The Great Amulet

by Maud Diver

  CHAPTER XXX

  "Hearts are like horses; they come and go without whip or spur." --_Native Proverb_.

  "Only ten minutes more; a bare ten minutes. Then you shall 'ease off'and stretch your legs a little. I'm sure by this time you must bewishing all artists at the bottom of the sea!"

  "N-no; I haven't got quite as far as that yet," Richardson answeredwith lazy good-humour, flicking the ash off his cigar.

  "You will, though, before I've done with you! I know I have beenexacting to-day, for the eyes are the crux of a portrait. Unless theindividual soul looks out of them, it's a dead thing. D'you know, Ionce told Eldred that yours were like bits of sea water with sunbeamscaught in them; and the effect isn't easy to produce on canvas. ButI'm succeeding--I'm succeeding _a merveille_. That's why I must getthe effect while my hand is in; and you've not once hampered me bylooking bored or impatient. How is one to reward you for such angelicbehaviour?"

  "There are ways and ways. Am I allowed to choose?"

  "Perhaps,--within limits! But we'll discuss that when I can give mymind to the subject. Now, your head a little more to the right,please. That's better. You get out of position when you talk."

  "Sorry. I may lean back though, mayn't I?"

  "Why, of course! I only wonder you don't get up and throw the chair atmy head!"

  He laughed and leaned back accordingly, blowing an endless chain ofsmoke-rings, and watching her face, her supple slenderness, the deftmovements of her hand, with a contentment whose vital ingredients heeither could not or would not recognise--yet.

  For a full week he had spent many hours of each day in smoking andwatching her thus; and the fact that he had never yet found theoccupation monotonous was a danger-signal in itself. But yourcomfort-loving man is singularly obtuse in the matter ofdanger-signals: and loyalty apart, Richardson was too genuinely devotedto his friend to admit the possibility of that which was almost anaccomplished fact. The man was not built for high tragedy; and, intruth, the sittings were an equal pleasure to him when Lenox joinedthem, as he often did; the two men smoking and talking horses or theirbeloved 'shop,' while Quita worked and listened, and interruptedwithout scruple whenever the spirit moved her.

  Yet beneath the smooth-seeming surface of things Lenox was more thanever aware of her curious detachment, of a disturbing sense that hishold over her was still an imperfect thing. Nor was he altogethermistaken. Quita had not yet learned to give herself royally. The factthat she had put her heart and life into the hands of the man she loveddid not prevent her from going her own way; from feeling--as she hadalways felt--responsible to herself alone for her words and actions.

  And the past week had seemed to emphasise these idiosyncrasies;because, at the first mysterious breath of inspiration, the submergedartist in her had risen again with power, had, for the time being,dominated her,--body and soul: and she may surely be forgiven if the'world-lifting joy' of creation swept her off her feet; if she had eyesand thoughts for little else save the picture coming to life under herhand. Perhaps it needs an artist, one who has felt the Divine breathstir a spark into a flame, rightly to understand and make allowance forsuch spiritual intoxication. Michael,--shallow-hearted egoist thoughhe might be,--would have understood: because he was an artist. ButLenox, being simply a man and a soldier, found it difficult todistinguish between her absorption in the picture and in the subject ofthe picture; difficult to realise her momentary freedom from thepersonal equation.

  What with incessant sittings, and equally incessant people to tea anddinner, he had little intimate speech of her in the daytime; and in thelong hours of wakefulness as he lay beside her listening to her evenbreathing, he faced the fact that his growing irritability was due tojealousy;--not the jealousy that doubts or suspects,--of that he wasincapable; but the primitive man's demand for exclusive possession ofhis own. Probably Desmond, in such a case, would have lost his temperand cleared the air in half an hour. But temperament is destiny: andLenox was not so made. He merely shut the door upon the evil thing;and tried--not very successfully--to ignore its existence. And withthree evil spirits in possession of him, it is not surprising if attimes he gave place to the devil.

  Of all this Quita was airily unaware. Since he had given up coming tobed at unearthly hours, she concluded that he slept. Mixed motives hadheld him silent in regard to the threatening shadow of opium, evenduring her moment of collapse and self-reproach after the expeditiondinner; and of his dawning jealousy he was at once too ashamed and tooproud to speak.

  This morning his repressed irritability had been more marked thanusual; and Quita had decided that once free from her enthrallingpicture, she must devote herself definitely to 'cheering him up.' Butfor the present she discouraged troublesome thoughts; and now, whileRichardson sat smoking and watching her, she was conscious of nothingon earth save the exhilaration of success.

  She let fall both hands at last, with a sigh of supreme satisfaction.

  "There! I can do no more to it--for the present. You are released.You may come and look."

  He obeyed; and stood beside her lost in uncomprehending admiration ofher skill.

  It was Quita who spoke first. "We have achieved a rather remarkablebit of work between us, you and I."

  "We?" he echoed in amaze. "I don't quite see where I come in."

  "No: you wouldn't: and I'm afraid I can't enlighten you. But the factremains. Would you mind if I sent it to the Academy, just as aPortrait of a Soldier?"

  "The Academy? Good Lord! I should be proud."

  "Thank you. I believe they'll hang it; and hang it well. That will be_my_ reward. But what about yours?"

  She looked up at him now, letting her eyes rest confidently in his: andthe glad light in them held him, dazzled him, so that he forgot toanswer her; forgot much that he ought to have remembered, in theflashlight of a revelation so simple yet so astounding that it took himseveral seconds to understand what had befallen him.

  "Well?" she asked, smiling. "Is it so tremendous?" And the spell wasbroken. But reality remained.

  He felt something in him throb strangely; the pain of it melting into aglow more startling than the first shock; and with an awkward laugh heturned abruptly away from her;--too abruptly, as a twinge in his leftleg gave warning, so that the laugh ended in an involuntary sound ofpain.

  "Mr Richardson, do be careful," she reproved him gently. "What hascome to you? And why do you go off like that without answering myquestion?"

  For he had crossed to the mantelpiece; and a photo of her portrait ofLenox seemed to be absorbing his attention. Nor did he take his eyesfrom it in speaking.

  "Because--well, because it struck me that perhaps you wouldn't be sokeen about rewarding me,--if you knew . . . ."

  "What? _Is_ there anything to know?"

  "Yes: worse luck. I ought to have spoken sooner. But I shirked it,especially after what you said out driving. You remember--thatletter--long ago?"

  "Am I likely to forget? What about it?"

  This time he faced her deliberately, though the blood mounted to hisforehead.

  "I am the chap who wrote it. I'm the man you have been hating allthese years; the man you _hate still_."

  She came a step closer and stood gazing at him blankly, reorganisingher sensations.

  "You wrote it? _You_?"

  "Yes; I."

  "But did you really know anything about me, or about Sir Roger Bennet?"

  "Nothing on earth. I was simply repeating idle gossip."

  "Oh, how could you! And look what came of it. The years of bitternessand estrangement----!" He winced under her passionate reproach.

  "It was done in ignorance, remember; though, as you reminded me notlong since, that doesn't soften facts. Slang me; hate me for it, ifyou must. It can't be helped."

  "But I don't hate you, _mon ami_; I couldn't if I tried for a month."

  This was disconcerting. He had thought to snap the cord of theirfriendship, and so
make it easier to see less of her in future.

  "Not even now you know?" he persisted desperately. And she shook herhead.

  "Yet you told me distinctly that you could never forgive that unluckychap."

  "But then I never guessed it was _you_," she retorted with true woman'slogic. "How _could_ one hate you, after what happened last month.Eldred told me."

  "That,"--he shrugged his shoulders,--"that was a mere nothing."

  "Excuse me, as men go now it was a good deal. But still--I am puzzled.If you shirked telling me all this while, what made you tell me to-day?"

  This also was disconcerting. But he did his best.

  "I don't know. Perhaps it was talking of rewards. Besides--I'm one ofthose clumsy fools who never feel quite comfortable until he hasblurted out the truth."

  He tried to laugh, but her direct look broke the sound in his throat.

  "I rather admire that kind of fool," she said, with quiet emphasis."And you have lost nothing by your folly,--nothing."

  "Does that mean you have quite forgiven me?" For the life of him hecould not stifle the exultation in his tone.

  "Quite--quite. Will that do for your reward? Shake hands onit,--please: and I promise never to speak or think of it again."

  Before their hands fell apart Lenox entered, and a slight shadowcrossed his face.

  "A note for you, Dick," he said quietly. "The man wants an answer."

  Richardson's relief was evident.

  "Thanks. I won't keep him waiting." And he departed without openingthe envelope.

  "Don't be too long; and don't change your coat," Quita called afterhim. "There's some detail work that I might get in before tea." Thenconscious of gathering storm, she turned hurriedly to her husband.

  "What were you and Dick shaking hands about at this time of day!" heasked as the door closed upon his subaltern.

  She had meant to tell him as a matter of course. But something in histone roused her fatal spirit of perversity--and up went her chin intothe air.

  "We were striking a bargain. Have you any objection?"

  "No. Not the smallest. Would it be any use if I had?"

  She paused, weighing the question.

  "I don't think it would. Petty tyranny of that kind is the last thingI could put up with; the last thing one would expect from you."

  "Quite so. At the same time--marriage means compromise. Youunderstand?"

  "When a man says that he usually implies that the woman will do most ofthe compromising, in order that he may have his own way."

  "Within limits, a man has a certain right to his own way in his ownhouse."

  "And generally gets it!" she answered lightly.

  Lenox shrugged his shoulders, and going over to the easel, contemplatedin silence the living likeness of his friend: while Quita, watchinghim, was increasingly aware of slumbering electricity that might at anymoment break into a lightning-flash of speech.

  "It's good. Don't you think so?" she asked on a tentative note ofconciliation.

  "Of course it is. Damned good," he answered gruffly.

  "Eldred! Even if you _are_ in a bad mood, you might control yourlanguage."

  "I beg your pardon. It's exceedingly good. But you've had it longenough on hand. Shall you finish it to-day?"

  "I don't think so. Why?"

  "Because, though Dick isn't quite up to duty yet, he's fit to be backat mess again and in his own bungalow."

  "Has he said anything about it?"

  "No."

  "And do you propose to tell him outright that he has been here longenough?"

  "What I propose to say to him is my own affair. You needn't distressyourself on his account. Dick and I understand one another perfectly."

  "No doubt you do. But after all, I am his hostess, and though you maynot object to being flagrantly inhospitable, _I_ do--very strongly.Besides, why should you be in such a hurry to turn him out? Are youannoyed again because we happen to be good friends and enjoy oneanother's society? I thought you were above that sort of thing."

  The suggestion of scorn in her tone pricked him past endurance. Heturned upon her sharply; and his eyes took on their blue of steel.

  "I am not above the natural passions of the natural man. You may aswell know it first as last. And I do not choose that Dick and half themen of the station shall practically live in my house because I happento possess a very attractive wife."

  "In fact, you imply that the attractive wife is bound over not to gobeyond correct platitudes with any of them but you. Is that it?" shedemanded, the red of rebellion staining her cheeks.

  The man was sore rather than angry; and the least touch of tendernessor hesitancy would have melted him to generous contrition. But hermanner hardened him, and he set his teeth.

  "I imply nothing of the sort; and you know it. It would never occur tome to set limits, general or particular, on your conduct with othermen; and as for your intimacy with Dick, if I didn't believe in youboth absolutely I wouldn't live with you another week. But I want tomake it clear to you that, having accepted the fact of marriage, youcannot in reason be as independent and daringly unconventional in yourdealings with men as you were when you had no one to consider butyourself. I know India better than you do. We live in glass housesout here: and I know the sort of remarks that are made about a youngmarried woman who is never seen without half a dozen men at herheels . . ."

  "But, my dear man," she broke out impatiently, "who cares one grain ofdust what their remarks may be? Men are my natural-born companions.Always have been. Always will be. And it's no use asking me to crampand distort my whole nature because bourgeois people take a low view ofthe matter."

  "No use, is it? That's pretty strong, Quita. Not that I _am_ askinganything of the kind: only that you should show some smallconsideration for my point of view; that you should make some effort toadapt yourself to a new relation."

  "I _do_ make an effort, Eldred," she answered unappeased. "Butindividuality and temperament are stubborn things, even in a woman; andI can't sacrifice mine because I happen to be your wife. Marriagedoesn't change one into an invertebrate creature of wax and pack-threadto be moulded or pushed into any shape a man pleases; especially if onehappens to be an artist as well as a woman. We have our own devilsinside us; our own minds and bodies as well as you. It wouldn't be theleast use my promising to walk discreetly and weigh my words andactions; because I shouldn't keep the promise for five minutes.Besides . . ." Returning steps sounded without, and Lenox held up hishand.

  "That's enough," he said decisively. "Here's Dick. You're simplytelling me, in roundabout language, that you intend to take the bitbetween your teeth. Well, I intend to keep a firm hold on the reinsfor your sake as much as my own."

  She flushed hotly.

  "_Mon Dieu_, what a detestable similie!"

  "Quite so. But it expresses the position. If you will make it a caseof mastery, what else can a man do?"

  And as Richardson entered from the dining-room, Lenox went out; by wayof the verandah into his study.