There was a rapid
clashing
of blades; then Dickie drew in his breath sharply, and his weapon dropped to the ground.
Fletcher - Lucian the Dreamer
After
' because the prospect is not exactly alluring.
thank you, my dear—I'm not so fond of Haidee as all that. But I will teach her to mend your clothes and dam your socks, if you like—it will be a useful accomplishment. '
maternal, side; but Haidee was an ethereal being
He understood the Sprats of the sisterly, good-chum
71
72
LUCIAN THE DREAIVIER
though possessed of a sound appetite. He wished that Sprats were more sympathetic about his lady-love; she was sympathetic enough about himself, and she hstened to his rhapsodies with a certain amount of curiosity which was gratifying to his pride. But when he remarked that she too would have a lover some day, Sprats's rebellious nature rose up and kicked vigorously.
' Thank you ! ' she said, ' but I don't happen to want anything of that sort. If you could only see what an absolute fool you look when you are an3rwhere within half a mile of Haidee, you'd soon arrive at the conclu- sion that spooniness doesn't improve a fellow! I sup- pose it's all natural, but I never expected it of you, you know, Lucian. I'm sure I've acted like a real pal to you—just look what a stuck-up little monkey you were when I took you in hand ! —you couldn't play cricket nor climb a tree, and you used to tog up every day as if you were going to an old maid's muffm-worry. I did get you out of all those bad ways—until the Dolly came along (she is a Dolly, and I don't care! ). You didn't mind going about with a hole or two in your trousers and an old straw hat and dirty hands, and since then you've worn your best clothes every day, and greased your hair, and yesterday you'd been putting scent on your handkerchief! Bah! —if lovers are like that, I don't want one—I could get something better out of the nearest lunatic asylum. And I don't think much of men anyhow—they're all more or less babies. You're a baby, and so is his Vicarness ' (this was Sprats 's original mode of referring to her father),
' and so is your uncle Pepperdine—all babies, hope- lessly feeble, and unable to do anything for yourselves. What would any of you do without a woman? No, thank you, I'm not keen about men—they worry one too much. And as for love—well, if it makes you go off your food, and keeps you awake at night, and turns you into a jackass, I don't want any of it—it's too rotten altogether. '
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 73
' You don't understand/ said Lucian pityingly,
with a deep sigh. ' * Don't want to,' retorted Sprats.
Oh, my—fancy spending your time in spooning when you might be
Lucian, though I expect you can't help it—it's inevitable, like measles and whooping-cough. I wonder how long you
playing cricket! You have degenerated,
will feel bad? '
Lucian waxed wroth. He and Haidee had sworn
eternal love and faithfulness—they had broken a coin in two, and she had promised to wear her half round her neck, and next to the spot where she believed her heart to be, for ever; moreover, she had given him a lock of her hair, and he carried it about, wrapped in tissue paper, and he had promised to buy her a ring with real diamonds in it. Also, Haidee already possessed fifteen sonnets in which her beauty, her soul, and a great many other things pertaining to her were
and
after love's extravagant fashion—it was un- reasonable of Sprats to talk as if this were an evanescent fancy that must needs pass. He let her see that he thought so.
praised,
' All right, old chap ! ' said Sprats. ' It's for life, then. Very well; there is, of course, only one thing to be done. You must act on the square, you know— they always do in these cases. If it's such a serious affair, you must play the part of a man of honour, and ask the permission of the young lady's mamma, and of her distinguished relative the Earl of Simonstower— mouldy old ass! —to pay your court to her. '
Lucian seemed disturbed and uneasy.
! he answered I ' Yes—yes—I know ' hurriedly. '
know that's the right thing to do, but you see, Sprats, Haidee doesn't wish at present at any rate. She—
heiress, or something, and she says wouldn't do. She wishes to be kept secret until I'm
she's great
will be all right then, of course. And it's awfully easy to arrange stolen meetings at
twenty. Everything
a
it, it
it
74
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
present; there are lots of places about the Castle and in the woods where you can hide. '
' Um—well, I suppose that's inevitable, too. Of course the earl would never look at you, and it's very evident that Mrs. Brinklow would be horrified— she wants the Dolly kid to marry into the peerage, and you're a nobody. '
calchi, and the Aldobrandini in my veins! The earl? —why, your English noblemen are made out of trades- folk—pah! It is but yesterday that they gave a baronetcy to a man who cures bacon, and a peerage to a fellow who brews beer. In Italy we should spit upon your English peers—they have no blood. I have the blood of the Caesars in me ! '
' Your mother was the daughter of an English farmer, and your father was a macaroni-eating Italian who
' Like a housemaid and an under-footman/ remarked
Sprats.
' I'm not a nobody! ' said Lucian, waxing furious. ' I am a gentleman —an Italian gentleman. I am the earl's equal —I have the blood of the Orsini, the Odes-
said Sprats, with imperturbable ' You yourself ought to go about with a
painted pictures,'
equanimity.
turquoise cap on your pretty curls, and a hurdy-gurdy with a monkey on the top. Tant pis for your rotten
old Italy —
handful of centesimi !
' there for a ! anybody can buy a dukedom
Then they fought, and Lucian was worsted, as usual, and came to his senses, and for the rest of the day Sprats was decent to him and even sympathetic. She
confidence, however much they differed, and during the rest of the time which Haidee spent at the Castle she had to listen to many ravings, and more than once to endure the read-
ing of a sonnet or a canzonet with which Lucian intended to propitiate the dark-eyed nymph whose
image was continually before him. Sprats, too, had to console him on those days whereon no sight of Miss Brinklow was vouchsafed. It was no easy task: Lucian, during these enforced abstinences from love's
was always intrusted with his
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 75
delights and pleasures, was preoccupied, sometimes almost sulky.
taciturn, and
' You're like a bear with a sore head,' said Sprats, using a homely simile much in favour with the old women of the village. * I don't suppose the Dolly kid is nursing her sorrows like that. I saw Dicky Feversham riding up to the Castle on his pony as I
came in from taking old Mother Hobbs's rice-pudding. ' Lucian clenched his fists. The demon of jealousy
was aroused within him for the first time.
* What do you mean? ' he cried.
* Don't mean anything but what I said,' replied
' I should think Dickie has gone to spend the afternoon there. He's a nice-looking boy, and as his uncle is a peer of the rel-lum, Mrs. Brinklow doubtless loves him. '
Lucian fell into a fever of rage, despair, and love. To think that Another should have the right of approaching His Very Own! —it was maddening; it made him sick. He hated the unsuspecting Richard Feversham, who in reality was a very inoffensive, fun-
Sprats.
sort of schoolboy, with a deadly hatred. The thought of his addressing the Object was awful; that he should enjoy her society was
loving, up-to-lots-of-larks
unbearable. He might perhaps be alone with her— might sit with her amongst the ruined halls of the Castle, or wander with her through the woods of Simonstower. But Lucian was sure of her—had she not sworn by every deity in the lover's mythology that her heart was his alone, and that no other man should ever have even a cellar-dwelling in it? He became almost lachrymose at the mere thought that Haidee's lofty and pure soul could ever think of another, and before he retired to his sleepless bed he composed a sonnet which began —
' Thy dove-like soul is prisoned in my heart ' With gold and silver chains that may not break,
and concluded —
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
76
afternoon, and was looking forward to it with great
eagerness, more especially because he possessed a new suit of grey flannel, a new straw hat, and new brown boots, and he had discovered from experience that the young lady loved her peacock to spread his tail. But, as ill-luck would have it, the earl, with the best inten- tion in the world, spoiled the whole thing. About noon Lucian and Sprats, having gone through several pages of Virgil with the vicar, were sitting on the gate of the vicarage garden, recreating after a fashion peculiar to themselves, when the earl and Haidee, both mounted, came round the comer and drew rein. The earl talked to them for a few minutes, and then asked them up to the Castle that afternoon. He would have the tennis- lawn made ready for them, he said, and they could eat as many strawberries as they pleased, and have tea in
* While e'er the world remaineth, thou shalt be Queen of my heart as I am king of thine. '
He had an assignation with Haidee for the following
Haidee, from behind the noble relative, made a moue at this; Lucian was obliged to keep a straight face, and thank the earl for his confounded
graciousness. Sprats saw that something was wrong. 'What's up? ' she inquired, climbing up the gate again when the earl had gone by. ' You look jolly
blue. '
Lucian explained the situation. Sprats snorted.
' Well, of all the hardships ! ' she said. ' Thank the
Lord, I'd rather play tennis and eat strawberries and have tea —especially the Castle tea —than go mooning about in the woods ! However, I suppose I must con- trive something for you, or you'll groan and grumble all the way home. You and the Doll must lose your- selves in the gardens when we go for strawberries. I suppose ten minutes' slobbering over each other behind a hedge or in a corner will put you on, won't it? '
Lucian was overwhelmed at her kindness. He offered to give her a brotherly hug, whereupon she
the garden.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 7^
smacked his face, rolled him into the dust in the middle of the road, and retreated into the garden, bidding him turn up with a clean face at half-past two. When that hour arrived she found him awaiting her in the porch; one glance at him showed that he had donned the new suit, the new hat, and the new boots. Sprats shrieked with derision.
' Lord have mercy upon us! ' she cried. ' It might be a Bank Holiday! Do you think I am going to walk through the village with a thing like that? Stick a cabbage in your coat—it'll give a finishing touch to your appearance. Oh, you miserable monkey-boy! — wouldn't I like to stick you in the kitchen chimney and shove you up and down in the soot for five minutes ! '
Lucian received this badinage in good part—it was merely Sprats 's way of showing her contempt for finick- ing habit. He followed her from the vicarage to the Castle —she walking with her nose in the air, and from time to time commiserating him because of the newness of his boots; he secretly anxious to bask in the sunlight of Haidee's smiles. And at last they arrived, and there, sprawling on the lawn near the basket-chair in which
Haidee's lissome figure reposed, was the young gentle- man who rejoiced in the name of Richard Feversham. He appeared to be very much at home with his young
hostess; the sound of their mingled laughter fell on the ears of the newcomers as they approached. Lucian
curious, undefinable sense of evil; Sprats heard too, and knew that moral
heard and shivered with
thunderstorm was brewing.
The afternoon was by no means
success, even in its
earHer stages. Mrs. Brinklow had departed to friend's house some miles away; the earl might be asleep or dead for all that was seen of him. Sprats and Haidee cherished a secret dislike of each other; Lucian was proud, gloomy, and taciturn; only the Feversham boy appeared to have much zest of life left in him. He was somewhat thick-headed youngster, full of good
nature and high spirits; he evidently did not care
a
a
a
a
a
it
a
it,
78
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
straw for public or private opinion, and he made boyish love to Haidee with all the shamelessness of depraved youth. Haidee saw that Lucian was jealous, and encouraged Dickie's attentions —long before tea was brought out to them the materials for a vast explosion were ready and waiting. After tea—and many plates of strawberries and cream—had been consumed, the thick-headed youth became childishly gay. The tea seemed to have mounted to his head—he effervesced. He had much steam to let off: he suggested that they should follovv the example of the villagers at the bun- struggles and play kiss-in-the-ring, and he chased Haidee all round the lawn and over the flower-beds in order to illustrate the way of the rustic man with the
rustic maid. The chase terminated behind a hedge of laurel, from whence presently proceeded much giggling,
and confused laughter. The festive youngster emerged panting and triumphant; his rather homely face wore a broad grin. Haidee followed with highly becoming blushes, settling her tumbled hair and crushed hat. She remarked with a pout that Dickie was a rough boy; Dickie replied that you don't play country games as if you were made of egg-shell china.
The catastrophe approached consummation with the inevitableness of a Greek tragedy. Lucian waxed gloomier and gloomier; Sprats endeavoured, agonis- ingly, to put things on a better footing; Haidee, now thoroughly enjoying herself, tried hard to make the other boy also jealous. But the other boy was too full of the joy of life to be jealous of anything; he gambolled about like a young elephant, and nearly as gracefully; it was quite evident that he loved horseplay and believed that girls were as much inclined to it as boys. At any other time Sprats would have fallen in with his mood and frolicked with him to his heart's content; on this occasion she was afraid of Lucian, who now looked more like a young Greek god than ever. The
lightning was already playing about his eyes; thunder sat on his brows.
screaming,
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
7^
At last the storm burst. Haidee wanted to shoot with bow and arrow at a target; she despatched the two youngsters into the great hall of the Castle to fetch the materials for archery. Dickie went off capering and
whistling; Lucian followed in sombre silence. And inside the vaulted hall, mystic with the gloom of the past, and romantic with suits of armour, tattered ban- ners, guns, pikes, bows, and the rest of it, the smoulder- ing fires of Lucian' s wrath burst out. Master Richard Feversham found himself confronted by a figure which typified Wrath, and Indignation, and Retribution.
' Cad yourself ! ' retorted Dickie. ' Who are you talking to? '
' You are a cad! ' said Lucian.
' I am talking to you,' answered Lucian, stem and cold as a stone figure of Justice. ' I say you are a
cad—a cad ! grossly
You have insulted a
and I will punish you. ' —
Dickie's eyes grew round he wondered if the other
fellow had suddenly gone off his head, and if he'd better call for help and a strait waistcoat.
' Grossly insulted —a young lady! ' he said, pucker- ing up his face with honest amazement. ' What the dickens do you mean? You must be jolly well dotty! *
' You have insulted Miss Brinklow,' said Lucian. ' You forced your unwelcome attentions upon her all the afternoon, though she showed you plainly that they
were distasteful to her, and you were finally rude and brutal to her —beast! '
' Good Lord! ' exclaimed Dickie, now
amazed, * I never forced any attention on her—we were only larking. Rude? Brutal? Good heavens! —I only kissed her behind the hedge, and I've kissed her many a time before ! '
Lucian became insane with wrath,
* Liar! ' he hissed. ' Liar! '
Master Richard Feversham straightened himself,
mentally as well as physically. He bunched up his
young lady,
thoroughly
Bo LUCIAN THE DREAMER
fists and advanced upon Lucian with an air that was
thoroughly British.
' Look here,' he said, * I don't know who the devil
you are, you outrageous ass, but if you call me a liar
again, I'll hit you! '
' Liar! ' said Lucian, ' Liar! '
Dickie's left fist, clenched very artistically, shot out like a small battering-ram, and landed with a beautiful plunk on Lucian' s cheek, between the jaw and the bone. He staggered back.
' I kept off your nose on purpose,' said Dickie, ' but, by the Lord, I'll land you one there and spoil your pretty eyes for you if you don't beg my pardon. '
'Pardon! ' Lucian 's voice sounded hollow and strange. ' Pardon! ' He swore a strange Italian oath that made Dickie creep. * Pardon! —of you? I will kill you —beast and liar! '
He sprang to the wall as he spoke, tore down a couple of light rapiers which hung there, and threw one at his enemy's feet.
' Defend yourself! ' he said. ' I shall kill you. ' Dickie recoiled. He would have faced anybody twice his size with fists as weapons, or advanced on a
battery with a smiling face, but he had no taste for encountering an apparent lunatic armed with a weapon of which he himself did not know the use. Besides, there was murder in Lucian 's eye—he seemed to mean business.
* Look here, I say, you chap '
! exclaimed Dickie, ' put that thing down. One of us'11 be getting stuck, you know, if you go dancing about with it like that.
I'll fight you as long as you Hke if you'll put up your fists, but I'm not a fool. Put it down, I say. '
' Coward! ' said Lucian. ' Defend yourself! '
He made at Dickie with fierce intent, and the latter was obliged to pick up the other rapier and fall into some sort of a defensive position.
' Of all the silly games,' he said, ' this is '
But Lucian was already attacking him with set teeth,
there will be a row !
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 8i
glaring eyes, and a resolute demeanour.
There was a rapid clashing of blades; then Dickie drew in his breath sharply, and his weapon dropped to the ground. He looked at a wound in the back of his hand from which the blood was flowing rather freely.
' I knew you'd go and do it with your silliness! ' he said. ' Now there'll be a mess on the carpet and we shall be found out. Here—wipe up that blood with your handkerchief while I tie mine round my hand. We . . . Hello, here they all are, of course ! Now
I say, you chap, swear it was all a lark —do }'ou hear? '
Lucian heard but gave no sign. He still gripped his rapier and stared fixedly at Haidee and Sprats, who had run to the hall on hearing the clash of steel and now stood gazing at the scene with dilated
eyes. Behind them, gaunt, grey, and somewhat amused and cynical, stood the earl. He looked from one lad to the
other and came forward.
' I heard warlike sounds,' he said, peering at the
combatants through glasses balanced on the bridge of the famous Simonstower nose, ' and now I see warlike sights. Blood, eh? And what may this mean? '
' It's all nothing, sir,' said Dickie in suspicious haste, ' absolutely nothing. We were larking about with
these two old swords, and the other
scratched my hand, that's all, sir—'pon my word. '
' Does the other chap's version correspond? ' in- quired the earl, looking keenly at Lucian's flushed face.
' Eh, other chap? '
Lucian faced him boldly.
' No, sir,' he answered; ' what he says is not true, though he means honourably. I meant to punish him —to kill him. '
' A candid admission,' said the earl, toying with his glasses. ' You appear to have effected some part of your purpose. And his offence? '
' He ' Lucian paused. The two girls, fascin- ated at the sight of the rapiers, the combatants, and the
chap's point
F
82 LUCIAN THE DREAMER
blood, had drawn near and were staring from one boy's face to the other's; Lucian hesitated 'at sight of them.
' Come! ' said the earl sharply. His offence? '
' He insulted Miss Brinklow,' said Lucian gravely. ' I told him I should punish him. Then he told Hes— about her. I said I would kill him. A man who hes
about a woman merits death. ' * 'A very excellent apothegm,' said the earl.
Sprats, my dear, draw that chair for me—thank you. Now,' he continued, taking a seat and sticking out his gouty leg, ' let me have a clear notion of this delicate ques-
tion. Feversham, your version, if you please. '
' I—I—you see, it's all one awfully rotten misunder-
sir,' said Dickie, very ill at ease. ' I—I— don't like saying things about anybody, but I think Damerel's got sunstroke or something —he's jolly dotty, or carries on as if he were. You see, he called me a cad, and said I was rude and brutal to Haidee, just because I—well, because I kissed her behind the laurel hedge when we were larking in the garden, and I said it was nothing and I'd kissed her many a time before, and he said I was a liar, and then—well, then I hit
him. '
* I see,' said the earl, ' and of course there was then
much stainless honour to be satisfied. And how was it that gentlemen of such advanced age resorted to steel instead of fists? '
standing,
The boys made no reply: Lucian still stared at the earl; Dickie professed to be busy with his impromptu bandage. Sprats went round to him and tied the knot.
' I think I understand,' said the earl. * Well, I
suppose honour is satisfied? '
He looked quizzingly at Lucian. Lucian returned
the gaze with another, dark, sombre, and determined.
' He is still a liar ! ' he said.
' I'm not a liar! ' exclaimed
as eggs are eggs I'll hit you again, and on the nose this time, if you say I am,' and he squared up to his foe
Dickie, ' and as sure
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 83
The earl smiled. asked, looking at Lucian.
utterly regardless of the earl's presence.
' Why is he a liar? ' he
' He Ues when he says that—that
'
Lucian looked, almost entreatingly, at Haidee. She had stolen up to the earl's chair and leaned against its high back, taking in every detail of the scene with
choked and
eager glances. As Lucian's eyes met hers, she smiled; a dimple showed in the corner of her mouth.
' I understand,' said the earl. He twisted himself round and looked at Haidee. ' I think,' he said, ' this is one of those cases in which one may be excused if one appeals to the lady. It would seem, young lady, that Mr. Feversham, while abstaining, like a gentle- man, from boasting of it '
to, you know. '
' I say that Mr. Feversham, like a gentleman, does
not boast of but pleads that you have indulged him with the privileges of lover. His word has been ques- tioned—his honour at stake. Have you so indulged it, may one ask? '
Haidee assumed the airs of the coquette who must
fain make admissions.
—suppose so,' she breathed, with smile which
included everybody.
Very good,' said the earl. It may be that Mr.
Damerel has had reason to believe that he alone was
' Oh, I say, sir! ' burst out Dickie; ' I—didn't mean
Eh? '
Boys are so silly said Haidee. And Lucian
so serious and old-fashioned. And all boys like to kiss me. What fuss to make about nothing
entitled to those privileges.
understand your position and your mean- ing, my dear,' said the earl. have heard similar sentiments from other ladies. ' He turned to Lucian.
Well? ' he said, with sharp, humorous glance. Lucian had turned very pale, but dark flush still clouded his forehead. He put aside his rapier, which
until then he had held tightly, and he turned to Dickie.
quite
a
! '
'
I' a
'
I* ' 'I'
a
it, is a
!
'
is
'
a
84
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
' I beg your pardon,' he said; * I was wrong—quite wrong. I offer you my sincere apologies. I have behaved ill — I am sorry. '
Dickie looked uncomfortable and shuffled about.
' Oh, rot! ' he said, holding out his bandaged hand.
' It's all right, old chap. I don't mind at all now that you know I'm not a liar. I—I'm awfully sorry, too. I didn't know you were spoons on Haidee, you know— I'm a bit dense about things. Never mind, I shan't think any more of and besides, girls aren't worth— at least, mean—oh, hang don't let's say any more about the beastly affair! '
Lucian pressed his hand. He turned, looked at the
An hour later Sprats, tracking him down with the unerring sagacity of her sex, found him in haunt sacred to themselves, stretched full length on the grass, with his face buried in his arms. She sat down beside
earl, and made him low and ceremonious
Simonstower rose from his seat and returned with equal ceremony. Without glance in Haidee's direc- tion Lucian strode from the hall—he had
Sprats. He had, indeed, forgotten everything—the world had fallen in pieces.
him and put her arm round his neck and drew him to her. He burst into dry, bitter sobs.
Oh, Sprats! ' he said. It's all over—aU over. believed in her . . and now shall never beUeve in anybody again
bow. Lord forgotten
! '
.
a it,
I
'
'
a
it,
a I
it
I
IX
That night, when the last echoes of the village street had died away, and the purple and grey of the summer twilight was dissolving into the deep blue and gold of night, Sprats knelt at the open window of her bedroom, staring out upon the valley with eyes that saw nothing. She was thinking and wondering, and for the first time
in her Hfe she wished that a mother's heart and a mother's arms were at hand—she wanted to hear the beating love of the one and feel the protecting strength of the other.
CHAPTER
had come to her that afternoon as she strove to comfort Lucian. The episode of the duel;
Lucian's white face and burning eyes as he bowed to the cynical, pohte old nobleman and strode out of the hall with the dignity and grace of a great prince; the agony which had exhausted itself in her own arms; the resolution with which he had at last choked everj^hing down, and had risen up and shaken himself as if he were a dog that throws off the last drop of water; —all these things had opened the door into a new world for the girl who had seen them. She had been Lucian's other self; his constant companion, his faithful mentor, for three years; it was not until now that she began to realise him. She saw now that he was no ordinary human being, and that as long as he lived he would
never be amenable to ordinary rules. He was now a child in years, and he had the heart of a man; soon he would be a man, and he would still be a child. He would be a child all his life—self-willed, obstinate, proud, generous, wayward; he would sin as a child sins, and suffer as a child suffers; and there would always be something of wonder in him that either sin or suffering should come to him. When she felt his head within her protecting and consoling arm, Sprats recognised
85
Something
86 LUCIAN THE DREAMER
the weakness and helplessness which lay in Lucian's soul—he was the child that has fallen and runs to its mother for consolation. She recognised, too, that hers
was the stronger nature, the more robust character, and that the strange, mysterious Something that ordains all things, had brought her life and Lucian's together so that she might give help where help was needed. All their lives — all through the strange mystic To Come into which her eyes were trying to look as she stared out into the splendour of the summer night—she and Lucian were to be as they had been that evening; her breast the harbour of his soul. He might drift away; he might suffer shipwreck; but he must come home at last, and whether he came early or late his place must be ready for him.
This was knowledge —this was calm certainty: it changed the child into the woman. She knelt down at the window to say her prayers, still staring out into the night, and now she saw the stars and the deep blue of the sky, and she heard the murmur of the river in the valley. Her prayers took no form of words, and were all the deeper for it; underneath their wordless aspiration ran the solemn undercurrent of the new-bom knowledge that she loved Lucian with a love that would last till death.
CHAPTER X
Within twelve months Lucian's recollections of the perfidious Haidee were nebulous and indistinct. He had taken the muse for mistress and wooed her with such constant persistency that he had no time to think of anything else. He used up much manuscript paper and made large demands upon Sprats and his Aunt Judith, the only persons to whom he condescended to show his productions, and he was alike miserable and happy. Whenever he wrote a new poem he was filled with ela- tion, and for at least twenty-four hours glowed with admiration of his own powers; then set in a period of uncertainty, followed by one of doubt and another of gloom—the lines which had sounded so fine that they almost brought tears to his eyes seemed banal and weak, and were not infrequently cast into the fire, where his once-cherished copies of the Haidee sonnets had long since preceded them. Miss Judith nearly shed tears when these sacrifices were made, and more than once implored him tenderly to spare his offspring, but with no result, for no human monster is so savage as the poet who turns against his own fancies. It was due to her, however, that one of Lucian's earhest efforts was spared. Knowing his propensity for tearing and rending his chil- dren, she surreptitiously obtained his manuscript upon one occasion and made a fair copy of a sentimental story written in imitation of Lara, which had greatly moved her, and it was not until many years afterwards that Lucian was confronted and put to shame by the sight of it.
At the age of eighteen Lucian celebrated his birthday by burning every manuscript he had, and announcing that he would write no more verses imtil he was at least twenty-one. But chancing to hear a pathetic story of rural life which appealed powerfully to his imagination,
88 LUCIAN THE DREAMER
he began to write again; and after a time, during which he was unusually morose and abstracted, he presented himself to Sprats with a bundle of manuscript. He handed it over to her with something of shypess.
' I want you to read it—carefully,' he said.
* Of course,' she answered. ' But is it to share the fate of all the rest, Lucian? You made a clean sweep of everything, didn't you? '
' That stuff ! ' he said, with fine contempt. ' I should
But this
think so ! '
he paused, plunged his hands into his pockets, and strode up and down the room— ' this is—well, it's different. Sprats! —I believe it's
good. '
* I wish you'd let my father read it,' she said. ' Do,
Lucian. '
' Perhaps,' he answered. ' But you first —I want to
know what you think. I can trust you. '
Sprats read the poem that evening, and as she read
she marvelled. Lucian had done himself justice at last. The poem was full of the true country life; there was no false ring in it; he had realised the pathos of the story he had to tell; it was a moving performance, full of the spirit of poetry from the first line to the last. She was proud, glad, full of satisfaction. Without waiting to ask Lucian's permission, she placed the manuscript in the vicar's hands and begged him to read it. He car- ried it away to his study; Sprats sat up later than usual to hear his verdict. She occupied herself with no work, but with thoughts that had a little of the day-dream glamour in them. She was trying to map out Lucian's future for him. He ought to be protected and shielded from the world, wrapped in an environment that would help him to produce the best that was in him; the ordi- nary cares of Hfe ought never to come near him. He had a gift, and the world would be the richer if the gift were poured out lavishly to his fellow-creatures; but he must be treated tenderly and skilfully if the gift was to be poured out at all. Sprats, country girl though she was, knew something of the harshnesses of Ufe; she knew.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
89
too, that Lucian's nature was the sort that would rebel at a crumpled rose-leaf. He was still, and always would be, a child that feels rather than understands. —
The vicar came back to her with the manuscript it was then nearly midnight, but he was too much excited to wonder that Sprats should still be downstairs. He came tapping the manuscript with his fingers — his face wore a delighted and highly important expression.
' My dear,' he said, ' this is a considerable perfor- mance. I am amazed, pleased, gratified, proud. The boy is a genius—he will make a great name for himself. Yes — it is good. It is sound work. It is so charmingly free from mere rhetoric—there is a restraint, a chaste- ness which one does not often find in the work of a young writer. And it is classical in form and style. I am proud of Lucian. You see now the result of only reading and studying the best masters. He is perhaps a little imitative—that is natural; it will wear away. Did you not notice a touch of Wordsworth, eh! —I was reminded of Michael. He will be a new Wordsworth — a Wordsworth with more passion and richer imagery. He has the true eye for nature —I do not know when I have been so pleased as with the bits of colour that I find here. Oh, it is certainly a remarkable perfor-
mance. '
' Father,'' said Sprats, ' don't you think it might be
published ?
Mr. Chilverstone considered the proposition gravely.
' I feel sure it would meet with great approbation if it were,' he said. ' I have no doubt whatever that the best critics would recognise its merit and its undoubted promise. — I wonder if Lucian would allow the earl to read it? his lordship is a fine judge of classic poetry, and though I beheve he cherishes a contempt for modern verse, he cannot fail to be struck by this poem the truth of its setting must appeal to him. '
' I will speak to Lucian,' said Sprats.
She persuaded Lucian to submit his work to Lord
Simonstower next day;—the old nobleman read, re-read.
90
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
and was secretly struck by the beauty and strength of the boy's performance. He sent for Lucian and con- gratulated him warmly. Later on in the day he walked into the vicar's study.
' Chilverstone, ' he said, ' what is to be done with that boy Damerel?
' because the prospect is not exactly alluring.
thank you, my dear—I'm not so fond of Haidee as all that. But I will teach her to mend your clothes and dam your socks, if you like—it will be a useful accomplishment. '
maternal, side; but Haidee was an ethereal being
He understood the Sprats of the sisterly, good-chum
71
72
LUCIAN THE DREAIVIER
though possessed of a sound appetite. He wished that Sprats were more sympathetic about his lady-love; she was sympathetic enough about himself, and she hstened to his rhapsodies with a certain amount of curiosity which was gratifying to his pride. But when he remarked that she too would have a lover some day, Sprats's rebellious nature rose up and kicked vigorously.
' Thank you ! ' she said, ' but I don't happen to want anything of that sort. If you could only see what an absolute fool you look when you are an3rwhere within half a mile of Haidee, you'd soon arrive at the conclu- sion that spooniness doesn't improve a fellow! I sup- pose it's all natural, but I never expected it of you, you know, Lucian. I'm sure I've acted like a real pal to you—just look what a stuck-up little monkey you were when I took you in hand ! —you couldn't play cricket nor climb a tree, and you used to tog up every day as if you were going to an old maid's muffm-worry. I did get you out of all those bad ways—until the Dolly came along (she is a Dolly, and I don't care! ). You didn't mind going about with a hole or two in your trousers and an old straw hat and dirty hands, and since then you've worn your best clothes every day, and greased your hair, and yesterday you'd been putting scent on your handkerchief! Bah! —if lovers are like that, I don't want one—I could get something better out of the nearest lunatic asylum. And I don't think much of men anyhow—they're all more or less babies. You're a baby, and so is his Vicarness ' (this was Sprats 's original mode of referring to her father),
' and so is your uncle Pepperdine—all babies, hope- lessly feeble, and unable to do anything for yourselves. What would any of you do without a woman? No, thank you, I'm not keen about men—they worry one too much. And as for love—well, if it makes you go off your food, and keeps you awake at night, and turns you into a jackass, I don't want any of it—it's too rotten altogether. '
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 73
' You don't understand/ said Lucian pityingly,
with a deep sigh. ' * Don't want to,' retorted Sprats.
Oh, my—fancy spending your time in spooning when you might be
Lucian, though I expect you can't help it—it's inevitable, like measles and whooping-cough. I wonder how long you
playing cricket! You have degenerated,
will feel bad? '
Lucian waxed wroth. He and Haidee had sworn
eternal love and faithfulness—they had broken a coin in two, and she had promised to wear her half round her neck, and next to the spot where she believed her heart to be, for ever; moreover, she had given him a lock of her hair, and he carried it about, wrapped in tissue paper, and he had promised to buy her a ring with real diamonds in it. Also, Haidee already possessed fifteen sonnets in which her beauty, her soul, and a great many other things pertaining to her were
and
after love's extravagant fashion—it was un- reasonable of Sprats to talk as if this were an evanescent fancy that must needs pass. He let her see that he thought so.
praised,
' All right, old chap ! ' said Sprats. ' It's for life, then. Very well; there is, of course, only one thing to be done. You must act on the square, you know— they always do in these cases. If it's such a serious affair, you must play the part of a man of honour, and ask the permission of the young lady's mamma, and of her distinguished relative the Earl of Simonstower— mouldy old ass! —to pay your court to her. '
Lucian seemed disturbed and uneasy.
! he answered I ' Yes—yes—I know ' hurriedly. '
know that's the right thing to do, but you see, Sprats, Haidee doesn't wish at present at any rate. She—
heiress, or something, and she says wouldn't do. She wishes to be kept secret until I'm
she's great
will be all right then, of course. And it's awfully easy to arrange stolen meetings at
twenty. Everything
a
it, it
it
74
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
present; there are lots of places about the Castle and in the woods where you can hide. '
' Um—well, I suppose that's inevitable, too. Of course the earl would never look at you, and it's very evident that Mrs. Brinklow would be horrified— she wants the Dolly kid to marry into the peerage, and you're a nobody. '
calchi, and the Aldobrandini in my veins! The earl? —why, your English noblemen are made out of trades- folk—pah! It is but yesterday that they gave a baronetcy to a man who cures bacon, and a peerage to a fellow who brews beer. In Italy we should spit upon your English peers—they have no blood. I have the blood of the Caesars in me ! '
' Your mother was the daughter of an English farmer, and your father was a macaroni-eating Italian who
' Like a housemaid and an under-footman/ remarked
Sprats.
' I'm not a nobody! ' said Lucian, waxing furious. ' I am a gentleman —an Italian gentleman. I am the earl's equal —I have the blood of the Orsini, the Odes-
said Sprats, with imperturbable ' You yourself ought to go about with a
painted pictures,'
equanimity.
turquoise cap on your pretty curls, and a hurdy-gurdy with a monkey on the top. Tant pis for your rotten
old Italy —
handful of centesimi !
' there for a ! anybody can buy a dukedom
Then they fought, and Lucian was worsted, as usual, and came to his senses, and for the rest of the day Sprats was decent to him and even sympathetic. She
confidence, however much they differed, and during the rest of the time which Haidee spent at the Castle she had to listen to many ravings, and more than once to endure the read-
ing of a sonnet or a canzonet with which Lucian intended to propitiate the dark-eyed nymph whose
image was continually before him. Sprats, too, had to console him on those days whereon no sight of Miss Brinklow was vouchsafed. It was no easy task: Lucian, during these enforced abstinences from love's
was always intrusted with his
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 75
delights and pleasures, was preoccupied, sometimes almost sulky.
taciturn, and
' You're like a bear with a sore head,' said Sprats, using a homely simile much in favour with the old women of the village. * I don't suppose the Dolly kid is nursing her sorrows like that. I saw Dicky Feversham riding up to the Castle on his pony as I
came in from taking old Mother Hobbs's rice-pudding. ' Lucian clenched his fists. The demon of jealousy
was aroused within him for the first time.
* What do you mean? ' he cried.
* Don't mean anything but what I said,' replied
' I should think Dickie has gone to spend the afternoon there. He's a nice-looking boy, and as his uncle is a peer of the rel-lum, Mrs. Brinklow doubtless loves him. '
Lucian fell into a fever of rage, despair, and love. To think that Another should have the right of approaching His Very Own! —it was maddening; it made him sick. He hated the unsuspecting Richard Feversham, who in reality was a very inoffensive, fun-
Sprats.
sort of schoolboy, with a deadly hatred. The thought of his addressing the Object was awful; that he should enjoy her society was
loving, up-to-lots-of-larks
unbearable. He might perhaps be alone with her— might sit with her amongst the ruined halls of the Castle, or wander with her through the woods of Simonstower. But Lucian was sure of her—had she not sworn by every deity in the lover's mythology that her heart was his alone, and that no other man should ever have even a cellar-dwelling in it? He became almost lachrymose at the mere thought that Haidee's lofty and pure soul could ever think of another, and before he retired to his sleepless bed he composed a sonnet which began —
' Thy dove-like soul is prisoned in my heart ' With gold and silver chains that may not break,
and concluded —
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
76
afternoon, and was looking forward to it with great
eagerness, more especially because he possessed a new suit of grey flannel, a new straw hat, and new brown boots, and he had discovered from experience that the young lady loved her peacock to spread his tail. But, as ill-luck would have it, the earl, with the best inten- tion in the world, spoiled the whole thing. About noon Lucian and Sprats, having gone through several pages of Virgil with the vicar, were sitting on the gate of the vicarage garden, recreating after a fashion peculiar to themselves, when the earl and Haidee, both mounted, came round the comer and drew rein. The earl talked to them for a few minutes, and then asked them up to the Castle that afternoon. He would have the tennis- lawn made ready for them, he said, and they could eat as many strawberries as they pleased, and have tea in
* While e'er the world remaineth, thou shalt be Queen of my heart as I am king of thine. '
He had an assignation with Haidee for the following
Haidee, from behind the noble relative, made a moue at this; Lucian was obliged to keep a straight face, and thank the earl for his confounded
graciousness. Sprats saw that something was wrong. 'What's up? ' she inquired, climbing up the gate again when the earl had gone by. ' You look jolly
blue. '
Lucian explained the situation. Sprats snorted.
' Well, of all the hardships ! ' she said. ' Thank the
Lord, I'd rather play tennis and eat strawberries and have tea —especially the Castle tea —than go mooning about in the woods ! However, I suppose I must con- trive something for you, or you'll groan and grumble all the way home. You and the Doll must lose your- selves in the gardens when we go for strawberries. I suppose ten minutes' slobbering over each other behind a hedge or in a corner will put you on, won't it? '
Lucian was overwhelmed at her kindness. He offered to give her a brotherly hug, whereupon she
the garden.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 7^
smacked his face, rolled him into the dust in the middle of the road, and retreated into the garden, bidding him turn up with a clean face at half-past two. When that hour arrived she found him awaiting her in the porch; one glance at him showed that he had donned the new suit, the new hat, and the new boots. Sprats shrieked with derision.
' Lord have mercy upon us! ' she cried. ' It might be a Bank Holiday! Do you think I am going to walk through the village with a thing like that? Stick a cabbage in your coat—it'll give a finishing touch to your appearance. Oh, you miserable monkey-boy! — wouldn't I like to stick you in the kitchen chimney and shove you up and down in the soot for five minutes ! '
Lucian received this badinage in good part—it was merely Sprats 's way of showing her contempt for finick- ing habit. He followed her from the vicarage to the Castle —she walking with her nose in the air, and from time to time commiserating him because of the newness of his boots; he secretly anxious to bask in the sunlight of Haidee's smiles. And at last they arrived, and there, sprawling on the lawn near the basket-chair in which
Haidee's lissome figure reposed, was the young gentle- man who rejoiced in the name of Richard Feversham. He appeared to be very much at home with his young
hostess; the sound of their mingled laughter fell on the ears of the newcomers as they approached. Lucian
curious, undefinable sense of evil; Sprats heard too, and knew that moral
heard and shivered with
thunderstorm was brewing.
The afternoon was by no means
success, even in its
earHer stages. Mrs. Brinklow had departed to friend's house some miles away; the earl might be asleep or dead for all that was seen of him. Sprats and Haidee cherished a secret dislike of each other; Lucian was proud, gloomy, and taciturn; only the Feversham boy appeared to have much zest of life left in him. He was somewhat thick-headed youngster, full of good
nature and high spirits; he evidently did not care
a
a
a
a
a
it
a
it,
78
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
straw for public or private opinion, and he made boyish love to Haidee with all the shamelessness of depraved youth. Haidee saw that Lucian was jealous, and encouraged Dickie's attentions —long before tea was brought out to them the materials for a vast explosion were ready and waiting. After tea—and many plates of strawberries and cream—had been consumed, the thick-headed youth became childishly gay. The tea seemed to have mounted to his head—he effervesced. He had much steam to let off: he suggested that they should follovv the example of the villagers at the bun- struggles and play kiss-in-the-ring, and he chased Haidee all round the lawn and over the flower-beds in order to illustrate the way of the rustic man with the
rustic maid. The chase terminated behind a hedge of laurel, from whence presently proceeded much giggling,
and confused laughter. The festive youngster emerged panting and triumphant; his rather homely face wore a broad grin. Haidee followed with highly becoming blushes, settling her tumbled hair and crushed hat. She remarked with a pout that Dickie was a rough boy; Dickie replied that you don't play country games as if you were made of egg-shell china.
The catastrophe approached consummation with the inevitableness of a Greek tragedy. Lucian waxed gloomier and gloomier; Sprats endeavoured, agonis- ingly, to put things on a better footing; Haidee, now thoroughly enjoying herself, tried hard to make the other boy also jealous. But the other boy was too full of the joy of life to be jealous of anything; he gambolled about like a young elephant, and nearly as gracefully; it was quite evident that he loved horseplay and believed that girls were as much inclined to it as boys. At any other time Sprats would have fallen in with his mood and frolicked with him to his heart's content; on this occasion she was afraid of Lucian, who now looked more like a young Greek god than ever. The
lightning was already playing about his eyes; thunder sat on his brows.
screaming,
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
7^
At last the storm burst. Haidee wanted to shoot with bow and arrow at a target; she despatched the two youngsters into the great hall of the Castle to fetch the materials for archery. Dickie went off capering and
whistling; Lucian followed in sombre silence. And inside the vaulted hall, mystic with the gloom of the past, and romantic with suits of armour, tattered ban- ners, guns, pikes, bows, and the rest of it, the smoulder- ing fires of Lucian' s wrath burst out. Master Richard Feversham found himself confronted by a figure which typified Wrath, and Indignation, and Retribution.
' Cad yourself ! ' retorted Dickie. ' Who are you talking to? '
' You are a cad! ' said Lucian.
' I am talking to you,' answered Lucian, stem and cold as a stone figure of Justice. ' I say you are a
cad—a cad ! grossly
You have insulted a
and I will punish you. ' —
Dickie's eyes grew round he wondered if the other
fellow had suddenly gone off his head, and if he'd better call for help and a strait waistcoat.
' Grossly insulted —a young lady! ' he said, pucker- ing up his face with honest amazement. ' What the dickens do you mean? You must be jolly well dotty! *
' You have insulted Miss Brinklow,' said Lucian. ' You forced your unwelcome attentions upon her all the afternoon, though she showed you plainly that they
were distasteful to her, and you were finally rude and brutal to her —beast! '
' Good Lord! ' exclaimed Dickie, now
amazed, * I never forced any attention on her—we were only larking. Rude? Brutal? Good heavens! —I only kissed her behind the hedge, and I've kissed her many a time before ! '
Lucian became insane with wrath,
* Liar! ' he hissed. ' Liar! '
Master Richard Feversham straightened himself,
mentally as well as physically. He bunched up his
young lady,
thoroughly
Bo LUCIAN THE DREAMER
fists and advanced upon Lucian with an air that was
thoroughly British.
' Look here,' he said, * I don't know who the devil
you are, you outrageous ass, but if you call me a liar
again, I'll hit you! '
' Liar! ' said Lucian, ' Liar! '
Dickie's left fist, clenched very artistically, shot out like a small battering-ram, and landed with a beautiful plunk on Lucian' s cheek, between the jaw and the bone. He staggered back.
' I kept off your nose on purpose,' said Dickie, ' but, by the Lord, I'll land you one there and spoil your pretty eyes for you if you don't beg my pardon. '
'Pardon! ' Lucian 's voice sounded hollow and strange. ' Pardon! ' He swore a strange Italian oath that made Dickie creep. * Pardon! —of you? I will kill you —beast and liar! '
He sprang to the wall as he spoke, tore down a couple of light rapiers which hung there, and threw one at his enemy's feet.
' Defend yourself! ' he said. ' I shall kill you. ' Dickie recoiled. He would have faced anybody twice his size with fists as weapons, or advanced on a
battery with a smiling face, but he had no taste for encountering an apparent lunatic armed with a weapon of which he himself did not know the use. Besides, there was murder in Lucian 's eye—he seemed to mean business.
* Look here, I say, you chap '
! exclaimed Dickie, ' put that thing down. One of us'11 be getting stuck, you know, if you go dancing about with it like that.
I'll fight you as long as you Hke if you'll put up your fists, but I'm not a fool. Put it down, I say. '
' Coward! ' said Lucian. ' Defend yourself! '
He made at Dickie with fierce intent, and the latter was obliged to pick up the other rapier and fall into some sort of a defensive position.
' Of all the silly games,' he said, ' this is '
But Lucian was already attacking him with set teeth,
there will be a row !
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 8i
glaring eyes, and a resolute demeanour.
There was a rapid clashing of blades; then Dickie drew in his breath sharply, and his weapon dropped to the ground. He looked at a wound in the back of his hand from which the blood was flowing rather freely.
' I knew you'd go and do it with your silliness! ' he said. ' Now there'll be a mess on the carpet and we shall be found out. Here—wipe up that blood with your handkerchief while I tie mine round my hand. We . . . Hello, here they all are, of course ! Now
I say, you chap, swear it was all a lark —do }'ou hear? '
Lucian heard but gave no sign. He still gripped his rapier and stared fixedly at Haidee and Sprats, who had run to the hall on hearing the clash of steel and now stood gazing at the scene with dilated
eyes. Behind them, gaunt, grey, and somewhat amused and cynical, stood the earl. He looked from one lad to the
other and came forward.
' I heard warlike sounds,' he said, peering at the
combatants through glasses balanced on the bridge of the famous Simonstower nose, ' and now I see warlike sights. Blood, eh? And what may this mean? '
' It's all nothing, sir,' said Dickie in suspicious haste, ' absolutely nothing. We were larking about with
these two old swords, and the other
scratched my hand, that's all, sir—'pon my word. '
' Does the other chap's version correspond? ' in- quired the earl, looking keenly at Lucian's flushed face.
' Eh, other chap? '
Lucian faced him boldly.
' No, sir,' he answered; ' what he says is not true, though he means honourably. I meant to punish him —to kill him. '
' A candid admission,' said the earl, toying with his glasses. ' You appear to have effected some part of your purpose. And his offence? '
' He ' Lucian paused. The two girls, fascin- ated at the sight of the rapiers, the combatants, and the
chap's point
F
82 LUCIAN THE DREAMER
blood, had drawn near and were staring from one boy's face to the other's; Lucian hesitated 'at sight of them.
' Come! ' said the earl sharply. His offence? '
' He insulted Miss Brinklow,' said Lucian gravely. ' I told him I should punish him. Then he told Hes— about her. I said I would kill him. A man who hes
about a woman merits death. ' * 'A very excellent apothegm,' said the earl.
Sprats, my dear, draw that chair for me—thank you. Now,' he continued, taking a seat and sticking out his gouty leg, ' let me have a clear notion of this delicate ques-
tion. Feversham, your version, if you please. '
' I—I—you see, it's all one awfully rotten misunder-
sir,' said Dickie, very ill at ease. ' I—I— don't like saying things about anybody, but I think Damerel's got sunstroke or something —he's jolly dotty, or carries on as if he were. You see, he called me a cad, and said I was rude and brutal to Haidee, just because I—well, because I kissed her behind the laurel hedge when we were larking in the garden, and I said it was nothing and I'd kissed her many a time before, and he said I was a liar, and then—well, then I hit
him. '
* I see,' said the earl, ' and of course there was then
much stainless honour to be satisfied. And how was it that gentlemen of such advanced age resorted to steel instead of fists? '
standing,
The boys made no reply: Lucian still stared at the earl; Dickie professed to be busy with his impromptu bandage. Sprats went round to him and tied the knot.
' I think I understand,' said the earl. * Well, I
suppose honour is satisfied? '
He looked quizzingly at Lucian. Lucian returned
the gaze with another, dark, sombre, and determined.
' He is still a liar ! ' he said.
' I'm not a liar! ' exclaimed
as eggs are eggs I'll hit you again, and on the nose this time, if you say I am,' and he squared up to his foe
Dickie, ' and as sure
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 83
The earl smiled. asked, looking at Lucian.
utterly regardless of the earl's presence.
' Why is he a liar? ' he
' He Ues when he says that—that
'
Lucian looked, almost entreatingly, at Haidee. She had stolen up to the earl's chair and leaned against its high back, taking in every detail of the scene with
choked and
eager glances. As Lucian's eyes met hers, she smiled; a dimple showed in the corner of her mouth.
' I understand,' said the earl. He twisted himself round and looked at Haidee. ' I think,' he said, ' this is one of those cases in which one may be excused if one appeals to the lady. It would seem, young lady, that Mr. Feversham, while abstaining, like a gentle- man, from boasting of it '
to, you know. '
' I say that Mr. Feversham, like a gentleman, does
not boast of but pleads that you have indulged him with the privileges of lover. His word has been ques- tioned—his honour at stake. Have you so indulged it, may one ask? '
Haidee assumed the airs of the coquette who must
fain make admissions.
—suppose so,' she breathed, with smile which
included everybody.
Very good,' said the earl. It may be that Mr.
Damerel has had reason to believe that he alone was
' Oh, I say, sir! ' burst out Dickie; ' I—didn't mean
Eh? '
Boys are so silly said Haidee. And Lucian
so serious and old-fashioned. And all boys like to kiss me. What fuss to make about nothing
entitled to those privileges.
understand your position and your mean- ing, my dear,' said the earl. have heard similar sentiments from other ladies. ' He turned to Lucian.
Well? ' he said, with sharp, humorous glance. Lucian had turned very pale, but dark flush still clouded his forehead. He put aside his rapier, which
until then he had held tightly, and he turned to Dickie.
quite
a
! '
'
I' a
'
I* ' 'I'
a
it, is a
!
'
is
'
a
84
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
' I beg your pardon,' he said; * I was wrong—quite wrong. I offer you my sincere apologies. I have behaved ill — I am sorry. '
Dickie looked uncomfortable and shuffled about.
' Oh, rot! ' he said, holding out his bandaged hand.
' It's all right, old chap. I don't mind at all now that you know I'm not a liar. I—I'm awfully sorry, too. I didn't know you were spoons on Haidee, you know— I'm a bit dense about things. Never mind, I shan't think any more of and besides, girls aren't worth— at least, mean—oh, hang don't let's say any more about the beastly affair! '
Lucian pressed his hand. He turned, looked at the
An hour later Sprats, tracking him down with the unerring sagacity of her sex, found him in haunt sacred to themselves, stretched full length on the grass, with his face buried in his arms. She sat down beside
earl, and made him low and ceremonious
Simonstower rose from his seat and returned with equal ceremony. Without glance in Haidee's direc- tion Lucian strode from the hall—he had
Sprats. He had, indeed, forgotten everything—the world had fallen in pieces.
him and put her arm round his neck and drew him to her. He burst into dry, bitter sobs.
Oh, Sprats! ' he said. It's all over—aU over. believed in her . . and now shall never beUeve in anybody again
bow. Lord forgotten
! '
.
a it,
I
'
'
a
it,
a I
it
I
IX
That night, when the last echoes of the village street had died away, and the purple and grey of the summer twilight was dissolving into the deep blue and gold of night, Sprats knelt at the open window of her bedroom, staring out upon the valley with eyes that saw nothing. She was thinking and wondering, and for the first time
in her Hfe she wished that a mother's heart and a mother's arms were at hand—she wanted to hear the beating love of the one and feel the protecting strength of the other.
CHAPTER
had come to her that afternoon as she strove to comfort Lucian. The episode of the duel;
Lucian's white face and burning eyes as he bowed to the cynical, pohte old nobleman and strode out of the hall with the dignity and grace of a great prince; the agony which had exhausted itself in her own arms; the resolution with which he had at last choked everj^hing down, and had risen up and shaken himself as if he were a dog that throws off the last drop of water; —all these things had opened the door into a new world for the girl who had seen them. She had been Lucian's other self; his constant companion, his faithful mentor, for three years; it was not until now that she began to realise him. She saw now that he was no ordinary human being, and that as long as he lived he would
never be amenable to ordinary rules. He was now a child in years, and he had the heart of a man; soon he would be a man, and he would still be a child. He would be a child all his life—self-willed, obstinate, proud, generous, wayward; he would sin as a child sins, and suffer as a child suffers; and there would always be something of wonder in him that either sin or suffering should come to him. When she felt his head within her protecting and consoling arm, Sprats recognised
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Something
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the weakness and helplessness which lay in Lucian's soul—he was the child that has fallen and runs to its mother for consolation. She recognised, too, that hers
was the stronger nature, the more robust character, and that the strange, mysterious Something that ordains all things, had brought her life and Lucian's together so that she might give help where help was needed. All their lives — all through the strange mystic To Come into which her eyes were trying to look as she stared out into the splendour of the summer night—she and Lucian were to be as they had been that evening; her breast the harbour of his soul. He might drift away; he might suffer shipwreck; but he must come home at last, and whether he came early or late his place must be ready for him.
This was knowledge —this was calm certainty: it changed the child into the woman. She knelt down at the window to say her prayers, still staring out into the night, and now she saw the stars and the deep blue of the sky, and she heard the murmur of the river in the valley. Her prayers took no form of words, and were all the deeper for it; underneath their wordless aspiration ran the solemn undercurrent of the new-bom knowledge that she loved Lucian with a love that would last till death.
CHAPTER X
Within twelve months Lucian's recollections of the perfidious Haidee were nebulous and indistinct. He had taken the muse for mistress and wooed her with such constant persistency that he had no time to think of anything else. He used up much manuscript paper and made large demands upon Sprats and his Aunt Judith, the only persons to whom he condescended to show his productions, and he was alike miserable and happy. Whenever he wrote a new poem he was filled with ela- tion, and for at least twenty-four hours glowed with admiration of his own powers; then set in a period of uncertainty, followed by one of doubt and another of gloom—the lines which had sounded so fine that they almost brought tears to his eyes seemed banal and weak, and were not infrequently cast into the fire, where his once-cherished copies of the Haidee sonnets had long since preceded them. Miss Judith nearly shed tears when these sacrifices were made, and more than once implored him tenderly to spare his offspring, but with no result, for no human monster is so savage as the poet who turns against his own fancies. It was due to her, however, that one of Lucian's earhest efforts was spared. Knowing his propensity for tearing and rending his chil- dren, she surreptitiously obtained his manuscript upon one occasion and made a fair copy of a sentimental story written in imitation of Lara, which had greatly moved her, and it was not until many years afterwards that Lucian was confronted and put to shame by the sight of it.
At the age of eighteen Lucian celebrated his birthday by burning every manuscript he had, and announcing that he would write no more verses imtil he was at least twenty-one. But chancing to hear a pathetic story of rural life which appealed powerfully to his imagination,
88 LUCIAN THE DREAMER
he began to write again; and after a time, during which he was unusually morose and abstracted, he presented himself to Sprats with a bundle of manuscript. He handed it over to her with something of shypess.
' I want you to read it—carefully,' he said.
* Of course,' she answered. ' But is it to share the fate of all the rest, Lucian? You made a clean sweep of everything, didn't you? '
' That stuff ! ' he said, with fine contempt. ' I should
But this
think so ! '
he paused, plunged his hands into his pockets, and strode up and down the room— ' this is—well, it's different. Sprats! —I believe it's
good. '
* I wish you'd let my father read it,' she said. ' Do,
Lucian. '
' Perhaps,' he answered. ' But you first —I want to
know what you think. I can trust you. '
Sprats read the poem that evening, and as she read
she marvelled. Lucian had done himself justice at last. The poem was full of the true country life; there was no false ring in it; he had realised the pathos of the story he had to tell; it was a moving performance, full of the spirit of poetry from the first line to the last. She was proud, glad, full of satisfaction. Without waiting to ask Lucian's permission, she placed the manuscript in the vicar's hands and begged him to read it. He car- ried it away to his study; Sprats sat up later than usual to hear his verdict. She occupied herself with no work, but with thoughts that had a little of the day-dream glamour in them. She was trying to map out Lucian's future for him. He ought to be protected and shielded from the world, wrapped in an environment that would help him to produce the best that was in him; the ordi- nary cares of Hfe ought never to come near him. He had a gift, and the world would be the richer if the gift were poured out lavishly to his fellow-creatures; but he must be treated tenderly and skilfully if the gift was to be poured out at all. Sprats, country girl though she was, knew something of the harshnesses of Ufe; she knew.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
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too, that Lucian's nature was the sort that would rebel at a crumpled rose-leaf. He was still, and always would be, a child that feels rather than understands. —
The vicar came back to her with the manuscript it was then nearly midnight, but he was too much excited to wonder that Sprats should still be downstairs. He came tapping the manuscript with his fingers — his face wore a delighted and highly important expression.
' My dear,' he said, ' this is a considerable perfor- mance. I am amazed, pleased, gratified, proud. The boy is a genius—he will make a great name for himself. Yes — it is good. It is sound work. It is so charmingly free from mere rhetoric—there is a restraint, a chaste- ness which one does not often find in the work of a young writer. And it is classical in form and style. I am proud of Lucian. You see now the result of only reading and studying the best masters. He is perhaps a little imitative—that is natural; it will wear away. Did you not notice a touch of Wordsworth, eh! —I was reminded of Michael. He will be a new Wordsworth — a Wordsworth with more passion and richer imagery. He has the true eye for nature —I do not know when I have been so pleased as with the bits of colour that I find here. Oh, it is certainly a remarkable perfor-
mance. '
' Father,'' said Sprats, ' don't you think it might be
published ?
Mr. Chilverstone considered the proposition gravely.
' I feel sure it would meet with great approbation if it were,' he said. ' I have no doubt whatever that the best critics would recognise its merit and its undoubted promise. — I wonder if Lucian would allow the earl to read it? his lordship is a fine judge of classic poetry, and though I beheve he cherishes a contempt for modern verse, he cannot fail to be struck by this poem the truth of its setting must appeal to him. '
' I will speak to Lucian,' said Sprats.
She persuaded Lucian to submit his work to Lord
Simonstower next day;—the old nobleman read, re-read.
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LUCIAN THE DREAMER
and was secretly struck by the beauty and strength of the boy's performance. He sent for Lucian and con- gratulated him warmly. Later on in the day he walked into the vicar's study.
' Chilverstone, ' he said, ' what is to be done with that boy Damerel?
