He had written her name on the fly-leaf of the first volume, and his own
underneath
it.
Fletcher - Lucian the Dreamer
'
* I can easily procure a guarantor,' answered Lucian. His thoughts had immediately flown to Darlington. ' Yes,' he continued, ' I think we shall have a long run —longer, perhaps, than before. '
Then he went away, announcing that he would make the necessary arrangements. When he had gone, the manager, to satisfy a momentary curiosity of his own, made a brief inspection of Lucian's account. He smiled a little as he totalled it up. Mr. and Mrs. Lucian Damerel had gone through seventeen thousand pounds in four years, and of that amount twelve thousand repre- sented capital.
Lucian carried the mystifying pass-book to his club K
146
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
and began to study the rows of figures. They made his head ache and his eyes burn, and the only conclusion he came to was that a few thousands of pounds are soon spent, and that Haidee of late had been pretty prodigal with her cheques. One fact was absolutely certain : his ten thousand, and her two thousand, and the five thousand which he had earned, were all gone, never to return. He felt somewhat depressed at this thought, but recovered his spirits when he remembered the value of his pictures, his books, and his other possessions, and the prospects of increased royalties in the golden days to be. He went off to seek out Darlington in the city as joyously as if he had been embarking on a voyage
to the Hesperides.
Darlington was somewhat surprised
to see Lucian in Lombard Street. He knew all the details of Lucian's business within ten minutes, and had made up his mind
within two more.
' Of course, I'll do it with pleasure, old chap,' he said,
with great heartiness. ' But I think I can suggest some- thing far preferable. These people don't seem to have
given you any particular advantages, and there \yas no need for them to bother you with a letter reminding you that you owed them a miserable couple of hundred. Look here: you had better open two accounts with us; one for yourself and one for Mrs. Damerel, and keep them distinct— after all, you know, women rather mix things up. Give Robertson and Harcourt instructions to pay your royalties into your own account here, and pay your household expenses and bills out of it. Mrs. Damerel' s account won't be a serious matter —mere pin-
money, you know—and we can balance it out of yours at periodic intervals. That's a much more convenient and far simpler thing than giving the other people a guarantee for an overdraft. '
' Thanks, very many. And what am I to do in arranging this? '
* It seems to be so, certainly,' said Lucian.
' At present,' answered Darlington, * you are to run away as quickly as possible, for I'm over the ears in
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
147
work. Come in this afternoon at three o'clock, and we will settle the whole thing. '
Lucian went out into the crowded streets, light- hearted and joyous as ever. The slight depression of the morning had worn off; all the world was gold again. A whim seized him: he would spend the three hours between twelve and three in wandering about the city— it was an almost unknown region to him. He had read much of it, but rarely seen it, and the prospect of an
with it was alluring. So he wandered hither and thither, his taste for the antique leading him into many a quaint old court and quiet alley, and he was fortunate enough to find an old-fashioned tavern waiter, and there he lunched and enjoyed himself and went back to Darlington's office in
excellent spirits and ready to do anything.
There was Httle to do. Lucian left the private bank- ing establishment of Darlington and Darlington a few
minutes after he had entered it, and he then carried with him two cheque-books, one for himself and one for Haidee, and a request that Mrs. Damerel should call at the office and append her signature to the book wherein the autographs of customers were preserved. He went home and found Haidee just returned from lunching with Lady Firmanence : Lucian conducted her into his study with some importance.
acquaintance
and an old-world
* Look here, Haidee,' he said, * I've been making some new business arrangements. We're going to bank at Darlington's in future—it's much the wiser plan; and you are to have a separate account. That's your
I say—we've rather gone it lately, you know. Don't you think we might economise a little? '
cheque-book.
Haidee stared, grew perplexed, and frowned.
' I think I'm awfully careful,' she said. ' If you
'
them.
* Yes, yes,' he said hurriedly, * I know, of course,
that you are. We've had such a lot of absolutely neces-
think
Lucian saw signs of trouble and hastened to dispel
148
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
sary expense, haven't we? Well, there's your cheque- book, and the account is your own, you know. '
Haidee asked no questions, and carried the cheque- book away. When she had gone, Lucian wrote out a
for £187, los. and forwarded it to his former bankers, with a covering letter in which he explained that it was intended to balance his account and that he
wished to close the latter. That done, he put all thoughts of money out of his mind with a mighty sigh of rehef. In his own opinion he had accomplished a hard day's work and acquitted himself with great credit. Everything, he thought, had been quite simple, quite easy. And in thinking so he was right—nothing
cheque
easier, could be imagined than the operation which had put Lucian and Haidee in funds
once more. It had simply consisted of a brief order, given by Eustace Darlington to his manager, to the effect
that all cheques bearing the signatures of Mr. and Mrs. Damerel were to be honoured on presentation, and that there was to be no limit to their credit.
simpler, nothing
CHAPTER XVII
In spite of the amusing defection of his host, Saxon- stowe had fully enjoyed the short time he had spent under the Damerels' roof. Mrs. Berenson had amused him almost as much as if she had been a professional comedian brought there to divert the company; Darling- ton had interested him as a specimen of the rather reserved, purposeful sort of man who might possibly do things; and Haidee had made him wonder how it is that some women possess great beauty and very little mind. But the recollection which remained most firmly fixed in him was of Sprats, and on the first afternoon he had at liberty he set out to find the Children's' Hospital which she had invited him to visit.
He found the hospital with ease—an ordinary house in Bayswater Square, with nothing to distinguish it from its neighbours but a large brass plate on the door, which announced that it was a Private Nursing Home for Children. A trim maid-servant, who stared at him with reverent awe after she had glanced at his card, showed him into a small waiting-room adorned with steel engravings of Biblical subjects, and there Sprats shortly discovered him inspecting a representation of the animals leaving the ark. It struck him as he shook hands with her that she looked better in her nurse's uniform than in the dinner-gown which she had worn a few nights earlier —there was something businesslike and strong about her in her cap and cuffs and apron and streamers : it was like seeing a soldier in fighting trim.
' I am glad that you have come just now,' she said. ' I have a whole hour to spare, and I can show you all over the place. But first come into my parlour and have some tea. '
She led him into another room, where Biblical prints 149
150
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
were not in evidence—if they had ever decorated the walls they were now replaced by Sprats 's own posses- sions. He recognised several water-colour drawings of Simonstower, and one of his own house and park at Saxonstowe. —
' These are the work of Cyprian Damerel Lucian's father, you know,' said Sprats, as he uttered an ex- clamation of pleasure at the sight of familiar things. ' Lucian gave them to me. I like that one of Saxon- stowe Park — I have so often seen that curious atmo- spheric effect amongst the trees in early autumn. I am very fond of my pictures and my household gods — they bring Simonstower closer to me. '
* But why, if you are so fond of did you leave it? ' he asked, as he took the chair which she pointed out to him.
Oh, because wanted to work very hard she said, busying herself with the tea-cups. You see, my father married Lucian Damerel' aunt— very dear, nice, pretty woman—and knew she would take such great
care of him that nursing, having
could be spared. So went in for natural bent that way, and after three came here; and here am, absolute
or four years of
she-dragon of the establishment. '
Is very hard work? ' he asked, as he took cup of tea from her hands.
Well, doesn't seem to affect me very much, does it? ' she answered. Oh yes, sometimes is, but that's good for one. You must have worked hard yourself, Lord Saxonstowe. '
Saxonstowe blushed under his tan.
look all right too, don't I? ' he said, laughing.
agree with you that it's good for one, though. I've thought since came back that He paused and did not finish the sentence.
That would do lot of people whom you've met lot of good they had little hardship and privation to go through,' she said, finishing for him. That's
it, isn't it? '
it if
it it
a a
s
it
'
a' it, I
'
I
itaI I II
I'
a
'I* *' '
*
it I a
!
'
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
151
' I wouldn't let them off with a little,' he said. ' I'd give them—some of them, at any rate—a good deal. Perhaps I'm not quite used to but can't stand this sort of life— should go all soft and queer under it. '
Well, you're not obhged to endure at all,' said Sprats. You can clear out of town whenever you please and go to Saxonstowe — lovely in summer. '
Yes,' he answered, I'm going there soon. — don't think town life quite appeals to me. '
suppose that you will go off to some waste place of the earth again, sooner or later, won't you? ' she said.
should think that one once tastes that sort of thing one can't very well resist the temptation. What made you wish to explore? '
Oh, don't know,' he answered. always wanted to travel when was boy, but never got any chance. Then the title came to me rather unexpectedly, you know, and when found that could indulge my tastes —well, indulged them. '
And you prefer the desert to the drawing-room? ' she said, watching him.
Lots he said fervently. Lots Sprats smiled.
should advise you,' she said, to cut London the day your book appears. You'll be Hon, you know. '
Oh, but he exclaimed, you don't quite recognise what sort of book is. It's not an exciting narrative— no bears, or Indians, or scalpings, you know. It's— well, it's bit dry—scientific stuff, and so on. '
Sprats smiled the smile of the wise woman and shook
her head. — doesn't matter what
dry or delicious, dull or enlivening,' she remarked sagely, the people who'll lionise you won't read though they'll swear to your
face that they sat up all night with it. You'll see l5dng about, with the pages all cut and book-marker sticking out, but most of the people who'll rave to your face about wouldn't be able to answer any question that you asked them concerning it. Lionising an
it
*
I
is
it
I I
a
I'
it,
*
* *''* 'I' ItI I'*'
it is
*
'I ! '
a
! ' ! '
I
I
'a'
I it
it
I I
a
if
I it it, is
153
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
amusing feature of social life in England —if you don't like the prospect of it, run away. '
' I shall certainly run,' he answered. ' I will go soon. I think, perhaps, that you exaggerate my importance, but I don't want to incur any risk—it isn't pleasant to be stared at, and pointed out, and all that sort of— of '
' Of rot! ' she said. ' No—it isn't, to some people. To other people it seems quite a natural thing. It never seemed to bother Lucian Damerel, for example. You cannot realise the adulation which was showered upon him when he first flashed into the literary heavens. All the women were in love with him; all the girls love-sick because of his dark face and wondrous hair; he was stared at wherever he went; and he might have break- fasted, lunched, and dined at somebody else's expense every day. ' —
* And he liked that? ' asked Saxonstowe.
* It's a bit difficult,' answered Sprats, * to know what Lucian does like. He plays lion to perfection. Have you ever been to the Zoo and seen a real first-class, Ai diamond-of-the-first- water sort of lion in his cage? —
when he is filled with meat? Well, you'll have noticed that he gazes with solemn eyes above your head—he never sees you at all—you aren't worth it. If he should happen to look at you, he just wonders why the devil you stand there staring at him, and his eyes show a sort of cynical, idle contempt, and become solenm and ever-so-far-away again. Lucian plays lion in that way beautifully. He looks out of his cage with eyes that scorn the miserable wondering things gathered open-mouthed before him. '
' We all live in cages,' answered Sprats. ' You had better hang up a curtain in front of yours if you don't wish the crowd to stare at you. And now come—I will show you my children. '
Saxonstowe followed her all over the house with exemplary obedience, secretly admiring her mastery of
especially
' Does he Uve in a cage? ' asked Saxonstowe.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
153
detail, her quickness of perception, and the motherly
fashion in which she treated her charges. He had never I been in a children's hospital before, and he saw some
sights that sent him back to Sprats's parlour a somewhat sad man.
' I dare say you get used to it,' he said, ' but the sight of all that pain must be depressing. And the poor little mites seem to bear it well—bravely, at any rate. '
Sprats looked at him with the speculative expression which always came into her face when she was endeavouring to get at some other person's real self.
* So you, too, are fond of children? ' she said, and responded cordially to his suggestion that he might per- haps be permitted to come again. He went away with a cheering consciousness that he had had a gUmpse into a little world wherein good work was being done—it had seemed a far preferable world to that other world of fashion and small things which seethed all around it.
On the following day Saxonstowe spent the better part of the morning in a toy-shop. He proved a good cus- tomer, but a most particular one. He had counted heads at the children's hospital : there were twenty-seven in all, and he wanted twenty-seven toys for them. He insisted on a minute inspection of every one, even to the details of the dolls' clothing and the attainments of the mechanical froga, and the young lady who attended upon him decided that he was a nice gentleman and free-handed, but terribly exacting. His bill, however, yielded her a handsome commission, and when he gave her the address of the hospital she felt sure that she had spent two hours in conversation —on the merits of toys— with a young duke, and for the rest of the day she enter- tained her shopmates with reminiscences of the supposed ducal remarks, none of which, according to her, had been of a very profound nature.
Saxonstowe wondered how soon he might call at the hospital again—at the end of a week he found himself kicking his heels once more in the room wherein Noah, his family, and his animals trooped gaily down the slopes
154
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
of Mount Ararat. When Sprats came in she greeted him
with an abrupt question.
' Was it you who sent a small cart-load of toys here
last week? ' she asked.
' I certainly did send some toys for the children,' he
answered.
' I thought it must be your
handiwork,' she said. ' Thank you. You will now receive a beautifully
written, politely worded letter of thanks, inscribed on thick, glossy paper by the secretary —do you mind? '
* Yes, I do mind! ' he exclaimed. ' Please don't tell the secretary —what has he or she to do with it ? '
' Very well, I won't,' she said. ' But I will give you a practical tip : when you feel impelled to buy toys for children in hospital, buy something breakable and cheap —it pleases the child just as much as an expensive play- thing. There was one toy too many,' she continued, laughing, ' so I annexed that for myself—a mechanical spider. I play with it in my room sometimes. I am not above being amused by small things. ' —
After this Saxonstowe became a regular visitor he was accepted by some of the patients as a friend ' and admitted to their confidences. They knew him as the Lord,' and announced that ' the Lord ' had said this, or done that, in a fashion which made other visitors, not in the secret, wonder if the children were delirious and had dreams of divine communications. He sent these new friends books, and fruit, and flowers, and the house was gayer and brighter that summer than it had ever been since the brass plate was placed on its door.
One afternoon Saxonstowe arrived with a weighty- looking parcel under his arm. Once within Sprats's parlour he laid it down on the table and began to untie the string. She shook her head.
* You have been spending money on one or other of my children again,' she said. * I shall have to stop it. ' ' No,' he said, with a very shy smile. ' This — is —
for you. '
' For me? ' Her eyes opened with something like
quick,
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
155
incredulous wonder. * What an event ! * she said; * I so seldom have anything given to me. What is it? —
let me see—it looks like an enormous box of chocolate. '
* It's—it's the book,' he answered,' shamefaced as a schoolboy producing his first verses. There ! that's it,' and he placed two formidable-looking volumes, very new and very redolent of the bookbinder's establishment, in her hands. ' That's the very first copy,' he added. ' I wanted you to have it. '
Sprats sat down and turned the books over.
He had written her name on the fly-leaf of the first volume, and his own underneath it. She glanced at the maps, the engravings, the diagrams, the scientific tables, and a sudden flush came across her face. She looked up at him.
' I should be proud if I had written a book like this ! ' she said. ' It means—such a lot of—well, of manliness, somehow. Thank you. And it is really pubHshed at last? '
* It is not supposed to be published until next Monday,' he answered. * The reviewers' copies have gone out to-day, but I insisted on having a copy sup- pHed to me belore any one handled another —I wanted you to have the very first. '
* Because I think you'll understand it,' he said; ' and you'll read it. '
' Why? ' she asked.
' Yes,' she answered, ' I shall read it, and I think I shall understand. And now all the lionising will begin. '
Saxonstowe shrugged his shoulders.
* If the people who really know about these things
think I have done well, I shall be satisfied,' he said. * I don't care a scrap about the reviews in the popular papers —I am looking forward with great anxiety to the
criticisms of two or three scientific periodicals. '
' You were going to run away from the lionising busi- ness/ she said. * When are you going? —there is
nothing to keep you, now that the book is out. '
156
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
Saxonstowe looked at her. He was standing at the
of the table on which she had placed the two volumes of his book; she was sitting in a low chair at its side. She looked up at him; she saw his face grow
edge
very grave.
' I didn't think anything would keep me,' he said,
' but I find that something is keeping me. It is you. Do you know that I love you? '
The colour rose in her cheeks, and her eyes left his for an instant; then she faced him.
' I did not know it until just now,' she answered, laying her hand on one of the volumes at her side. ' I knew it then, because you wished me to have the first- fruits of your labour. I was wondering about it—as we talked. '
' Well? ' he said.
' Will you let me be perfectly frank with' you? ' she said. * Are you sure about yourself in this?
' I am sure,' he answered. ' I love you, and I shall never love any other woman. Don't think that I say that in the way in which I dare say it's been said a million times—I mean it. '
' Yes,' she said; ' I imderstand. You wouldn't say anything that you didn't mean. And I am going to be
truthful with you. I don't think it's wrong of me to tell you that I have a feeling for you which I have not, and never had, for any other man that I have known. I could depend on you—I could go to you for help and advice, and I should rely on your
equally
I have felt that since we met, as man and woman, a few weeks ago. '
strength.
' Then ' he began.
' Stop a bit,' she said, ' let me finish. I want to be brutally plain-spoken —it's really best to be so. I want you to know me as I am. I have loved Lucian Damerel ever since he and I were boy and girl. It is, perhaps, a curious love — you might say that there is very much more of a mother's, or a sister's, love in it than a wife's. Well, I don't know. I do know that it nearly broke
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 157
my heart when I heard of his marriage to Haidee. I cannot tell —I have never been able to tell —in what exact way it was that I wanted him, but I did not want her to have him. Perhaps all that, or most of that, feel- ing has gone. I have tried hard, by working for others, to put all thought of another woman's husband out of my mind. But the thought of Lucian is still there— it may, perhaps, always be there. While it is—even in the least, the very least degree—you understand, do you not? ' she said, with a sudden note of eager appeal breaking into her voice.
' Yes,' he answered, ' I understand. '
She rose to her feet and held out her hand to him.
' Then don't let us try to put into words what we can
feel much better,' she said, smiling. * We are friends
— always. And you are going away. '
The children found out that for some time at any rate
there would be no more visits from the Lord. But the toys and the books, the fruit and flowers, came as regu- larly as ever, and the Lord was not forgotten.
XVIII
During the greater part of that summer Lucian had been working steadily on two things : the tragedy which Mr. Harcourt was to produce at the Athenaeum in December, and a new poem which Mr. Robertson intended to pubHsh about the middle of the autumn season. Lucian was flying at high game in respect of both. The tragedy was intended to introduce somethmg of the spirit and dignity of Greek art to the nineteenth- century stage— there was to be nothing common or mean in connection with its production; it was to be a gorgeous
CHAPTER
but one of high
direct intention in writing it was to set English dramatic art on an elevation to which it had never yet been lifted. The poem was an equally ambitious attempt to revive
spectacle,
the epic; its subject, the Norman Conquest,
Lucian's mind since boyhood, and from his tenth year onwards he had read every book and document procur-
He had the work during his Oxford days; the greater part of it was now in type, and Mr. Robertson was incurring vast expense in the shape of author's correc-
able which treated of that fascinating period. begun
tions. Lucian polished and rewrote in a fashion that was exasperating; his pubHsher, never suspecting that so many alterations would be made, had said nothing
and he of profits. ' What a pity that you did not make all your altera-
about them in drawing up a formal agreement, was daily obliged to witness a disappearance
tions and corrections before sending the manuscript to press ! ' he exclaimed one day, when Lucian called with a bundle of proofs which had been hacked about in such 158
distinction, and Lucian's
had filled
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
159
a fashion as to need complete resetting. ' It would have saved a lot of trouble—and expense. '
Lucian stared at him with the eyes of a young owl, round and wondering.
' How on earth can you see what a thing looks like until it's in print? ' he said irritably. 'What are printers for? '
* Just so—just so! ' responded the publisher. * But really, you know, this book is being twice set—every sheet has had to be pulled to pieces, and it adds to the expense. '
Lucian's eyes grew rounder than ever.
' I don't know an5^ing about that,' he answered.
* That is your province — don't bother me about it. ' Robertson laughed. He was beginning to find out, after some experience, that Lucian was imperturbable
on ' certain points. ' Very well,' he said.
By the bye, how much more copy is there—or if copy is too vulgar a word for your
mightiness, how many more lines or verses? '
* About four hundred and fifty lines,' answered
Lucian.
' Say another twenty-four pages,' said Robertson.
' Well, it runs now to three hundred and fifty—that means that it's going to to be a book of close upon four hundred pages. '
* Well? ' questioned Lucian.
' I was merely thinking that it is a long time since the public was asked to buy a volume containing four hundred pages of blank verse,' remarked the publisher.
' I* hope this won't frighten anybody. '
You make some very extraordinary remarks,' said
Lucian, with unmistakable signs of annoyance. * What
do' you mean? ' ' Oh, nothing, nothing !
answered Robertson, who was on sufficient terms of intimacy with Lucian to be able to chaff him a little. * I was merely thinking of trade
considerations. ' " * You appear to be always
merely thinking
"
of
i6o
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
something extraordinary,' said Lucian. ' What can trade considerations have to do with the length of my
poem ? '
' What indeed? ' said the pubUsher. and began to talk
of something else. But when Lucian had gone he looked rather doubtfully at the pile of interlineated proof, and glanced from it to the thin octavo with which the new
poet had won all hearts nearly five years before.
wish it had been just a handful of gold hke that! ' he said to himself. * Four hundred pages of blank verse all at one go ! —it's asking a good deal, unless it catches on with the old maids and the dowagers, like the Course
Well, we shall see; but I'd rather have some of your earlier lyrics than this
weighty ' performance, indeed !
Lucian finished his epic before the middle of July, and fell to work on the final stages of his tragedy. He had promised to read it to the Athenaeum company on the first day of the coming October, and there was still much to do in shaping and revising it. He began to feel impatient and irritable; the sight of his desk annoyed him, and he took to running out of town into the country whenever the wish for the shade of woods and the peace- fulness of the lanes came upon him. Before the end
of Time and the Epic of Hades.
Lucian, my boy—I would
^
' I
of the month he felt unable to work, and he repaired to Sprats for counsel and comfort.
' I don't know how or why it is,* he said, telling her
his troubles, ' but I don't feel as if I had a bit of work
left in me. I haven't any power of concentration left—
I'm always wanting to be doing something else. And
yet I haven't worked very hard this year, and we have
been away a great deal. It's nearly time for going away
again, too—I believe Haidee has already made some
arrangement. '
* Lucian,' said Sprats, ' why don't you go down to
Simonstower? They would be so glad to have you at the vicarage —there's heaps of room. And just think
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
i6i
how jolly 'it is there in August and September—I wish I
could go ! —some memory of the old
Lucian's face lighted up
days had suddenly fired his soul. He saw the famiHar scenes once more under the golden sunlight—the grey castle and its Norman keep, the winding river, the shelv- ing woods, and, framing all, the gold and purple of the moorlands.
' Yes, of course — it's Simonstower that I want. ^ We'll go at once.
' Simonstower ! ' he exclaimed.
Sprats, why can't you come too? '
Sprats shook her head.
' I can't,' she answered. ' I shall have a holiday in
September, but I can't take a single day before. I'm sure it will do you good if you go to Simonstower, Lucian —the north-country air will brighten you up. You haven't been there for four years, and the sight of the old faces and places will act like a tonic'
' I'll arrange it at once,' said Lucian, delighted at the idea, and he went off to announce his projects to Haidee. Haidee looked at him incredulously.
of, Lucian? ' she said. * Don't you remember that we're cramful of engage- ments from' the beginning of August to the end of September? She recited a list of arrangements already entered into, which included a three-weeks' sojourn on
* Whatever are you thinking
Eustace Darlington's steam-yacht, and a fortnight's stay
at his shooting-box in the Highlands. ' Had you for-
gotten? ' she asked. '
' I believe I had! ' he replied; we seem to have so
Look here: do you know, I think I'll back out. I must have this tragedy finished for Harcourt and his people by October, and I can't do it if
many engagements.
I go rushing about from one place to another. I think I shall go down to Simonstower and have a quiet time
and finish my work there — I'll
Darlington. '
' As you please,' she answered.
keep my engagements. '
explain it all to
' course, I shall Of
L
i62 LUCTAN THE DREAMER
* Oh, of course,' he said. ' You won't miss me, you know. I suppose there are lots of other people going? ' ' I suppose so,' she replied carelessly, and there was
an end of the conversation. Lucian explained to Darlington that night that he would not be able to keep his engagement, and set forth the reasons with a fine air of devotion to business. Darlington sympathised, and applauded Lucian 's determination—he knew, he said, what a lot depended upon the success of the new play, and he'd no doubt Lucian wouldn't feel quite easy until it was all in order. After that he must have a long rest—it would be rather good fun to winter in Egypt. Lucian agreed, and next day made his prepara- tions for a descent upon Simonstower. At heart he was
rather more than glad to escape the yacht, the Highland shooting-box, and the people whom he would have met. He cared little for the sea, and hated any form of sport which involved the slaying of animals or birds; the thought of Simonstower in the last weeks of summer was grateful to him, and all that he now wanted was to find himself in a Great Northern express gliding out of King's Cross, bound for the moorlands.
He went round to the hospital on the morning of his departure, and told Sprats with the glee of a schoolboy who is going home for the holidays, that he was off that very afternoon. He was rattling on as to his joy when Sprats stopped him.
' Haidee? ' he said. * But Haidee is not
She's joining a party on Darlington's yacht, and they're going round the coast to his place in the Highlands. I was to have gone, you know, but really I couldn't have worked, and I must work—it's absolutely neces- sary that the play should be finished by the end of
* And Haidee? ' she asked. ' Does she like it? '
September. '
Sprats looked anxious and troubled.
' Look here, Lucian,' she said, ' do you think it's quite right to leave Haidee like that? —isn't it rather neglecting your duties? '
going.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 163
' But why? ' he asked, with such sincerity that it
became plain to Sprats that the question had never even entered his mind. ' Haidee's all right. It would be beastly selfish on my part if I dragged her down to Simonstower for nearly two months — you know, she doesn't care a bit for the country, and there would be no society for her. She needs sea air, and three weeks on' Darlington's yacht will do her a lot of good. '
Who are the other people? ' asked Sprats.
' Oh, I don't know,' Lucian replied. ' The usual Darlington lot, I suppose. Between you and me.
Sprats, I'm glad I'm not going. I get rather sick of that sort of thing—^it's too much of a hot-house existence. And I don't care about the people one meets, either. '
* And yet you let Haidee meet them ! ' Sprats ex-
claimed. ' Really, Lucian, you grow more and more
paradoxical. '
' But Haidee likes them,' he insisted. * That's just
the sort of thing she does like. And if she likes why shouldn't she have it? '
You are curious couple,' said Sprats.
think we are to be praised for our common-sense
view of things,' he said. am often told that am a dreamer —you've said so yourself, you know —but in real, sober truth, I'm an awfully matter-of-fact sort of
don't live on illusions and ideals and things — worship the God of the Things that Are! '
Sprats gazed at him as mother might gaze at child who boasts of having performed an impossible task.
Oh, you absolute baby! ' she said. Is your pretty head stuffed with wool or with feathers?
* I can easily procure a guarantor,' answered Lucian. His thoughts had immediately flown to Darlington. ' Yes,' he continued, ' I think we shall have a long run —longer, perhaps, than before. '
Then he went away, announcing that he would make the necessary arrangements. When he had gone, the manager, to satisfy a momentary curiosity of his own, made a brief inspection of Lucian's account. He smiled a little as he totalled it up. Mr. and Mrs. Lucian Damerel had gone through seventeen thousand pounds in four years, and of that amount twelve thousand repre- sented capital.
Lucian carried the mystifying pass-book to his club K
146
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
and began to study the rows of figures. They made his head ache and his eyes burn, and the only conclusion he came to was that a few thousands of pounds are soon spent, and that Haidee of late had been pretty prodigal with her cheques. One fact was absolutely certain : his ten thousand, and her two thousand, and the five thousand which he had earned, were all gone, never to return. He felt somewhat depressed at this thought, but recovered his spirits when he remembered the value of his pictures, his books, and his other possessions, and the prospects of increased royalties in the golden days to be. He went off to seek out Darlington in the city as joyously as if he had been embarking on a voyage
to the Hesperides.
Darlington was somewhat surprised
to see Lucian in Lombard Street. He knew all the details of Lucian's business within ten minutes, and had made up his mind
within two more.
' Of course, I'll do it with pleasure, old chap,' he said,
with great heartiness. ' But I think I can suggest some- thing far preferable. These people don't seem to have
given you any particular advantages, and there \yas no need for them to bother you with a letter reminding you that you owed them a miserable couple of hundred. Look here: you had better open two accounts with us; one for yourself and one for Mrs. Damerel, and keep them distinct— after all, you know, women rather mix things up. Give Robertson and Harcourt instructions to pay your royalties into your own account here, and pay your household expenses and bills out of it. Mrs. Damerel' s account won't be a serious matter —mere pin-
money, you know—and we can balance it out of yours at periodic intervals. That's a much more convenient and far simpler thing than giving the other people a guarantee for an overdraft. '
' Thanks, very many. And what am I to do in arranging this? '
* It seems to be so, certainly,' said Lucian.
' At present,' answered Darlington, * you are to run away as quickly as possible, for I'm over the ears in
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
147
work. Come in this afternoon at three o'clock, and we will settle the whole thing. '
Lucian went out into the crowded streets, light- hearted and joyous as ever. The slight depression of the morning had worn off; all the world was gold again. A whim seized him: he would spend the three hours between twelve and three in wandering about the city— it was an almost unknown region to him. He had read much of it, but rarely seen it, and the prospect of an
with it was alluring. So he wandered hither and thither, his taste for the antique leading him into many a quaint old court and quiet alley, and he was fortunate enough to find an old-fashioned tavern waiter, and there he lunched and enjoyed himself and went back to Darlington's office in
excellent spirits and ready to do anything.
There was Httle to do. Lucian left the private bank- ing establishment of Darlington and Darlington a few
minutes after he had entered it, and he then carried with him two cheque-books, one for himself and one for Haidee, and a request that Mrs. Damerel should call at the office and append her signature to the book wherein the autographs of customers were preserved. He went home and found Haidee just returned from lunching with Lady Firmanence : Lucian conducted her into his study with some importance.
acquaintance
and an old-world
* Look here, Haidee,' he said, * I've been making some new business arrangements. We're going to bank at Darlington's in future—it's much the wiser plan; and you are to have a separate account. That's your
I say—we've rather gone it lately, you know. Don't you think we might economise a little? '
cheque-book.
Haidee stared, grew perplexed, and frowned.
' I think I'm awfully careful,' she said. ' If you
'
them.
* Yes, yes,' he said hurriedly, * I know, of course,
that you are. We've had such a lot of absolutely neces-
think
Lucian saw signs of trouble and hastened to dispel
148
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
sary expense, haven't we? Well, there's your cheque- book, and the account is your own, you know. '
Haidee asked no questions, and carried the cheque- book away. When she had gone, Lucian wrote out a
for £187, los. and forwarded it to his former bankers, with a covering letter in which he explained that it was intended to balance his account and that he
wished to close the latter. That done, he put all thoughts of money out of his mind with a mighty sigh of rehef. In his own opinion he had accomplished a hard day's work and acquitted himself with great credit. Everything, he thought, had been quite simple, quite easy. And in thinking so he was right—nothing
cheque
easier, could be imagined than the operation which had put Lucian and Haidee in funds
once more. It had simply consisted of a brief order, given by Eustace Darlington to his manager, to the effect
that all cheques bearing the signatures of Mr. and Mrs. Damerel were to be honoured on presentation, and that there was to be no limit to their credit.
simpler, nothing
CHAPTER XVII
In spite of the amusing defection of his host, Saxon- stowe had fully enjoyed the short time he had spent under the Damerels' roof. Mrs. Berenson had amused him almost as much as if she had been a professional comedian brought there to divert the company; Darling- ton had interested him as a specimen of the rather reserved, purposeful sort of man who might possibly do things; and Haidee had made him wonder how it is that some women possess great beauty and very little mind. But the recollection which remained most firmly fixed in him was of Sprats, and on the first afternoon he had at liberty he set out to find the Children's' Hospital which she had invited him to visit.
He found the hospital with ease—an ordinary house in Bayswater Square, with nothing to distinguish it from its neighbours but a large brass plate on the door, which announced that it was a Private Nursing Home for Children. A trim maid-servant, who stared at him with reverent awe after she had glanced at his card, showed him into a small waiting-room adorned with steel engravings of Biblical subjects, and there Sprats shortly discovered him inspecting a representation of the animals leaving the ark. It struck him as he shook hands with her that she looked better in her nurse's uniform than in the dinner-gown which she had worn a few nights earlier —there was something businesslike and strong about her in her cap and cuffs and apron and streamers : it was like seeing a soldier in fighting trim.
' I am glad that you have come just now,' she said. ' I have a whole hour to spare, and I can show you all over the place. But first come into my parlour and have some tea. '
She led him into another room, where Biblical prints 149
150
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
were not in evidence—if they had ever decorated the walls they were now replaced by Sprats 's own posses- sions. He recognised several water-colour drawings of Simonstower, and one of his own house and park at Saxonstowe. —
' These are the work of Cyprian Damerel Lucian's father, you know,' said Sprats, as he uttered an ex- clamation of pleasure at the sight of familiar things. ' Lucian gave them to me. I like that one of Saxon- stowe Park — I have so often seen that curious atmo- spheric effect amongst the trees in early autumn. I am very fond of my pictures and my household gods — they bring Simonstower closer to me. '
* But why, if you are so fond of did you leave it? ' he asked, as he took the chair which she pointed out to him.
Oh, because wanted to work very hard she said, busying herself with the tea-cups. You see, my father married Lucian Damerel' aunt— very dear, nice, pretty woman—and knew she would take such great
care of him that nursing, having
could be spared. So went in for natural bent that way, and after three came here; and here am, absolute
or four years of
she-dragon of the establishment. '
Is very hard work? ' he asked, as he took cup of tea from her hands.
Well, doesn't seem to affect me very much, does it? ' she answered. Oh yes, sometimes is, but that's good for one. You must have worked hard yourself, Lord Saxonstowe. '
Saxonstowe blushed under his tan.
look all right too, don't I? ' he said, laughing.
agree with you that it's good for one, though. I've thought since came back that He paused and did not finish the sentence.
That would do lot of people whom you've met lot of good they had little hardship and privation to go through,' she said, finishing for him. That's
it, isn't it? '
it if
it it
a a
s
it
'
a' it, I
'
I
itaI I II
I'
a
'I* *' '
*
it I a
!
'
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
151
' I wouldn't let them off with a little,' he said. ' I'd give them—some of them, at any rate—a good deal. Perhaps I'm not quite used to but can't stand this sort of life— should go all soft and queer under it. '
Well, you're not obhged to endure at all,' said Sprats. You can clear out of town whenever you please and go to Saxonstowe — lovely in summer. '
Yes,' he answered, I'm going there soon. — don't think town life quite appeals to me. '
suppose that you will go off to some waste place of the earth again, sooner or later, won't you? ' she said.
should think that one once tastes that sort of thing one can't very well resist the temptation. What made you wish to explore? '
Oh, don't know,' he answered. always wanted to travel when was boy, but never got any chance. Then the title came to me rather unexpectedly, you know, and when found that could indulge my tastes —well, indulged them. '
And you prefer the desert to the drawing-room? ' she said, watching him.
Lots he said fervently. Lots Sprats smiled.
should advise you,' she said, to cut London the day your book appears. You'll be Hon, you know. '
Oh, but he exclaimed, you don't quite recognise what sort of book is. It's not an exciting narrative— no bears, or Indians, or scalpings, you know. It's— well, it's bit dry—scientific stuff, and so on. '
Sprats smiled the smile of the wise woman and shook
her head. — doesn't matter what
dry or delicious, dull or enlivening,' she remarked sagely, the people who'll lionise you won't read though they'll swear to your
face that they sat up all night with it. You'll see l5dng about, with the pages all cut and book-marker sticking out, but most of the people who'll rave to your face about wouldn't be able to answer any question that you asked them concerning it. Lionising an
it
*
I
is
it
I I
a
I'
it,
*
* *''* 'I' ItI I'*'
it is
*
'I ! '
a
! ' ! '
I
I
'a'
I it
it
I I
a
if
I it it, is
153
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
amusing feature of social life in England —if you don't like the prospect of it, run away. '
' I shall certainly run,' he answered. ' I will go soon. I think, perhaps, that you exaggerate my importance, but I don't want to incur any risk—it isn't pleasant to be stared at, and pointed out, and all that sort of— of '
' Of rot! ' she said. ' No—it isn't, to some people. To other people it seems quite a natural thing. It never seemed to bother Lucian Damerel, for example. You cannot realise the adulation which was showered upon him when he first flashed into the literary heavens. All the women were in love with him; all the girls love-sick because of his dark face and wondrous hair; he was stared at wherever he went; and he might have break- fasted, lunched, and dined at somebody else's expense every day. ' —
* And he liked that? ' asked Saxonstowe.
* It's a bit difficult,' answered Sprats, * to know what Lucian does like. He plays lion to perfection. Have you ever been to the Zoo and seen a real first-class, Ai diamond-of-the-first- water sort of lion in his cage? —
when he is filled with meat? Well, you'll have noticed that he gazes with solemn eyes above your head—he never sees you at all—you aren't worth it. If he should happen to look at you, he just wonders why the devil you stand there staring at him, and his eyes show a sort of cynical, idle contempt, and become solenm and ever-so-far-away again. Lucian plays lion in that way beautifully. He looks out of his cage with eyes that scorn the miserable wondering things gathered open-mouthed before him. '
' We all live in cages,' answered Sprats. ' You had better hang up a curtain in front of yours if you don't wish the crowd to stare at you. And now come—I will show you my children. '
Saxonstowe followed her all over the house with exemplary obedience, secretly admiring her mastery of
especially
' Does he Uve in a cage? ' asked Saxonstowe.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
153
detail, her quickness of perception, and the motherly
fashion in which she treated her charges. He had never I been in a children's hospital before, and he saw some
sights that sent him back to Sprats's parlour a somewhat sad man.
' I dare say you get used to it,' he said, ' but the sight of all that pain must be depressing. And the poor little mites seem to bear it well—bravely, at any rate. '
Sprats looked at him with the speculative expression which always came into her face when she was endeavouring to get at some other person's real self.
* So you, too, are fond of children? ' she said, and responded cordially to his suggestion that he might per- haps be permitted to come again. He went away with a cheering consciousness that he had had a gUmpse into a little world wherein good work was being done—it had seemed a far preferable world to that other world of fashion and small things which seethed all around it.
On the following day Saxonstowe spent the better part of the morning in a toy-shop. He proved a good cus- tomer, but a most particular one. He had counted heads at the children's hospital : there were twenty-seven in all, and he wanted twenty-seven toys for them. He insisted on a minute inspection of every one, even to the details of the dolls' clothing and the attainments of the mechanical froga, and the young lady who attended upon him decided that he was a nice gentleman and free-handed, but terribly exacting. His bill, however, yielded her a handsome commission, and when he gave her the address of the hospital she felt sure that she had spent two hours in conversation —on the merits of toys— with a young duke, and for the rest of the day she enter- tained her shopmates with reminiscences of the supposed ducal remarks, none of which, according to her, had been of a very profound nature.
Saxonstowe wondered how soon he might call at the hospital again—at the end of a week he found himself kicking his heels once more in the room wherein Noah, his family, and his animals trooped gaily down the slopes
154
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
of Mount Ararat. When Sprats came in she greeted him
with an abrupt question.
' Was it you who sent a small cart-load of toys here
last week? ' she asked.
' I certainly did send some toys for the children,' he
answered.
' I thought it must be your
handiwork,' she said. ' Thank you. You will now receive a beautifully
written, politely worded letter of thanks, inscribed on thick, glossy paper by the secretary —do you mind? '
* Yes, I do mind! ' he exclaimed. ' Please don't tell the secretary —what has he or she to do with it ? '
' Very well, I won't,' she said. ' But I will give you a practical tip : when you feel impelled to buy toys for children in hospital, buy something breakable and cheap —it pleases the child just as much as an expensive play- thing. There was one toy too many,' she continued, laughing, ' so I annexed that for myself—a mechanical spider. I play with it in my room sometimes. I am not above being amused by small things. ' —
After this Saxonstowe became a regular visitor he was accepted by some of the patients as a friend ' and admitted to their confidences. They knew him as the Lord,' and announced that ' the Lord ' had said this, or done that, in a fashion which made other visitors, not in the secret, wonder if the children were delirious and had dreams of divine communications. He sent these new friends books, and fruit, and flowers, and the house was gayer and brighter that summer than it had ever been since the brass plate was placed on its door.
One afternoon Saxonstowe arrived with a weighty- looking parcel under his arm. Once within Sprats's parlour he laid it down on the table and began to untie the string. She shook her head.
* You have been spending money on one or other of my children again,' she said. * I shall have to stop it. ' ' No,' he said, with a very shy smile. ' This — is —
for you. '
' For me? ' Her eyes opened with something like
quick,
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
155
incredulous wonder. * What an event ! * she said; * I so seldom have anything given to me. What is it? —
let me see—it looks like an enormous box of chocolate. '
* It's—it's the book,' he answered,' shamefaced as a schoolboy producing his first verses. There ! that's it,' and he placed two formidable-looking volumes, very new and very redolent of the bookbinder's establishment, in her hands. ' That's the very first copy,' he added. ' I wanted you to have it. '
Sprats sat down and turned the books over.
He had written her name on the fly-leaf of the first volume, and his own underneath it. She glanced at the maps, the engravings, the diagrams, the scientific tables, and a sudden flush came across her face. She looked up at him.
' I should be proud if I had written a book like this ! ' she said. ' It means—such a lot of—well, of manliness, somehow. Thank you. And it is really pubHshed at last? '
* It is not supposed to be published until next Monday,' he answered. * The reviewers' copies have gone out to-day, but I insisted on having a copy sup- pHed to me belore any one handled another —I wanted you to have the very first. '
* Because I think you'll understand it,' he said; ' and you'll read it. '
' Why? ' she asked.
' Yes,' she answered, ' I shall read it, and I think I shall understand. And now all the lionising will begin. '
Saxonstowe shrugged his shoulders.
* If the people who really know about these things
think I have done well, I shall be satisfied,' he said. * I don't care a scrap about the reviews in the popular papers —I am looking forward with great anxiety to the
criticisms of two or three scientific periodicals. '
' You were going to run away from the lionising busi- ness/ she said. * When are you going? —there is
nothing to keep you, now that the book is out. '
156
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
Saxonstowe looked at her. He was standing at the
of the table on which she had placed the two volumes of his book; she was sitting in a low chair at its side. She looked up at him; she saw his face grow
edge
very grave.
' I didn't think anything would keep me,' he said,
' but I find that something is keeping me. It is you. Do you know that I love you? '
The colour rose in her cheeks, and her eyes left his for an instant; then she faced him.
' I did not know it until just now,' she answered, laying her hand on one of the volumes at her side. ' I knew it then, because you wished me to have the first- fruits of your labour. I was wondering about it—as we talked. '
' Well? ' he said.
' Will you let me be perfectly frank with' you? ' she said. * Are you sure about yourself in this?
' I am sure,' he answered. ' I love you, and I shall never love any other woman. Don't think that I say that in the way in which I dare say it's been said a million times—I mean it. '
' Yes,' she said; ' I imderstand. You wouldn't say anything that you didn't mean. And I am going to be
truthful with you. I don't think it's wrong of me to tell you that I have a feeling for you which I have not, and never had, for any other man that I have known. I could depend on you—I could go to you for help and advice, and I should rely on your
equally
I have felt that since we met, as man and woman, a few weeks ago. '
strength.
' Then ' he began.
' Stop a bit,' she said, ' let me finish. I want to be brutally plain-spoken —it's really best to be so. I want you to know me as I am. I have loved Lucian Damerel ever since he and I were boy and girl. It is, perhaps, a curious love — you might say that there is very much more of a mother's, or a sister's, love in it than a wife's. Well, I don't know. I do know that it nearly broke
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 157
my heart when I heard of his marriage to Haidee. I cannot tell —I have never been able to tell —in what exact way it was that I wanted him, but I did not want her to have him. Perhaps all that, or most of that, feel- ing has gone. I have tried hard, by working for others, to put all thought of another woman's husband out of my mind. But the thought of Lucian is still there— it may, perhaps, always be there. While it is—even in the least, the very least degree—you understand, do you not? ' she said, with a sudden note of eager appeal breaking into her voice.
' Yes,' he answered, ' I understand. '
She rose to her feet and held out her hand to him.
' Then don't let us try to put into words what we can
feel much better,' she said, smiling. * We are friends
— always. And you are going away. '
The children found out that for some time at any rate
there would be no more visits from the Lord. But the toys and the books, the fruit and flowers, came as regu- larly as ever, and the Lord was not forgotten.
XVIII
During the greater part of that summer Lucian had been working steadily on two things : the tragedy which Mr. Harcourt was to produce at the Athenaeum in December, and a new poem which Mr. Robertson intended to pubHsh about the middle of the autumn season. Lucian was flying at high game in respect of both. The tragedy was intended to introduce somethmg of the spirit and dignity of Greek art to the nineteenth- century stage— there was to be nothing common or mean in connection with its production; it was to be a gorgeous
CHAPTER
but one of high
direct intention in writing it was to set English dramatic art on an elevation to which it had never yet been lifted. The poem was an equally ambitious attempt to revive
spectacle,
the epic; its subject, the Norman Conquest,
Lucian's mind since boyhood, and from his tenth year onwards he had read every book and document procur-
He had the work during his Oxford days; the greater part of it was now in type, and Mr. Robertson was incurring vast expense in the shape of author's correc-
able which treated of that fascinating period. begun
tions. Lucian polished and rewrote in a fashion that was exasperating; his pubHsher, never suspecting that so many alterations would be made, had said nothing
and he of profits. ' What a pity that you did not make all your altera-
about them in drawing up a formal agreement, was daily obliged to witness a disappearance
tions and corrections before sending the manuscript to press ! ' he exclaimed one day, when Lucian called with a bundle of proofs which had been hacked about in such 158
distinction, and Lucian's
had filled
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
159
a fashion as to need complete resetting. ' It would have saved a lot of trouble—and expense. '
Lucian stared at him with the eyes of a young owl, round and wondering.
' How on earth can you see what a thing looks like until it's in print? ' he said irritably. 'What are printers for? '
* Just so—just so! ' responded the publisher. * But really, you know, this book is being twice set—every sheet has had to be pulled to pieces, and it adds to the expense. '
Lucian's eyes grew rounder than ever.
' I don't know an5^ing about that,' he answered.
* That is your province — don't bother me about it. ' Robertson laughed. He was beginning to find out, after some experience, that Lucian was imperturbable
on ' certain points. ' Very well,' he said.
By the bye, how much more copy is there—or if copy is too vulgar a word for your
mightiness, how many more lines or verses? '
* About four hundred and fifty lines,' answered
Lucian.
' Say another twenty-four pages,' said Robertson.
' Well, it runs now to three hundred and fifty—that means that it's going to to be a book of close upon four hundred pages. '
* Well? ' questioned Lucian.
' I was merely thinking that it is a long time since the public was asked to buy a volume containing four hundred pages of blank verse,' remarked the publisher.
' I* hope this won't frighten anybody. '
You make some very extraordinary remarks,' said
Lucian, with unmistakable signs of annoyance. * What
do' you mean? ' ' Oh, nothing, nothing !
answered Robertson, who was on sufficient terms of intimacy with Lucian to be able to chaff him a little. * I was merely thinking of trade
considerations. ' " * You appear to be always
merely thinking
"
of
i6o
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
something extraordinary,' said Lucian. ' What can trade considerations have to do with the length of my
poem ? '
' What indeed? ' said the pubUsher. and began to talk
of something else. But when Lucian had gone he looked rather doubtfully at the pile of interlineated proof, and glanced from it to the thin octavo with which the new
poet had won all hearts nearly five years before.
wish it had been just a handful of gold hke that! ' he said to himself. * Four hundred pages of blank verse all at one go ! —it's asking a good deal, unless it catches on with the old maids and the dowagers, like the Course
Well, we shall see; but I'd rather have some of your earlier lyrics than this
weighty ' performance, indeed !
Lucian finished his epic before the middle of July, and fell to work on the final stages of his tragedy. He had promised to read it to the Athenaeum company on the first day of the coming October, and there was still much to do in shaping and revising it. He began to feel impatient and irritable; the sight of his desk annoyed him, and he took to running out of town into the country whenever the wish for the shade of woods and the peace- fulness of the lanes came upon him. Before the end
of Time and the Epic of Hades.
Lucian, my boy—I would
^
' I
of the month he felt unable to work, and he repaired to Sprats for counsel and comfort.
' I don't know how or why it is,* he said, telling her
his troubles, ' but I don't feel as if I had a bit of work
left in me. I haven't any power of concentration left—
I'm always wanting to be doing something else. And
yet I haven't worked very hard this year, and we have
been away a great deal. It's nearly time for going away
again, too—I believe Haidee has already made some
arrangement. '
* Lucian,' said Sprats, ' why don't you go down to
Simonstower? They would be so glad to have you at the vicarage —there's heaps of room. And just think
LUCIAN THE DREAMER
i6i
how jolly 'it is there in August and September—I wish I
could go ! —some memory of the old
Lucian's face lighted up
days had suddenly fired his soul. He saw the famiHar scenes once more under the golden sunlight—the grey castle and its Norman keep, the winding river, the shelv- ing woods, and, framing all, the gold and purple of the moorlands.
' Yes, of course — it's Simonstower that I want. ^ We'll go at once.
' Simonstower ! ' he exclaimed.
Sprats, why can't you come too? '
Sprats shook her head.
' I can't,' she answered. ' I shall have a holiday in
September, but I can't take a single day before. I'm sure it will do you good if you go to Simonstower, Lucian —the north-country air will brighten you up. You haven't been there for four years, and the sight of the old faces and places will act like a tonic'
' I'll arrange it at once,' said Lucian, delighted at the idea, and he went off to announce his projects to Haidee. Haidee looked at him incredulously.
of, Lucian? ' she said. * Don't you remember that we're cramful of engage- ments from' the beginning of August to the end of September? She recited a list of arrangements already entered into, which included a three-weeks' sojourn on
* Whatever are you thinking
Eustace Darlington's steam-yacht, and a fortnight's stay
at his shooting-box in the Highlands. ' Had you for-
gotten? ' she asked. '
' I believe I had! ' he replied; we seem to have so
Look here: do you know, I think I'll back out. I must have this tragedy finished for Harcourt and his people by October, and I can't do it if
many engagements.
I go rushing about from one place to another. I think I shall go down to Simonstower and have a quiet time
and finish my work there — I'll
Darlington. '
' As you please,' she answered.
keep my engagements. '
explain it all to
' course, I shall Of
L
i62 LUCTAN THE DREAMER
* Oh, of course,' he said. ' You won't miss me, you know. I suppose there are lots of other people going? ' ' I suppose so,' she replied carelessly, and there was
an end of the conversation. Lucian explained to Darlington that night that he would not be able to keep his engagement, and set forth the reasons with a fine air of devotion to business. Darlington sympathised, and applauded Lucian 's determination—he knew, he said, what a lot depended upon the success of the new play, and he'd no doubt Lucian wouldn't feel quite easy until it was all in order. After that he must have a long rest—it would be rather good fun to winter in Egypt. Lucian agreed, and next day made his prepara- tions for a descent upon Simonstower. At heart he was
rather more than glad to escape the yacht, the Highland shooting-box, and the people whom he would have met. He cared little for the sea, and hated any form of sport which involved the slaying of animals or birds; the thought of Simonstower in the last weeks of summer was grateful to him, and all that he now wanted was to find himself in a Great Northern express gliding out of King's Cross, bound for the moorlands.
He went round to the hospital on the morning of his departure, and told Sprats with the glee of a schoolboy who is going home for the holidays, that he was off that very afternoon. He was rattling on as to his joy when Sprats stopped him.
' Haidee? ' he said. * But Haidee is not
She's joining a party on Darlington's yacht, and they're going round the coast to his place in the Highlands. I was to have gone, you know, but really I couldn't have worked, and I must work—it's absolutely neces- sary that the play should be finished by the end of
* And Haidee? ' she asked. ' Does she like it? '
September. '
Sprats looked anxious and troubled.
' Look here, Lucian,' she said, ' do you think it's quite right to leave Haidee like that? —isn't it rather neglecting your duties? '
going.
LUCIAN THE DREAMER 163
' But why? ' he asked, with such sincerity that it
became plain to Sprats that the question had never even entered his mind. ' Haidee's all right. It would be beastly selfish on my part if I dragged her down to Simonstower for nearly two months — you know, she doesn't care a bit for the country, and there would be no society for her. She needs sea air, and three weeks on' Darlington's yacht will do her a lot of good. '
Who are the other people? ' asked Sprats.
' Oh, I don't know,' Lucian replied. ' The usual Darlington lot, I suppose. Between you and me.
Sprats, I'm glad I'm not going. I get rather sick of that sort of thing—^it's too much of a hot-house existence. And I don't care about the people one meets, either. '
* And yet you let Haidee meet them ! ' Sprats ex-
claimed. ' Really, Lucian, you grow more and more
paradoxical. '
' But Haidee likes them,' he insisted. * That's just
the sort of thing she does like. And if she likes why shouldn't she have it? '
You are curious couple,' said Sprats.
think we are to be praised for our common-sense
view of things,' he said. am often told that am a dreamer —you've said so yourself, you know —but in real, sober truth, I'm an awfully matter-of-fact sort of
don't live on illusions and ideals and things — worship the God of the Things that Are! '
Sprats gazed at him as mother might gaze at child who boasts of having performed an impossible task.
Oh, you absolute baby! ' she said. Is your pretty head stuffed with wool or with feathers?
