Dawn

by H. Rider Haggard

  CHAPTER LXXII

  Nothing occurred to mar the prosperity of the voyage of the _EveningStar_. That beautiful little vessel declined to simplify the course ofthis history by going to the bottom with Mildred and Arthur, as theimaginative reader may have perhaps expected. She did not even getinto a terrific storm, in order to give Arthur the opportunity ofperforming heroic feats, and the writer of this history the chance ofdisplaying a profound knowledge of the names of ropes and spars. Onthe contrary, she glided on upon a sea so still that even Miss Terrywas persuaded to arouse herself from her torpor, and come upon deck,till at last, one morning, the giant peak of Teneriffe, soaring highabove its circling clouds, broke upon the view of her passengers.

  Here they stopped for a week or so, enjoying themselves very much intheir new surroundings, till at length Arthur grew tired of theislands, which was of course the signal for their departure. So theyreturned, reaching Madeira after an absence of close upon a month. Asthey dropped anchor in the little bay, Mildred came up to Arthur, and,touching him with that gentle deference which she always showedtowards him, asked him if he was not glad to be home again.

  "Home!" he said. "I have no home."

  "Oh, Arthur;" she answered, "why do you try to pain me? Is not my homeyours also?"

  So soon as they landed, he started off to "Miles' Hotel," to see ifany letters had come for him during his absence, and returned, lookingvery much put out.

  "What is the matter, Arthur?" asked Miss Terry, once again happy atfeeling her feet upon solid soil.

  "Why, those idiots at the hotel have returned a letter sent to me bymy lawyer. They thought that I had left Madeira for good, and theletter was marked, 'If left, return to Messrs. Borley and Son,' withthe address. And the mail went out this afternoon into the bargain, soit will be a month before I can get it back again."

  Had Arthur known that this letter contained clippings of the newspaperreports of the inquest on George Caresfoot, of whose death even he wasin total ignorance, he would have had good reason to be put out.

  "Never mind, Arthur," said Mildred's clear voice at his elbow--she wasrarely much further from him than his shadow; "lawyers' letters arenot, as a rule, very interesting. I never yet had one that would notkeep. Come and see if your pavilion--isn't that a grand name?--isarranged to your liking, and then let us go to dinner, for Agatha hereis dying of hunger--she has to make up for her abstinence at sea."

  "I was always told," broke in that lady, "that yachting was charming,but I tell you frankly I have never been more miserable in my lifethan I was on board your _Evening Star_."

  "Never mind, dear, you shall have a nice long rest before we start forthe coast of Spain."

  And so Arthur soon settled down again into the easy tenor of Madeiralife. He now scarcely made a pretence of living at the hotel, since,during their cruise, Mildred had had a pavilion which stood in thegarden luxuriously set up for his occupation. Here he was happy enoughin a dull, numb way, and, as the days went on, something of the oldlight came back to his eyes, and his footfall again grew quick andstrong as when it used to fall in the corridors of the Abbey House. Ofthe past he never spoke, nor did Mildred ever allude to Angela afterthat conversation at sea which had ended so strangely. She contentedherself with attempting to supplant her, and to a certain extent shewas successful. No man could have for very long remained obdurate tosuch beauty and such patient devotion, and it is not wonderful that hegrew in a way to love her.

  But there was this peculiarity about the affair--namely, that theaffection which he bore her was born more of her stronger will than ofhis own feelings, as was shown by the fact that, so long as he wasactually with her and within the circle of her influence, her powerover him was predominant; but, the moment that he was out of hersight, his thoughts would fall back into their original channels, andthe old sores would begin to run. However much, too, he might besuccessful in getting the mastery of this troubles by day, at nightthey would assert themselves, and from the constant and tormentingdreams which they inspired he could find no means of escape.

  For at least four nights out of every seven, from the moment that heclosed his eyes till he opened them again the morning, it would seemto him that he had been in the company of Angela, under every possiblevariety of circumstance, talking to her, walking with her, meeting hersuddenly or unexpectedly in crowded places or at dinner-parties--always her, and no one else--till at last poor Arthur began to wonderif his spirit took leave of his body in sleep and went to seek her,and, what is more, found her. Or was it nothing but a fantasy? Hecould not tell; but, at any rate, it was a fact, and it would havebeen hard to say if it distressed or rejoiced him most.

  Occasionally, too, he would fall into a fit of brooding melancholythat would last him for a day or two, and which Mildred would find itquite impossible to dispel. Indeed, when he got in that way, she soondiscovered that the only thing to do was to leave him alone. He wassuffering acutely, there was no doubt about that, and when any animalsuffers, including man, it is best left in solitude. A sick or woundedbeast always turns out of the herd to recover or die.

  When Mildred saw him in this state of mental desolation, she wouldshake her head and sigh, for it told her that she was as far as everfrom the golden gate of her Eldorado. As has been said, hers was thestrongest will, and, even if he had not willed it, she could havemarried him any day she wished; but, odd as it may seem, she was tooconscientious. She had determined that she would not marry him unlessshe was certain that he loved her, and to this resolution, as yet, shefirmly held. Whatever her faults may have been, Mildred Carr had allthe noble unselfishness that is so common in her sex. For herself andher own reputation she cared, comparatively speaking, nothing; whilstfor Arthur's ultimate happiness she was very solicitous.

  One evening--it was one of Arthur's black days, when he had got a fitof what Mildred called "Angela fever"--they were walking together inthe garden, Arthur in silence, with his hands in his pockets and hispipe in his mouth, and Mildred humming a little tune by way of amusingherself, when they came to the wall that edged the precipice. Arthurleant over it and gazed at the depths below.

  "Don't, dear, you will tumble over," said Mildred, in some alarm.

  "I think it would be a good thing if I did," he answered, moodily.

  "Are you, then, so tired of the world--and me?"

  "No, dear, I am not tired of you; forgive me, Mildred, but I amdreadfully miserable. I know that it is very ungracious and ungratefulof me, but it is the fact."

  "You are thinking of _her_ again, Arthur?"

  "Yes, I have got a fit of it. I suppose that she has not been out ofmy mind for an hour altogether during the last forty-eight hours. Talkof being haunted by a dead person, it is infinitely worse beinghaunted by a living one."

  "I am very sorry for you, dear."

  "Do you suppose, Mildred, that this will go on for all my life, that Ishall always be at the mercy of these bitter memories and thoughts?"

  "I don't know, Arthur. I hope not."

  "I wish I were dead--I wish I were dead," he broke out, passionately."She has destroyed my life, all that was happy in me is dead, only mybody lives on. I am sure I don't know, Mildred, how you can care foranything so worthless."

  She kissed him, and answered,

  "Dearest, I had rather love you as you are than any other man alive.Time does wonders; perhaps in time you will get over it. Oh! Arthur,when I think of what she has made you, and what you might have been ifyou had never known her, I long to tell that woman all my mind. Butyou must be a man, dear; it is weak to give way to a mad passion, suchas this is now. Try to think of something else; work at something."

  "I have no heart for it, Mildred, I don't feel as though I could work;and, if you cannot make me forget, I am sure I do not know what will."

  Mildred sighed, and did not answer. Though she spoke hopefully aboutit to him, she had little faith in his getting over his passion forAngela now. Either she must marry him as he w
as, or else let him goaltogether; but which? The struggle between her affection and her ideaof duty was very sore, and as yet she could come to no conclusion.

  One thing there was that troubled her considerably, and this was that,though Madeira was almost empty, there were enough people in it to getup a good deal of gossip about herself and Arthur. Now, it would havebeen difficult to find anybody more entirely careless of the judgmentsof society than Mildred, more especially as her great wealth andgeneral popularity protected her from slights. But, for all heroddities, she was a thorough woman of the world; and she knew, nonebetter, that, in pursuance of an almost invariable natural law, thereis nothing that lowers a woman so much in the estimation of a man asthe knowledge that she is talked about, even though he himself is thecause of the talk. This may be both illogical and unjust, but it is,none the less, true.

  But, if Mildred still hesitated, Arthur did not. He was very anxiousthat they should be married; indeed, he almost insisted on it. Theposition was one that was far from being agreeable to him, for allsuch intimacies must, from their very nature, necessitate a certainamount of false swearing. They are throughout an acted lie; and, whenthe lie is acted, it must sometimes be spoken. Now, this is a state ofaffairs that is repugnant to an honourable man, and one that notunfrequently becomes perfectly intolerable. Many is the love-affairthat comes to a sudden end because the man finds it impossible topermanently constitute himself a peregrinating falsehood. But, oddlyenough, it has been found difficult to persuade the other contractingparty of the validity of the excuse, and, however unjust it may be,one has known of men who have seen their defection energetically setdown to more vulgar causes.

  Arthur was no exception to this rule. He found himself in a falseposition, and he hated it. Indeed, he determined before long he wouldplace it before Mildred in the light of an alternative, that he shouldeither marry her, or that an end should be put to their existingrelations.