always remain the pleasantest of my life. I don't know how it
happened, but when it was over I felt quite
delighted that she
had refused me. Indeed on second thoughts, I am not certain but
that I shall be much happier in the capacities of a brother and
teacher which she asked me to fill, than I should have been as
her husband. To tell you the truth, Arbuthnot, there are moments
when I am not sure whether I entirely understand the Lady Yva. It
was rather like proposing to one's
guardian angel."
"Yes," I said, "that's about it, old fellow. 'Guardian Angel'
is not a bad name for her."
Afterwards I received the confidence of Bickley.
"Look here, Arbuthnot," he said. "I want to own up to
something. I think I ought to, because of certain things I have
observed, in order to prevent possible future misunderstandings."
"What's that?" I asked innocently.
"Only this. As you know, I have always been a confirmed
bachelor on principle. Women introduce too many complications
into life, and although it involves some sacrifice, on the whole,
I have thought it best to do without them and leave the carrying
on of the world to others."
"Well, what of it? Your views are not
singular, Bickley."
"Only this. While you were ill the
sweetness of that Lady Yva
and her wonderful qualities as a nurse
overcame me. I went to
pieces all of a sudden. I saw in her a realisation of every ideal
I had ever entertained of perfect womanhood. So to speak, my
resolves of a
lifetime melted like wax in the sun.
Notwithstanding her queer history and the marvels with which she
is mixed up, I wished to marry her. No doubt her physical
loveliness was at the bottom of it, but, however that may be,
there it was."
"She is beautiful," I commented; "though I daresay older than
she looks."
"That is a point on which I made no inquiries, and I should
advise you, when your turn comes, as no doubt it will, to follow
my example. You know, Arbuthnot," he mused, "however lovely a
woman may be, it would put one off if suddenly she announced that
she was--let us say--a hundred and fifty years old."
"Yes," I admitted, "for nobody wants to marry the contemporary
of his great-grandmother. However, she gave her age as twenty-
seven years and three moons."
"And
doubtless for once did not tell the truth. But, as she
does not look more than twenty-five, I think that we may all
agree to let it stand at that,
namely, twenty-seven, plus an
indefinite period of sleep. At any rate, she is a sweet and most
gracious woman,
apparently in the bloom of youth, and, to cut it
short, I fell in love with her."
"Like Bastin," I said.
"Bastin!" exclaimed Bickley
indignantly. "You don't mean to say
that
clerical oaf presumed--well, well, after all, I suppose that
he is a man, so one mustn't be hard on him. But who could have
thought that he would run so
cunning, even when he knew my
sentiments towards the lady? I hope she told him her mind."
"The point is, what did she tell you, Bickley?"
"Me? Oh, she was
perfectly charming! It really was a pleasure
to be refused by her, she puts one so
thoroughly at one's ease."
(Here, remembering Bastin and his story, I turned away my face to
hide a smile.) "She said--what did she say exactly? Such a lot
that it is difficult to remember. Oh! that she was not thinking
of marriage. Also, that she had not yet recovered from some
recent love affair which left her heart sore, since the time of
her sleep did not count. Also, that her father would never
consent, and that the mere idea of such a thing would
excite his
animosity against all of us."
"Is that all?" I asked.
"Not quite. She added that she felt
wonderfully flattered and
extremely honoured by what I had been so good as to say to her.
She hoped, however, that I should never repeat it or even allude
to the matter again, as her dearest wish was to be able to look
upon me as her most
intimate friend to whom she could always come
for
sympathy and counsel."
"What happened then?"
"Nothing, of course, except that I promised everything that she
wished, and mean to stick to it, too. Naturally, I was very sore
and upset, but I am getting over it, having always practised
self-control."
"I am sorry for you, old fellow."
"Are you?" he asked suspiciously. "Then perhaps you have tried
your luck, too?"
"No, Bickley."
His face fell a little at this
denial, and he answered:
"Well, it would have been scarcely
decent if you had, seeing
how
lately you were married. But then, so was that artful Bastin.
Perhaps you will get over it--recent marriage, I mean--as he
has." He hesitated a while, then went on: "Of course you will,
old fellow; I know it, and, what is more, I seem to know that
when your turn comes you will get a different answer. If so, it
will keep her in the family as it were--and good luck to you.
Only--"
"Only what?" I asked anxiously.
"To be honest, Arbuthnot, I don't think that there will be real
good luck for any one of us over this woman--not in the ordinary
sense, I mean. The whole business is too strange and superhuman.
Is she quite a woman, and could she really marry a man as others
do?"
"It is curious that you should talk like that," I said
uneasily. "I thought that you had made up your mind that the
whole business was either
illusion or trickery--I mean, the odd
side of it."
"If it is
illusion, Arbuthnot, then a man cannot marry an
illusion. And if it is trickery, then he will certainly be
tricked. But, supposing that I am wrong, what then?"
"You mean, supposing things are as they seem to be?"
"Yes. In that event, Arbuthnot, I am sure that something will
occur to prevent your being united to a woman who lived thousands
of years ago. I am sorry to say it, but Fate will intervene.
Remember, it is the god of her people that I suppose she
worships, and, I may add, to which the whole world bows."
At his words a kind of chill fell upon me. I think he saw or
divined it, for after a few remarks upon some
indifferent matter,
he turned and went away.
Shortly after this Yva came to sit with me. She
studied me for
a while and I
studied her. I had reason to do so, for I observed
that of late her dress had become much more modern, and on the
present occasion this struck me
forcibly. I do not know exactly
in what the change, or changes, consisted, because I am not
skilled in such matters and can only judge of a woman's garments
by their general effect. At any rate, the
gorgeoussweeping robes
were gone, and though her
attire still looked foreign and
somewhat
oriental, with a touch of barbaric splendour about it--
it was simpler than it had been and showed more of her figure,
which was
delicate, yet gracious.
"You have changed your robes, Lady," I said. "Yes, Humphrey.
Bastin gave me pictures of those your women wear." (On further
investigation I found that this referred to an old copy of the
Queen newspaper, which, somehow or other, had been brought with
the books from the ship.) "I have tried to copy them a little,"
she added doubtfully.
"How do you do it? Where do you get the material?" I asked.
"Oh!" she answered with an airy wave of her hand, "I make it--
it is there."
"I don't understand," I said, but she only smiled radiantly,
offering no further
explanation. Then, before I could
pursue the
subject, she asked me suddenly:
"What has Bickley been
saying to you about me?" I fenced,
answering: "I don't know. Bastin and Bickley talk of little else.
You seem to have been a great deal with them while I was ill."
"Yes, a great deal. They are the nearest to you who were so
sick. Is it not so?"
"I don't know," I answered again. "In my
illness it seemed to
me that you were the nearest."
"About Bastin's words I can guess," she went on. "But I ask
again--what has Bickley been
saying to you about me? Of the first
part, let it be; tell me the rest."
I intended to evade her question, but she fixed those violet,
compelling eyes upon me and I was obliged to answer.
"I believe you know as well as I do," I said; "but if you will
have it, it was that you are not as other human women are, and
that he who would treat you as such, must suffer; that was the
gist of it."
"Some might be content to suffer for such as I," she answered
with quiet
sweetness. "Even Bastin and Bickley may be content to
suffer in their own little ways."
"You know that is not what I meant," I interrupted
angrily, for
I felt that she was throwing reflections on me.
"No; you meant that you agreed with Bickley that I am not quite
a woman, as you know women."
I was silent, for her words were true.
Then she blazed out into one of her flashes of splendour, like
something that takes fire on an
instant; like the faint and
distant star which flames into sudden glory before the watcher's
telescope.
"It is true that I am not as your women are--your poor, pale
women, the shadows of an hour with night behind them and before.
Because I am
humble and patient, do you
therefore suppose that I
am not great? Man from the little country across the sea, I lived
when the world was young, and gathered up the ancient
wisdom of a
greater race than yours, and when the world is old I think that I
still shall live, though not in this shape or here, with all that
wisdom's
essence burning in my breast, and with all beauty in my
eyes. Bickley does not believe although he
worships. You only
half believe and do not
worship, because memory holds you back,
and I myself do not understand. I only know though
knowing so
much, still I seek roads to
learning, even the
humble road called
Bastin, that yet may lead my feet to the gate of an immortal
city."
"Nor do I understand how all this can be, Yva," I said feebly,
for she dazzled and overwhelmed me with her blaze of power.
"No, you do not understand. How can you, when even I cannot?
Thus for two hundred and fifty thousand years I slept, and they
went by as a
lightning flash. One moment my father gave me the
draught and I laid me down, the next I awoke with you bending
over me, or so it seemed. Yet where was I through all those
centuries when for me time had ceased? Tell me, Humphrey, did you
dream at all while you were ill? I ask because down in that
lonely
cavern where I sleep a strange dream came to me one night.
It was of a journey which, as I thought, you and I seemed to make
together, past suns and universes to a very distant earth. It
meant nothing, Humphrey. If you and I chanced to have dreamed the
same thing, it was only because my dream travelled to you. It is
most common, or used to be. Humphrey, Bickley is quite right, I
am not
altogether as your women are, and I can bring no happiness
to any man, or at the least, to one who cannot wait. Therefore,
perhaps you would do well to think less of me, as I have
counselled Bastin and Bickley."
Then again she gazed at me with her wonderful, great eyes, and,
shaking her glittering head a little, smiled and went.
But oh! that smile drew my heart after her.
Chapter XX
Oro and Arbuthnot Travel by Night
As time went on, Oro began to visit me more and more
frequently, till at last scarcely a night went by that he did not