CHAPTER XVI
A LITTLE FRICTION
Olwen lingered, after his departure, in the glowing warmth of thehearth. She curled herself up beside Daffodil on the rug, and gaveherself the treat of reading Grace's letter.
"Two such contradictory accounts as you have given me in the last fewdays I never read," wrote her friend. "What a place this Pele must be!And what deplorable people for the likes of you to have to live with!The only point that gives me any hope at all is that you seem, even inyour second letter, to have made up your mind not to stay. It is absurdthat you should be wasting your talent and your technical training upona post which any silly spinster could fill with ease. Even I couldmeasure out an old lady's physic and feed her fowls! I could even gosleighing with the cheeky young man, who sounds rather attractive to me.Trust you to roll him out quite flat! I can see you a-doing of it!Anyway, you will have had your experience, and into the bargain amonth's country air, which you really needed. I am not afraid that theplace will conquer you, in spite of all you prate to me about theatmosphere of the past and the ayah's magic, which seems to consistmerely of joss-sticks. You are too wholly a child of your age, and 'theneed of a world of men' is as strong in you as it was in the young manwho once landed at a farmhouse for a brief night's love-making. Youwill come back all right where you belong, but in the meantime I hopeyou are not having too thin a time. Oh, my dearly beloved, having hadyour little adventure, _couldn't_ you settle down to make poor old Benhappy? You know you could do just anything you like with him,strong-minded old thing that he is in most ways. Without you he willclose like an oyster, never to open again--the process is beginning now;I watch it day by day. With you he would bloom like a dull-coloured budin water, that may, when open, be a flaming cactus for all you know tothe contrary. You did confess to me that he surprised you when it cameto love-making. It is my impression that he could surprise you a greatdeal more if he got the chance. Am I a selfish little pig to talk likethat? It is frankly one for Ben and two for myself. I want, want, wantyou for a sister; you make the world so different somehow. The tastegoes out of things when you are not here. If I were a man I would makeyou marry me. You are a sort of 'porte-bonheur,' which I should insistupon annexing. Write again soon, your letters are absorbing, and I amdiscretion itself; I don't give away anything to Ben, though he looks atme like a hurt dog begging for water when he sees me sniggering overthem. Good-bye, and God bless you.
"P.S.--I wonder if the Guyses know how lucky they are. I don't expectit. They think you are just an ordinary young female, glad of any jobthat prevents her eating the bread of dependence; instead of being (asyou are) a pocket miracle!"
Olwen let the paper fall with a long sigh. She had the impression ofhearing a voice which came from a vast distance. What was real andvivid at the moment was the snowy fell, the hoary Pele, wild weather,solitude, and the Hindu woman's spells. The High Street of Bramforth,with its electric trams, was becoming misty and dream-like.
Grace's metaphor struck her--was all this just a night ofadventure?--something to be flung aside as soon as the "need of a worldof men" should once more grip her?
For a few minutes she sat on, chin in hand, staring into the depths ofthe flames; then, with a suddenness for which she could hardly account,she sprang to her feet and flew upstairs--in the pitch dark, for sheforgot to take the indispensable candle. She knew the way by now, andit was far too narrow for error to be possible. Without a pause shesped on upward, until she reached the haven of her own room, whereinSunia and Sunia's care awaited her. It was like coming into realitiesout of a nasty glimpse of something ugly. She was too content to noticethe significance of her frame of mind.
When she went down to supper that evening, Mr. Guyse's mood hadcompletely changed. He was gloomy and silent. He had the aspect of onewho has received bad news and is plunged in depression.
He quite failed to second her attempts at conversation, and once ortwice, when addressed, came with an effort out of some apparentlypainful train of thought. His eyes rested upon Olwen with a puzzledspeculation, as if either she or her actions had hurt and surprised him.
She became convinced that he was a moody man--veering in his temper,altogether unreliable and uncertain.
As soon as supper was over he rose, went to the mantel-piece, lit hispipe, and muttered something about wanting to speak to Baxter. Movingto the door he turned, his fingers on the handle, and said, "I shallstay over there with Baxter and smoke a pipe. Don't stay up later thanyou care to."
With that he walked out, and she heard him bang the door.
A good deal relieved by his absence, she went up to Madam with a clearconscience.
She thought the invalid's eyes brightened at the sight of her, but shedeclined offers of reading or having her bed made, saying, "Nin will belonely downstairs; you had better go to him."
"He has deserted me," said Olwen gaily. "He has gone to the Gatehouseto smoke a pipe with Baxter, so you and I can have a cosy evening. Veryconsiderate of him, I call it."
Blank surprise seemed the predominant expression on Madam's face.
"Don't you mind?"
"Mind? Mind what? Being able to devote the evening to you? Dear lady,why did I come here but to be with you and do all I can?"
A fleeting smile crossed the faded lips. "I suppose you really did. Inever mentioned Nin in my letter to you, did I?"
"No, you didn't. If you had, perhaps I shouldn't have come," was themischievous reply, as Olwen went to the door and clapped her hands tosummon the ayah.
Sunia came in, looking anything but pleased. She glanced at the girl'scareful toilet and coiffure, and said sullenly that one did not makebeds when dressed for the evening.
"Pukka mem-sahibs don't, but you see, I am quite different. I belong tothe working classes, Sunia--see?" teased the girl.
"Ayah knows better," muttered the woman, with a glance of mingledaffection and resentment. She condescended, however, to help hermistress from bed to the big chair by the fire. "Why you unkind mysahib! Why send him away?" she whispered to Olwen, as they turned themattress together.
"I didn't do anything of the sort," replied the girl aloud; "I went downquite prepared to be nice to him, but he was as cross as two sticks, andhardly spoke all dinner time. He's a spoilt, disagreeable thing, Sunia,and it is you who have spoilt him."
This speech appeared to give quite remarkable pleasure to Madam, wholooked rather spitefully at the ayah. "Hear what she says?"
"Yes, I hear," very sulkily.
"You shouldn't go telling tales about me, Sunia. You have mademischief," went on Olwen gleefully.
"I told no tales--not since yesterday evening: Missis here, my Madam,perhaps she tell tales this day," was the vexed retort.
"I?" The colour flew hotly into Madam's face. "Sunia! You forgetyourself! Remember your place! How dare you speak so?"
Olwen stood a minute, glancing from one woman to the other. Her mindwent seeking back over what had passed that evening. Madam had askedher whether she had a lover, and had seemed disturbed by her reply. Shehad told her to send up Ninian, but not for a moment had she connectedthis summons with herself. Yet his manner, since he saw his mother, hadcompletely changed. It seemed too preposterous to imagine that he couldbe in the sulks because his mother had told him that another man wantedto marry Miss Innes. Yet Madam had all the aspect of a guilty person,and Sunia was watching her with angry eyes.
"It's all nonsense, I am only teasing Sunia, dear Madam," she threw inquickly. "I am afraid I ought not to speak so disrespectfully of yourson. Forgive me."
The ayah, after a long searching glance, said no more, and they devotedthemselves to putting Madam back into bed, and bringing her supper,after which she submitted, with evident pleasure, to be read to sleep.
By the time she was soundly in slumber it was still early--about nine,and Olwen thought it too soon to go to bed. Taking
her candle, she wentdown to the banqueting hall, in which each day since her arrival therehad been a fire and lights in the evening. As she opened the door, asudden gust blew out her candle, in spite of its protecting shade. Shepaused in the open doorway, fascinated by the spectacle of the greathall in moonlight.
The snow without made the effect singularly brilliant. Each mullion ofthe great south window lay in velvet blackness across the floor. Onecasement of the oriel was open, which was the cause of the draught whichhad put out her light. She closed the door noiselessly behind her, andstood enveloped in the complete silence of the vast empty place. To herright the closed door of the chapel seemed as though it might open atany moment and disclose the figure of the chaplain, turning from hisprayers to seek his bed in the tiny stone chamber in the wall.
Picking up a shawl from some wraps on the settle, she folded it abouther, and crept up to the oriel, seating herself upon the window seat.Outside the moonlit snow was so wonderful that she forgot all else inits contemplation. The tops of the trees were like snowy peaks of somedistant range, upon which she looked down from an immeasurable height.As she leaned out, she could form some idea of the madness which hadseized the unhappy girl who plunged into that underworld of mystery andgloom. There was an eerie fascination in it. It did look as though onemight hurl oneself clean into eternity by merely letting go....
There came the notion that all life is effort--is holding on, isresisting the temptation to fall....
How simple, how curiously simple to cease that effort. Words of a hymnshe had sung many times in church ran mockingly in her head--
_Oh, could we but relinquish all_ _Our earthly props, and simply fall_ _In Thine Almighty Arms!_
The words had always formerly seemed most inappropriate for the singingof a general congregation, among whom scarce a dozen had any suchaspiration. Perhaps Lily Martin had really felt it. Was it, after all,an aspiration, or was it a temptation of the devil? Simply to fall ...simply fall....
The snow without was hypnotising her--or perhaps some emanation from thesoul of her who had agonised there, in that very spot, was exercising amalign spell. She was so absorbed, so utterly carried away by herfancies, that she did not hear the door open nor the low, choked crywhich Ninian gave as he came in.
He crossed the floor in a dozen hurried strides. "My God!"
She heard that. She had been leaning out over the sill, but she drewback suddenly, and herself uttered an exclamation on realising thepresence of someone in the dark behind her.
"Who is it?" she cried sharply, and a voice replied:
"It's I--Ninian--who are you, in God's name?"
"Who should I be but myself," she said in common-place tones, theinfluence of the solitude and the entrancing night fading as she heardher own voice and his.
He laughed unsteadily. "Jove, but you gave me a fright! What in thename of all that's arctic are you doing there?"
"Is it cold? I believe it is," she replied, rising. "I had forgottenall about it, because fairyland is outside the window."
"What on earth made you come here in the cold and the dark?"
"I wasn't thinking. I expected to find it warm and lighted as usual. Iopened the door, and then it was so weird I had to come in. Isn't it?... but there is no word to paint it. I am going to enrich my languageby a new adjective, I must find a word to express this Pele! But a wordwon't do it--you must have a long cumulative effect of built-up words,like the poem of 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.' ... I wonder ifit was moonlight when he got there? ... Nobody knows what he found, dothey? But I know what I think."
She was talking at random, to give him time, because she could hear himbreathing short, and knew that the sight of her leaning out there hadbeen a shock. He had at first taken her for someone else.
He answered her a trifle jerkily. "What do you think he found?"
"I think it was all glorious within. There was nothing to do him anyharm. The danger was all in the getting there. Once arrived he had asplendid welcome."
"I like that idea. But come away. Let us talk of it by the firedownstairs."
"I think I won't come down. It is almost bedtime, and I am tired aftermy walk. Good night."
As she took his hand she could feel his arm vibrate, as with some verystrong emotion which he could hardly curb. "You have odd fancies," hesaid, half impatiently. "I say--I'm sorry I was such a bear atsupper-time."
"Oh, you realise it, then?"
"Of course. I can't think how I could behave so when only yesterday Ipromised to reform."
"But you must sometimes be out of spirits," she reassured him, lightingher candle as she spoke. "If you and I are to be friends we must makeallowances for each others' moods, must we not? You will have to makeyour peace with Sunia, though. I warn you she is much displeased withyou. She seems determined that you and I should be friends, doesn'tshe?"
"Do you think it's possible we ever could?" he asked wistfully, almosthumbly.
"Why not?"
"You're--you're so unexpected, somehow. I never know what you will do,how you will take things."
"Isn't that more stimulating than if you always knew beforehand what Ishould do or say?"
"Well, of course it is."
"Perhaps a little friction is what you need," she laughed, as she tookup the candle and escaped.
The Lonely Stronghold Page 16