The Way of the Spirit

CHAPTER VI

RUPERT FALLS IN LOVE

The next morning Rupert attended at the War Office, and actually was introduced by Lord Southwick to the Secretary of State. His conversation with the great man was not long – three minutes must have covered it. Still, even a person of Rupert’s rather unusual modesty could scarcely fail to understand from its tone that he was looked on with favour in high places. The Right Honourable gentleman went so far indeed as to congratulate him upon his past services, of which he had evidently been informed, and to hint that his future might be brilliant. He asked him for how long he was on leave, and when he was told six months, smiled and remarked that it was a long time for so active a soldier to remain idle, adding:

“Now, if we wanted to send you anywhere before it expires, would you be willing to go?”

“Certainly, sir,” replied Rupert, with enthusiasm, for already he seemed to have had almost enough of London, and for the moment forgot about his mother, forgot also that return to duty would mean separation from Edith, whose society he had begun to find so agreeable.

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“Very well, Colonel Ullershaw,” answered the Secretary of State. “Remember about it, Southwick, will you? All sorts of things keep cropping up out there in Egypt and the Soudan, and Colonel Ullershaw might be the man to deal with some of them,” and he held out his hand to show that the interview was over.

“You have made an excellent impression, I am sure,” said Lord Southwick to him in the outer room. “Only let me give you a tip. Our chief is rather arbitrary in his ways, and expects to find the promptness upon which he prides himself reflected in others. If he should wish to employ you, as is quite likely, don’t hesitate or ask for time to consider, but fall in with his views at once. It will be better for you afterwards, as if you don’t, you probably will not be asked again.”

Rupert thanked him for the hint and departed, reflecting that he was scarcely likely to hear more of the matter, especially as there were plenty of officers in Egypt capable of carrying out any mission or special service for which occasion might arise. He forgot that he was already considered successful; that he was, moreover, and probably would remain the heir to a very wealthy peerage; in short, a person such as those in authority like to employ, since unto him that hath shall be given.

Soon Rupert discovered that this attitude towards himself was very general; indeed, in a small way, he became something of a lion. In addition to his other advantages, Lord Southwick’s Victoria Cross story, of which he was known to be the hero, had got about, with various embellishments, and excited curiosity, especially among women. When town filled again, he was asked to public dinners, where, as Dick had prophesied,

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he was obliged to wear his orders. The first two or three he rather enjoyed, but at length there came one when, to his horror, in the unexpected absence of some distinguished general, suddenly he found himself obliged to return thanks for the army. In fact, he got through it pretty well, as was testified by the cheers of a not too critical audience, but convinced that his failure had been complete, he went home in great trouble.

“What is the matter?” asked his mother, noting his gloomy face as he stalked into the little drawing-room which he seemed to fill with his uniform and decorations; and Edith added; “Why are you home so early?”

“I came away before the end,” he said solemnly; “they forced me to speak, and I made a fool of myself.”

Knowing Rupert, they did not take this statement too seriously, though Edith was somewhat relieved when, from the reports in the newspapers next morning, and from private inquiry, she satisfied herself that he had really done rather well.

However this might be, Rupert would go no more to public dinners, dreading lest again he should hear that awful and inaccurate eulogium of himself, and be once more requested to get up and give his views upon nothing in particular. However, plenty of private entertainments remained, and to these Edith saw that he did go, although it is true she did not particularly enjoy exposing him to the fascinations of various unengaged young ladies. But her cousin Devene’s strict injunction notwithstanding, Edith had as yet by no means made up her mind to marry Rupert herself. She was thinking the matter over, very closely, that is all, and meanwhile had fully determined that he should marry no one else. So she was jealous

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of him, not for affection’s sake, but for fear lest she should be forestalled.

Of affection, indeed, she had none for Rupert; if anything, she shrank from him personally – this big, rugged man – and his inner self she could not understand at all. He would converse with her on Egyptology and the art of war, and other subjects that bored her to death, not excluding religion at times. He would be earnest and take solemn views of things, conscientious also to an extent that was absolutely painful, even going so far as to reprove her for trifling society fibs. They had nothing in common – their two natures were as dissimilar as is the babbling stream from the black and iron rock over which it runs. Edith lived in the day for the day, to catch the sunlight, to flee from the shadow. Rupert remembered always that the day would soon be done, and that then must be rendered the account thereof; that the watchword of life should be Duty and Self-effacement for the common good, the greatest gain of man.

At present, it is true, Edith had the art to hide these abysmal differences from his somewhat innocent eyes, although he did now and again wonder if she were not a little shallow. She listened to his discourses on the Pharaohs; she suffered him to draw her plans of battles which she was apt to look at upside down; she even took an apparent interest in his rather alarming views of human responsibilities, and his belief in redemption that must be earned by sacrifice. But oh! it was pain and grief to Edith, and though she was far too clever to show it in his presence, or even in that of his mother, when he had gone she would rise and dance about the room in joy at her deliver-

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ance; yes, and allow Dick to seek her out and even endure his tiresome jealousy for the mere pleasure of that congenial fellowship. But she never allowed him any more, being too wise to compromise herself in such a fashion.

“Oh!” Edith reflected to herself again and again, “if these things were done in the green tree, what would be done in the dry?” If Rupert was so insufferable even as an admirer, what would he be like when he had assumed what she felt sure he would call the “duties and responsibilities of matrimony,” in which she would be expected to take a daily and an ample part?

Meanwhile, her business was to make him fond of her – to persuade him that she was absolutely charming and necessary to his existence. Nor did Edith fail at the task. Gradually Rupert grew to adore her, till at length, like a sudden light, there arose in his mind an appreciation of the stupendous fact that, all unworthy as he was of such perfections, he might dare to cherish the ambition of making her his wife.

After all, Rupert was very human, and one who had long acknowledged the fact that though it may be salutary for his soul’s health, it is not good for man to live alone. With that one unfortunate exception in his early youth, he had fled from women, not because he did not like them, who was no misogynist, but because he deemed it right. But now, when he came to think of it, why should he not marry like other men, and be happy in his wife’s love, and leave children – he who loved children – behind him, like other men? It was a great idea, and with Edith at his side, it grew upon him fast, unaware, as he remained, that the suggestion was one which emanated from the said Edith – not in words, but in a thousand acts and

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glances. He began to pay solemn court to her; he was dreadfully respectful and considerate; he blushed if any word with a double meaning were uttered in her presence, and when other men looked at her with admiration – and many did – he felt furious.

He gave her gifts also. The first of them was a huge blue scarabæus, set in gold, which, he informed her, he had himself removed from the breast of a body, where it had rested for three thousand years. Edith loathed that scarabæus, both for its associations and because it did not match any of her dresses; also because it assured her that the day of decision was drawing nigh. Yet she was obliged to wear it sometimes, until she managed to let it fall upon the pavement, where it was broken to bits, which bits she showed to Rupert, as it appeared to him, almost with tears. He consoled her, though his heart was wrung, for the thing was really good, and next week in triumph produced another and a larger one!

Such were the humours of the situation; its tragedies, very real ones, were to come!

It happened thus: Lord Devene, both for change of air and because he hated Christmas and everything to do with it, departed, as was his custom at that time of year, to spend a month at Naples. Thereon Lady Devene, as was her custom, migrated to Devene, the family place in Sussex. Now although the estates here were not so very large, for most of the Devene real property consisted of an acre or two of houses in Shoreditch, a colliery, and the ancestral brewery, the house was magnificent and extensive. To be there alone oppressed even Lady Devene’s phlegmatic temperament, so she asked various people

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who were more or less congenial to share her solitude. More especially did she insist that Rupert and his mother should come, for she liked them both, particularly Rupert. This involved the asking of Edith, whom she did not like, while Dick Learmer would be present as a matter of course in his capacity of secretary and factotum.

Rupert did not want to accept, although the shooting was excellent and he was fond of shooting. Even when Edith said that she should go anyhow – for in secret she longed for the relief of a little of Dick’s society, in love as he was – he still hesitated. Then she remarked that it would be scarcely kind of him to deprive his mother of her only outing, since, if he stayed in London, she would stay also. So in the end Rupert yielded, for circumstances were too much for him. Yet he hated being obliged to accept this hospitality. Lord Devene might be absent, it was true, but the saturnine if friendly butler, and many painful memories, remained. Once before, when he was nineteen, Rupert had spent a Christmas at Devene!

It was New Year’s Eve. That day, which was fine and frosty, was devoted to the shooting of the home coverts, where, as they lay extremely well upon the ridges of hills with little valleys between and not a pheasant had as yet been so much as fired at in them, the sport was very fine. Some of the ladies who were staying in the house, and amongst them Edith, came out after luncheon to see the shooting of the last beat, which was the great stand of the day, for it took over an hour to do, and if the guns were good, generally between three and four hundred pheasants were killed there. Here the woods ran down to a point, beyond which lay a valley. The guns were posted close

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together on the further side of this valley in a gorge that led to a covert called the Wilderness, since, had they stood at the bottom, the pheasants would have passed over practically out of shot. As it was, they all sped down the gorge, heading for the Wilderness a quarter of a mile away, and still travelling at a great height. Indeed, it was a good shot who brought down one in three of these pheasants at this time of year when they flew so boldly.

Rupert’s place was at the centre of the gorge where the birds came highest, and a little above him, about five-and- twenty yards to his right, stood Dick Learmer, who, of course, arranged the shoot, and who was what in sporting parlance is called an “artist” at driven birds, though not so good when they had to be walked up, as he was easily tired and put off his form. He had placed Rupert in this very difficult spot, which was in full view of all the line of guns and one generally reserved for some great performer, because he was sure that, being totally unaccustomed to that kind of sport, he would make an exhibition of himself, especially as he had only one gun which must soon get very hot.

As it chanced, however, the young man who carried Rupert’s cartridges, knowing this, lent him a thick dogskin glove for his left hand and ventured to give him a little good advice, namely, to stick to cocks, which were more easily seen, and of these only to fire at such birds as were coming straight over him. Rupert thanked him and chatted with Edith, who was his companion, until the sport began, remarking that it was very kind of Dick to have given him such a good place, which should have been occupied by a better man.

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Presently the pheasants began to fly, and in that still air, cold with coming frost, went straight as arrows for their refuge in the Wilderness. The first cock came over at an enormous height.

“Fire ten yards ahead of it, sir,” said the wise young man, “and chuck back.”

Rupert obeyed, and as his cartridges happened to be loaded with No. 4 shot, brought down the bird, which fell stone-dead far behind him.

“Bravo!” said the gun on his left, “that was a good shot,” and indeed its unexpected success put Rupert into excellent spirits and made him think that the thing was not so difficult after all.

Therefore, in the issue he did not find it difficult, for always remembering the instructions of his mentor to fire ten yards ahead, and never lifting his gun save at those cocks that came straight over him, letting all hens and wide birds go by, his success, with the help of the No. 4, was remarkable. Indeed, he brought down nearly as many birds with his one gun as most of the other sportsmen did with two, greatly to the delight of Edith, who from the beginning had fathomed Dick’s kind intentions.

But Dick was not delighted, for this petty success of his rival irritated him. Therefore, as the long drive went on, meanly enough he set himself to disconcert him in a very unsportsmanlike manner. Noticing that Rupert was firing at those cocks that passed right over his head, neglecting his own birds whereof there were a plenty, Dick devoted himself to Rupert’s,

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