by E. F. Benson
Chapter TWO
As she traversed the smoking-parlour the cheerful sounds that had oncetinkled from the collar of a Flemish horse chimed through the house,and simultaneously she became aware that there would be _macaroni augratin_ for lunch, which was very dear and remembering of Peppino.But before setting fork to her piled-up plate, she had to question him,for her mental craving for information was far keener than her appetitefor food.
"_Caro_, who is an Indian," she said, "whom I saw just now withDaisy Quantock? They were the other side of il piccolo Avon."
Peppino had already begun his macaroni and must pause to shovel theoutlying strings of it into his mouth. But the haste with which he didso was sufficient guaranty for his eagerness to reply as soon as it washumanly possible to do so.
"Indian, my dear?" he asked with the greatest interest.
"Yes; turban and burnous and calves and slippers," she said ratherimpatiently, for what was the good of Peppino having remained inRiseholme if he could not give her precise and certain information onlocal news when she returned. His prose-poems were all very well, butas prince-consort he had other duties of state which must not beneglected for the calls of Art.
This slight asperity on her part seemed to sharpen his wits.
"Really, I don't know for certain, Lucia," he said, "for I have not setmy eyes on him. But putting two and two together, I might make aguess."
"Two and two make four," she said with that irony for which she wasfeared and famous. "Now for your guess. I hope it is equally accurate."
"Well, as I told you in one of my letters," said he, "Mrs Quantockshowed signs of being a little off with Christian Science. She had acold, and though she recited the True Statement of Being just asfrequently as before, her cold got no better. But when I saw her onTuesday last, unless it was Wednesday, no, it couldn't have beenWednesday, so it must have been Tuesday--"
"Whenever it was then," interrupted his wife, brilliantly summing uphis indecision.
"Yes; whenever it was, as you say, on that occasion Mrs Quantock wasvery full of some Indian philosophy which made you quite well at once.What did she call it now? Yoga! Yes, that was it!"
"And then?" asked Lucia.
"Well, it appears you must have a teacher in Yoga or else you mayinjure yourself. You have to breathe deeply and say 'Om'----"
"Say what?"
"Om. I understand the ejaculation to be Om. And there are very curiousphysical exercises; you have to hold your ear with one hand and yourtoes with the other, and you may strain yourself unless you do itproperly. That was the general gist of it."
"And shall we come to the Indian soon?" said Lucia.
"_Carissima_, you have come to him already. I suggest that MrsQuantock has applied for a teacher and got him. _Ecco!_"
Mrs Lucas wore a heavily corrugated forehead at this news. Peppino hada wonderful _flair_ in explaining unusual circumstances in thelife of Riseholme and his conjectures were generally correct. But if hewas right in this instance, it struck Lucia as being a very irregularthing that anyone should have imported a mystical Indian into Riseholmewithout consulting her. It is true that she had been away, but stillthere was the medium of the post.
"_Ecco_ indeed!" she said. "It puts me in rather a difficultposition, for I must send out my invitations to my garden-party today,and I really don't know whether I ought to be officially aware of thisman's existence or not. I can't write to Daisy Quantock and say 'Praybring your black friend Om or whatever his name proves to be, and onthe other hand, if he is the sort of person whom one would be sorry tomiss, I should not like to have passed over him."
"After all, my dear, you have only been back in Riseholme half anhour," said her husband. "It would have been difficult for MrsQuantock to have told you yet."
Her face cleared.
"Perhaps Daisy has written to me about him," she said. "I may find afull account of it all when I open my letters."
"Depend upon it you will. She would hardly have been so wanting inproper feeling as not to have told you. I think, too, that her visitormust only have just arrived, or I should have been sure to see himabout somewhere."
She rose.
"Well, we will see," she said. "Now I shall be very busy all afternoon,but by tea-time I shall be ready to see anyone who calls. Give me myletters, _Caro_, and I will find out if Daisy has written to me."
She turned them over as she went to her room, and there among them wasa bulky envelope addressed in Mrs Quantock's great sprawling hand,which looked at first sight so large and legible, but on closerexamination turned out to be so baffling. You had to hold it at somedistance off to make anything out of it, and look at it in an abstractedgeneral manner much as you would look at a view. Treated thus, scatteredwords began to leap into being, and when you had got a sufficiency ofthese, like glimpses of the country seen by flashes of lightning, youcould hope to get a collective idea of it all. The procedure led to themost promising results as Mrs Lucas sat with the sheets at arm's length,occasionally altering the range to try the effect of a different focus."Benares" blinked at her, also "Brahmin"; also "highest caste";"extraordinary sanctity," and "Guru." And when the meaning of thislatter was ascertained from the article on "Yoga" in her Encyclopaedia,she progressed very swiftly towards a complete comprehension of theletter.
When fully pieced together it was certainly enough to rivet her wholeattention, and make her leave unopened the rest of the correspondence,for such a prelude to adventure had seldom sounded in Riseholme. Itappeared, even as her husband had told her at lunch, that Mrs Quantockfound her cold too obstinate for all the precepts of Mrs Eddy; theTrue Statement of Being, however often repeated, only seemed to inflameit further, and one day, when confined to the house, she had taken abook "quite at random" from the shelves in her library, under, shesupposed, the influence of some interior compulsion. This then wasclearly a "leading."
Mrs Lucas paused a moment as she pieced together these first sentences.She seemed to remember that Mrs Quantock had experienced a similarleading when first she took up Christian Science. It was a leading fromthe sight of a new church off Sloane Street that day; Mrs Quantock hadentered (she scarcely knew why) and had found herself in a TestimonyMeeting, where witness after witness declared the miraculous healingsthey had experienced. One had had a cough, another cancer, another afractured bone, but all had been cured by the blessed truths conveyedin the Gospel according to Mrs Eddy. However, her memories on thissubject were not to the point now; she burned to arrive at the story ofthe new leading.
Well, the book that Mrs Quantock had taken down in obedience to thelast leading proved to be a little handbook of Oriental Philosophies,and it opened, "all of its own accord," at a chapter called Yoga.Instantly she perceived, as by the unclosing of an inward eye, that Yogawas what she wanted and she instantly wrote to the address from whichthis book was issued asking for any guidance on the subject. She hadread in "Oriental Philosophies" that for the successful practice ofYoga, it was necessary to have a teacher, and did they know of anyteacher who could give her instruction? A wonderful answer came to that,for two days afterwards her maid came to her and said that an Indiangentleman would like to see her. He was ushered in, and with a profoundobeisance said: "Beloved lady, I am the teacher you asked for; I am yourGuru. Peace be to this house! Om!"
Mrs Lucas had by this time got her view of Mrs Quantock's letter intoperfect focus, and she read on without missing a word. "Is it notwonderful, dearest Lucia," it ran, "that my desire for light shouldhave been so instantly answered? And yet my Guru tells me that italways happens so. I was sent to him, and he was sent to me, just likethat! He had been expecting some call when my letter asking forguidance came, and he started at once because he knew he was sent.Fancy! I don't even know his name, and his religion forbids him to tellit me. He is just my Guru, my guide, and he is going to be with me aslong as he knows I need him to show me the True Path. He has the sparebedroom and the little room adjoining where he meditates and doesPostures and Pr
anyama which is breathing. If you persevere in themunder instruction, you have perfect health and youth, and my cold isgone already. He is a Brahmin of the very highest caste, indeed castemeans nothing to him any longer, just as a Baronet and an Honourablemust seem about the same thing to the King. He comes from Benares wherehe used to meditate all day by the Ganges, and I can see for myselfthat he is a person of the most extraordinary sanctity. But he canmeditate just as well in my little room, for he says he was never inany house that had such a wonderful atmosphere. He has no money at allwhich is so beautiful of him, and looked so pained and disappointedwhen I asked him if I might not give him some. He doesn't even know howhe got here from London; he doesn't think he came by train, so perhapshe was wafted here in some astral manner. He looked so bewildered toowhen I said the word 'money,' and evidently he had to think what itwas, because it is so long since it has meant anything to him. So if hewants anything, I have told him to go into any shop and ask that itshall be put down to me. He has often been without food or sleep fordays together when he is meditating. Just think!
"Shall I bring him to see you, or will you come here? He wants to meetyou, because he feels you have a beautiful soul and may help him inthat way, as well as his helping you. I am helping him too he says,which seems more wonderful than I can believe. Send me a line as soonas you get back. _Tante salute_!
"Your own, "DAISY."
The voluminous sheets had taken long in reading and Mrs Lucas foldedthem up slowly and thoughtfully. She felt that she had to make a swiftdecision that called into play all her mental powers. On the one handit was "up to her" to return a frigid reply, conveying, without makingany bones about the matter, that she had no interest in nameless Guruswho might or might not be Brahmins from Benares and presentedthemselves at Daisy's doors in a penniless condition without clearknowledge whether they had come by train or not. In favour of suchprudent measures was the truly Athenian character of Daisy's mind, forshe was always enquiring into "some new thing," which was the secret oflife when first discovered, and got speedily relegated to thedust-heap. But against such a course was the undoubted fact that Daisydid occasionally get hold of somebody who subsequently proved to be ofinterest, and Lucia would never forget to her dying day the advent inRiseholme of a little Welsh attorney, in whom Daisy had discovered awonderful mentality. Lucia had refused to extend her queenlyhospitality to him, or to recognise his existence in any way during thefortnight when he stayed with Daisy, and she was naturally very muchannoyed to find him in a prominent position in the Government not manyyears later. Indeed she had snubbed him so markedly on his firstappearance at Riseholme that he had refused on subsequent visits tocome to her house at all, though he several times visited Mrs Quantockagain, and told her all sorts of political secrets (so she said) whichshe would not divulge for anything in the world. There must never be arepetition of so fatal an error.
Another thing inclined the wavering balance. She distinctly wanted somefresh element at her court, that should make Riseholme know that shewas in residence again. August would soon be here with its languors andabsence of stimulus, when it was really rather difficult in the drowsywindless weather to keep the flag of culture flying strongly from herown palace. The Guru had already said that he felt sure she had abeautiful soul, and-- The outline of the scheme flashed upon her. Shewould have Yoga evenings in the hot August weather, at which, as theheat of the day abated, graceful groups should assemble among themottos in the garden and listen to high talk on spiritual subjects.They would adjourn to delicious moonlit suppers in the pergola, or ifthe moon was indisposed--she could not be expected to regulate theaffairs of the moon as well as of Riseholme--there would be dim seancesand sandwiches in the smoking-parlour. The humorous furniture should beput in cupboards, and as they drifted towards the front hall again,when the clocks struck an unexpectedly late hour, little whisperedcolloquies of "How wonderful he was tonight" would be heard, and therewould be faraway looks and sighs, and the notings down of the titles ofbooks that conducted the pilgrim on the Way. Perhaps as they softlyassembled for departure, a little music would be suggested to round offthe evening, and she saw herself putting down the soft pedal as peoplerustled into their places, for the first movement of the "MoonlightSonata." Then at the end there would be silence, and she would get upwith a sigh, and someone would say "Lucia mia"! and somebody else"Heavenly Music," and perhaps the Guru would say "Beloved lady," as hehad _apparently_ said to poor Daisy Quantock. Flowers, music,addresses from the Guru, soft partings, sense of refreshment.... Withthe memory of the Welsh attorney in her mind, it seemed clearly wiserto annex rather than to repudiate the Guru. She seized a pen and drew apile of postcards towards her, on the top of which was printed her nameand address.
"Too wonderful," she wrote, "pray bring him yourself to my littlegarden-party on Friday. There will be only a few. Let me know if hewants a quiet room ready for him."
All this had taken time, and she had but scribbled a dozen postcards tofriends bidding them come to her garden party on Friday, when tea wasannounced. These invitations had the mystic word "Hightum" written atthe bottom left hand corner, which conveyed to the enlightened recipientwhat sort of party it was to be, and denoted the standard of dress. Forone of Lucia's quaint ideas was to divide dresses into three classes,"Hightum," "Tightum" and "Scrub." "Hightum" was your very best dress,the smartest and newest of all, and when "Hightum" was written on acard of invitation, it implied that the party was a very resplendentone. "Tightum" similarly indicated a moderately smart party, "Scrub"carried its own significance on the surface. These terms applied tomen's dress as well and as regards evening parties: a dinner party"Hightum" would indicate a white tie and a tail coat; a dinner party"Tightum" a black tie and a short coat, and a dinner "Scrub" would meanmorning clothes.
With tea was announced also the advent of Georgie Pillson who was hergentleman-in-waiting when she was at home, and her watch-dog when shewas not. In order to save subsequent disappointment, it may be at oncestated that there never has been, was, or ever would be the smallestapproach to a flirtation between them. Neither of them, she with herforty respectable years and he with his blameless forty-five years, hadever flirted, with anybody at all. But it was one of the polite andpleasant fictions of Riseholme that Georgie was passionately attachedto her and that it was for her sake that he had settled in Riseholmenow some seven years ago, and that for her sake he remained stillunmarried. She never, to do her justice, had affirmed anything of thesort, but it is a fact that sometimes when Georgie's name came up inconversation, her eyes wore that "far-away" look that only themasterpieces of art could otherwise call up, and she would sigh andmurmur "Dear Georgie"! and change the subject, with the tact thatcharacterized her. In fact their mutual relations were among the mostBeautiful Things of Riseholme, and hardly less beautiful was Peppino'sattitude towards it all. That large hearted man trusted them both, andhis trust was perfectly justified. Georgie was in and out of the houseall day, chiefly in; and not only did scandal never rear its hissinghead, but it positively had not a head to hiss with, or a foot to standon. On his side again Georgie had never said that he was in love withher (nor would it have been true if he had), but by his completesilence on the subject coupled with his constancy he seemed to admitthe truth of this bloodless idyll. They talked and walked and read themasterpieces of literature and played duets on the piano together.Sometimes (for he was the more brilliant performer, though as he said"terribly lazy about practising," for which she scolded him) he wouldgently slap the back of her hand, if she played a wrong note, and say"Naughty!" And she would reply in baby language "Me vewy sowwy! Oonaughty too to hurt Lucia!" That was the utmost extent of their carnalfamiliarities, and with bright eyes fixed on the music they would breakinto peals of girlish laughter, until the beauty of the music soberedthem again.
Georgie (he was Georgie or Mr Georgie, never Pillson to the whole ofRiseholme) was not an obtrusively masculine sort of person. Suchmas
culinity as he was possessed of was boyish rather than adult, andthe most important ingredients in his nature were womanish. He had, incommon with the rest of Riseholme, strong artistic tastes, and inaddition to playing the piano, made charming little water-coloursketches, many of which he framed at his own expense and gave tofriends, with slightly sentimental titles, neatly printed in giltletters on the mount. "Golden Autumn Woodland," "Bleak December,""Yellow Daffodils," "Roses of Summer" were perhaps his most notableseries, and these he had given to Lucia, on the occasion of foursuccessive birthdays. He did portraits as well in pastel; these were oftwo types, elderly ladies in lace caps with a row of pearls, and boysin cricket shirts with their sleeves rolled up. He was not very good ateyes, so his sitters always were looking down, but he was excellent atsmiles, and the old ladies smiled patiently and sweetly, and the boysgaily. But his finest accomplishment was needlework and his house wasfull of the creations of his needle, wool-work curtains, petit-pointchair seats, and silk embroideries framed and glazed. Next to Lucia hewas the hardest worked inhabitant of Riseholme but not being so strongas the Queen, he had often to go away for little rests by the sea-side.Travelling by train fussed him a good deal, for he might not be able toget a corner seat, or somebody with a pipe or a baby might get into hiscarriage, or the porter might be rough with his luggage, so he alwayswent in his car to some neighbouring watering-place where they knewhim. Dicky, his handsome young chauffeur, drove him, and by Dicky'sside sat Foljambe, his very pretty parlour-maid who valetted him. IfDicky took the wrong turn his master called "Naughty boy" through thetube, and Foljambe smiled respectfully. For the month of August, histwo plain strapping sisters (Hermione and Ursula alas!) always came tostay with him. They liked pigs and dogs and otter-hunting andmutton-chops, and were rather a discordant element in Riseholme. ButGeorgie had a kind heart, and never even debated whether he should askHermy and Ursy or not, though he had to do a great deal of tidying upafter they had gone.
There was always a playful touch between the meetings of these two wheneither of them had been away from Riseholme that very prettilyconcealed the depth of Georgie's supposed devotion, and when she cameout into the garden where her Cavalier and her husband were waiting fortheir tea under the pergola, Georgie jumped up very nimbly and took afew chassee-ing steps towards her with both hands outstretched inwelcome. She caught at his humour, made him a curtsey, and next momentthey were treading a little improvised minuet together with hands heldhigh, and pointed toes. Georgie had very small feet, and it was areally elegant toe that he pointed, encased in cloth-topped boots. Hehad on a suit of fresh white flannels and over his shoulders, for fearof the evening air being chilly after this hot day, he had a littlecape of a military cut, like those in which young ladies at music-hallsenact the part of colonels. He had a straw-hat on, with a blue riband,a pink shirt and a red tie, rather loose and billowy. His face was pinkand round, with blue eyes, a short nose and very red lips. An almostcomplete absence of eyebrow was made up for by a firm little brownmoustache clipped very short, and brushed upwards at its extremities.Contrary to expectation he was quite tall and fitted very neatly intohis clothes.
The dance came to an end with a low curtsey on Lucia's part, anobeisance hat in hand from Georgie (this exposure shewing a crop ofhair grown on one side of his head and brushed smoothly over the topuntil it joined the hair on the other side) and a clapping of the handsfrom Peppino.
"Bravo, bravo," he cried from the tea-table. "Capital!"
Mrs Lucas blew him a kiss in acknowledgment of this compliment andsmiled on her partner. "_Amico!_" she said. "It is nice to see youagain. How goes it?"
"_Va bene_," said Georgie to show he could talk Italian too."_Va_ very _bene_ now that you've come back."
"_Grazie!_ Now tell us all the news. We'll have a good gossip."
Georgie's face beamed with a "solemn gladness" at the word, like adrunkard's when brandy is mentioned.
"Where shall we begin?" he said. "Such a lot to tell you. I think wemust begin with a great bit of news. Something really mysterious."
Lucia smiled inwardly. She felt that she knew for dead certain what themysterious news was, and also that she knew far more about it thanGeorgie. This superiority she completely concealed. Nobody could haveguessed it.
"_Presto, presto!_" she said. "You excite me."
"Yesterday morning I was in Rush's," said Georgie, "seeing about some_Creme de menthe_, which ought to have been sent the day before.Rush is very negligent sometimes--and I was just saying a sharp wordabout it, when suddenly I saw that Rush was not attending at all, butwas looking at something behind my back, and so I looked round. Guess!"
"Don't be tantalising, _amico_," said she. "How can I guess? Apink elephant with blue spots!"
"No, guess again!"
"A red Indian in full war paint."
"Certainly not! Guess again," said Georgie, with a little sigh ofrelief. (It would have been awful if she had guessed.) At this momentPeppino suddenly became aware that Lucia had guessed and was up to somegame.
"Give me your hand, Georgie," she said, "and look at me. I'm going toread your thoughts. Think of what you saw when you turned round."
She took his hand and pressed it to her forehead, closing her eyes.
"But I do seem to see an Indian," she said. "Ah, not red Indian, otherIndian. And--and he has slippers on and brown stockings--no, not brownstockings; it's legs. And there's a beard, and a turban."
She gave a sigh.
"That's all I can see," she said.
"My dear, you're marvellous," said he. "You're quite right."
A slight bubbling sound came from Peppino, and Georgie began tosuspect.
"I believe you've seen him!" he said. "How tarsome you are...."
When they had all laughed a great deal, and Georgie had been assuredthat Lucia really, word of honour, had no idea what happened next, thenarrative was resumed.
"So there stood the Indian, bowing and salaaming most politely and whenRush had promised me he would send my _Creme de menthe_ that verymorning, I just looked through a wine list for a moment, and the Indianwith quantities more bows came up to the counter and said, 'If you willhave the great goodness to give me a little brandy bottle.' So Rushgave it him, and instead of paying for it, what do you think he said?Guess."
Mrs Lucas rose with the air of Lady Macbeth and pointed her finger atGeorgie.
"He said 'Put it down to Mrs Quantock's account,'" she hissed.
Of course the explanation came now, and Lucia told the two men thecontents of Mrs Quantock's letter. With that her cards were on thetable, and though the fact of the Brahmin from Benares was news toGeorgie, he had got many interesting things to tell her, for his houseadjoined Mrs Quantock's and there were plenty of things which MrsQuantock had not mentioned in her letter, so that Georgie was soon inthe position of informant again. His windows overlooked Mrs Quantock'sgarden, and since he could not keep his eyes shut all day, it followedthat the happenings there were quite common property. Indeed that was ageneral rule in Riseholme: anyone in an adjoining property could say,"What an exciting game of lawn-tennis you had this afternoon!" havingfollowed it from his bedroom. That was part of the charm of Riseholme;it was as if it contained just one happy family with common interestsand pursuits. What happened in the house was a more private matter, andMrs Quantock, for instance, would never look from the rising ground atthe end of her garden into Georgie's dining-room or, if she did shewould never tell anyone how many places were laid at table on thatparticular day when she had asked if he could give her lunch, and hehad replied that to his great regret his table was full. But nobodycould help seeing into gardens from back windows: the "view" belongedto everybody.
Georgie had had wonderful views.
"That very day," he said, "soon after lunch, I was looking for a letterI thought I had left in my bedroom, and happening to glance out, I sawthe Indian sitting under Mrs Quantock's pear-tree. He was swaying alittle backwards and forwards."
"The br
andy!" said Lucia excitedly. "He has his meals in his own room."
"No, _amica_, it was not the brandy. In fact I don't suppose thebrandy had gone to Mrs Quantock's then, for he did not take it fromRush's, but asked that it should be sent...." He paused a moment--"Ordid he take it away? I declare I can't remember. But anyhow when heswayed backwards and forwards, he wasn't drunk, for presently he stoodon one leg, and crooked the other behind it, and remained there withhis hands up, as if he was praying, for quite a long time withoutswaying at all. So he couldn't have been tipsy. And then he sat downagain, and took off his slippers, and held his toes with one hand,while his legs were quite straight out, and put his other hand roundbehind his head, and grasped his other ear with it. I tried to do it onmy bedroom floor, but I couldn't get near it. Then he sat up again andcalled 'Chela! Chela!' and Mrs Quantock came running out."
"Why did he say 'Chela'?" asked Lucia.
"I wondered too. But I knew I had some clue to it, so I looked throughsome books by Rudyard Kipling, and found that Chela meant 'Disciple.'What you have told me just now about 'Guru' being 'teacher,' seems topiece the whole thing together."
"And what did Daisy do?" asked Mrs Lucas breathlessly.
"She sat down too, and put her legs out straight in front of her likethe Guru, and tried to hold the toe of her shoe in her fingers, andnaturally she couldn't get within yards of it. I got nearer than shedid. And he said, 'Beloved lady, not too far at first.'"
"So you could hear too," said Lucia.
"Naturally, for my window was open, and as you know Mrs Quantock'spear-tree is quite close to the house. And then he told her to stop upone nostril with her finger and inhale through the other, and then holdher breath, while he counted six. Then she breathed it all out again,and started with the other side. She repeated that several times and hewas very much pleased with her. Then she said, 'It is quite wonderful;I feel so light and vigorous.'"
"It would be very wonderful indeed if dear Daisy felt light," remarkedLucia. "What next?"
"Then they sat and swayed backwards and forwards again and mutteredsomething that sounded like Pom!"
"That would be 'Om', and then?"
"I couldn't wait any longer for I had some letters to write."
She smiled at him.
"I shall give you another cup of tea to reward you for your report,"she said. "It has all been most interesting. Tell me again about thebreathing in and holding your breath."
Georgie did so, and illustrated in his own person what had happened.Next moment Lucia was imitating him, and Peppino came round in order toget a better view of what Georgie was doing. Then they all sat,inhaling through one nostril, holding their breath, and then expellingit again.
"Very interesting," said Lucia at the end. "Upon my word, it does giveone a sort of feeling of vigour and lightness. I wonder if there issomething in it."
