The Woman Who Vowed Part 21

"I am afraid you don't like me," she said.

"On the contrary," answered Lydia, "I like you, but I differ from you."

"Yes, I know; we differ on almost everything; on the cult, on state employment, on personal liberty, etc., etc., but then, we have one thing in common, we are both women."

Lydia looked a little puzzled. This abstract conversation was not what she had been prepared by Neaera's note to expect.

"I am not at all sure," she said, "that it is not just about womanhood that we differ most."

"Lydia!" answered Neaera reproachfully.

"I did not mean to wound you," said Lydia quickly. "There is so much room for honest difference of opinion that I do not undertake to set my opinion against yours, or indeed anyone's. But is it not dangerous for you to be here?"

Neaera smiled consciously, and said:

"I am not thinking of that. I came to see you because I felt you ought to be put right, and I want to do right; in the first place, you will be misled if you believe the wicked falsehoods that are being circulated in order to put the whole blame for what has occurred upon me. I should never have left New York of my own will. Masters forced me to go, and I am occupying his cottage at Englewood. I am prepared at any time to return to New York and set things right, and I can; I can testify to the message sent by Chairo, to my efforts to induce Balbus to give up the attempt at rescue, to Balbus's refusal to listen to me, to his having arrested Xenos and bound him, to my having released Xenos--and Xenos will, I am sure, if I ask him, confirm my testimony. This will set Chairo right before the committee; only I don't want to see Chairo. He has been imploring me for an interview. I don't want to complicate things; you have suffered enough, you shall not suffer any more through me----"

Lydia was about to rise and leave the room; she would not by word or gesture admit the inference to be drawn from Neaera's words--admit the possibility of inconstancy on the part of Chairo; but at the moment she was about to rise a ring was heard at the door, and presently the aunt appeared excitedly, and announced that Chairo was there. Neaera jumped up and shut the door.

"You must not see him here," she said to Lydia. "Come into this room,"

and she beckoned her into an adjoining parlor, separated from the study only by a curtain. Lydia, who was under a promise not to meet Chairo, had no option but to follow Neaera, but she followed with a cheek flushed with indignation. She sat stiffly in a chair while Neaera left her to receive Chairo. She heard the door of the study open and Neaera's voice in the adjoining room say:

"Chairo, my poor Chairo!"

Then she buried her face in her hands and her fingers in her ears so that she should not be an unwilling listener. She would be staunch to her faith in Chairo, for this was the one rock under the shelter of which in the shifting and stormy skies she felt there was any longer any safety for her.

Lydia heard in spite of herself Neaera's cooing treble and the rich vibrating notes of Chairo's voice; she heard them laugh once, and then there came what seemed to be a silence that was terrible to her. Later, the voices resumed again. She pa.s.sed a half hour of anguish, striving to listen and striving not to hear, and during that half hour she thought she heard the voices in the adjoining room pa.s.s through every gamut of emotion; they were sometimes raised as though each was striving to outdo the other, then they would sink into silence again. Would it never come to an end--this interview between the man she loved and a woman she despised? At last she heard a door close; she removed her hands from her head and tried to look composed.

Neaera came to her with her cheeks flushed.

"Did you hear anything?" asked she.

Lydia arose.

"I have been here too long," said Lydia. "You have nothing else to say, I think," and she moved out of the parlor into the study and was moving out of the study into the hall when Neaera stopped her, and said:

"You are not mistaking Chairo's visit, are you?" There was the prettiest little dimple in Neaera's cheek as she said this. "Nothing but politics," she added, and the dimple deepened.

"Good-by," said Lydia, without holding out her hand.

Neaera burst out now into a little laugh, for Lydia had pa.s.sed her and was at the door.

"Nothing but politics," laughed Neaera, as Lydia shut the door behind her.

CHAPTER XXIII

A LIBEL

As Lydia hurried back to the cloister she had a humiliated sense of having been in contact with something foul. Indignant at the trap which had been laid for her, sore at the struggle neither to listen nor to doubt, one thought only occupied her: to get back to the cloister and wash her mind and body clean of the whole concern.

She had not been allowed to respond to Neaera's invitation without a long discussion with Irene and the Mother Superior. The compact upon which she had come to New York was that she was not to meet Chairo there; to insure this, it had been the unexpressed understanding that she would not leave the cloister until Chairo's case was judged--or at least not leave it without the permission of the Demetrian authorities.

So when Neaera's message was received, Lydia at once showed it to Irene.

Neaera's role in the whole matter was such an important one, and so much depended on what it could be proved to have been, that the Mother Superior judged it worth the risk to allow Lydia to visit Neaera. When, therefore, Lydia returned to the cloister, Irene at once questioned her as to the result of the interview.

But Lydia was not prepared to lay bare even to Irene all she had suffered at Masters's rooms. It was already pitiful enough that her love for Chairo had become a subject for public discussion, and, indeed, a matter of political concern. This last agony she would keep to herself; she felt unable to talk about it to others, so she answered Irene imploringly:

"Do not ask me. Nothing has come of it which can be of the slightest importance to the cult or to any one. Neaera is a worse woman than I thought."

Irene hesitated. She did not wish to intrude on Lydia, and yet she knew the Mother Superior would not be satisfied with this answer. But there was no reason for forcing an answer from Lydia at once, so she accompanied her to her room.

"I want a bath," said Lydia. "I feel contaminated."

"Physically contaminated?" asked Irene, smiling.

"The mere presence of that woman is a physical contamination," answered Lydia.

"Well, let us go down and take a plunge together," answered Irene, laughing.

"Will you?" asked Lydia. "And then we can go to the temple afterwards.

That will be the best of all."

The two women stepped down to the swimming bath and donned their swimming dress.

Lydia stood on the plunging board, and as she raised her beautiful arms above her head and straightened herself for the plunge, she said:

"Ah! Irene, if life were all as simple and as wholesome and as delightful as this!"

Reinvigorated by the fresh salt plunge, they resumed their draperies and walked slowly to the temple. The service was coming to an end and they knelt to hear the closing chorus of the Choephoroi. The words came with refreshing distinctness to Lydia, and the hopefulness of them filled her heart with strength. They told of the beauty of women, of their devotion. Beauty was a snare, but it was also a sanctuary. For the G.o.ddess gave beauty to the good and to the evil alike--so had the Fates decreed. And the evil would use it to the undoing of man, but the good to the building of him up. And the G.o.ddess loved good and hated evil.

Then came the prayer of the women; they prayed to Demeter to give them charm to delight and courage to renounce, that love and moderation bring in the end happiness and peace.

And the priest lifted his hand in benediction:

"Go forth, for the G.o.ddess hath blessed you, and hath bidden you take heed that, pitiless though be Anagke, even her empire may at last be broken by the fruit of your womb."

The congregation knelt at these words and remained kneeling while the choir marched out singing a recessional, solemn and strong. Then came the novices, the Demetrians, and, last of all, the high priest bearing the sacred emblem.

When Lydia and Irene left the temple and followed the arcade to the cloister, all doubts and fears seemed to have fallen from Lydia, as scales from eyes blinded by cataract.

"How beautiful the cult of Demeter is!" exclaimed Lydia, "and how strengthening."

Irene pa.s.sed her arm round Lydia's waist. "You know now," she said, "how easy my sacrifice has become! Oh, we have to pa.s.s through the fire, but once the ordeal is over, happiness comes unbidden and unexpected. Come to my boy--my boys, I should say. I left them at work and I shall probably find them at play; but they are truthful and innocent. Their innocence is a daily delight to me."

And the two women returned to their duties. Lydia forgot that she had heard Neaera whispering to Chairo. She had taken in a draught of strength, and she needed it, for another trial was at hand.