CHAPTER VII
RACHEL AND BRETON
"We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go Always a little farther: it may be Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow, Across that angry or that glimmering sea. ... but surely we are brave Who make the Golden Journey to Samarcand."
_The Golden Journey to Samarcand._
JAMES ALROY FLECKER.
I
Rachel now awaited her meeting with Breton with restless impatience. Itshould afford her, beyond everything, a solution. She was young enoughand inexperienced enough to make many demands upon life--that it shouldbe romantic, that it should, in the issues that it presented, be honestand open and clear, that it should allow her to settle her own place init without any hurt to anyone else, that it should, in fact, arrange anynumber of compromises to suit herself and that it should nevertheless beso honest that it would admit of no compromises at all.
She approached life with all the reckless boldness of one who has nevercome into direct contact with it. Neither her relations with hergrandmother nor with Roddy had as yet taken from her any of her youngestnor simplest illusions. Were life drab and uninteresting, why, then oneturned simply to the place where it promised colour and adventure.
She had not yet discovered that when we go deliberately to grasp athappiness we are eternally eluded.
But in spite of her desire for honesty she refused to face the actualmeeting with Breton. She knew him so slightly as Francis Breton and sointimately as an idea. What she felt in her heart was, that hergrandmother had hoped to catch her by marrying her to Roddy and thatnothing could prove so eloquently that she had not been caught as herfriendship with Breton.
"I will show her and I will show Roddy that I am my own mistress, freewhatever they may say or do."
Breton--seen dimly as a rebel against a harsh dominating world--was thefigure of all romance and freedom. "Roddy doesn't care what happens tome. He'll do anything grandmother tells him to...."
She was now out to attack the Beaminster fortress; she did not as yetknow that half of her was urgent for its defence.
II
When the afternoon arrived she took a cab and was driven to SaxtonSquare. She mounted the stairs, knocked on the door and was admitted byhis ugly man-servant.
"Is Mr. Breton at home?" she asked.
"Yes, my lady," he answered and smiled; she disliked his smile andbefore she passed into the room had a moment of wild unreasoning panicwhen she wished that she were not there, when Roddy's face came to her,kind and loving and homely.
She stepped forward into the room, heard the door close behind her andfelt rather than saw him as he came forward to greet her.
Then she heard him say--
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come. I was so afraid lest something should stopyou."
His windows, although only on the first floor, had a wide sweeping view;a world of chimneys and towers glittering now beneath the sinking sun.
His room was simple and had the effect of cleanly emptiness; a tablearranged for tea, two rather faded arm-chairs, a dark green carpet, abook-case, two large framed photographs on the walls, one of some streetin Bombay, the other of the Niagara Falls.
The sunshine lit the bare room and their faces and she was suddenlycomfortable and at ease.
He drew one of the easy chairs forward to the window.
"Sit down in the sun; Marks will bring the tea in a moment."
She sat back in the chair and looked out on to the shining roofs andtowers, not glancing towards him, but acutely aware of him, of all hismovements. He sat down upon the broad window-seat near her and looked ather.
She knew that she had never been conscious, physically, of anyonebefore. Roddy's clumsy hands and rather awkward body had always simplybelonged to Roddy and stayed at that; now she felt as if FrancisBreton's hand, close, as she knew, to hers, was joined to her by arunning current of attraction.
Although he was not touching her, it was as though she were chained tohim. If he moved she felt that she must move with him and every motionthat he made seemed to rouse some response in her.
She was aware, of course, as she was always aware with him, of the waythat intimacy between them had moved since their last meeting. All herromantic evocation of life as she wanted it to be helped her to this. Itwas as though she said to herself, "Here at least is my true self freeand dominant. I must make the most of it"--and yet, with that, somethingseemed to warn her that freedom too easily obtained carried at its heartdisappointment. The ugly man-servant brought in tea and thendisappeared. Breton moved about, waited upon her, then sat down closerto her, leaning forward and looking into her eyes.
It was part of his temperament that he should take her coming to him asan instant acknowledgment of the complete fulfilment of his wishes. Healways saw life as the very rosiest of his dreams until it woke him toreality. He was ruled completely by the mood of the moment, and his oneemotion now was that Rachel was divinely intended for him alone of allhuman beings--
But he could not wait.... He knew, by this time, that reflection wasalways a period of disappointment. He was unhappily made in that heyielded to his impulses of regret as eagerly as to his impulses ofanticipation--One mood followed so swiftly upon another that collisionmight seem inevitable.
They were, both of them, young enough to see life as something thatwould inevitably, in a short time, condemn them both to years of sterilemonotony. Rachel indeed felt that she was already caught....
They must, both of them, therefore, make the best of their time.
"I _was_ so afraid," he repeated again, "lest something should havestopped you."
"I would have asked you to come to us, only I'm afraid that my husbandstill----"
"Oh! I quite understand."
"It's natural--Roddy's like that. If he wants to do a thing he doesn'tcare for anybody and just does it. But if nothing makes him especiallywant to do it, then he just takes other people's opinions. Now he mightask you suddenly to come and see us--simply because he took it into hishead. Then nobody could stop him.... He's very obstinate."
She was rather surprised at herself for talking about Roddy. She had acurious feeling about him as though she were going on a journey and hadjust said good-bye to him and had a rather desolate choke in her throatbecause she wouldn't see him again for so long.
"Oh! but I'm glad you've come! If you knew the times and times when I'veimagined this meeting--thought about it, pictured----"
She saw that his hand was trembling on the window-ledge--
"I oughtn't to have come, perhaps--But I don't know. I've felt soindignant at the way that grandmother is treating you. I wanted to_show_ you that I was indignant...."
"You don't know," he said, "what a help you've been to me already--Youshowed me the very first time that we met that you _did_ sympathize...."
His voice was tender, partly because her presence moved him so deeplyand partly because the sympathy of anyone about his own affairs made himinstantly full of sorrow for himself--When anyone said that they thoughtthat he had been badly treated he always felt with an air of surpriseddiscovery: "By Jove, I _have_ been having a bad time!"
"Yes--Wasn't it strange, that first meeting in Miss Rand's room? We seemto have known one another all our lives."
She looked at him. "That you should hate grandmamma so," she said, "wasa great thing to me. I'd been all alone--fighting her--for so long."
Rachel felt, in the glow of the occasion, that, all her days, there hadbeen active constant war-to-the-knife in the Portland Place house.
"She's been the curse of my life," he said bitterly. "Always keeping medown, making me unable to do myself justice. Why should she hate me so?"
"She hates us," cried Rachel, "because we're both determined to be free.We wouldn't have our lives ruled for us. She wants everyone to be underher in _everything_."
They glowed together, very close to one another now, in a gloriousassertion of rebe
llious independence. He put his hand upon the back ofher chair--
"Now," he said, his voice trembling, "now that we've got to know oneanother, you won't go back on it, will you? If I couldn't feel that youwere behind me, after being so encouraged, it would be terrible forme--worse than anything's ever been for me."
"You needn't be afraid," she said, not looking at him, but tremendouslyconscious of his hand that now touched her dress. Then there was a longand very difficult silence during which events seemed to move withterrific impetus.
She was overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions. She was past analysis ofregret or anticipation. Somewhere, very far away, there was Roddy, andsomewhere--also very far away--there was her grandmother, but, forherself, she could only feel that she was very lonely, that nobody caredabout her except Breton and that nobody cared about him exceptherself--and that she wanted urgently to be comforted and that hehimself needed comfort from her.
She knew that if she were not very strong-minded and resolute she wouldcry; she could feel the tears burning her eyes.
"Perhaps I oughtn't to have come--Oh! it's all so difficult--withgrandmother--and everything--I thought I could--could manage things, butI can't--We oughtn't--I wanted to do what was best. I--I didn'tknow--You----"
Then the tears came--She tried desperately to stop them, then they camerushing; she buried her head in her hands and abandoned herself toweeping that was partly sorrow for herself and partly sorrow for Bretonand partly, in the strangest way, sorrow for Roddy.
He was on his knees by her chair, had his arm about her, was crying:
"Oh! Rachel--Rachel--Rachel--I love you. I love you--Don'tcry--Don't--Rachel----" He kissed her again and again and she clung tohim like a frightened child.
III
After a time her crying ceased, she got up from the chair, moving gentlyout of his embrace, and then went to the looking-glass above thefireplace and stood there wiping her eyes.
Then, smiling, she looked back at him--He was standing in front of thewindow and behind him the reflection, from the departed sun, flooded thetown with gold. He seemed a man transformed, gazing upon her with anecstasy of triumph, exaltation, happiness.
"My dear--my dear--Oh! how glorious you are!"
But she did not move.
He stirred impatiently, and then, looking at her with adoring eyes, hewhispered, "Oh! my dear! but I love you!"
"I must go," she said, her eyes, large and frightened, appealingly uponhim--
He smiled at her, his eyes laughing.
"Yes, Francis--let me--let me. Now while I can still see what I ought todo."
"There's only one thing that you ought to do. You belong to me now." Sheplucked nervously with her hands one against the other.
"Francis, let me go--please--please----" He saw then that she wasunhappy and the laughter died from his eyes. His voice, fallen from itshappiness, was almost harsh, as he replied--
"You know we love one another, have loved one another ever since thatday when we met in Miss Rand's rooms? You know it as well as I do. Youknew it when you came to these rooms to-day."
"I oughtn't to have come." Her voice had gathered strength. "It's onlybecause I realize now what you are to me that I want to go. I thought Iwas so strong, that I could be fair to Roddy and to you too ... I didn'tknow----"
"Then stay--stay--" he whispered urgently. "It's a thing that you've gotto face anyhow--We can't stay apart, you and I, now. We can try, but youknow--you know as well as I--that we can't do it."
"We must--That's what I meant before. That's why I must go now, becausesoon I shan't be strong enough. But we've got to part--we've got to."
"Oh, this is absurd," he cried. "We're human beings, not figures to hanga theory on--Now just as we realize what we are to one another----"
"Yes, because of that," she broke in swiftly, urgently. "You know that Ilove you--I know that you love me. We've got that knowledge that nothingcan take away from us--and we've got the love--nothing can touch it. Butmy duty is with Roddy."
"You knew that," he said, "when you came here to-day."
Her face flamed--"That's not fair of you, Francis."
"No, I beg your pardon. It isn't----" He suddenly came to her, caughther and kissed her, holding her with his arm close to him, murmuring inher ear. At first she had struggled, then she lay absolutely stillagainst him, making no response.
He felt her passive against his beating heart. He released her andwatched her as she went across to the window and looked out into thedarkening city.
"I don't care," he said roughly, "I love you. There's no talk about itor anything else. You belong to _me_."
"I belong to Roddy," she answered quietly. "It's all quite clear. Myduty is to him until ... unless, life with him becomes impossible. I'vegot absolutely to do my best and while I'm doing that you've got to helpme."
"What do you mean?" he said, his eyes upon her.
"Help me by our not meeting, by our not writing, by our doingnothing--nothing----"
"No--No," he answered her, his eyes set upon her.
"You don't get me any other way. Francis, don't you see that we're notthe sort of people, either of us, to put up with the deceits, thetrickeries, the lies that the other thing means? Some people might--lotsof people do, I suppose--but we're not built that way. We'reidealists--We aren't made to stand quietly and see all the quality ofthe thing vanish before our eyes--just to take the husk when we've knownwhat the kernel was like.
"Besides, it isn't as though I hated Roddy. If I did I'd go off with younow, in a minute if you wanted me, although even then it would be ahopeless thing for _us_ to do. But I'm very fond of Roddy. I'm not inlove with him--I never have been--I told him from the first--But I'mgoing to do my best by him."
"Why did you come here?"
"I came here because I was driven towards you. I wanted to hear you saythat you loved me--I wanted to tell you that I loved you. We've both ofus said it. We know it now--and we've got to keep it, the most preciousthing in the world.
"But we should soon hate one another if we destroyed one another'sideals. For many people it wouldn't matter--For us, weak as we are, itmatters everything."
"All this talk," he said. "I'm a man. I'm here to love you, not to talkabout it. I've got you and I'm going to keep you."
"You haven't got me," she cried. "You've got a bit of me. There'll betimes when I'm away from you when I shall think that you've got all ofme. But you haven't--no one's got all of me....
"And I haven't got you either--You think now for the moment that it isso--But I know what it would be if we were hiding about on the Continentor secretly meeting here in London--That's not for us, Francis."
"I've got you," he repeated. "I'm not going to wait any longer----"
"It's the only way you'll ever have me," she answered, "by letting me domy duty to Roddy--I promise you that. If ever life is impossible--ifit's ever better for both of us that I should go, I'll come to you--ButI shall tell him first."
"Tell him! But he won't let you go."
"He won't stop me--if it comes to that."
He pleaded with her then, telling her about his life, its loneliness,his unhappiness, how impossible it would be now without her.
But she shook her head.
"Don't you think," she cried, "that grandmother would be delighted if wewent off? Both of us done for--you never able to return again ... Ah!no! For all of us, for every reason, it's not to be."
"I won't let you go--I've got you. I'll keep you."
"You can't, Francis----"
"I can and I will----"
Then looking up, catching a vision of her framed in the window with thelighted city behind her, he saw in her eyes how unattainable she mightbe....
He had, he had always had, his ideals. There was a long silence betweenthem, then he bowed his head.
"You shall do as you will--anything with me that you will."
"Oh, my dear," she whispered, "I love you for that."
Then hurrie
dly, moving as though she feared her own weakness, she wentto put on her wraps--He came to her.
"Let me write--let me."
"No--Better not."
"Just a line--Nothing that any ordinary person----"
"No, we mustn't, Francis."
He put her furs about her neck, then his hand rested on her shoulder.Her head fell back.
"Once more"--she said. He kissed her throat, then her eyes, then theirlips met.
"Stay," he whispered, "stay"--Very slowly she drew away from him, smiledat him once, and was gone.