The Gateless Barrier

  XXII

  Laurence swung himself down from the high, two-wheeled dogcart at thefront door. The sky was lowering, the evening sultry after a burningday. Down in the south-east a storm was brewing, with low mutterings ofthunder. The air was curiously still, yet now and again, among the thickfoliage of the limes and chestnuts, a few leaves would fluttertumultuously as though stricken with panic, and then become motionlessas suddenly and causelessly as they had become agitated. Laurence waslate and had driven home rapidly, not sparing his horse--a young,thorough-bred brown, which he had bought about a fortnight before, andwhich was new as yet to harness. It was all of a lather and sweat, andstood with outstretched neck and open, heavily-breathing nostrils. Helooked at it with a slight sense of compunction, and gave some orders tothe groom. It was a little hard to have pressed the poor beast; but hehad been out all the afternoon, mapping out the projected course of thelight railway to the Hazledown quarries, with Armstrong and anengineering expert, and he had been kept later than he anticipated. Asit was, he had barely time for a bath, and to dress, before dinner at aquarter-past eight. His mind still ran upon questions of gradients anddetail of expenditure. He had thrown himself energetically intopractical work. It was best to do so, with the climax of his greatadventure looming so large just ahead. All day he had been conscious ofa quiet, sustained excitement engendered by the double life he wasleading. It stimulated the action of his brain. The engineer had warmlyapproved some of his suggestions and adopted them. This pleasedLaurence. It was not a little satisfactory to find himself thus capableand "on the spot," while interests of so very different a characterformed the under-current of his thought. It fed self-confidence, andjustified his determination of daring action.

  After a look, first at the sweating horse and then at the lowering sky,he hurried into the hall. The storm, if it came up at all, would notbreak yet. Probably it would travel along the northern horizon followingthe line of the Downs. How hot it was, though! The house felt cool bycomparison with the atmosphere outside. Then, just inside the door, thetwo men-servants met him, Renshaw with a salver in his hand.

  "A telegram for you, sir," he said--adding--"do you wish dinner put offfor a quarter-of-an-hour or so, sir?"

  "No--no," Laurence answered absently, "I shall be down in plenty oftime."

  As he spoke he tore open the ugly, orange-coloured envelope. The sheetof dirty-pink paper within contained but a few words.

  "Wanted here immediately. Return next steamer. Virginia."

  Laurence bathed, dressed, dined, while at intervals the thunder mutteredfar away in the east, and the dark came swiftly as with great strides.In the centre of the table the cut-glass bowl, upheld by the dancing,golden figures, again to-night, as on the second night of Laurence'svisit to Stoke Rivers--which now seemed such an incredibly long timeago--held fantastic, single flowers and sprays of orchids, some mottled,warty, toad-like, some tiger-coloured striped with black. These lastgave off a heavy, musky scent. The oppressive heat, too, was suggestiveof that earlier evening,--though the windows now stood wide open. Butthen, whatever the discomfort of his physical sensations, Laurence hadbeen light-hearted enough. His life, if not particularly full ofpurpose, had at least been free of entanglement. He had neither climbedheights nor sounded depths. His honour was untarnished, by so much as aquestionable thought. Now the splendour of life had got him, he was inthe full swing of his great opportunity; but his conscience was notclear as at that former period, and that--which seemed not a littleironical--though he had lived more austerely than of old, abjuring allfrivolity and denying himself all bodily indulgence.

  Laurence juggled neither with himself or with the facts of the case. Hedid not whimper or grumble. In accepting the risks of his own action, hehad of necessity accepted this one. It was just the fortune of war--notan altogether pretty fortune for a man who plumed himself on a nicetaste in matters of honour, perhaps, but that was hardly to the point.The present position was an inevitable consequence of all which hadpreceded it, and was bound to present itself sooner or later. Remorseand anger were alike futile and out of place. The question resolveditself into this--what to do next?

  Laurence dropped the stump of his cigarette into his finger-bowl, andsat resting his elbows on the table and his forehead in his hands,thinking.--For Virginia meant what she said. Of course she did. Virginiaalways meant what she said, sometimes a little more--certainly neverless. And her reasons for saying that which she said were alwaysperfectly convincing to herself. Virginia was never impulsive; heraction was always the outcome of intention. Therefore it was useless totemporise or ask explanations by means of that far-flashing cable. Inher letters Virginia had lately commented upon the length of hisabsence--quite good-temperedly. Virginia was always good-tempered;partly, perhaps, because she had never had occasion to learn whatopposition meant. This telegram was her ultimatum; but whether deliveredof her own free will and initiative, or in deference to some unusualcircumstance, illness, accident, or sudden financial crisis, he couldnot, of course, divine. Yet even so, the position remained very simple.There were but two paths. One or other he must choose. Either he mustobey her, and that unquestioningly and directly--this was Thursday, thenext American mail left Liverpool at the end of the week--or he mustrefuse; and that, he believed, meant a break with Virginia.

  Laurence remained very still for a time. A break with Virginia?--Yes;the storm was working round by the north as he had anticipated.--He hadno complaint to make against Virginia, Heaven forbid! She was justprecisely that which she had always been--in her own sphere andconnection, from the modern and mundane point of view, an eminently andadmirably clever person. He agreed with her disciple, Mrs. Bellingham,that in social affairs she possessed a _savoir faire_ and intelligenceamounting to positive genius. She was absolutely self-reliant. She hadnever been surprised or nonplussed in all her life, and--and--

  Laurence rose to his feet, crossed the room and rang the bell. His facehad grown singularly hard. It bore but slight resemblance to that of hisnamesake, the gallant and debonair young Laurence Rivers of the Coswayminiature. Indeed, his eyes were coldly brilliant, his lips almost asthin as those of Montagu Rivers, his uncle, but lately dead.--Well, heproposed to enlarge Virginia's experience. He proposed to surprise, tononplus her. It was a blackguardly thing to do, and she, of all women,would be the last to forgive it. So much the better, he did not want herto forgive it. He proposed to repudiate Virginia, he proposed to deserther--and then, fortunately, the American divorce laws are easy.

  When Renshaw answered the bell he said--

  "Leave the fruit and wine on the table, and bring an uncut loaf of new,white bread. Don't sit up. I shall be late, and I wish to have the houseto myself to-night."