CHAPTER X
THE REVELATION
All the impatience in the world could not prevent dinner at Shenstonefrom being a long function, and two of the most popular people in theparty could not easily escape afterwards unnoticed. So a distant clockin the village was striking ten, as Garth and Jane stepped out on tothe terrace together. Garth caught up a rug in passing, and closed thedoor of the lower hall carefully behind him.
They were quite alone. It was the first time they had been really alonesince these days apart, which had seemed so long to both.
They walked silently, side by side, to the wide stone parapetoverlooking the old-fashioned garden. The silvery moonlight flooded thewhole scene with radiance. They could see the stiff box-borders, thewinding paths, the queerly shaped flower-beds, and, beyond, the lake,like a silver mirror, reflecting the calm loveliness of the full moon.
Garth spread the rug on the coping, and Jane sat down. He stood besideher, one foot on the coping, his arms folded across his chest, his headerect. Jane had seated herself sideways, turning towards him, her backto an old stone lion mounting guard upon the parapet; but she turnedher head still further, to look down upon the lake, and she thoughtGarth was looking in the same direction.
But Garth was looking at Jane.
She wore the gown of soft trailing black material she had worn at theOverdene concert, only she had not on the pearls or, indeed, anyornament save a cluster of crimson rambler roses. They nestled in thesoft, creamy old lace which covered the bosom of her gown. There was aquiet strength and nobility about her attitude which thrilled the soulof the man who stood watching her. All the adoring love, the passion ofworship, which filled his heart, rose to his eyes and shone there. Noneed to conceal it now. His hour had come at last, and he had nothingto hide from the woman he loved.
Presently she turned, wondering why he did not begin his confidencesabout Pauline Lister. Looking up inquiringly, she met his eyes.
"Dal!" cried Jane, and half rose from her seat. "Oh, Dal,--don't!"
He gently pressed her back. "Hush, dear," he said. "I must tell youeverything, and you have promised to listen, and to advise and help.Ah, Jane, Jane! I shall need your help. I want it so greatly, and notonly your help, Jane--but YOU--you, yourself. Ah, how I want you! Thesethree days have been one continual ache of loneliness, because you werenot there; and life began to live and move again, when you returned.And yet it has been so hard, waiting all these hours to speak. I haveso much to tell you, Jane, of all you are to me--all you have become tome, since the night of the concert. Ah, how can I express it? I havenever had any big things in my life; all has been more or lesstrivial--on the surface. This need of you--this wanting you--is sohuge. It dwarfs all that went before; it would overwhelm all that is tocome,--were it not that it will be the throne, the crown, the summit,of the future.--Oh, Jane! I have admired so many women. I have ravedabout them, sighed for them, painted them, and forgotten them. But Inever LOVED a woman before; I never knew what womanhood meant to a man,until I heard your voice thrill through the stillness--'I count eachpearl.' Ah, beloved, I have learned to count pearls since then,precious hours in the past, long forgotten, now remembered, and at lastunderstood. 'Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer,' ay, a passionateplea that past and present may blend together into a perfect rosary,and that the future may hold no possibility of pain or parting. Oh,Jane--Jane! Shall I ever be able to make you understand--all--howmuch--Oh, JANE!"
She was not sure just when he had come so near; but he had dropped onone knee in front of her, and, as he uttered the last broken sentences,he passed both his arms around her waist and pressed his face into thesoft lace at her bosom. A sudden quietness came over him. Allstruggling with explanations seemed hushed into the silence of completecomprehension--an all-pervading, enveloping silence.
Jane neither moved nor spoke. It was so strangely sweet to have himthere--this whirlwind of emotion come home to rest, in a greatstillness, just above her quiet heart. Suddenly she realised that theblank of the last three days had not been the miss of the music, butthe miss of HIM; and as she realised this, she unconsciously put herarms about him. Sensations unknown to her before, awoke and movedwithin her,--a heavenly sense of aloofness from the world, theloneliness of life all swept away by this dear fact--just he and shetogether. Even as she thought it, felt it, he lifted his head, stillholding her, and looking into her face, said: "You and I together, myown--my own."
But those beautiful shining eyes were more than Jane could bear. Thesense of her plainness smote her, even in that moment; and thoseadoring eyes seemed lights that revealed it. With no thought in hermind but to hide the outward part from him who had suddenly come soclose to the shrine within, she quickly put both hands behind his headand pressed his face down again, into the lace at her bosom. But, tohim, those dear firm hands holding him close, by that sudden movement,seemed an acceptance of himself and of all he had to offer. For ten,twenty, thirty exquisite seconds, his soul throbbed in silence andrapture beyond words. Then he broke from the pressure of thoserestraining hands; lifted his head, and looked into her face once more.
"My wife!" he said.
* * * * *
Into Jane's honest face came a look of startled wonder; then a deepflush, seeming to draw all the blood, which had throbbed so strangelythrough her heart, into her cheeks, making them burn, and her heart diewithin her. She disengaged herself from his hold, rose, and stoodlooking away to where the still waters of the lake gleamed silver inthe moonlight.
Garth Dalmain stood beside her. He did not touch her, nor did he speakagain. He felt sure he had won; and his whole soul was filled with agladness unspeakable. His spirit was content. The intense silenceseemed more expressive than words. Any ordinary touch would have dimmedthe sense of those moments when her hands had held him to her. So hestood quite still and waited.
At last Jane spoke. "Do you mean that you wish to ask me to be--to beTHAT--to you?"
"Yes, dear," he answered, gently; but in his voice vibrated the quietof strong self-control. "At least I came out here intending to ask itof you. But I cannot ask it now, beloved. I can't ask you TO BE whatyou ARE already. No promise, no ceremony, no giving or receiving of aring, could make you more my wife than you have been just now in thosewonderful moments."
Jane slowly turned and looked at him. She had never seen anything soradiant as his face. But still those shining eyes smote her likeswords. She longed to cover them with her hands; or bid him look awayover the woods and water, while he went on saying these sweet things toher. She put up one foot on the low parapet, leaned her elbow on herknee, and shielded her face with her hand. Then she answered him,trying to speak calmly.
"You have taken me absolutely by surprise, Dal. I knew you had beendelightfully nice and attentive since the concert evening, and that ourmutual understanding of music and pleasure in it, coupled with anincreased intimacy brought about by our confidential conversation underthe cedar, had resulted in an unusually close and delightfulfriendship. I honestly admit it seems to have--it has--meant more to methan any friendship has ever meant. But that was partly owing to yourtemperament, Dal, which tends to make you always the most vivid spot inone's mental landscape. But truly I thought you wanted me out here inorder to pour out confidences about Pauline Lister. Everybody believesthat her loveliness has effected your final capture, and truly, Dal,truly--I thought so, too." Jane paused.
"Well?" said the quiet voice, with its deep undertone of gladness. "Youknow otherwise now."
"Dal--you have so startled and astonished me. I cannot give you ananswer to-night. You must let me have until to-morrow--to-morrowmorning."
"But, beloved," he said tenderly, moving a little nearer, "there is nomore need for you to answer than I felt need to put a question. Can'tyou realise this? Question and answer were asked and given just now.Oh, my dearest--come back to me. Sit down again."
But Jane stood rigid.
"No," she said. "I can't allow yo
u to take things for granted in thisway. You took me by surprise, and I lost my head utterly--unpardonably,I admit. But, my dear boy, marriage is a serious thing. Marriage is nota mere question of sentiment. It has to wear. It has to last. It musthave a solid and dependable foundation, to stand the test and strain ofdaily life together. I know so many married couples intimately. I stayin their homes, and act sponsor to their children; with the result thatI vowed never to risk it myself. And now I have let you put thisquestion, and you must not wonder if I ask for twelve hours to think itover."
Garth took this silently. He sat down on the stone coping with his backto the lake and, leaning backward, tried to see her face; but the handcompletely screened it. He crossed his knees and clasped both handsaround them, rocking slightly backward and forward for a minute whilemastering the impulse to speak or act violently. He strove to composehis mind by fixing it upon trivial details which chanced to catch hiseye. His red socks showed clearly in the moonlight against the whitepaving of the terrace, and looked well with black patent-leather shoes.He resolved always to wear red silk socks in the evening, and wonderedwhether Jane would knit some for him. He counted the windows along thefront of the house, noting which were his and which were Jane's, andhow many came between. At last he knew he could trust himself, and,leaning back, spoke very gently, his dark head almost touching the laceof her sleeve.
"Dearest--tell me, didn't you feel just now--"
"Oh, hush!". cried Jane, almost harshly, "hush, Dal! Don't talk aboutfeelings with this question between us. Marriage is fact, not feeling.If you want to do really the best thing for us both, go straightindoors now and don't speak to me again to-night. I heard you say youwere going to try the organ in the church on the common at eleveno'clock to-morrow morning. Well--I will come there soon after half-pasteleven and listen while you play; and at noon you can send away theblower, and I will give you my answer. But now--oh, go away, dear; fortruly I cannot bear anymore. I must be left alone."
Garth loosed the strong fingers clasped so tightly round his knee. Heslipped the hand next to her along the stone coping, close to her foot.She felt him take hold of her gown with those deft, masterful fingers.Then he bent his dark head quickly, and whispering: "I kiss the cross,"with a gesture of infinite reverence and tenderness, which Jane neverforgot, he kissed the hem of her skirt. The next moment she was alone.
She listened while his footsteps died away. She heard the door into thelower hall open and close. Then slowly she sat down just as she had satwhen he knelt in front of her. Now she was quite alone. The tension ofthese last hard moments relaxed. She pressed both hands over the laceat her bosom where that dear, beautiful, adoring face had been hidden.Had she FELT, he asked. Ah! what had she not felt?
Tears never came easily to Jane. But to-night she had been called aname by which she had never thought to be called; and already herhonest heart was telling her she would never be called by it again. Andlarge silent tears overflowed and fell upon her hands and upon the laceat her breast. For the wife and the mother in her had been wakened andstirred, and the deeps of her nature broke through the barriers ofstern repression and almost masculine self-control, and refused to bedriven back without the womanly tribute of tears.
And around her feet lay the scattered petals of crushed rambler roses.
* * * * *
Presently she passed indoors. The upper hall was filled with merrygroups and resounded with "good-nights" as the women mounted the greatstaircase, pausing to fling back final repartees, or to confirm plansfor the morrow.
Garth Dalmain was standing at the foot of the staircase, held inconversation by Pauline Lister and her aunt, who had turned on thefourth step. Jane saw his slim, erect figure and glossy head the momentshe entered the hall. His back was towards her, and though she advancedand stood quite near, he gave no sign of being aware of her presence.But the joyousness of his voice seemed to make him hers again in thisnew sweet way. She alone knew what had caused it, and unconsciously sheput one hand over her bosom as she listened.
"Sorry, dear ladies," Garth was saying, "but to-morrow morning isimpossible. I have an engagement in the village. Yes--really! At eleveno'clock."
"That sounds so rural and pretty, Mr. Dalmain," said Mrs. Parker Bangs."Why not take Pauline and me along? We have seen no dairies, and nodairy-maids, nor any of the things in Adam Bede, since we came over. Iwould just love to step into Mrs. Poyser's kitchen and see myselfreflected in the warming-pans on the walls."
"Perhaps we would be DE TROP in the dairy," murmured Miss Lister archly.
She looked very lovely in her creamy-white satin gown, her small headheld regally, the brilliant charm of American womanhood radiating fromher. She wore no jewels, save one string of perfectly matched pearls;but on Pauline Lister's neck even pearls seemed to sparkle.
All these scintillations, flung at Garth, passed over his sleek headand reached Jane where she lingered in the background. She took inevery detail. Never had Miss Lister's loveliness been more correctlyappraised.
"But it happens, unfortunately, to be neither a dairy-maid nor awarming-pan," said Garth. "My appointment is with a very grubby smallboy, whose rural beauties consist in a shock of red hair and a wholepepper-pot of freckles."
"Philanthropic?" inquired Miss Lister.
"Yes, at the rate of threepence an hour."
"A caddy, of course," cried both ladies together.
"My! What a mystery about a thing so simple!" added Mrs. Parker Bangs."Now we have heard, Mr. Dalmain, that it is well worth the walk to thelinks to see you play. So you may expect us to arrive there, time tosee you start around."
Garth's eyes twinkled. Jane could hear the twinkle in his voice. "Mydear lady," he said, "you overestimate my play as, in your greatkindness of heart, you overestimate many other things connected withme. But I shall like to think of you at the golf links at eleveno'clock to-morrow morning. You might drive there, but the walk throughthe woods is too charming to miss. Only remember, you cross the parkand leave by the north gate, not the main entrance by which we go tothe railway station. I would offer to escort you, but duty takes me, atan early hour, in quite another direction. Besides, when Miss Lister'swish to see the links is known, so many people will discover golf to bethe one possible way of spending to-morrow morning, that I should bebut a unit in the crowd which will troop across the park to the northgate. It will be quite impossible for you to miss your way."
Mrs. Parker Bangs was beginning to explain elaborately that never,under any circumstances, could he be a unit, when her nieceperemptorily interposed.
"That will do, aunt. Don't be silly. We are all units, except when wemake a crowd; which is what we are doing on this staircase at thispresent moment, so that Miss Champion has for some time been tryingineffectually to pass us. Do you golf to-morrow, Miss Champion?"
Garth stood on one side, and Jane began to mount the stairs. He did notlook at her, but it seemed to Jane that his eyes were on the hem of hergown as it trailed past him. She paused beside Miss Lister. She knewexactly how effectual a foil she made to the American girl's whiteloveliness. She turned and faced him. She wished him to look up and seethem standing there together. She wanted the artist eyes to take in thecruel contrast. She wanted the artist soul of him to realise it. Shewaited.
Garth's eyes were still on the hem of her gown, close to the left foot;but he lifted them slowly to the lace at her bosom, where her handstill lay. There they rested a moment, then dropped again, withoutrising higher.
"Yes," said Mrs. Parker Bangs, "are you playing around with Mr. Dalmainto-morrow forenoon, Miss Champion?"
Jane suddenly flushed crimson, and then was furious with herself forblushing, and hated the circumstances which made her feel and act sounlike her ordinary self. She hesitated during the long dreadfulmoment. How dared Garth behave in that way? People would think therewas something unusual about her gown. She felt a wild impulse to stoopand look at it herself to see whether his kiss had materialis
ed and washanging like a star to the silken hem. Then she forced herself tocalmness and answered rather brusquely: "I am not golfing to-morrow;but you could not do better than go to the links. Good-night, Mrs.Parker Bangs. Sleep well, Miss Lister. Good-night, Dal."
Garth was on the step below them, handing Pauline's aunt a letter shehad dropped.
"Good-night, Miss Champion," he said, and for one instant his eyes methers, but he did not hold out his hand, or appear to see hers halfextended.
The three women mounted the staircase together, then went differentways. Miss Lister trailed away down a passage to the right, her aunttrotting in her wake.
"There's been a tiff there," said Mrs. Parker Bangs.
"Poor thing!" said Miss Lister softly. "I like her. She's a real goodsort. I should have thought she would have been more sensible than therest of us."
"A real plain sort," said her aunt, ignoring the last sentence.
"Well, she didn't make her own face," said Miss Lister generously.
"No, and she don't pay other people to make it for her. She's what SirWalter Scott calls: 'Nature in all its ruggedness.'"
"Dear aunt," remarked Miss Lister wearily, "I wish you wouldn't troubleto quote the English classics to me when we are alone. It is pure wasteof breath, because you see I KNOW you have read them all. Here is mydoor. Now come right in and make yourself comfy on that couch. I amgoing to sit in this palatial arm-chair opposite, and do a little veryneedful explaining. My! How they fix one to the floor! These ancestralcastles are all right so far as they go, but they don't know a thingabout rockers. Now I have a word or two to say about Miss Champion.She's a real good sort, and I like her. She's not a beauty; but she hasa fine figure, and she dresses right. She has heaps of money, and couldhave rarer pearls than mine; but she knows better than to put pearls onthat brown skin. I like a woman who knows her limitations and issensible over them. All the men adore her, not for what she looks butfor what she is, and, my word, aunt, that's what pays in the long run.That is what lasts. Ten years hence the Honourable Jane will still bewhat she is, and I shall be trying to look what I'm not. As for GarthDalmain, he has eyes for all of us and a heart for none. His prettyspeeches and admiring looks don't mean marriage, because he is a manwith an ideal of womanhood and he can't see himself marrying below it.If the Sistine Madonna could step down off those clouds and hand theinfant to the young woman on her left, he might marry HER; but eventhen he would be afraid he might see some one next day who did her hairmore becomingly, or that her foot would not look so well on his Persianrugs as it does on that cloud. He won't marry money, because he hasplenty of it. And even if he hadn't, money made in candles would notappeal to him. He won't marry beauty, because he thinks too much aboutit. He adores so many lovely faces, that he is never sure fortwenty-four hours which of them he admires most, bar the fact that, asin the case of fruit trees, the unattainable are usually the mostdesired. He won't marry goodness--virtue--worth--whatever you choose tocall the sterling qualities of character--because in all these theHonourable Jane Champion is his ideal, and she is too sensible a womanto tie such an epicure to her plain face. Besides, she considersherself his grandmother, and doesn't require him to teach her to suckeggs. But Garth Dalmain, poor boy, is so sublimely lacking inself-consciousness that he never questions whether he can win hisideal. He possesses her already in his soul, and it will be a fearfulsmack in the face when she says 'No,' as she assuredly will do, forreasons aforesaid. These three days, while he has been playing aroundwith me, and you and other dear match-making old donkeys have gambolledabout us, and made sure we were falling in love, he has beenworshipping the ground she walks on, and counting the hours until heshould see her walk on it again. He enjoyed being with me more thanwith the other girls, because I understood, and helped him to work allconversations round to her, and he knew, when she arrived here, I couldbe trusted to develop sudden anxiety about you, or have importantletters to write, if she came in sight. But that is all there will everbe between me and Garth Dalmain; and if you had a really careful regardfor my young affections you would drop your false set on the marblewash-stand, or devise some other equally false excuse for our immediatedeparture for town to-morrow.--And now, dear, don't stay to argue;because I have said exactly all there is to say on the subject, and alittle more. And try to toddle to bed without telling me of which cutecharacter in Dickens I remind you, because I am cuter than any of them,and if I stay in this tight frock another second I can't answer for theconsequences.--Oui, Josephine, entrez!--Good-night, dear aunt. Happydreams!"
But after her maid had left her, Pauline switched off the electriclight and, drawing back the curtain, stood for a long while at herwindow, looking out at the peaceful English scene bathed in moonlight.At last she murmured softly, leaning her beautiful head against thewindow frame:
"I stated your case well, but you didn't quite deserve it, Dal. Youought to have let me know about Jane, weeks ago. Anyway, it will stopthe talk about you and me. And as for you, dear, you will go on sighingfor the moon; and when you find the moon is unattainable, you will notdream of seeking solace in more earthly lights--not even poppa's bestsperm," she added, with a wistful little smile, for Pauline's funsparkled in solitude as freely as in company, and as often at her ownexpense as at that of other people, and her brave American spirit wouldnot admit, even to herself, a serious hurt.
Meanwhile Jane had turned to the left and passed slowly to her room.Garth had not taken her half-proffered hand, and she knew perfectlywell why. He would never again be content to clasp her hand infriendship. If she cut him off from the touch which meant absolutepossession, she cut herself off from the contact of simple comradeship.Garth, to-night, was like a royal tiger who had tasted blood. It seemeda queer simile, as she thought of him in his conventional eveningclothes, correct in every line, well-groomed, smart almost to a fault.But out on the terrace with him she had realised, for the first time,the primal elements which go to the making of a man--a forcefuldetermined, ruling man--creation's king. They echo of primeval forests.The roar of the lion is in them, the fierceness of the tiger; theinstinct of dominant possession, which says: "Mine to have and hold, tofight for and enjoy; and I slay all comers!" She had felt it, and herown brave soul had understood it and responded to it, unafraid; andbeen ready to mate with it, if only--ah! if only--
But things could never be again as they had been before. If she meantto starve her tiger, steel bars must be between them for evermore. Noneof those sentimental suggestions of attempts to be a sort ofunsatisfactory cross between sister and friend would do for the manwhose head she had unconsciously held against her breast. Jane knewthis. He had kept himself magnificently in hand after she put him fromher, but she knew he was only giving her breathing space. He stillconsidered her his own, and his very certainty of the near future hadgiven him that gentle patience in the present. But even now, while heranswer pended, he would not take her hand in friendship. Jane closedher door and locked it. She must face this problem of the future, withall else locked out excepting herself and him. Ah! if she could butlock herself out and think only of him and of his love, as beautiful,perfect gifts laid at her feet, that she might draw them up into herempty arms and clasp them there for evermore. Just for a little whileshe would do this. One hour of realisation was her right. Afterwardsshe must bring HERSELF into the problem,--her possibilities; herlimitations; herself, in her relation to him in the future; in theeffect marriage with her would be likely to have upon him. What itmight mean to her did not consciously enter into her calculations. Janewas self-conscious, with the intense self-consciousness of all reservednatures, but she was not selfish.
At first, then, she left her room in darkness, and, groping her way tothe curtains, drew them back, threw up the sash, and, drawing a chairto the window, sat down, leaning her elbows on the sill and her chin inher hands, and looked down upon the terrace, still bathed in moonlight.Her window was almost opposite the place where she and Garth hadtalked. She could see the stone lion an
d the vase full of scarletgeraniums. She could locate the exact spot where she was sitting whenhe--Memory awoke, vibrant.
Then Jane allowed herself the most wonderful mental experience of herlife. She was a woman of purpose and decision. She had said she had aright to that hour, and she took it to the full. In soul she met hertiger and mated with him, unafraid. He had not asked whether she lovedhim or not, and she did not need to ask herself. She surrendered herproud liberty, and tenderly, humbly, wistfully, yet with all thestrength of her strong nature, promised to love, honour, and obey him.She met the adoration of his splendid eyes without a tremor. She hadlocked her body out. She was alone with her soul; and her soul wasall-beautiful--perfect for him.
The loneliness of years slipped from her. Life became rich andpurposeful. He needed her always, and she was always there and alwaysable to meet his need. "Are you content, my beloved?" she asked overand over; and Garth's joyous voice, with the ring of perpetual youth init, always answered: "Perfectly content." And Jane smiled into thenight, and in the depths of her calm eyes dawned a knowledge hithertounknown, and in her tender smile trembled, with unspeakable sweetness,an understanding of the secret of a woman's truest bliss. "He is mineand I am his. And because he is mine, my beloved is safe; and because Iam his, he is content."
Thus she gave herself completely; gathering him into the shelter of herlove; and her generous heart expanded to the greatness of the gift.Then the mother in her awoke and realised how much of the maternalflows into the love of a true woman when she understands how largelythe child-nature predominates in the man in love, and how the verystrength of his need of her reduces to unaccustomed weakness the strongnature to which she has become essential.
Jane pressed her hands upon her breast. "Garth," she whispered, "Garth,I UNDERSTAND. My own poor boy, it was so hard to you to be sent awayjust then. But you had had all--all you wanted, in those few wonderfulmoments, and nothing can rob you of that fact. And you have made me SOyours that, whatever the future brings for you and me, no other facewill ever be hidden here. It is yours, and I am yours--to-night, andhenceforward, forever."
Jane leaned her forehead on the window-sill. The moonlight fell on theheavy coils of her brown hair. The scent of the magnolia blooms rose infragrance around her. The song of a nightingale purled and thrilled inan adjacent wood. The lonely years of the past, the perplexing momentsof the present, the uncertain vistas of the future, all rolled away.She sailed with Garth upon a golden ocean far removed from the shoresof time. For love is eternal; and the birth of love frees the spiritfrom all limitations of the flesh.
* * * * *
A clock in the distant village struck midnight. The twelve strokesfloated up to Jane's window across the moonlit park. Time was oncemore. Her freed spirit resumed the burden of the body.
A new day had begun, the day upon which she had promised her answer toGarth. The next time that clock struck twelve she would be standingwith him in the church, and her answer must be ready.
She turned from the window without closing it, drew the curtainsclosely across, switched on the electric light over the writing-table,took off her evening gown, hung up bodice and skirt in the wardrobe,resolutely locking the door upon them. Then she slipped on a sage-greenwrapper, which she had lately purchased at a bazaar because every oneelse fled from it, and the old lady whose handiwork it was seemed sodisappointed, and, drawing a chair near the writing-table, took out herdiary, unlocked the heavy clasp, and began to read. She turned thepages slowly, pausing here and there, until she came to those shesought. Over them she pondered long, her head in her hands. Theycontained a very full account of her conversation with Garth on theafternoon of the day of the concert at Overdene; and the lines uponwhich she specially dwelt were these: "His face was transfigured....Goodness and inspiration shone from it, making it as the face of anangel.... I never thought him ugly again. Child though I was, Icould differentiate even then between ugliness and plainness. I haveassociated his face ever since with the wondrous beauty of his soul.When he sat down, at the close of his address, I no longer thought hima complicated form of chimpanzee. I remembered the divine halo of hissmile. Of course it was not the sort of face one COULD have wanted tolive with, or to have day after day opposite one at table, but then onewas not called to that sort of discipline, which would have beenmartyrdom to me. And he has always stood to my mind since as a proof ofthe truth that goodness is never ugly, and that divine love andaspiration, shining through the plainest features, may redeem them,temporarily, into beauty; and permanently, into a thing one loves toremember."
At first Jane read the entire passage. Then her mind focussed itselfupon one sentence: "Of course it was not the sort of face one COULDhave wanted to live with, or to have day after day opposite one attable, ... which would have been martyrdom to me."
At length Jane arose, turned on all the lights over the dressing-table,particularly two bright ones on either side of the mirror, and, sittingdown before it, faced herself honestly.
* * * * *
When the village clock struck one, Garth Dalmain stood at his windowtaking a final look at the night which had meant so much to him. Heremembered, with an amused smile, how, to help himself to calmness, hehad sat on the terrace and thought of his socks, and then had countedthe windows between his and Jane's. There were five of them. He knewher window by the magnolia tree and the seat beneath it where he hadchanced to sit, not knowing she was above him. He leaned far out andlooked towards it now. The curtains were drawn, but there appearedstill to be a light behind them. Even as he watched, it went out.
He looked down at the terrace. He could see the stone lion and the vaseof scarlet geraniums. He could locate the exact spot where she wassitting when he--
Then he dropped upon his knees beside the window and looked up into thestarry sky.
Garth's mother had lived long enough to teach him the holy secret ofher sweet patience and endurance. In moments of deep feeling, wordsfrom his mother's Bible came to his lips more readily than expressionsof his own thought. Now, looking upward, he repeated softly andreverently: "'Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, andcometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness,neither shadow of turning.' And oh, Father," he added, "keep us in thelight--she and I. May there be in us, as there is in Thee, novariableness, neither shadow which is cast by turning."
Then he rose to his feet and looked across once more to the stone lionand the broad coping. His soul sang within him, and he folded his armsacross his chest. "My wife!" he said. "Oh! my wife!"
* * * * *
And, as the village clock struck one, Jane arrived at her decision.
Slowly she rose, and turned off all the lights; then, groping her wayto the bed, fell upon her knees beside it, and broke into a passion ofdesperate, silent weeping.
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