there will be no such person in "These things I speak of, are the things that will meet the casual eye; but in our sight they will have a very different meaning. "Eve!" he said sharply and almost vehemently, "a whole chapter in my life has been closed to-night; and my first instinct is to shut the book and throw it away. But I am thinking of you. Remember, I am thinking of you. Whatever the trials, whatever the difficulties, no harm shall come You have my word to you. for that! "I'll return with you now to Grosvenor Square; I'll remain till a reasonable excuse can be given for for Chilcote's going abroad; I will avoid Fraide, and I will cut politics; then at the first reasonable moment I VOL. CLXXVI.-NO. MLXVIII. "In another country?" she said. "In another country?" "Yes; a fresh career in a fresh country. Something clean to offer you. I'm not too old to do what other men have done.' He paused; and for one moment Eve looked ahead at the gleaming chain of lamps that marked the Strand; then, with the same air of deliberation, she brought her glance back to his face. "No," she said very slowly. "You are not too old. But there are times when age-and things like age-are not the real consideration. It seems to me that your own inclination, your own individual sense of right and wrong, has nothing to do with the present moment. The question is whether you are justified in going away? She paused, her eyes fixed steadily upon his. "Whether you are free to go away-and make a new life? Whether it is ever justifiable to follow a phantom light when — when there's a lantern waiting to be carried!" Her breath caught; she drew away from him, half frightened, half elated by her words. Loder's lips parted. "Eve!" he exclaimed. Then suddenly his tone changed. "You don't know what you're saying," he added quickly. "You don't understand what you're saying." 2 H Again his lips parted, but again she checked him. "Don't!" she said. "Don't say anything! I know all But But Eve leant forward, still "It is the party-the country. looking into his eyes. "Yes," Yes," You may put love aside, but she said slowly, "I do under- duty is different. You have stand.' Her voice was con- pledged yourself. You are not trolled, her manner convinced. meant to draw back." She was no longer the girl conquered by strength greater than her own; she was the woman, strenuously demanding her right to individual happiness. "I understand it all," she repeated. "I understand every point. It was not Chance that made you change your identity, that made you care for me, that brought about his death. I don't believe it was Chance; I believe it was something much higher. You are not meant to go away!" As Loder watched her, the remembrance of his first days as Chilcote rose again; the remembrance of how he had been dimly filled with the belief that below her self-possession lay a strength-a depth -uncommon in woman. As he studied her now the instinctive belief flamed into conviction. "Eve!" he cried involuntarily. With a quick gesture she raised her head. "No!" she exclaimed. 'No; don't say anything! You are going to see things as I see them-you must do so you have no choice. No real man ever casts away the substance for the shadow!" Her eyes shone -the colour, the glow, the vitality rushed back into her face. "John," she said, "I love you -and I need you-but there is something with a greater claim a greater need than mine. Don't you know what it is?" He said nothing; he made no gesture. marry that is in your mind. "I will tell you. A flush crossed Loder's face. "A man requires pride," he said in a low voice. "Yes; at the right time. But is this the right time? Is it ever right to throw away the substance for the shadow? You say that I don't understand-don't realise; I realise more to-night than I have realised in all my life. I know that you have an opportunity that can never come againand that it's terribly possible to let it slip She paused. Loder sat with his hands resting on the closed doors of the cab, his eyes averted, his head bent. 'Only to-night," she went on, "you told me that everything was crying to you to take the easy, pleasant way. Then, it was strong to turn aside; but now it is not strong. It is far nobler to fill an empty niche than to carve one for yourself. John-" she suddenly leant forward, laying her hands over his. "Mr Fraide told me to-night that in his new Ministry my-my husband was to be Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs!" So The words fell softly. softly that to ears less comprehending than Loder's their significance might have been lost-as his own rigid attitude and unresponsive manner might have conveyed lack of understanding to any eyes less observant than Eve's. For a long space no word was spoken. At last, with a very gentle pressure, her fingers tightened over his hands. "John" she began. But the word died away. She drew back into her seat, as the cab stopped before Chilcote's house. Simultaneously as they descended, the hall - door was opened and a flood of warm light poured out reassuringly into the darkness. "I thought it was your cab, sir," Crapham explained deferentially as they passed into the hall. "Mr Fraide has been waiting to see you this halfhour. I showed him into the study." He closed the door softly and retired. Then, in the warm light, amid the gravely dignified surroundings that had marked his first entry into this hazardous second existence, Eve turned to Loder for the verdict upon which the future hung. As she turned his face was still hidden from her, and his attitude betrayed nothing. "John," she said slowly, "you know why Mr Fraide is here. You know that he has come to personally offer you this position; to personally receive your refusal or consent." She ceased to speak; there was a moment of suspense; then Loder turned. His face was still pale and grave, with the gravity of a man who has but recently been close to death; but beneath the gravity was another look; the old expression of strength and self-reliance-tempered, raised, and dignified by a new humility. Moving forward, he held out his hands. "My consent or refusal," he said very quietly, "lies with my wife." TWO DAYS. I. As I went to Marlow, to Marlow, to Marlow, And, oh, the birds were singing— As I went to Marlow that summer afternoon. As I went to Marlow, the town of pretty dwellings, Of golden heat grew dimmer, Of lucid gliding river unruffled by the breeze. As I stood in Marlow my mother spoke me softly: Nor bitterly denied me, But tenderly would guide me The way I ought to go; Still, still its accents haunt me, so gentle and so low. II. As I came from Marlow my little maid was by me, And, oh, her eyes shone brightly, My little girl of girls, Who nestled at my side there her sunny head of curls. As I came from Marlow the road flew back behind us As swiftly as the years went that vanished like a bird, And 'mid the engine's throbbing, My mind of comfort robbing, I thought I heard a sobbing- A gentle tender sobbing that fluttered like a bird. As I came from Marlow the sobbing died to sighing, But soon I felt there came, too, a brightness in the sighs; And, last, my heart addressing, A shadow-hand was pressing A light into my eyes, As once my mother coaxed me and smiled amid her sighs. As I came from Marlow my little one spoke up then: And one I most remember, a far-off afternoon." As I came from Marlow my little one made answer: "Why smoothed you then my head, dear?" "Not I," I said, "Not I! The touch as light as air, dear, That smoothed your ruffled hair, dear, The touch of loving care, dear"— "It was my mother used it, my mother, dear, not I." R. C. LEHMANN. |