the dark flower-第14章

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caught。　　To　be　able　to　do　nothing　without　hurting　someonethat　was
what　was　so　ghastly。　　If　only　one　were　like　a　flower；　that　just
sprang　up　and　lived　its　life　all　to　itself；　and　died。　　But　whatever
he　did；　or　said　now；　would　be　like　telling　lies；　or　else　being
cruel。　　The　only　thing　was　to　keep　away　from　people。　　And　yet　how
keep　away　from　his　own　guests？

He　went　back　to　the　house　for　lunch；　but　both　those　guests　were
out；　no　one　seemed　quite　to　know　where。　　Restless；　unhappy；
puzzled；　he　wandered　round　and　about　all　the　afternoon。　　Just
before　dinner　he　was　told　of　Mrs。　Stormer's　not　being　well；　and
that　they　would　be　leaving　to…morrow。　　Goingafter　three　days！
That　plunged　him　deeper　into　his　strange　and　sorrowful　confusion。
He　was　reduced　now　to　a　complete　brooding　silence。　　He　knew　he　was
attracting　attention；　but　could　not　help　it。　　Several　times　during
dinner　he　caught　Gordy's　eyes　fixed　on　him；　from　under　those　puffy
half…closed　lids；　with　asphyxiated　speculation。　　But　he　simply
COULD　not　talkeverything　that　came　into　his　mind　to　say　seemed
false。　　Ah！　it　was　a　sad　eveningwith　its　glimmering　vision　into
another's　sore　heart；　its　confused　gnawing　sense　of　things　broken；
faith　betrayed；　and　yet　always　the　perplexed　wonder〃How　could　I
have　helped　it？〃　　And　always　Sylvia's　wistful　face　that　he　tried
not　to　look　at。

He　stole　out；　leaving　Gordy　and　his　tutor　still　over　their　wine；
and　roamed　about　the　garden　a　long　time；　listening　sadly　to　the
owls。　　It　was　a　blessing　to　get　upstairs；　though　of　course　he　would
not　sleep。

But　he　did　sleep；　all　through　a　night　of　many　dreams；　in　the　last
of　which　he　was　lying　on　a　mountain　side；　Anna　looking　down　into
his　eyes；　and　bending　her　face　to　his。　　He　woke　just　as　her　lips
touched　him。　　Still　under　the　spell　of　that　troubling　dream；　he
became　conscious　of　the　sound　of　wheels　and　horses'　hoofs　on　the
gravel；　and　sprang　out　of　bed。　　There　was　the　waggonette　moving
from　the　door；　old　Godden　driving；　luggage　piled　up　beside　him；　and
the　Stormers　sitting　opposite　each　other　in　the　carriage。　　Going
away　like　thathaving　never　even　said　good…bye！　　For　a　moment　he
felt　as　people　must　when　they　have　unwittingly　killed　someone
utterly　stunned　and　miserable。　　Then　he　dashed　into　his　clothes。
He　would　not　let　her　go　thus！　　He　wouldhe　mustsee　her　again！
What　had　he　done　that　she　should　go　like　this？　　He　rushed
downstairs。　　The　hall　was　empty；　nineteen　minutes　to　eight！　　The
train　left　at　eight　o'clock。　　Had　he　time　to　saddle　Bolero？　　He
rushed　round　to　the　stables；　but　the　cob　was　out；　being　shoed。　　He
wouldhe　must　get　there　in　time。　　It　would　show　her　anyway　that　he
was　not　quite　a　cad。　　He　walked　till　the　drive　curved；　then　began
running　hard。　　A　quarter　of　a　mile；　and　already　he　felt　better；　not
so　miserable　and　guilty；　it　was　something　to　feel　you　had　a　tough
job　in　hand；　all　your　work　cut　outsomething　to　have　to　think　of
economizing　strength；　picking　out　the　best　going；　keeping　out　of
the　sun；　saving　your　wind　uphill；　flying　down　any　slope。　　It　was
cool　still；　and　the　dew　had　laid　the　dust；　there　was　no　traffic　and
scarcely　anyone　to　look　back　and　gape　as　he　ran　by。　　What　he　would
do；　if　he　got　there　in　timehow　explain　this　mad　three…mile　run
he　did　not　think。　　He　passed　a　farm　that　he　knew　was　just　half…way。
He　had　left　his　watch。　　Indeed；　he　had　put　on　only　his　trousers；
shirt；　and　Norfolk　jacket；　no　tie；　no　hat；　not　even　socks　under　his
tennis　shoes；　and　he　was　as　hot　as　fire；　with　his　hair　flying　back
a　strange　young　creature　indeed　for　anyone　to　meet。　　But　he　had
lost　now　all　feeling；　save　the　will　to　get　there。　　A　flock　of　sheep
came　out　of　a　field　into　the　lane。　　He　pushed　through　them　somehow；
but　they　lost　him　several　seconds。　　More　than　a　mile　still；　and　he
was　blown；　and　his　legs　beginning　to　give！　　Downhill　indeed　they
went　of　their　own　accord；　but　there　was　the　long　run…in；　quite
level；　and　he　could　hear　the　train；　now　slowly　puffing　its　way
along　the　valley。　　Then；　in　spite　of　exhaustion；　his　spirit　rose。
He　would　not　go　in　looking　like　a　scarecrow；　utterly　done；　and　make
a　scene。　　He　must　pull　himself　together　at　the　end；　and　stroll　in
as　if　he　had　come　for　fun。　　But　howseeing　that　at　any　moment　he
felt　he　might　fall　flat　in　the　dust；　and　stay　there　for　ever！　　And；
as　he　ran；　he　made　little　desperate　efforts　to　mop　his　face；　and
brush　his　clothes。　　There　were　the　gates；　at　lasttwo　hundred
yards　away。　　The　train；　he　could　hear　no　longer。　　It　must　be
standing　in　the　station。　　And　a　sob　came　from　his　overdriven　lungs。
He　heard　the　guard's　whistle　as　he　reached　the　gates。　　Instead　of
making　for　the　booking…office；　he　ran　along　the　paling；　where　an
entrance　to　the　goods'…shed　was　open；　and　dashing　through　he　fell
back　against　the　honeysuckle。　　The　engine　was　just　abreast　of　him；
he　snatched　at　his　sleeve　and　passed　it　over　his　face；　to　wipe　the
sweat　away。　　Everything　was　blurred。　　He　must　seesurely　he　had
not　come　in　time　just　not　to　see！　　He　pushed　his　hands　over　his
forehead　and　hair；　and　spied　up　dizzily　at　the　slowly　passing
train。　　She　was　there；　at　a　window！　　Standing；　looking　out！　　He
dared　not　step　forward；　for　fear　of　falling；　but　he　put　out　his
hand　　She　saw　him。　　Yes；　she　saw　him！　　Wasn't　she　going　to　make　a
sign？　　Not　one？　　And　suddenly　he　saw　her　tear　at　her　dress；　pluck
something　out；　and　throw　it。　　It　fell　close　to　his　feet。　　He　did
not　pick　it　uphe　wanted　to　see　her　face　till　she　was　gone。　　It
looked　wonderfulvery　proud；　and　pale。　　She　put　her　hand　up　to　her
lips。　　Then　everything　went　blurred　again　and　when　he　could　see
once　more；　the　train　had　vanished。　　But　at　his　feet　was　what　she
had　thrown。　　He　picked　it　up！　　All　dry　and　dark；　it　was　the　flower
she　had　given　him　in　the　Tyrol；　and　stolen　back　from　his
buttonhole。

Creeping　out；　past　the　goods'…shed；　he　made　his　way　to　a　field；　and
lay　down　with　his　face　pressed　to　that　withered　thing　which　still
had　its　scent。　。　。　。


The　asphyxiated　speculation　in　his　guardian's　eyes　had　not　been
without　significance。　　Mark　did　not　go　back　to　Oxford。　　He　went
instead　to　Rometo　live　in　his　sister's　house；　and　attend　a　school
of　sculpture。　　That　was　the　beginning　of　a　time　when　nothing
counted　except　his　work。

To　Anna　he　wrote　twice；　but　received　no　answer。　　From　his　tutor　he
had　one　little　note：


〃MY　DEAR　LENNAN；

〃So！　　You　abandon　us　for　Art？　　Ah！　wellit　was　your　moon；　if　I
rememberone　of　them。　　A　worthy　moona　little　dusty　in　these
daysa　little　in　her　declinebut　to　you　no　doubt　a　virgin
goddess；　whose　hem；　etc。

〃We　shall　retain　the　friendliest　memories　of　you　in　spite　of　your
defection。

〃Once　your　tutor　and　still　your　friend；

〃HAROLD　STORMER。〃


After　that　vacation　it　was　longvery　long　before　he　saw　Sylvia
again。



PART　II

SUMMER


I


Gleam　of　a　thousand　lights；　clack　and　mutter　of　innumerable　voices；
laughter；　footsteps；　hiss　and　rumble　of　passing　trains　taking
gamblers　back　to　Nice　or　Mentone；　fevered　wailing　from　the　violins
of　four　fiddlers　with　dark…white　skins　outside　the　cafe；　and　above；
around；　beyond；　the　dark　sky；　and　the　dark　mountains；　and　the　dark
sea；　like　some　great　dark　flower　to　whose　heart　is　clinging　a
jewelled　beetle。　　So　was　Monte　Carlo　on　that　May　night　of　1887。

But　Mark　Lennan；　at　one　of　the　little　marble…topped　tables；　was　in
too　great　maze　and　exaltation　of　spirit　and　of　senses　to　be
conscious　of　its　glare　and　babel；　even　of　its　beauty。　　He　sat　so
very　still　that　his　neighbours；　with　the　instinctive　aversion　of
the　human　creature　to　what　is　too　remote　from　its　own　mood；　after
one　good　stare；　turned　their　eyes　away；　as　from　something
ludicrous；　almost　offensive。

He　was　lost；　indeed；　in　memory　of　the　minutes　just　gone　by。　　For　it
had　come　at　last；　after　all　these　weeks　of　ferment；　after　all　this
strange　time　of　perturbation。

Very　stealthily　it　had　been　creeping　on　him；　ever　since　that　chance
introduction　nearly　a　year　ago；　soon　after　he　settled　down　in
London；　following　those　six　years　of　Rome　and　Paris。　　First　the
merest　friendliness；　because　she　was　so　nice　about　his　work；　then
respectful　admiration；　because　she　was　so　beautiful；　then　pity；
because　she　was　so　unhappy　in　her　marriage。　　If　she　had　been　happy；
he　would　have　fled。　　The　knowledge　that　she　had　been　unhappy　long
before　he　knew　her　had　kept　his　conscience　still。　　And　at　last　one
afternoon　she　said：　〃Ah！　if　you　come　out　there　too！〃　　Marvelously
subtle；　the　way　that　one　little　outslipped　saying　had　worked　in
him；　as　though　it　had　a　life　of　its　ownlike　a　strange　bird　that
had　flown　into　the　garden　of　his　heart；　and　established　itself　with
its　new　song　and　flutterings；　its　new　flight；　its　wistful　and　ever
clearer　call。　　That　and　one　moment；　a　few　days　later　in　her　London
drawing…room；　when　he　had　told　her　that　he　WAS　coming；　and　she　did
not；　could　not；　he　felt；　look　at　him。　　Queer；　that　nothing
momentous　said；　doneor　even　left　undonehad　altered　all　the
future！

And　so　she　had　gone　with　her　uncle　and　aunt；　under　whose　wing　one
might　be　sure　she　would　meet　with　no　wayward　or　exotic　happenings。
And　he　had　received　from　her　this　little　letter：


〃HOTEL　COEUR　D'OR；

〃MONTE　CARLO。

〃MY　DEAR　MARK；

〃We've　arrived。　　It　is　so　good　to　be　in　the　sun。　　The　flowers　are
wonderful。　　I　am　keeping　Gorbio　and　Roquebrune　till　you　come。

〃Your　friend；

〃OLIVE　CRAMIER。〃


That　letter　was　the　single　clear　memory　he　had　of　the　time　between
her　going　and　his　following。　　He　received　it　one　afternoon；　sitting
on　an　old　low　garden　wall　with　the　spring　sun　shining　on　him
through　apple…trees　in　blossom；　and　a　feeling　as　if　all　the　desire
of　the　world　lay　before　him；　and　he　had　but　to　stretch　out　his　arms
to　take　it。

Then　confused　unrest；　all　things　vague；　till　at　the　end　of　his
journey　he　stepped　out　of　the　train　at　Beaulieu　with　a　furiously
beating　heart。　　But　why？　　Surely　he　had　not　expected　her　to　come
out　from　Monte　Carlo　to　meet　him！

A　week　had　gone　by　since　then　in　one　long　effort　to　be　with　her　and
appear　to　others　as　though　he　did　not　greatly　wish　to　be；　two
concerts；　two　walks　with　her　alone；　when　all　that　he　had　said
seemed　as　nothing　said；　and　all　her　sayings　but　ghosts　of　what　he
wished　to　hear；　a　week　of　confusion；　day　and　night；　until；　a　few
minutes　ago；　her　handkerchief　had　fallen　from　her　glove　on　to　the
dusty　road；　and　he　had　picked　it　up　and　put　it　to　his　lips。
Nothing　could　take　away　the　look　she　had　given　him　then。　　Nothing
could　ever　again　separate　her　from　him　utterly。　　She　had　confessed
in　it　to　the　same　sweet；　fearful　trouble　that　he　himself　was
feeling。　　She　had　not　spoken；　but　he　had　seen　her　lips　part；　her
breast　rise　and　fall。　　And　HE　had　not　spoken。　　What　was　the　use　of
words？

He　felt　in　the　pocket　of　his　coat。　　There；　against　his　fingers；　was
that　wisp　of　lawn　and　lace；　soft；　yet　somehow　alive；　and　stealthily
he　took　it　out。　　The　whole　of　her；　with　her　fragrance；　seemed
pressed　to　his　face　in　the　touch　of　that　lawn　border；　roughened　by
little　white　stars。　　More　secretly　than　ever　he　put　it　back；　and
for　the　first　time　looked　round。　　These　people！　　They　belonged　to　a
world　that　he　had　left。　　They　gave　him　the　same　feeling　that　h