The Tree of Knowledge Part 82

Yes. It had come. He had realized fully now that the glittering Eden of his dreams was a _mirage_ on desert sand. It was, he judged, his own fault from beginning to end. He had started on a wrong tack. He had begun life all theories and no experience, and one by one his sweet delusions had suffered s.h.i.+pwreck.

He had married with no practical knowledge of women, their wants and their ways; for of course he imagined that all women were like Elsa. He found her unreasonable, exacting, pettish if thwarted, absolutely unsympathetic, and with a mind incapable of comprehending his. All these failings he unhesitatingly ascribed to her s.e.x. He believed that he ought to have been prepared to find her thus merely because she was a woman.

He was pa.s.sing through the bitter stage of disillusioning which Claud had prophesied for him.

This afternoon he was feeling specially unhappy, for Elsa so disliked the idea of coming to Edge at all that she had been sulky ever since they embarked. He had been impressed with the conviction that it was imperative that she should pay a short visit there, as Miss Ellen, who was failing rapidly, was longing to see her. Accordingly, he had exerted his naturally strong will and carried her off, and she had been making him feel it ever since. To add to her vexation, her maid was always ill on the water; so that Leon was devoutly thankful that the wind had enabled him to make his cruise shorter than he had antic.i.p.ated.

As the smiling sh.o.r.es of the lovely bay became distinct, he rose and went below to the dainty and exquisite little saloon, where his wife was reclining with a novel.

"Elsa, we are nearly there," he said, "and there is quite a mob collected to watch our arrival."

"No! really! is there?" she said, sitting up with some appearance of interest. "I never thought they would think of giving us a reception.

What a pity I did not change my gown! Is it too late?"

"You look perfectly well as you are," he answered, with a sorrowfully tender gaze at the graceful form in its natty blue serge and coquettish sailor-hat.

"Oh, that is like you--you never care what I wear! I really think I'll change. What a bother Mathilde is to be sick like this! But you can hook my skirt, can't you, Leon?"

"My dear little woman, we shall be on sh.o.r.e in five minutes. You must come on deck directly. Be quick--I want to see who is there to greet us."

"How tiresome! Why didn't you remind me that the people would turn out to look at us?" she complained. "I do hate to feel shabby."

"Elsa! you look perfectly charming! Do you suppose the villagers can distinguish between the prices of your gowns?" He coaxingly put his arm round her. "I want to feel proud of my wife," he said. "Put on your best smile for the people, darling."

In this wise he managed to persuade her into showing herself on deck just in time. As the _Swan_ drew on gracefully close in sh.o.r.e, a hearty cheer greeted the young couple as they stood side by side.

"There are Cranmer and his wife, besides dear old Fowler!" cried Leon, gladly, as he waved his cap. "How pleasant to have Claud here--it seems so long since I saw him--not since our wedding-day!"

"Humph! You are a civil bridegroom! I am sorry that time has pa.s.sed so tediously," said Elsa, in some real and some pretended annoyance. "But is that really Wynifred Allonby--Cranmer, I mean? How she has improved in looks! I suppose it is because she is better dressed. Mr. Cranmer looks well, too."

In a few minutes they were all on sh.o.r.e together, in the midst of greetings.

As Claud and Percivale joined hands, their eyes met in a long, searching, mutual inquiry. One moment showed Claud that his friend had not found perfect happiness. He was changed; he looked older, and the expression of his eyes and mouth seemed to tell of mental suffering.

Claud's own obvious, radiant content was in sharp contrast.

"Well, Claud, my dear friend, I was astonished, I confess," faltered Leon. "But I must congratulate you. You look very happy."

"Happy! I should think so. I have my heart's desire," smiled Claud. "The only times that anything has power to vex me are the moments when she is out of sight; and I believe they will always be few and far between."

Leon looked earnestly at him.

"That _is_ happiness," he said.

Mr. Fowler and the Cranmers dined at Edge Willoughby.

It was a hot night--so sultry as to suggest the proverbial thunderstorm, though the sky was clear and starry.

All dinner-time Percivale's sad eyes haunted Wynifred uncomfortably. He seemed to be studying her own and her husband's entire sympathy with a wistful appeal, as if wondering how it was that he and Elsa had come so terribly short of it.

Mrs. Leon Percivale was in her most gracious mood. The public reception had gratified her, and to trail her new gowns up and down the familiar corridors of Edge Willoughby, to the awe of Jane Gollop and the rest of the staff of elderly retainers, was not without its charm. She wore a dazzling evening toilette, and looked like a beautiful apparition as she sat between her G.o.dfather and Claud in smiling quiescence, talking, as was her wont, very little.

The company separated early, as was their country fas.h.i.+on,--Wynifred to walk peacefully home to Lower House with her husband and Mr. Fowler, through the meadow foot paths.

They went in silence for some distance. Percivale had strolled as far as the end of the terrace with them, and bidden them good night at the stile. His tone appeared to have cast a gloom over all three; something there was in his whole manner which was inexpressibly sad. They felt it without knowing why. Henry spoke at last.

"Percivale does not look well," he said.

"No; Mabel has several times said so in writing," replied Claud. "She thinks London life does not suit him. I daresay a cruise will set him up. That is why she made this suggestion of his fetching her from Clovelly. I think he seems to like the idea."

"Yes; but Elsa does not care to be left here alone while he goes; so I am afraid he will have to give it up," returned Mr. Fowler, with a sigh.

Lady Mabel had taken a farm house at Edge for her children and their governess, and had written to say that, if the _Swan_ was really there, it would be very delightful to be fetched, and enjoy a cruise round the Cornish coast. The suggestion had brought a ray of brightness to Leon's face. To be at sea again, in his beloved _Swan_, was what he relished.

He would like to go; but Elsa did not approve. She declined to accompany him, and declined to let him go without her.

"I will not go cruising with a sick maid," she said, simply, "and I will not go cruising without a maid; and I will not be left in this dull place by myself. So you can't go, Leon."

"I am glad, on the whole, that my wife does not require a maid," said Claud, with Wyn's hand held closely against his side.

"You make such a charming lady's-maid that I require no other," she laughed. "Imagine, Mr. Fowler! He can do my hair beautifully. What it is to have a husband who can turn his hand to anything!"

CHAPTER LIV.

There is nothing to remember in me, Nothing I ever said with a grace, Nothing I did that you care to see, Nothing I was that deserves a place In your mind, now I leave you, set you free.

How strange it were, if you had all me As I have all you in my heart and brain, You, whose least word brought gloom or glee, Who never yet lifted the hand in vain Will hold mine yet, from over the sea!

_James Lee's Wife._

Percivale strolled back alone up the garden path. The night was motionless and heavy. A lethargy seemed to lie on his soul like a weight. To-night he had realized a new thing. He had seen that the wedded bliss he had figured to himself was no dream, but a human possibility, which some attained, but which he had missed. How had he missed it?

Was it possible that he had married the wrong woman?

"Oh, Love, Love, no!" he cried, in his remorse. The fault was his, in some way, of that he was very sure. Had that unknown mother of his lived, she would have been his counsellor, and have shown him where he failed. His deep eyes filled with tears as the thought of that mother beyond the stars came vividly upon his soul. He felt a longing to be comforted--to have his unbroken loneliness scattered and dissipated by tender hands which should draw his weary head down lovingly to rest on a sympathetic breast, and, while telling him what had been his error, whisper consolation.

If there was one thing more than another for which he could not possibly look to his wife, it was for this. Elsa expected him to have his attention always fixed on her and her requirements. The idea that he could ever ail in mind or body never occurred to her.

He stood in the porch of Edge Willoughby, the suffocating sweetness of the verbena-bush, which grew beside the door, suffusing the air all round him. He remembered the night when he stood there with Fowler and Claud, just a year ago, bearing the news of Elsa's innocence.

If he could but charm away this bitter sense of failure!

A sudden determination to make one desperate appeal to his wife dawned in his heart. When first they were married he told himself she was in awe of him, she had not understood him. Now that she knew him better, was there not a chance that she might comprehend the fierce hunger which was in his heart? Surely yes.

Meditatively he walked down the hall.