Dawn

by H. Rider Haggard

  CHAPTER XXXV

  Had Arthur been a little less wrapped up in thoughts of Angela, and alittle more alive to the fact that, being engaged or even married toone woman, does not necessarily prevent complications arising withanother, it might have occurred to him to doubt the prudence of thecourse of life that he was pursuing at Madeira. And, as it is, it isimpossible to acquit him of showing a want of knowledge of the worldamounting almost to folly, for he should have known upon generalprinciples that, for a man in his position, a grizzly bear would havebeen a safer daily companion than a young and lovely widow, and theNorth Pole a more suitable place of residence than Madeira. But hesimply did not think about the matter, and, as thin ice has atreacherous way of not cracking till it suddenly breaks, so outwardappearances gave him no indication of his danger.

  And yet the facts were full of evil promise, for, as time went on,Mildred Carr fell headlong in love with him. There was no particularreason why she should have done so. She might have had scores of men,handsomer, cleverer, more distinguished, for the asking, or, rather,for the waiting to be asked. Beyond a certain ability of mind, ataking manner, and a sympathetic, thoughtful face, with that tinge ofmelancholy upon it which women sometimes find dangerously interesting,there was nothing so remarkable about Arthur that a woman possessingher manifold attractions and opportunities, should, unsought andwithout inquiry, lavish her affection upon him. There is only onesatisfactory explanation of the phenomenon, which, indeed, is a verycommon one, and that is, that he was her fate, the one man whom shewas to love in the world, for no woman worth the name ever _loves_two, however many she may happen to marry. For this curious differencewould appear to exist between the sexes. The man can attach himself,though in varying degree, to several women in the course of alifetime, whilst the woman, the true, pure-hearted woman, cannot soadapt her best affection. Once given, like the law of the Medes andPersians, it altereth not.

  Mildred felt, when her eyes first met Arthur's in Donald Currie'soffice, that this man was for her different from all other men, thoughshe did not put the thought in words even to herself. And from thathour till she embarked on board the boat he was continually in hermind, a fact which so irritated her that she nearly missed the steameron purpose, only changing her mind at the last moment. And then, whenshe had helped him to carry Miss Terry to her cabin, their hands hadaccidentally met, and the contact had sent a thrill through her framesuch as she had never felt before. The next development that she couldtrace was her jealousy of the black-eyed girl whom she saw him helpingabout the deck, and her consequent rudeness.

  Up to her present age, Mildred Carr had never known a single touch oflove: she had not even felt particularly interested in her numerousadmirers, but now this marble Galatea had by some freak of fate founda woman's heart, awkwardly enough, without the semblance of asupplication on the part of him whom she destined to play Pygmalion.And, when she examined herself by the light of the flame thus newlykindled, she shrank back dismayed, like one who peeps over the craterof a volcano commencing its fiery work. She had believed her heart tobe callous to all affection of this nature, it had seemed as dead asthe mummied hyacinth; and now it was a living, suffering thing, andall alight with love. She had tasted of a new wine, and it burnt her,and was bitter sweet, and yet she longed for more. And thus, by slowand sad degrees, she learnt that her life, which had for thirty yearsflowed on its quiet way unshadowed by love's wing, must henceforth ownhis dominion, and be a slave to his sorrows and caprices. No wonderthat she grew afraid!

  But Mildred was a woman of keen insight into character, and it did notrequire that her powers of observation should be sharpened by thecondition of her affections, to show her that, however deeply shemight be in love with Arthur Heigham, he was not one little bit inlove with her. Knowing the almost irresistible strength of her ownbeauty and attractions, she quickly came to the conclusion--and it wasone that sent a cold chill through her--that there must be some otherwoman blocking the path to his heart. For some reason or other, Arthurhad never spoken to her of Angela, either because a man very rarelyvolunteers information to a woman concerning his existing relationshipwith another of her sex, knowing that to do so would be to depreciatehis value in her eyes, or from an instinctive knowledge that thesubject would not be an agreeable one, or perhaps because the wholematter was too sacred to him. But she, on her part, was determined toprobe his secret to the bottom. So one sleepy afternoon, when theywere sitting on the museum verandah, about six weeks after the date oftheir arrival in the island, she took her opportunity.

  Mildred was sitting, or rather half lying, in a cane-work chair,gazing out over the peaceful sea, and Arthur, looking at her, thoughtwhat a lovely woman she was, and wondered what it was that had madeher face and eyes so much softer and more attractive of late. MissTerry was also there, complaining of the heat, but presently she movedoff after an imaginary beetle, and they were alone.

  "Oh, by-the-by, Mr. Heigham," Mildred said, presently, "I was going toask you a question, if only I can remember what it is."

  "Try to remember what it is about. 'Shoes, sealing-wax, cabbages, orkings.' Does it come under any of those heads?"

  "Ah, I remember now. If you had added 'queens,' you would not havebeen far out. What I wanted to ask you----" and she turned her large,brown eyes full upon him, and yawned slightly. "Dear me, Agatha isright; it _is_ hot!"

  "Well, I am waiting to give you any information in my power."

  "Oh! to be sure, the question. Well, it is a very simple one. Who areyou engaged to?"

  Arthur nearly sprang off his chair with astonishment.

  "What makes you think that I am engaged?" he asked.

  She broke into a merry peal of laughter. Ah! if he could have knownwhat that laugh cost her.

  "What makes me think that you are engaged!" she answered, in a tone ofraillery. "Why, of course you would have been at my feet long ago, ifit had not been so. Come, don't be reticent. I shall not laugh at you.What is she like?" (Generally a woman's first question about a rival.)"Is she as good-looking--well, as I am, say--for, though you may notthink it, I have been thought good-looking."

  "She is quite different from you; she is very tall and fair, like anangel in a picture, you know."

  "Oh! then there is a 'she,' and a 'she like an angel.' Very different_indeed_ from me, I should think. How nicely I caught you out;" andshe laughed again.

  "Why did you want to catch me out?" said Arthur, on whose ear Mrs.Carr's tone jarred; he could not tell why.

  "Feminine curiosity, and a natural anxiety to fathom the reasons ofyour sighs, that is all. But never mind, Mr. Heigham, you and I shallnot quarrel because you are engaged to be married. You shall tell methe story when you like, for I am sure there is a story--no, not thisafternoon; the sun has given me a headache, and I am going to sleep itoff. Other people's love-stories are very interesting to me, the moreso because I have reached the respectable age of thirty without beingthe subject of one myself;" and again she laughed, this time at herown falsehood. But, when he had gone, there was no laughter in hereyes, nothing but tears, bitter, burning tears.

  "Agatha," said Mildred that evening, "I am sick of this place. I wantto go to the Isle of Wight. It must be quite nice there now. We willgo by the next Currie boat."

  "My dear Mildred," replied Miss Terry, aghast, "if you were going backso soon, why did you not leave me behind you? And just as we weregetting so nicely settled here too, and I shall be so sorry to saygood-bye to that young Heigham, he is such a nice young man! Why don'tyou marry him? I really thought you liked him. But, perhaps he iscoming to the Isle of Wight too. Oh, that dreadful bay!"

  Mildred winced at Miss Terry's allusions to Arthur, of whom that ladyhad grown extremely fond.

  "I am very sorry, dear," she said, hastily; "but I am bored to death,and it is such a bad insect year: so really you must begin to packup."

  Miss Terry began to pack accordingly, but, when next she alluded tothe subject of th
eir departure, Mildred affected surprise, and askedher what she meant. The astonished Agatha referred her to her ownwords, and was met by a laughing disclaimer.

  "Why, you surely did not think that I was in earnest, did you? I wasonly a little cross."

  "Well, really, Mildred, you've got so strange lately that I never knowwhen you are in earnest and when you are not, though, for my part, Iam very glad to stay in peace and quiet."

  "Strange, grown strange, have I!" said Mrs. Carr, looking dreamily outof a window that commanded the carriage-drive, with her hands crossedbehind her. "Yes, I think that you are right. I think that I have lostthe old Mildred somewhere or other, and picked up a new one whom Idon't understand."

  "Ah, indeed," remarked Miss Terry, in the most matter-of-fact way,without having the faintest idea of what her friend was driving at.

  "How it rains! I suppose that he won't come to-day."

  "He! Who's he?"

  "Why, how stupid you are! Mr. Heigham, of course!"

  "So you always mean him, when you say 'he!'"

  "Yes, of course I do, if it isn't ungrammatical. It is miserable thisafternoon. I feel wretched. Why, actually, here he comes!" and shetore off like a school-girl into the hall, to meet him.

  "Ah, indeed," again remarked Miss Terry, solemnly, to the empty walls."I am not such a fool as I look. I suppose that Mr. Heigham wouldn'tcome to the Isle of Wight."

  It is perhaps needless to say that Mrs. Carr had never been more inearnest in her life than when she announced her intention of departingto the Isle of Wight. The discovery that her suspicions about Arthurhad but too sure a foundation had been a crushing blow to her hopes,and she had formed a wise resolution to see no more of him. Happywould it have been for her, if she could have found the moral courageto act up to it, and go away, a wiser, if a sadder, woman. But thiswas not to be. The more she contemplated it, the more did her passion--which was now both wild and deep--take hold upon her heart, eatinginto it like acid into steel, and graving one name there inineffaceable letters. She could not bear the thought of parting fromhim, and felt, or thought she felt, that her happiness was already toodeeply pledged to allow her to throw up the cards without an effort.

  Fortune favours the brave. Perhaps, after all, it would declare itselffor her. She was modest in her aspirations. She did not expect that hewould ever give her the love he bore this other woman; she only askedto live in the sunlight of his presence, and would be glad to take himat his own price, or indeed at any price. Man, she knew, is by natureas unstable as water, and will mostly melt beneath the eyes of morewomen than one, as readily as ice before a fire when the sun has hidhis face. Yes, she would play the game out: she would not throw awayher life's happiness without an effort. After all, matters might havebeen worse: he might have been actually married.

  But she knew that her hand was a difficult one to lead from, thoughshe also knew that she held the great trumps--unusual beauty,practically unlimited wealth, and considerable fascination of manner.Her part must be to attract without repelling, charm without alarming,fascinate by slow degrees, till at length he was involved in a netfrom which there was no escape, and, above all, never to allow him tosuspect her motives till the ripe moment came. It was a hard task fora proud woman to set herself, and, in a manner, she was proud; but,alas, with the best of us, when love comes in at the door, pride,reason, and sometimes honour, fly out the window.

  And so Miss Terry heard no more talk of the Isle of Wight.

  Thenceforward, under the frank and open guise of friendship, Mildredcontrived to keep Arthur continually at her side. She did more. Shedrew from him all the history of his engagement to Angela, andlistened, with words of sympathy on her lips, and wrath and bitterjealousy in her heart, to his enraptured descriptions of her rival'sbeauty and perfections. So benighted was he, indeed, that once he wentso far as to suggest that he should, when he and Angela were married,come to Madeira to spend their honeymoon, and dilated on the pleasanttrips which they three might take together.

  "Truly," thought Mildred to herself, "that would be delightful." Once,too, he even showed her a tress of Angela's hair, and, strange to say,she found that there still lingered in her bosom a sufficient measureof vulgar first principles to cause her to long to snatch it from himand throw it into the sea. But, as it was, she smiled faintly, andadmired openly, and then went to the glass to look at her own nut-brown tresses. Never had she been so dissatisfied with them, and yether hair was considered lovely, and an aesthetic hair-dresser had oncecalled it a "poem."

  "Blind fool," she muttered, stamping her little foot upon the floor,"why does he torture me so?"

  Mildred forgot that all love is blind, and that none was ever blinderor more headstrong than her own.

  And so this second Calypso of a lovely isle set herself almost asunblushingly as her prototype to get our very unheroic Ulysses intoher toils. And Penelope, poor Penelope, she sat at home and span, anddefied her would-be lovers.

  But as yet Ulysses--I mean Arthur--was conscious of none of thosethings. He was by nature an easy-going young gentleman, who tookmatters as he found them, and asked no questions. And he found themvery pleasant at Madeira, or, rather, at the Quinta Carr, for he dideverything except sleep there. Within its precincts he was everywheresurrounded with that atmosphere of subtle and refined flattery,flattery addressed chiefly to the intellect, that is one of the mosteffective weapons of a clever woman. Soon the drawing-room tables wereloaded with his favourite books, and no songs but such as he approvedwere ordered from London.

  He discovered one evening, for instance, that Mildred looked best atnight in black and silver, and next morning Mr. Worth received atelegram requesting him to forward without delay a large consignmentof dresses in which those colours predominated.

  On another occasion he casually threw out a suggestion about theerection of a terrace in the garden, and shortly afterwards wassurprised to find a small army of Portuguese labourers engaged uponthe work. He had made this suggestion in total ignorance of thescience of garden engineering, and its execution necessitated theremoval of vast quantities of soil and the blasting of many tons ofrock. The contractor employed by Mrs. Carr pointed out how the terracecould be made equally well at a fifth of the expense, but it did nothappen to take exactly the direction that Arthur had indicated, so shewould have none of it. His word was law, and, because he had spoken,the whole place was for a month overrun with dirty labourers, whilst,to the great detriment of Miss Terry's remaining nerves, and even tothe slight discomfort of His Royal Highness himself, the air resoundedall day long with the terrific bangs of the blasting powder.

  But, so long as he was pleased with the progress of the improvement,Mildred felt no discomfort, nor would she allow any one else toexpress any. It even aggravated her to see Miss Terry put her hands toher head and jump, whenever a particularly large piece of ordnance wasdischarged, and she would vow that it must be affectation, because shenever even noticed it.

  In short, Mildred Carr possessed to an extraordinary degree thatfaculty for blind, unreasoning adoration which is so characteristic ofthe sex, an adoration that is at once magnificent in the entirety ofits own self-sacrifice, and extremely selfish. When she thought thatshe could please Arthur, the state of Agatha's nerves became a matterof supreme indifference to her, and in the same way, had she been anabsolute monarch, she would have spent the lives of thousands, andshaken empires till thrones came tumbling down like apples in thewind, if she had believed that she could thereby advance herself inhis affections.

  But, as it never occurred to Arthur that Mrs. Carr might be in lovewith him, he saw nothing abnormal about all this. Not that he wasconceited, for nobody was ever less so, but it is wonderful what anamount of flattery and attention men will accept from women as theirsimple right. If the other sex possesses the faculty of admiration, wein compensation are perfectly endowed with that of receiving it withcareless ease, and when we fall in with some goddess who is foolishenough to worship _us_, and to whom _we_
should be on our knees, wemerely label her "sympathetic," and say that she "understands us."

  From all of which wise reflections the reader will gather that ourfriend Arthur was not a hundred miles off an awkward situation.