What a Man Wills Part 13

"If she is the right woman, it may be the saving of him yet. Who is she? Does anyone know?"

"Her name is Wastneys; daughter of a country squire down in Cornwall.

Good enough family, so far as that goes."

"And the girl herself?"

"Oh, a doll! Insignificant creature, with washed-out colouring. Not even good looking. Heavy and dull; not a word to say."

The Chief sighed.

"That," he said slowly, "is the end of Lowther! The man is doomed."

During the weeks of the honeymoon Hereward Lowther's thoughts were exercised with a problem which, it is to be hoped, presents no difficulty to the average bridegroom.

"_Why had he married his wife_?"

During the few months which had elapsed since his introduction to Lilith Wastneys, Lowther had been conscious of a reluctant admiration, which was strangely akin to antipathy. There had been occasions when he had definitely decided that he disliked the girl, yet the decision had no mitigating effect on his desire to see her again at the earliest possible moment. But he was certain, looking back over the time from the first meeting on the golf links, to that last evening in the palm-shaded retreat at the ball, he was definitely, absolutely, certain that the idea of marriage had never entered his head.

How, then, had he become engaged? How had it happened that he left that ball pledged to live side by side with this strange, silent girl, till death did them part? Honestly, Hereward did not know. There had been a flirtation, of course, if such a demure, well-conducted affair could be called a flirtation. The girl had looked unusually feminine and attractive in the dim light, and, this was the crux!--_she had seemed to expect it_. Some power of expectancy had driven him on until he had spoken the fateful words, for in these days of languor and depression, Lowther had lost the power of resistance, and the easiest course seemed invariably the best. He was conscious of his own demoralisation, but the misery of the consciousness had no vivifying effect; it rather drove him back to his drugs. So in this instance he had drifted on, and in a moment's weakness had sacrificed his freedom.

Yes! that was what it came to; that was the disgraceful fact. He had married this girl because she had desired it, and he was too lazy to resist. Lowther acknowledged the fact with a shrug, but immediately afterwards arose a second problem, hardly less incomprehensible than the first.

_Why had Lilith married him_?

She did not love him. The man had soon recognised that fact, and it had brought an unexpected stab of pain. If she had loved him, as some women can love, she might have--helped! But she was cold as ice. Even his own lukewarm endearments had proved unacceptable; there was evidently no personal attraction to explain the mystery of her marriage with a man who was an historic failure.

They had been married a week, and were sitting in the garden of a foreign hotel, discussing a possible excursion, when Lilith startled her husband by a sudden question. Her voice, as she spoke, was low and unperturbed; her face showed a gentle smile, nevertheless that question smote upon Lowther's ears like the crack of a whip.

"At what time," asked Lilith calmly, "do you next take your morphia?"

He turned upon her, furious, ashamed, stammering the inevitable pitiful denial.

"Wh-at do you mean? Morphia--I! Who says I take morphia?"

"Everybody says it. Everybody knows. Don't distress yourself, Hereward. I only wished to know your hours. It is better, isn't it, that we should plan our expeditions for the times when you are most-- most--"

"_Most what_?"

"Normal! The morphia naturally is soothing, but while it is working would it not be better if you were--alone?"

"You are talking nonsense. You don't know what you are talking about.

If you understood anything about the working of morphia, you would realise that after a dose one feels stimulated, refreshed. I am never so well as immediately after--"

"I'm sorry. I am ignorant, as you say. Then we had better start our excursion immediately after an injection. That is, if we can manage to do it in the time. How long is it before the--er--other stage comes on?"

"_What_ other stage?"

"The--drunken stage!" Lilith answered.

He hated her at that moment. A fury of anger rushed through his veins.

He leaped from his seat and paced the path with impetuous steps. With the cane in his hand he smote fiercely at the encircling shrubs. All the lethargy of the past months disappeared; he was alive again, smartingly alive, face to face with his shame.

"Who dares to say that I am drunk? It is a lie! When have you seen me drunk?"

"Should I have said 'drugged'? I'm sorry. I'm so ignorant, you see. I didn't know. Of course, if you say so, there _is_ a difference."

He swung away from her, and entering the hotel mounted the stairs to his own room. In his present condition of mind he dared not--literally dared not--trust himself within sight of his fellows. Up and down the quiet room he paced, like a wild animal in its cage, his mind seething with rage and indignation against his wife, against the world, against himself. It was as though a bandage had fallen, and his sleep-ridden eyes were suddenly galvanised into life. He looked back along the sloping path and perceived how far he had fallen...

It was nearing the time for his next injection. Automatically he took the tabloids from the bottle, and carried them across the room to dissolve them in a gla.s.s of water. As he did so, he pa.s.sed the window and caught sight of his wife's figure seated in the same position as that in which he had left her ten minutes before. How young she looked!

Almost a child in her simple white frock. The sun shone down on her flaxen locks, on one tiny hand extended on the seat by her side.

Something gripped at the man's heart at the sight of that hand; it looked so small, so helpless, so appealing. The poor girl! _On her honeymoon_! What a bitter disillusionment must be hers! With a sudden sweeping movement his hand flew outward, and the tabloids hurled through the air and buried themselves in the gra.s.s below. The next moment Lowther himself descended to the garden, and seated himself by his wife's side.

"Lilith," he said humbly, "I'm sorry! I was a beast to speak to you as I did, but you know a man doesn't like interference. Forgive me, like a good girl, and--I'll tell you something in return! It _was_ time for my morphia, but I've not taken it. I'm going out with you instead...

Shall we start?"

She lifted her eyes and looked at him. It seemed to him that he looked upon a new woman. Her eyes were no longer light, but dark and shining.

They were bent upon him with an expression which sent the blood rushing through his veins. There was triumph in that look, and an immense, unutterable relief, but there was tenderness also, the tenderness of a mother towards a struggling child. The remembrance of that look remained with Lowther and helped him through the inevitable discomforts of the next hours. Lilith spoke but little; he was thankful to her for her silence, but once and again when his restlessness grew acute, she slipped her hand through his arm and pushed it forward, so that her fingers clasped his wrist. The little hand was warm to the touch. It was as though some vital force pa.s.sed from her veins to his, calming, invigorating.

Only once did Lilith touch on the subject of politics. She asked her husband what was likely to be the predominant question of the next session. He told her that it would be the Land Bill, long deferred, but inevitable: a Bill on which the House was sharply divided, which would call forth a heat of argument. He answered curtly, with an evident distaste, and she never renewed the subject. Lowther thanked Providence for a wife with tact.

They roamed about, from one country to another--Belgium, Holland, France, Germany, Italy, the Tyrol, taking by preference untrodden paths, putting up at quiet country inns, enjoying the study of peasant life.

Lilith declared that she was tired of cities, had seen enough show places to last her life; now she needed a rest. How badly Lowther himself had needed a rest was proved by his altered appearance after a few weeks of a leisurely life pa.s.sed in fresh, pure air. Never again had the subject of morphia been mentioned between himself and his wife, but the doses were steadily diminishing. There had been one whole day when he had taken no injection at all! He wondered at the coincidence which had made Lilith so tender on that day! If it had not been for her tenderness, for the clasp of that small, warm hand, he doubted if he could have lasted out. He was no longer so sure that he did not love his wife. He was grateful to her for her tact and forbearance. He was beginning to look forward to her rare tenderness; as a reward for which it were worth while to endure.

Both Lowther and his wife were clever linguists, and he was amused to discover that, quiet as was her nature, she possessed the rare gift of making friends with the humble folk of the different countries through which they pa.s.sed, and of drawing forth their confidence. Many an evening was spent in conversation with "mine host" as he enjoyed his leisurely smoke at the end of the day's work, and "mine host" was an interesting talker, with his tales of the country side, from the lordly baron in his rock-bound castle, to the humblest tenant upon his land.

Many talks were held also during the day-time, with the labourers in the fields, with the farmers who supplied milk and bread, and who beamed in appreciation of the largesse bestowed by the English milord and his wife. There were charming stories to be told--stories of affection and kindliness between the tenants and the lord of the soil, of a simple, feudal loyalty which sounded like a page from a fairytale of old, but there were tragedies also--stories of injustice and tyranny, of suffering and want. They were simple people, and they told their tales simply and well, delivering themselves in conclusion, of a pathetic apology. "It was a pity... Things were not as bad as they had been.

In England, of course, it was different. The peasants in England had no such trials to endure!"

Lilith sat listening while her husband explained that England had her own land troubles. Her sleepy eyes expressed but little interest; but now and again she would put a searching question which cut to the very heart of the matter, and set him talking afresh. Wherever they went the same subject recurred, and fresh differences were discussed; but these conversations were but incidents in the day's doings. From private conversation politics were banished.

At the end of the honeymoon Mr and Mrs Hereward Lowther returned to town and took up their abode in a small flat in Westminster. The choice was made by Lilith, as indeed was every choice in those days of Lowther's weakness. She confessed to an affection for Westminster, for the quaint, old-fashioned nooks and corners which still remain, tucked behind the busy thoroughfares; for the picturesque precincts of the Abbey. Westminster was at once central, convenient, and old-world. She was eloquent on the subject of its advantages as a dwelling-place, but she never alluded to the vicinity of Saint Stephen's.

After his return to town Lowther pa.s.sed through a somewhat severe relapse. Pace to face with the old conditions he grew nervous and despondent, and had more frequent recourse to his drug, but there was this great difference between his present condition and the past, that whereas he had been indifferent, now he was penitent, remorseful, utterly ashamed. Lilith never reproached him for his lapses, she nursed him a.s.siduously through the subsequent weakness; she checked him when he would have made faltering apologies.

"We won't talk about it. It is not worth while. It will pa.s.s!" she said quietly, and as she spoke, her strange, expressionless eyes gazed into his, and he found himself murmuring in agreement. "Yes, it will pa.s.s!" Never once, so far as he could discover, did any doubt concerning the future enter his wife's head. She must certainly have heard that when a man takes to drugs it is almost a miracle if he is enabled to break the habit, yet her confidence remained unshaken.

Throughout the darkest day, throughout the bitterest disappointment, she remained serenely unmoved. Always, in speaking of the future, she envisaged Lowther as strong, confident, successful, until by degrees the image printed itself on his own brain, and the old distrust began to disappear.

The House opened, a week pa.s.sed by, and Lowther made no sign of taking his seat. Lilith remained silent; it seemed the result of accident that engagements lessened more and more, so that he found himself unoccupied, sitting in the little flat, listening to the chimes of Big Ben, following in imagination the doings within the Second Chamber, while hour by hour, day by day, a mysterious power seemed forcing him onward, urging him to arouse himself from his stupor, and go forth once more into the arena.

One evening husband and wife sat alone together in the little drawing-room of the flat. Lowther was smoking, and making a pretence of reading a review, Lilith sat by the open window, her hands folded on her lap. She had none of the nervous, fidgety movements to which most women are subject in moments of idleness, but could remain motionless as a statue for half an hour on end, her lids drooped over her quiet eyes.

It was no interruption on his wife's part which caused Lowther's increasing restlessness; even when the book was thrown down, and he took to pacing hurriedly up and down, she remained pa.s.sive and immovable.

Suddenly Lowther drew up by her side, laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Lilith! I'm going... To the House. Would you come? I think it would help me if you would come too."

It was the first time that he had acknowledged in words the mysterious truth that in his wife's presence he felt stronger, freer from temptation. His hand lingered on her shoulder with a caressing touch, and Lilith turned her head so that for a fleeting moment her cheek rested against his fingers. Her a.s.sent was a matter of course; she wasted no breath on that, but, as she rose to her feet, she spoke a few words, which to Lowther's bruised spirit, were as water to a fainting man: "I am so _proud_ of you, Hereward!"

The session had begun, and the Land Bill was occupying the attention of the House. The two leaders had delivered themselves of strong opposing speeches, and the Bill was open for discussion. One member after another rose from the crowded benches. A few of the number spoke well and to the point, and were acclaimed with applause; but the greater number repeated old arguments, and failed to throw fresh light on the vexed problem. The House listened with resigned impatience.