The Arbiter: A Novel

by Lady Florence Eveleen Eleanore Olliffe Bell

  CHAPTER X

  The opportunity that came that night was ushered in somewhatprosaically, not by the sound of a foeman's horn being wound in thedistance, but by the postman's knock. There was only one letter, butthat was an important looking one addressed to Rendel, in a big, squareenvelope with an official signature in the corner. It was, however,marked "private and confidential," and was not written in an officialcapacity. Rendel as he looked at it, saw that the signature was"Belmont." In an instant as he unfolded the page his hopes leapt to meetthe words he would find there. Yes, Lord Belmont was going to beGovernor of Zambesiland; that was the beginning. And what was this thatfollowed? He asked Rendel whether, if offered the post of Governor'sSecretary, practically the second in command, he would accept it and goout to Africa with him. The offer, which meant a five years'appointment, was flatteringly worded, with a mention of LordStamfordham's strong recommendation which had prompted it, and wound upwith an earnestly expressed hope that Rendel would not at any raterefuse without having deeply considered it. Belmont, however, asked fora reply as soon as was consistent with the serious reflection necessarybefore taking the step. Rendel looked at the clock. It was half-pastnine. He need not write by post that night, he would send round thefirst thing in the morning. That would do as well. At this particularmoment he need do nothing but look the thing in the face. Seriousconsideration it should have, undoubtedly, though that was not needed inorder to come to a decision. He was not afraid of gazing at this newpossibility that had just swum into his ken. The moment that comes tothose who are going to achieve, when the door in the wall, showing thatglorious vista beyond, suddenly opens to them, is fraught with anexcited joy which partakes at once of anticipation and of fulfilment,and is probably never surpassed when in the fulness of time theopportunities come even too fast on each other's heels, and it hasbecome a foregone conclusion to take advantage of them. There is nomoment of outlook that has the charm of that first gaze from afar, whenthe deep blue distances cloak what is lovely and unlovely alike andmerge them all into one harmonious and inviting mystery. Rendel was inno hurry for that curtain of mysterious distance to lift: possibilityand success lay behind it. He relished with an exquisite pleasure thesense of having a dream fulfilled. The crucial moment that comes tonearly all of us of having to compare the place that others assign tous in life with that which we imagined we were entitled to occupy, is tosome fraught with the bitterest disappointment. The sense of havingcleared successfully that great gulf which lies between one's ownappreciation of oneself and that of other people is one of rapture.Rendel had been so short a time married, and had had so fewopportunities during that time of being called upon for any decision,that it was an entirely new sensation to him to remember suddenly thatthis was a thing which concerned somebody else as well as it didhimself. But the thought was nothing but sweet; it meant that there wassomebody now by his side, there always would be, to care for the thingsthat happened to him; and Rachel, too, would be borne up on the wave ofexcitement and rejoicing that was shaking Rendel, to his own surprise,so strangely out of his usual reserved composure. He sat downmechanically at his writing-table and drew a sheet of writing-paper idlytowards him, wondering how he should formulate his reply. To his greatsurprise and somewhat shamefaced amusement, he found that his hand wasshaking so that he could not control the pen. He would go up beforewriting and tell Rachel. Then, as he went upstairs, he was conscious ofa secret annoyance that a third person should just at this moment bebetween them.

  A profound silence reigned as he opened the drawing-room door. Racheland her father were poring intently over the chess-board. Rachel lookedup eagerly as her husband came in.

  "Oh, Francis," she said, "I am so glad. Do come and tell me what to do."

  "Yes, I wish you would," Sir William said, with some impatience. "Lookwhat she is doing with her queen."

  "Is that a letter you want to show me?" said Rachel, looking at theenvelope in Rendel's hand.

  "All right. It will keep," he said quietly, putting it back in hisbreast pocket.

  Sir William kept his eyes intently fixed upon the board. He would notcountenance any diversion of fixed and rigid attention from the game inhand.

  "That is what I should do," said Rendel, moving one of Rachel's pawns onto the back line.

  "Oh! how splendid!" said Rachel. "I believe I have a chance after all."

  Sir William gave a grunt of satisfaction. "That's more like it," hesaid. "If you had come up a little sooner we might have had a decentgame."

  Rendel made no comment. The game ended in the most auspicious waypossible. Rachel, backed by Rendel's advice, showed fight a littlelonger and left the victory to Sir William in the end after a desperatestruggle. The hour of departure came. Rachel and her husband both wentdownstairs with Sir William. They opened the door. It was a bright,starlight night. Sir William announced his intention of walking to acab, and with his coat buttoned up against the east wind, started offalong the pavement. Rachel turned back into the house with a sigh as shesaw him go.

  "He is getting to look much older, isn't he?" she said. "Poor dear, itis hard on him to have to turn out at this time of night."

  Rendel vaguely heard and barely took in the meaning of what she wassaying. His one idea was that now he would be able to tell her his news.

  "Come in here," he said, drawing her into the study. "I want to tell yousomething." And he made her sit down in his own comfortable chair. "Ihave had a letter this evening," he said.

  "Have you?" said Rachel, looking up at him in surprise at the unusualnote of joyousness, almost of exultation, in his tone. "What is itabout?"

  "You shall read it," he said, giving it to her. Her colour rose as sheread on.

  "Oh, what an opportunity!" she said, and a tinge of regret creptstrangely into her voice. "What a pity!"

  "A pity?" said Rendel, looking at her.

  "Yes," she said. "It would have been so delightful."

  "Would have been?" said Rendel, still amazed. "Why don't you say 'willbe'? Do you mean to say you don't want to go?"

  "I don't think _I_ could go," Rachel said, with a slight surprise in hervoice. "How could I?"

  Rendel said nothing, but still looked at her as though finding itdifficult to realise her point of view.

  "How could I leave my father?" she said, putting into words the thingthat seemed to her so absolutely obvious that she had hardly thought itnecessary to speak it.

  "Do you think you couldn't?" Rendel said slowly.

  "Oh, Frank, how would it be possible?" she said. "We could not leave himalone here, and it would be much, much too far for him to go."

  "Of course. I had not thought of his attempting it," said Rendel,truthfully enough, with a sinking dread at his heart that perhaps afterall the fair prospect he had been gazing upon was going to prove nothingbut a mirage.

  "You do agree, don't you?" she said, looking at him anxiously. "You dosee?"

  "I am trying to see," Rendel said quietly. For a moment neither spoke.

  "Oh, I couldn't," Rachel said. "I simply couldn't!" in a heartfelt tonethat told of the unalterable conviction that lay behind it. There wasanother silence. Rendel stood looking straight before him, Rachelwatching him timidly. Rendel made as though to speak, then he checkedhimself.

  "Oh, isn't it a pity it was suggested!" Rachel cried involuntarily.Rendel gave a little laugh. It was deplorable, truly, that such anopportunity should have come to a man who was not going to use it.

  "But could not _you_----" she began, then stopped. "How long would it befor?"

  "Oh, about five years, I suppose," said Rendel, with a sort of aloofnessof tone with which people on such occasions consent to diverge for themoment from the main issue.

  "Five years," she repeated. "That would be too long."

  "Yes, five years seems a long time, I daresay," said Rendel, "as onelooks on to it."

  "I was wondering," she said hesitatingly, "if it wouldn't have beenbetter that you should have gone."


  "I? Without you, do you mean?" Rendel said. "No, certainly not. That Iam quite clear about."

  "Oh, Frank, I should not like it if you did," she said, looking up athim.

  "I need not say that I should not." There was another silence.

  "Should you like it very, very much?" she said.

  "Like what?" said Rendel, coming back with an effort.

  "Going to Africa."

  There had been a moment when Rendel had told Lady Gore how glad he wasthat Rachel had no ambitions, as producing the ideal character. No doubtthat lack has its advantages--but the world we live in is not, alas,exclusively a world of ideals.

  "Yes, I should like it," he replied quietly. "If you went too, thatis--I should not like it without you."

  "Oh, Frank, it _is_ a pity," she said, looking up at him wistfully. Butthere was evidently not in her mind the shadow of a possibility that thequestion could be decided other than in one way.

  "Come, it is getting late," Rendel said. And they left the room with theoutward air of having postponed the decision till the morning. But thedecision was not postponed; that Rachel took for granted, and Rendel hadmade up his mind. This was, after all, not a new sacrifice he was calledupon to make: it was part of the same, of that sacrifice which he hadrecognised that he was willing to make in order to marry Rachel, andwhich was so much less than that other great and impossible sacrifice ofgiving her up.

  He came down early the next morning and wrote to Lord Belmont, meaningwhen Rachel came down to breakfast to show her the letter, in which hehad most gratefully but quite decisively declined the honour that hadbeen done him. He read the letter over feeling as if he were in a dream,and almost smiled to himself at the incredible thought that here was thefirst big opportunity of his life and that he was calmly putting it awayfrom him. Perhaps when he came to talk it over with Rachel again shemight see it differently. Might she? No. He knew in his heart that shewould not. It was probable that Rendel's ambition, his determinedpurpose, would always be hampered by his old-fashioned, almost quixoticideas of loyalty, his conception of the seemliness, the dignity of therelations between husband and wife. In a matter that he felt was aquestion of right or wrong he would probably without hesitation haveused his authority and decided inflexibly that such and such a coursewas the one to pursue; but here he felt it was impossible. It would notbe consistent with his dignity to use his authority to insist upon acourse which, though it might be to his own advantage, was undeniably aninfringement of the tacit compact that he had accepted when he married.With the letter in his hand he went slowly out of the study. Rachel wascoming swiftly down the stairs into the hall, dressed for walking,looking perturbed and anxious.

  "Frank," she said hurriedly, "I have just had a message from Prince'sGate, my father is ill."

  "I am very sorry," Rendel said with concern.

  "I must go there directly," she said.

  "Have you breakfasted?" asked Rendel.

  "Yes," she said. "At least I have had a cup of tea--quite enough."

  "No," said Rendel, "that isn't enough. Come, it's absurd that you shouldgo out without breakfasting."

  "I couldn't really," Rachel said entreatingly. "I must go."

  "Nonsense!" Rendel said decidedly. "You are not to go till you have hadsome breakfast." And he took her into the dining-room and made her eat.But this, as he felt, was not the moment for further discussion of hisown plans. He saw how absolutely they had faded away from her view.

  "I shall follow you shortly," he said, "to know how Sir William is."

  "Oh, do," she said. "You can't come now, I suppose?"

  "I have a letter to write first. I must write to Lord Belmont."

  "Oh yes, of course," she said, with a sympathetic inflection in hervoice. "Oh, Frank, how terrible it would have been if you had been goingaway now!" And she drew close to him as though seeking shelter againstthe anxieties and troubles of the world.

  "But I am not," said Rendel quietly. And she looked back at him as shedrove off with a smile flickering over her troubled face.

  Rendel turned back into the house. There was nothing more to do, thatwas quite evident. He fastened up the letter to Belmont and sent itround to his house, also writing to Stamfordham a brief letter of thanksfor his good offices and regrets at not being able to avail himself ofthem.

  Later he went to Prince's Gate. Sir William was a little better. It wasa sharp, feverish attack brought on by a chill the night before. Itlasted several days, during which time Rachel was constantly backwardsand forwards at Prince's Gate, and at the end of which she proposed toRendel that her father should, for the moment, as she put it, come tothem to Cosmo Place.

  In the meantime Stamfordham, surprised at Rendel's refusal of theopportunity he had put in his way, had sent for him to urge him tore-consider his decision while there was yet time. Rendel found it veryhard to explain his reasons in such a way that they should seem in theleast valid to his interlocutor. Stamfordham, although he was well awarethat Rendel had married during the spring, had but dimly realised thepractical difference that this change of condition might bring into theyoung man's life and into the code by which his actions were governed.He himself had not married. He had had, report said, one passing fancyand then another, but they had never amounted to more than an impulsewhich had set him further on his way; there had never been an attractionstrong enough to deflect him from his orbit. With such, he was quiteclear, the statesman should have nothing to do.

  "Of course," he said, after listening to what Rendel had to say, "Ishould be the last person to wish to persuade you to take a coursecontrary to Mrs. Rendel's wishes, but still such an opportunity as thisdoes not come to every man."

  "I know," said Rendel.

  "I never was married," Stamfordham went on, "but I have not understoodthat matrimony need necessarily be a bar to a successful career."

  "Nor have I," Rendel said, with a smile.

  "Let's see. How long have you been married?"

  "Four months," Rendel replied.

  "As I told you, I am inexperienced in these matters," Stamfordham said,"but perhaps while one still counts by months it is more difficult toassert one's authority."

  "My wife," said Rendel, "does not wish to leave her father, who is indelicate health. Sir William Gore, you know."

  "Oh, Sir William Gore, yes," said Stamfordham, with an inflection whichimplied that Sir William Gore was not worth sacrificing any possibleadvantages for.

  "I am very, very sorry," Rendel said gravely. "I would have given agreat deal to have been going to Africa just now."

  "Yes, indeed. There will be infinite possibilities over there as soon asthings have settled down," said Stamfordham. And he looked at a tablethat was covered with papers of different kinds, among them some notesin his own handwriting, and said, "Pity my unfortunate secretaries! Idon't think I have ever had any one who knew how to read thoseimpossible hieroglyphics as you did."

  "I don't know whether I ought to say I am glad or sorry to hear that,"said Rendel, as he went towards the door.

  "What are you going to do if you don't go to Africa?" Stamfordham said.

  "Something else, I hope," said Rendel, with a look and an accent thatcarried conviction.

  "Shan't you go into the House?" said Stamfordham.

  "I mean to try," Rendel said. Then as he went out he turned round andsaid, "I daresay, sir, there are still possibilities in Europe, afterall."

  "Very likely," said Stamfordham; and they parted.

  One of the most difficult tasks of the philosopher is not to regret hisdecisions. The mind that has been disciplined to determine quickly andto abide by its determination is one of the most valuable instruments ofhuman equipment. But it certainly needed some philosophy on Rendel'spart, during the period that elapsed between his refusal of LordBelmont's offer and the departure of the newly appointed governor, notto regret that he himself was remaining behind. Day by day the paperswere full of the administrators who were going out, of theirqualificati
ons, of their responsibilities. Day by day Rendel looked atthe map hanging in his study and wondered what transformations theshifting of circumstances would bring to it.

  Sir William Gore, in the meantime, had got better. He had slowly thrownoff the fever that had prostrated him, although he was not able toresume his ordinary life. He had demurred a little at first to theproposal that he should take up his abode at Cosmo Place, then, notunwillingly, had yielded. In his ordinary state of health he would havebeen alive to the proverbial drawbacks of a joint household, but in hispresent state of weakness and depression he felt he could not be alone,and in his secret heart it was almost a relief to be away from Prince'sGate, its memories and associations. It had been in one of these momentsof insight, of revelation almost, that suddenly, like a blinding flashof light shows us in pitiless details the conditions that surround us,that with intense self-pity he had said to himself that there wasactually no one in this whole world with whom he was entitled to comefirst. Rachel's solicitude certainly went far to persuade him of thecontrary; but in his secret soul he bitterly resented the fact thatthere should now be someone to share Rachel's allegiance, althoughRendel might well have contended that he was divided in Sir William'sfavour.