeme."
"In that case, if we exist solely as prospective fathers and mothers,and the attraction between the sexes is merely the cry of the unbornchild, the stronger the attraction the finer the child. Any two peoplewho feel that attraction should--should----" He stopped, confused, forthe light grey eyes were on him, and the look in them brought him to astandstill.
"If we were beasts of the field, no doubt we should be as they are.Rating ourselves, however--perhaps wrongly--as higher, we recognise thenecessity of social laws. But tell me, or don't if you like, what wasthe matter with you just now. I'm professionally interested."
"I don't know, it's a thing that has been growing on me lately; wheneverI'm excited it comes on as it did then. It's a nuisance when I don'twant it, though useful enough when I do. I can't control it, though,that's the mischief, but I'm boring you."
"No, you're not, go on, tell me what you mean by not controlling it."
"Why, this. Whenever I'm in a difficulty, and don't know what todo--have to fight a battle, for instance, and can't think of a plan--Ijust shut my eyes and let myself go. For the moment I seem to loseconsciousness of my present self and become another, and that otheralways knows and tells me what to do. Then I sort of wake and do it.D'you think I'm mad, Miss Selbourne?"
"I think," said Stara slowly, looking at him, "you're going the rightway to make yourself so. That other self you talk about is--call it thesubconscious, if you like; and let that--and you're encouraging it to doso--gain the upper hand over the conscious, and madness results. Ishould stop it at once, Colonel Graeme; it's deadly dangerous."
"May I ask how you know all this?"
"As I told you, I'm a nurse, or rather going to be one. Oh, don't lookso astonished and stare at my clothes. I'm very frivolous andexpensive-looking, I know; but once I get to work, away goes all thisinto portmanteaux, and, with it, the world, the flesh, and the devil."
"I don't think he'll remain long in the portmanteau," said Graeme,looking at her mouth and dancing eyes.
"I don't mean him to; he goes with me when I have my day out, orwhatever nurses have. Then I shall become frilly and pretty again, andmake a night of it, see all the wickedness I can. That's my idea oflife, Colonel Graeme, austerity or debauch. I love the veldt, I cansaddle my own pony, shoot buck and koran, and cook as well as mostchefs, but I must have a break-out sometimes; not a lady-likebreak-out--tea, dancing and flirtation--but the real thing."
Hector frowned. "You don't know what you're talking about," he saidshortly.
"I do, perfectly. I said _see_ the wickedness, Colonel Graeme, not takepart in it. I'm not a man."
"You certainly could not go out by yourself; it wouldn't be--safeor--right," answered Hector, the value of social conventions dawningupon him for the first time.
"Nor proper, I suppose. Thank you for telling me, but, as it happens, Ican take excellent care of myself, and if you've got a pair of foils onboard I think it possible I might surprise you, though you are asoldier. Oh, listen, that's the 'Matschish,' which always thrills me,makes me feel I should like to have a lover. Oh, please, don't beobvious, I should hate it really, I only like to think about it, likeMadeleine de Maupin, though that's not quite a parallel case either,"she added, reflecting.
"Who was Madeleine de Maupin?"
"Oh, you've not read the book, that's all right then. I can talk abouther. I'm afraid Madeleine was not a very correct person, like me. Shetoo wanted to see life, and, if she could, find a perfect lover--not onewho pretended to be, like most men, and talk afterwards when they'redrunk, but someone she could trust when away from her. So she put onmen's clothes, which I should hate, though in my fencing kit, whitesatin ... but perhaps you'll see me in that if you're nice and don'tmake love except when I want you to. That time is not now, ColonelGraeme," another look from the grey eyes arresting the movement of hishand towards hers.
"I wasn't going to," he muttered sulkily. "I don't want to touch yourhand, why should I?"
"I can't imagine. But about Madeleine, she had all sorts of adventureson her travels; women made love to her, she fought duels and won themtoo, and then at last she found him."
"And got married, I suppose? Same old ending, why can't they think ofsomething different, I wonder?"
"Madeleine did; there was nothing banal or ordinary about her. Shewaited some time after she found him, trying him, and then when she wassatisfied he was what she wanted, she put off her man's things and sentfor him."
"Without her things. I agree with you, Miss Selbourne; Madeleine wasfar from correct."
"Don't be silly. Of course she had a dress on, a woman's dress; that'swhy she sent for him, to show herself in it, to prove to him she was awoman after all."
"And what happened then?"
"Oh, nothing much; there the story ends. She admitted she loved him andnext ... after that, left him."
"That was a poor sort of thing to do, why did she do it?"
"She didn't want to spoil it, I suppose. I think she was right too.They parted, loving one another, anyway."
"I don't think much of the man for allowing it. I would not have----"
Stara looked at him meditatively.
"No," she said at last; "you, I should say, would have followed it uptill she'd really begun to care, not the mere passion that she felt tostart with, but the steady love that comes with time, and only a woman,I believe, can feel. Then you'd have got bored and left her."
"That's cheap cynicism, Miss Selbourne; there are happy marriages."
"No doubt. I was talking of what you'd do. Very rude of me, but youintroduced the subject."
Graeme felt very angry indeed. Analysis of character, he considered, tobe his own particular privilege, and to have it applied to himself,especially when, as in this case, the reading was so obviously false,was most irritating. His whole life gave the lie to her words, hethought, and a sudden feeling of loyalty to and affection for Lucysprang up, momentarily obliterating Stara's attractions from his mind.
"As it happens, Miss Selbourne," he said stiffly, "you're rather out inyour prophecies. I've been married for the last ten years, and believethat, so far, I have shown none of the symptoms you mention."
"I apologise, Colonel Graeme. I didn't know, of course, and you don'tlook married."
The frown vanished from Hector's face, for her words were pleasing--noman likes to look married.
"I suppose," he said, "it's because I've been such a lot away. It'sthree years since I was last home."
"I wonder whether you ever met my brother, Richard Selbourne, he was outwith the Yeomanry during the war, and settled down afterwards on a farmin the O.R.C. I've been staying with him and my sister-in-law."
"Place called Duikerpoort?"
"Yes."
"I have, then; my regiment camped on his ground
last manoeuvres, andyour brother dined with us, I remember. Where were you?"
"At home, with Polly, my sister-in-law. We watched you ride away. Oh,look!" with sudden delight in her eyes as they fell on a small fat childslowly toddling about the deck some distance away, "quick, fetch her andbring her here; she'll be gone if you don't hurry."
Graeme reluctantly rose and walked over to where the child was playing.Unceremoniously picking her up, he returned to Stara, the little girlfaintly whimpering in his arms.
"The idea of holding a child like that," said Stara indignantly,snatching his burden from him; "no wonder the poor mite was beginning tocry. Oh, you darling," bending rapturously over the baby, who was nowsmiling up at her, her hands playing with Stara's coral chain, "howperfectly sweet you are, and how I wish you were mine. Look at herlittle feet and legs, Colonel Graeme; oh, you're not interested a bit."
"I confess I'm not; babies have no attraction for me."
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Every man ought to lovechildren. Haven't you any of your own?"
"No," snapped Graeme, and walked sulkily away down the deck, stopping atthe far end to look back. Stara was still holding the child in her armsand talking baby talk to it, obviously oblivious of his existence.
"Schopenhauer's right," he muttered; "they're hypocrites, every one ofthem. Night of it, Madeleine de Maupin, and now baby talk--don't gotogether the two. I've done with it, I know the sort: pose as fast andbite you if you say anything. I'll get some books and go on the upperdeck. I shan't see her there."
He descended to his cabin, picked up a couple of books at random, andwent above, where he sat down amongst the boats, and, ignoring theluncheon bugle, tried to concentrate his attention on Lombroso. "It'stoo hot for this stuff," he muttered, after reading the same paragraphhalf a dozen times without taking in a word. "I'll try the other,Shelley; I don't know why I bought the thing except for the shortbiography at the beginning." He read this through and lay backreflecting. "Woman, always woman in these fellows' lives," he murmured;"domestic unhappiness seems inseparable from genius." He began to turnover the pages. "_Epipsychidion_--now what does that mean I wonder?"He began to read, and, bored at first, soon became absorbed, the flamingpassion in the lines stirring something within him that had beenhitherto unawakened.
"We shall become the same, we shall be one Spirit within two frames. Oh! wherefore two? One passion in twin-hearts, which grows and grew, Till, like two meteors of expanding flame, Those spheres instinct with it become the same, Touch, mingle, are transfigured: ever still Burning, yet ever inconsumable."
Graeme laid down the volume. His eyes were shining, and his face hadbecome very pale.
"Nothing banal about that," he murmured; "no married sameness, no drearydomesticity. It's all free and lawless, as it ought to be. God, thething's maddened me; I can't keep still!" He sprang up, hesitated for amoment, and then hurrying below looked furtively up and down the decks.He searched the saloon, the music-room, the library, but all to nopurpose; that which he sought was not there. Gradually he was seizedwith anger, then anxiety, and finally a sick longing. Restlessly hewandered about the ship, now trying to read, now pacing the decks, tillat length the dinner-bugle sounded and he went below to dress.
"She shan't escape me afterwards," he thought, watching her across thecrowded saloon; "we'll sit together away from the world, and the romanceof our lives shall begin." Stara, nevertheless, did escape him, despitehis vigilance, and, wait though he did till after the decks were indarkness, she appeared no more.
Sick with disappointment and a bitter sense of humiliation, he at lengthwent down to his cabin, and, flinging himself on the bed, tried hard tosleep. But the bells clanged the hours away and sleep refused to come,till at last he rose from the tumbled bed and sat up, irresolution inhis eyes.
"Sanders told me not to," he muttered; "he said for me it was fatal, butwhat am I to do? I shall go mad if I don't sleep. I don't care--Iwill," and Hector switched on the light, dragged out a dressing-case andtook out a small phial containing tabloids.
"Thank heaven," he murmured drowsily, half an hour later; "better thanall the natural sleep in the world. Stara..." His eyes closed, and hefell asleep at last.