HE DAY'S JOURNEY NETTA S TT THE DAY'S JOURNEY CECILY," HE SAID SUDDENLY, "WHAT ARE You GOING TO Do ?" [PAGE 260] THE DAYS JOURNEY BY NETTA SYRETT AUTHOR OF " ROSANNE," "THE TREE OF LIFE," ETC. "Does the road wind up-hill all the way ? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day ? From morn to night, my friend." CHICAGO A. C. McCLURG & CO. 1906 COPYRIGHT A. C. MCCLURG & Co. 1906 Published September 15, 1906 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. THE DAY'S JOURNEY THE DAY'S JOURNEY CHAPTER I ROSE SUMMERS paused a moment be- fore she lifted the latch of a little gate set between two walls of yew. It was June. The sky had the blue of larkspur, the air was sweet with the scent of flowers. The gate in the yew hedge opened upon a small flagged court leading to a porch wreathed with roses. Above the porch clematis and ivy continued the wall of living green almost to the gables of what had once been an Elizabethan farm- house, and was now the picturesque home of Robert Kingslake and of Cecily his wife. To the left, above a walled garden, great chestnut trees reared their heads, and flung shadows across the lane in which Mrs. Sum- mers was standing. The stillness, broken only by the sleepy clucking of fowls, was of that peculiar peacefulness which broods over an English country-side. On the white dust 2 The Day's Journey in the road the shadows lay asleep. The trees themselves drowsed against the blue sky ; the very roses above the house-porch laid their pink faces together, and, cradled in leaves, dreamt in the sunshine. Only a moment passed before Mrs. Sum- mers lifted the latch, yet in that moment she saw in imagination one hill station after another ; she hurried through adventures and experiences which had filled five years, and came back to the realization that, in the meantime, her cousin Cecily had just lived here at the Priory, listening to the clucking of the fowls, looking at the chestnut trees against the sky, perhaps tending the roses round the porch. She walked up the flagged path and rang the bell. The door was opened in a few moments by a neat maid, who said that Mrs. Kingslake was out. " But she won't be long, ma'am, if you '11 come in," she added. The porch led almost directly into one of those square, panelled halls which make the most charming of sitting-rooms. At the farther end a long, low casement window framed a vista of the garden green, luxuriant, brilliant with flowers. On the window-ledge there was a china bowl of sweet peas. The Day's Journey 3 Mrs. Summers looked about her with in- terest. There was not much furniture, but each piece, though simple, was beautiful in form at least, and in some cases obviously rather costly. It was furniture chosen with discretion. " Better off than they used to be," was her mental comment. She glanced at the fresh chintz curtains, O ' at the two or three little pieces of silver, ex- quisitely cared for, on mantelpiece and tables ; at the flowers everywhere. " She 's as dainty as ever," was her next reflection. A photograph on the top of a writing-table caught her wandering attention. She took it up, and examined it with interest. It was that of a man of a possible five- and-thirty, clean-shaven, handsome, with some- thing eager, enthusiastic, almost childlike about the eyes, and the mouth of a sensualist. Mrs. Summers replaced the photograph ; it was of Cecily's husband, but she was more interested in Cecily, and of her she could find no picture. She walked presently to the door which led into the garden. Looking out upon its cool greenness and beauty, her thoughts were full of its owner. A very close friendship, rather than the tie of blood, bound her to the 4 The Day's Journey woman for whose coming she waited. Much of her girlhood had been spent with Cecily, and up to the time of her own marriage, six years ago, she had stayed weeks at a time at the Meri vales' house in Chelsea. It had been an interesting house to visit. Cecily's father, a widower and a well-known doctor, was the type of man who attracted the better minds, the more striking personalities, and Cecily was undoubtedly the woman to keep them. Apparently gazing into the quiet Surrey garden, in reality Mrs. Summers was looking into the drawing-room at Carmarthen Terrace, seeing it as it had appeared on many an even- ing in the past. The room was full of firelight and candlelight, a quiet, restful room, a little old- fashioned with its traces of mid-Victorianism, brought by Cecily's clever touch into har- mony with a more modern standard of taste. Mrs. Summers remembered the pattern of the long chintz curtains, remembered the sub- dued tone of the walls, the china in the big cabinet, the water-colors which were the pride of her uncle's heart. She saw him talking earnestly at one end of the room, his fine gray head conspicuous among the group of men who surrounded him men well known in the world of science, of letters, and of art. The Day's Journey 5 Even more distinctly she saw Cecily, the young hostess and mistress of the house, in the midst of the younger men and women of their circle. She heard the laughter. There was always laughter near Cecily, whose airy insouciance was amusing enough successfully to disguise real ability. " I 'm quite clever enough to pass for a fluffy fool when necessary." This, a long- ago remark of her cousin's, suddenly recurred to Mrs. Summers, a propos of nothing, and she wondered whether Cecily ever wrote anything now. Then her thoughts went back to Cecily as a hostess. She had been looked upon by some of her friends as a brilliant woman, a woman whose social gifts, whose power of pleasing as well as leading should carry her far in the yet wider world which would open for her when she made the excellent marriage that every one predicted. And, after all, Cecily had married Robert Kingslake, a writer with nothing but his pen between him and starvation. Rose remembered the first day he came to the house, a rather sombre, rather picturesque figure, with his dark eyes and graceful, lithe body. Things moved very quickly after that first evening, so quickly that in retrospect 6 The Day's Journey there seemed to Mrs. Summers to have been scarcely a moment of ordinary acquaintance- ship. There was a slight interval devoted to impetuous, ardent love-making, and then the wedding, for which she, herself a year-old bride, had not been able to stay. Her husband's regiment had been ordered to India a week before Cecily Merivale became Cecily Kingslake, and she had sailed with him. A breath of warm air swept towards the open door, and fanned the short curtains at the window ; it brought with it the scent of carna- tions, and to Mrs. Summers a sudden vision of Cecily as she had last seen her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed in her room at Carmarthen Terrace. The room was flooded with sunshine. The basin on the washstand was, Mrs. Summers remembered, full of carnations, and as she entered the room she had exclaimed at their beauty. " They 've just come. I 'm going to ar- range them," Cecily had said. She held a letter which had also evidently just come, and as she raised her head the look on her face had startled her cousin. She remembered fearing for her. Could any human being with impunity be as ecstatically happy as that ? It was like tempting Providence. The Day's Journey 7 Something of this, half in jest, half seriously, she had tried to say, and Cecily had laughed, the low, trembling laugh of a delight too deep to find other expression. She had given her- self over to her love as the woman a little difficult, more than a little fastidious, always gives herself with a surrender complete and unquestioning. The sunny bedroom, the dainty new frocks over the backs of the chairs, the litter of boxes and paper about the room, the brilliant flowers, and Cecily in her white petticoat, her white shoulders bare ; beautiful, proud, and smil- ing, Mrs. Summers saw her as though five days rather than five years had passed since they had met. She moved, and glanced back over her shoulder. The memory was so vivid that it stirred her to impatience. Why did n't Cecily come? A door closed sharply. "Where? Where is she?" It was the same clear, eager voice, and Mrs. Summers smiled, suddenly reassured. The next moment Cecily's arms were round her, and there was a rush of incoherent ques- tions. Then Rose gently pushed her back, and they looked at one another. Involuntarily an exclamation rose to the 8 The Day's Journey elder woman's lips, mercifully checked, as she recognized, by Cecily's eager words. " You are just the same ! " she cried. " You 've scarcely changed at all." And then came the inevitable pause. Rose listened to a thrush singing, and to the distant sound of a mowing-machine. She seemed to have been listening quite a long time before Cecily broke in so sharply that her voice was almost like a cry. " Ah no ! don't look at me ! I 'm old and ugly. I 've changed, have n't I, Rose ? " The question ended in a nervous laugh. CHAPTER II "T'M dying to go into the garden," said J_ Mrs. Summers. She slipped her arm within Cecily's, and while she talked volubly, felt its trembling gradually lessen. " Tongue cannot tell what I 've endured since I landed on Tuesday," she exclaimed. " The children's ayah has been ill, relations have incessantly banged at the front door, Mother has had one of her attacks excitement, you know, and I 've been tearing my hair. I dare n't write to tell you when to expect me because I did n't know from hour to hour when I could get away. At last to-day there was a lull ; so, forbidding anything to happen in my absence, I just rushed of? to you." " And the babies ? " asked Cecily. " Splendid. They got horribly spoilt on board, and now Mother 's putting the finish- ing touches." "And Jack?" io The Day's Journey " Very fit when I left him, a month ago. But I 'm not going to talk babies, nor even husbands. I want to know about you." Cecily shrugged her shoulders. " There 's nothing to tell," she said. " You saw me a month before I came into this house ; I 've been here ever since. This is rather a nice seat." They sat down on a bench under a beech tree, and for all her volubility Rose felt her- self nonplussed. She glanced at Cecily, her momentary hesitation as to what to say next indicated by a little furrow between the eyes. Rose Summers was scarcely a pretty, but certainly a striking woman, who, in spite of trying circumstances in the shape of an Eastern climate, looked younger than her thirty-one years. Her figure, of the athletic type, was good ; she was exceedingly well dressed, and she wore her clothes with distinction. Her slightly freckled face had a healthy tint, and her eyes gray, clear, and steady were beau- tiful as well as kindly. Their expression was contradicted, to some extent, by the sar- casm indicated in a rather large and certainly humorous mouth. The eyes she turned upon her friend now were troubled, almost The Day's Journey n incredulous. Her mental picture of the Cecily of five years back had been so vivid that, even with the witness before her, she could not realize the change those years had brought. Cecily was still graceful ; nothing could rob her of the beautiful movements which charac- terized every change of attitude ; and as she threw herself back against the cushions in the corner of the bench, for the first time Mrs. Summers recognized the Cecily of the past. But her beauty was wellnigh gone. It was a beauty that had always largely depended on happiness, and now, with her blue eyes faded, the delicate color gone from her cheeks, her hair still soft but lustreless, she was almost a plain woman. Rose glanced furtively from her face to her dress. It was of simple dark blue linen, quite neat, quite serviceable. She thought of the dainty muslins, the ribbons, the flowers of earlier summers and the ludi- crousness of even imagining Cecily in a gown that could be characterized as serviceable ! " When you begin to neglect your frocks, Cis, I shall know the end is near." In the old days Mrs. Summers had often told her this. She recalled it now, and made haste to break the silence. 12 The Day's Journey " Where is Robert ? " she asked. " Do I call him Robert? I forget." "Of course you do. He's in town reading at the British Museum." Rose raised her eyebrows with a laugh. " Since when has our Robert become so studious ? " " He 's writing a historical novel, and has to study up the period. Robert is getting quite famous, you know, Rose," she added, after a moment's pause. " Yes but you, Cis ? Why are you not famous ? " " I ? Oh, I 'm married instead," she replied, with a little laugh. " Tell me all about Robert," demanded Mrs. Summers. " If you only knew how horribly out of things I feel ! I know noth- ing of what 's been going on in the book world." "I should think not with two babies to look after." " And the constant moving from one station to another. One loses touch so quickly, and you know, Cis," with a touch of reproach, " you have n't written. Why did n't you write ? For the last year or two I 've scarcely heard anything of you." The Day's Journey 13 For a moment her cousin was silent, and when she spoke her voice trembled. " I know. But after baby died, I had n't the heart. And then " She broke off abruptly. Mrs. Summers' voice was very gentle. "Yes, dear, of course I understand," she said. " But tell me everything now. Robert 's getting famous ? That means that you 're get- ting rich, you lucky little wretch ! " "Yes," returned Cecily. "Yes, I suppose we shall be rich," she added, slowly. " Bless the child ! Are n't you glad ? Is n't he glad ? " " Oh, yes, he's very glad. We can get away now." She spoke in a quiet, unemotional tone, and Rose glanced at her sharply. " Get away ? But does n't he love this place ? " "No, he's sick of it," she said, still in the same indifferent voice. " We 're going to sell it, and move to London in the autumn." " But Robert was so wild to take it ! " "That was five years ago." "It's perfectly lovely, of course," returned her friend, glancing round her. " But you never wanted to come, I remember. You wanted so much to live in town. The i 4 The Day's Journey discussion of town versus country was at its height when I left. So country won ? " "Yes, country won," Cecily repeated. " Well, it 's beautiful," Rose repeated. " I never saw such flowers. What a gardener you must have ! " Cecily laughed. " I am the gardener. I do it nearly all myself." Rose's astonishment kept her silent. Cecily, who knew nothing of country things! Cecily, who, in spite of her love for nature, belonged first to the town to its life, its thoughts, its opportunities ! To this meeting with the friend of her girlhood she had been looking forward for months, and she had met a stranger. She had foolishly expected to take up the thread of intimacy where she had dropped it, and in the interval a whole new pattern had been woven, a pattern in faded colors, whose design she did not understand. Cecily was obviously unhappy ; obviously, also, she was keeping her at arm's length, and with such success that she had not the courage to ask direct questions. With gratitude she hailed the appearance of a maid who came with tea, as a relief to her embarrassment that terrible embarrassment one feels in the presence of a close friend to whose mind one has lost the key. The Day's Journey 15 While the cloth was being spread, and the maid was moving to and fro from the house, they exchanged information on family matters. " Diana is almost grown up," said Cecily, speaking of her sister, whom Mrs. Summers remembered as a child of twelve. " You know she's been living with Uncle Henry and Aunt- Mary since father died?" The softening of her voice, the hesitation with which she spoke his name, reminded Rose of one great grief, at least, through which in her absence her friend had passed. "You will like Diana," Cecily added after a moment. " Of course you 're going to stay to-night, Rose? " Mrs. Summers admitted that she was open to an invitation. " When is Robert coming back ? " she inquired. " This afternoon, I think. He was staying last night at his godmother's Lady Wilmot, you know." The mention of her husband's name did not, as Rose hoped, lead to confidences. Cecily began at once to inquire the earliest date at which her friend could leave the children long enough for a " proper visit," and Mrs. Sum- mers was soon driven to make conversation. " What a ridiculous little world it is ! " she remarked, stirring her tea ; " I have n't yet 16 The Day's Journey been home a week, and already I 've run across people I 'd lost sight of for years before I left England. Now, on Monday, for instance, I was going to the dressmaker's when I met a girl I used to know, a girl called Philippa Burton." "Philippa Burton!" echoed Cecily, with in- terest. " Why, I went to school with her. A rather pretty dark girl ? " "Major Burton's daughter? Yes? How strange ! " " Philippa Burton ! How it brings all the schooldays back ! " exclaimed Cecily, with a retrospective laugh. " I had no idea you knew her, Rose. When did you meet her ? " "That year I went to Leipzig to study music, you know. She was in the same pension, studying something or other also ; I forget what. Affectation, I should think." " But she had brought that to a fine art even as a schoolgirl," Cecily remarked. " Tell me about her. We left school the same term, I remember. Is she as pretty as ever ? " She spoke with animation, obviously glad of a topic which drew conversation away from per- sonal matters. " Pretty? yes, in a floppy fashion." Cecily laughed. " Oh, she still flops ? She The Day's Journey 17 used to be a most intense young woman. When she asked you to pass the salt at dinner, you felt inclined to burst into tears. She was High Church when I knew her, but that was early in her career." " Oh, yes, there 's been Rationalism since then, and Socialism, and Vegetarianism, and Theosophy, and what not. Just now it's Sandals and the Simple Life, whatever that may mean. It seems to cover a multitude of complexities." " Does she still yearn ? " " Oh, horribly ! She begins at breakfast- time, I 'm sure. She 's doing miniatures and mystic drawings now." " And mouse-traps, and moonshine, and everything else that begins with an M? It sounds like Alice in Wonderland. Go on. I 'm awfully interested to hear of her again. Even as a schoolgirl Philippa posed more than any other human being I 've ever met." " She has a studio in Fulham somewhere," Mrs. Summers continued. " I happened to be quite close to it when I met her, and she asked me to come in to tea. She had grape- nuts and plasmon. It's astonishing what lurid views of life can be nourished upon this apparently mild diet," she added, reflectively. 1 8 The Day's Journey " Are Philippa's views lurid ? " asked Cecily. " Oh, my uninstructed married ignorance is to blame, of course ! " declared Mrs. Sum- mers, with a meek expression. " What did she say ? " " A great many things most of them quite unfit for publication. But the latest and simplest gospel, according to Burton, ap- pears to be, ' Down with the proprietary view of marriage.' ' Cecily leaned back against her cushions. "Ah!" she said. " Yes," continued Mrs. Summers, medita- tively, "there should be room in life for frank, free comradeship camaraderie was, I think, the word between husbands and ladies who are living the Simple Life. Room for beautiful, breezy, ennobling friendships, un- trammelled by vulgar jealousy on the part of the wife." " I see," returned Cecily. " And is the wife to have beautiful, breezy friendships too ? " " Oh, yes ! Liberty, Fraternity (presumably), and Equality, of course." Cecily was silent a moment. " And you don't believe in that kind of thing ? " she asked. Mrs. Summers shrugged her shoulders. The Day's Journey 19 "My dear, I haven't lived the Simple Life," she returned, dryly. " Some more tea ? " Cecily suggested. " Well, a complicated biscuit, then ? I 'm afraid I have n't any plasmon in the house. I wonder now whether a woman like Philippa Burton is more of a hypocrite or a self- deceiver ? " she added, thoughtfully, after a few moments. " About her theories, you mean ? " " Or her practices. A woman seldom has a theory without a concrete example to illus- trate it. Philippa has a concrete example, of course ? " " Oh, yes, one of the husbands who comes to be ennobled." " Is n't his wife suited to the task ? " " Apparently not. He is a great genius, warped, stifled, suffocated by the atmosphere of domesticity." " Poor man," said Cecily. " The wife's crime, as far as I can under- stand," pursued Mrs. Summers, " is her ex- istence, and from Philippa's point of view I admit it's enough. No doubt when a man 's tired of his wife it is awfully annoying and stultifying to his genius. But somehow, while Philippa talked, I felt rather sorry for 20 The Day's Journey the poor little woman whose mind is so ill- balanced that she can't turn off her emotions to order." " Is the man in love with Philippa, do you think?" " Well, as he generally spends several hours a day with her, I should say he was speak- ing of the human man as I know him." " And Philippa ? " asked Cecily. " Philippa, my dear, has sandals and an exalted mind. I also suspect her of a certain amount of concealed jaeger, and she thinks him very noble. He always speaks ' quite nicely ' of his wife." Mrs. Summers paused, the ironical smile deepening upon her lips. " Under these circumstances," she continued, " the denouement may be a little delayed." " Ah well ! " observed Cecily, rising. " It 's a very common little story, no doubt." There was an underlying ring of bitterness in her words which did not escape her friend's notice, as she too got up from the bench. "You'd like to come to your room, Rose ? Dinner 's at half-past seven." " Oh, common enough, of course," returned Rose, in answer to her first remark. " There 's nothing particularly remarkable about Mr. Fergus Macdonald, I should imagine " The Day's Journey 21 She was stooping to pick up her handker- chief as she spoke, when a half-articulate exclamation made her sharply raise her head. Cecily was standing looking at her. " Mr. ? I did n't catch the name," she said, in an odd voice. "Fergus Macdonald," repeated Rose. "She did n't tell me his name, but I could n't help seeing a very soulful inscription in a book. Why, Cecily, do you know him ? " She stammered over the last words, for while she spoke, every drop of color had ebbed away from the other woman's face. " Cecily ! " she urged. Cecily sank into the seat she had just left. There was silence for a moment, and then she began to laugh. " Cecily ! " said Mrs. S.ummers again. " Don't, Cecily ! Do you know him ? " " A little," she replied. " He 's my hus- band." There was quite a long silence. Rose noticed the long shadows on the grass, was conscious of the brilliance of a bed of flowers in the sunset light. " Robert I " she whispered at last. " But how " " It 's his writing name," said Cecily, wearily. 22 The Day's Journey She had left off laughing now. " Oh, of course, you did n't know, dear. As you say, you have been out of things " Her voice trailed off without finishing the sentence. Mrs. Summers mentally reviewed the pre- ceding conversation. " O Cis," she mur- mured, " I could kill myself for it. What a fool I am ! what afoot I " CHAPTER III "TTERE'S Robert!" exclaimed Cecily, J. J. under her breath. " Don't worry. I 'm all right. It does n't matter." Rose saw with relief that though her face was still colorless it was quite calm, and almost before she had realized that a man was cross- ing the lawn towards them, she heard her voice again. " Robert," she said, " it 's Rose. She took me by surprise to-day." Kingslake put out his hand, smiling. " You have been expected for some time. Why, it's how many years ? " " Five," returned Mrs. Summers, laconically. " Only five? I thought it was longer." He began to ask about the journey, the date of her arrival, all the conventional questions re- lating to the circumstances, in the midst of which, as Rose observed, he had apparently forgotten a greeting to his wife. He turned to her at last. 24 The Day's Journey "Well, dear! I'm rather late." He put some letters on the tea-table. " The post 's in. I found these in the hall." Cecily took them up, and began to open the envelopes. " May I, Rose ? " she murmured, absently. " Do sit down, Mrs. Summers," urged Kingslake, " we need not go in for ten minutes." He seated himself also as she complied, and while he continued the desultory conversation he had begun with her, Rose noticed that he glanced every now and then at his wife, who was deep in her letters. At first sight he was not much altered. He was still the good-looking, rather pictur- esque man she remembered ; but the hint of weakness in his face was more pronounced, and the lines about his mouth had grown querulous. As she talked, Rose watched him curiously. She was wondering at the reason for the furtive looks he occasionally threw in his wife's direction. There was a trace of anxiety in his face for which she could not account. Cecily's correspondence lasted for some time, but at last she raised her head. " This is quite remarkable," she said, in a The Day's Journey 25 voice which struck Rose as rather clearer even than her usual clear tones. " I've just heard from an old school-fellow a girl I've lost sight of for years." Mrs. Summers' eyes flashed with sudden comprehension. " She says she has met you, Robert," con- tinued Cecily, in the same tone. " Oh ? May I smoke, Mrs. Summers ? " He drew out his cigarette-case. " Who is the lady ? " " Philippa Burton." " Oh, yes ! She was dining at Lady Wil- mot's last night." He threw away the match. " What does she say ? " His wife began to read : " DEAR CECILY, You will wonder who is ad- dressing you in this familiar fashion, and even when you look at the signature, I wonder whether you will remember your old school-fellow Philippa Burton ? I am writing because, after this week, I shall be a near neighbor of yours. I have broken down a little, over my work; my doctor has ordered me country air, and I find the village to which he is sending me is your village ! Sheepcote is so easy of access to town that I can run up when it is absolutely neces- sary, do as much work as I am allowed, and, 1 hope, renew my friendship with you. I met your husband s6 The Day's Journey yesterday at Lady Wilmot's. What a charming man he is, and how proud you must be of him." " Spare my blushes," interpolated Kingslake, in a lazy voice. Cecily concluded " May I sign myself, as in old days, "Affectionately yours, " PHILIPPA BURTON." She folded the letter deliberately, and re- placed it in its envelope. " Well, you can look after her a little, can't you ? " observed Kingslake. " You might see about getting her rooms, perhaps ? Would n't old Mrs. Green take her? or the Watford woman ? But this is n't very amusing for Mrs. Summers, I 'm afraid." He turned to her politely. "Oh, on the contrary," she answered,