ch of Life 
 
 Rachel Swete Macnamara
 
 By Rachel S. Macnamara 
 
 The Fringe of the Desert 
 The Torch of Life
 
 THE 
 TORCH OF LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 RACHEL SWETE MACNAMARA 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "THE FRINGE OF THE DESERT," ETC. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 Ube fmfcfeerbocfcer press 
 1914
 
 COPYRIGHT; 1914 
 
 BY 
 RACHEL SWETE MACNAMARA 
 
 Ube Rnicfcerbocfcer press, "Hew lorfe
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 FOR MANY REASONS 
 
 2136993
 
 CONTENTS 
 . BOOK I 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE INEVITABLE I 
 
 II. GREY RETROSPECT 9 
 
 in. PANDORA'S BOX . . . . .20 
 
 IV. THE PHASE PITILESS .... 34 
 
 V. THE PHASE AMOROUS . . . 5 
 VI. THE PHASE FORLORN . . . . 60 
 
 VII. THE CONQUERING OF ALL PHASES . . 71 
 VIII. THE LAST FLICK . . . . 79 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 I. THE CITY OF BELLS . . . . 92 
 
 II. THE WATER-LILY CITY . . . IOI 
 
 III. THREADS OF FATE . . . . . 1 13 
 
 iv. "SKIRTS OF STRAW" . 124 
 
 V. ROSE- RED CARNATIONS . . . . 137 
 
 VI. THE TEMPESTS . . . . . 147 
 VII. TOYE AND THE TANGO . . . . l6l 
 
 VIII. FIRES OF SUNSET . . - . . . . I7 8 
 IX. TOYE INTERRUPTS . .' . . . IQO 
 
 X. FENTON IN VENICE . . . 2OI
 
 vi Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 xi. TOYE'S HINT 214 
 
 XII. THE DINNER PARTY . . . .227 
 
 XIII. ON THE BALCONY . . . . . 242 
 
 XIV. LOVE WITHOUT WINGS . . . .254 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 I. MISS GERARD IS ANGRY . . . . 273 
 
 II. TWO IN A GARDEN . . . . 285 
 
 III. TOYE ON KISSES 294 
 
 IV. MIDGES IN AMBER 306 
 
 v. FENTON'S VISION 320 
 
 VI. ON THE CREST . . . . . 334 
 
 VII. THE GOLDEN BIRD 345 
 
 VIII. THE YEW HEDGE 356 
 
 IX. LOVE WITH \VINGS 365
 
 THE TORCH OF LIFE
 
 The Torch of Life 
 
 BOOK I 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE INEVITABLE 
 
 HAITIAN FLEURY sat up in bed and pushed 
 * back her sleep-ruffled hair from her forehead. 
 One dark red plait fell over her shoulder across the 
 transparencies of her nightdress, the other, with 
 its curling ends undone, sprayed out on the pillow 
 behind her. Her lips were parted, her brown sleep- 
 filled eyes dazed and incredulous. 
 
 The hushed news which Marshall had proffered 
 with her morning tea news given with the solemn 
 elation of one who at once supplies bane and 
 antidote seemed impossible, unbelievable. 
 
 Arnot, her husband, was dead. 
 
 Dead! And when she had bidden him good- 
 night but a few hours since he had seemed just as
 
 2 The Torch of Life 
 
 usual, just as he had always been in the ten strange 
 years of their married life. 
 
 His parting words rang in her ears. They were 
 his usual nightly valediction, uttered then, she 
 fancied with a little prick of gladness, in a rather 
 softer tone than usual. 
 
 "Good-night, Titian. Go to bed quickly. You 
 mustn't lose any of your beauty sleep. " 
 
 Her beauty sleep. Her looks. The fairness 
 of the outer shell was all that he had ever cared 
 for. An old resentment surged hotly upwards. 
 Then she realised from the maid's tarrying gaze, 
 that her hands were arrested in the soft masses 
 of her hair and that Marshall, with an irritat- 
 ing air of doleful excitement, was still holding 
 out the little green tray with its violet-sprigged 
 tea-set. 
 
 A sudden trembling seized her. The affrighting 
 news was not, could not be true. 
 
 "It's not true, Marshall," she cried, shivering. 
 "It's not true." 
 
 " I'm afraid it is, madam. But you mustn't fret. 
 Very quiet and peaceful it was, Hammond says. 
 He went in as usual with Mr. Fleury's chocolate 
 this morning and found him." 
 
 "Found him?" 
 
 "Just as if he was asleep. Must have passed
 
 The Inevitable 3 
 
 away quite quiet-like." The woman brought a 
 little table to the bedside and put the tray on it. 
 She radiated subdued importance. So rare a 
 chance of playing Mercury to the high gods had 
 never fallen to her colourless lot before; she 
 revelled in its most minute possibilities. "A 
 happy release, that's what it was, madam. You 
 mustn't fret. Poor gentleman. A suffering life. 
 Just as if he was asleep, Hammond says." 
 
 "Did Hammond hear nothing in the night? 
 No stir? No cry?" 
 
 "Not a sound, madam. He went in and out 
 during the night just as usual. He turned him 
 once, and the last time he was in before 
 Marshall paused to give the ellipsis its full grim 
 significance " Mr. Fleury was sleeping that peace- 
 ful that he didn't like to disturb him. " 
 
 1 ' Sleeping ? Are you sure ? ' ' 
 
 " Sleeping and breathing, madam. As quiet as a 
 child, Hammond says. And then but won't you 
 take your tea? It's getting cold. " 
 
 "No. Take it away. It would choke me." 
 
 "Oh, no, it won't choke you. It will do you 
 good," said Marshall, pouring it out. "There's 
 nothing like a cup of tea when one is in trouble. " 
 
 "A cup of tea ! Oh, Marshall ! " Titian gave a 
 queer strangled little laugh.
 
 4 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Come now, drink it up." The woman spoke 
 as one would to a child, as, in truth, her mistress 
 always seemed to her despite her twenty-nine years. 
 "It will do you good, madam. You mustn't give 
 way. " 
 
 "Give way?" Titian echoed dully. 
 
 No, she would not give way. How could she 
 give way? To what would she give way? No 
 sudden flood of grief rushed through her being ; all 
 the sluice-gates of her emotion seemed doubly, 
 trebly locked. She was only conscious of a 
 physical coldness and a mental numbness which 
 seemed to cloak all powers of perception and to 
 stifle feeling. Hours seemed to have passed since 
 the moment of Marshall's chill announcement. 
 In some strange way it seemed as if she had 
 always known of Arnot's death. Arnot, who 
 had looked at her with his twisted smile but 
 ten brief hours ago; who had patted her cheek 
 with his thin hand as she bent over his couch 
 to kiss him "good-night," who had even said, 
 yes, she suddenly remembered it, "How beau- 
 tiful you keep!" as he lightly stroked its creamy 
 curve. 
 
 Arnot was dead. 
 
 His crippled thwarted life was over. He siept 
 "like a child" a child? He the cynic, the
 
 The Inevitable 5 
 
 mocker, the clever man, who had so often played 
 with her simplicity and whipped it to tatters 
 with the keen lash of his tongue. He, who 
 had sometimes seemed to draw her to him with 
 the one hand while he thrust her from him with 
 the other he, Arnot, was dead; and she, with the 
 beauty of body which he had cherished, and the 
 beauty of soul which he had ignored, was no 
 more to him now than the veriest triviality of 
 his shed life. 
 
 "Do take your tea, madam," Marshall urged. 
 
 Titian started, shivered again, and, taking 
 the cup from the woman's hand with a passivity 
 engendered by the past ten years, drank the tea 
 obediently. Then she pushed aside the bedclothes 
 and thrust out a reluctant foot. 
 
 "I must go. I must be there," she said 
 tentatively. 
 
 Marshall pulled up the bedclothes with firmness. 
 Bed was the proper place for a widow bed, and 
 present invisibility. 
 
 "No, madam," she asserted. "Hammond has 
 done all that is necessary. He sent off at once for 
 Dr. Bailey and Mr. Mede. They will be here 
 immediately." 
 
 Titian looked at her and cowered under the bed- 
 clothes. She felt stricken with a sudden inexplic-
 
 6 The Torch of Life 
 
 able fear, a sense of the great still Presence that 
 brooded over the house. With a swift longing for 
 warm human contact she put out her hand and 
 caught Marshall's bony one. For a moment, the 
 maid bore her grasp with embarrassment, and a 
 hesitance which was due rather to an ignorance of 
 what was expected of her than to an actual lack 
 of sympathy. 
 
 As Titian shamefacedly withdrew her hand she 
 recalled Arnot's dictum: 
 
 "Marshall is about as sympathetic as a toad 
 and as warm-blooded as a fish, but damn it all, 
 she does know how to do your hair!" 
 
 Yes, that was all that had mattered. She did 
 know how to do her hair, and she was an expert 
 face-masseuse before whose touch the veriest 
 shadow of a wrinkle fled dismayed. Titian was 
 not allowed to indulge in wrinkles, not even the 
 tiniest footprints of mirth at the corners of her 
 eyes. Her ten years of married life had not 
 been permitted to grave the faintest line upon 
 the exquisite ivory of her complexion. Ten 
 years of hoarded youth had kept her beautiful 
 contours undiminished. Arnot had been a 
 miser, as well as a connoisseur, of her beauty. 
 He had not allowed her to spend it even upon 
 himself.
 
 The Inevitable 7 
 
 And now he was dead, and it mattered to him 
 no more ! 
 
 Suddenly she turned and buried her face in 
 the pillow. Why did she think of these queer 
 things, these horrid things now? Why did she 
 not cry? She ought to cry. She knew that 
 Marshall thought she ought to cry. Perhaps 
 Marshall thought that she was crying ! She burned 
 suddenly with a sense of hypocrisy as she heard 
 the maid steal from the room and shut the door 
 softly behind her. 
 
 The autumn sunshine gleamed dimly through 
 the linen blinds, filling the room with a yellowish 
 twilight, a lifeless glow which seemed to accentu- 
 ate the sudden desolation. 
 
 Outside, in the air and light, the sea crashed with 
 monotonous recurrence against the rocky head- 
 land: the faint hiss of withdrawing waves was 
 audible as an incessant whisper. Seagulls screamed 
 with a harsh melancholy, and a rising wind, 
 tinctured with sea-spray, fluttered the blinds to a 
 restless tapping and whipped the window-panes 
 with long lashes of Virginian creeper, to which a 
 tatter of scarlet leaves still clung. 
 
 With a stifled moan, Titian hid her hot face 
 deeper. 
 
 Was it not Arnot himself who had so striven to
 
 8 The Torch of Life 
 
 chill her warm impulses and curb her springing 
 emotions, who had so wrought to overlay her 
 budding tendernesses with the patina of his own 
 cynicism, that now she could not pay him even the 
 homage of a tear?
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 GREY RETROSPECT 
 
 A S she lay there, trying to grasp the full mean- 
 *** ing and significance of the incredible thing 
 which had happened, her thoughts wandered, as 
 women's thoughts will often do, from the end to 
 the beginning. 
 
 The beginning? When does one begin? she 
 wondered dully. When one is first aware of 
 conscious thought? When one awakes to the 
 realisation of one's own womanhood? When 
 one loves? When ? 
 
 She had been a happy careless child, a happy 
 unquestioning girl until she had met Arnot. Her 
 curiosities about life were the vague unspeculative 
 curiosities of a child. With both hands out- 
 stretched, she had taken, laughing, all the flower- 
 gifts of Nature. Of the fruits of Life's harvest she 
 knew nothing and had sought no knowledge. 
 
 Of the sailor father, the gay handsome Dicky 
 Bagot, who had transmuted her inappropriate 
 
 9
 
 io The Torch of Life 
 
 name of Letitia into Titian to match her ruddy 
 hair, she had infrequent, but glorious memories. 
 He came in and out of her life like bursts of sun- 
 shine. Once he went away never to return, and 
 the world for awhile had grown very dark and 
 bleak. Then Time, to youth at once magician 
 and menace, healed the wound of the child. Her 
 mother's wound was decently hidden, but the 
 thrust had cut too deep for any ministration of 
 kindly balm or anodyne. Mrs. Bagot went softly 
 through her savourless days until, having seen 
 her child "comfortably settled," as she phrased 
 it, she faded out of the life which had for her 
 
 "but one last boon to offer, 
 And that was Death! " 
 
 With an extraordinary vividness, Titian recalled 
 her first sight of Arnot Fleury. Each detail stood 
 clear as in the captured impression of a picture. 
 The sea-tang in the rising wind emphasised the 
 reality of the vision. . . . 
 
 The coming of the strange yacht to the village ; 
 the consequent excitement; the golden brilliance 
 of the day, the unbelievable blueness of sea and 
 sky; the warm scent of the furze mingled with the 
 salt whiff from brown nets drying on the old stone 
 pier.
 
 Grey Retrospect n 
 
 Then Arnot, tall and dark, clad in such immacu- 
 late white as her unsophisticated eyes had never 
 seen before, walking up the pier with the Rector, 
 Mr. Gerard. 
 
 She remembered how she had stood rooted to the 
 spot with shyness; how they had stopped; how 
 Arnot had looked at her when Mr. Gerard effected 
 the introduction. Even now, the curious quality 
 of his regard, which had seemed to lap her like 
 soft flames, burned in her memory. 
 
 She remembered, with a sudden surge of pity, 
 the impression of steel-knit strength that he had 
 made upon her. Steel-knit strength! The incon- 
 gruity of the phrase smote her. 
 
 Poor Arnot ! 
 
 She remembered the odd disquieting effect of his 
 presence, and her swift sense of relief when the 
 Rectory gate had clanged behind him; then her 
 equally swift pang at the realisation that with him 
 had gone some of the brilliance of the day. 
 
 She remembered the quick beating of her heart 
 when she caught sight of him in church on Sunday ; 
 how a shaft of sunlight, falling athwart the pew he 
 sat in, had seemed to detach him from the rest of 
 the congregation and to emphasise the clearness of 
 his profile, the veiled brightness of his eyes, the 
 proud, almost insolent poise of his head.
 
 12 The Torch of Life 
 
 Odd that it should be his physical attributes 
 which were so sharply etched upon her memory, 
 while he she shuddered faintly. Of the man 
 himself, as he had been then, her impressions were 
 more blurred. It was as if that period, which 
 should have been her rosetime, an unfadingly- 
 scented memory, were but a palimpsest on which 
 the inscriptions of the past ten years had been 
 graven so deeply that they obliterated the fainter 
 traceries of that brief passionate interlude. 
 
 She had been bewildered, swept off her feet by 
 the impetuosity of his wooing. Her beauty, her 
 simplicity, her shyness, her ignorance, had all ap- 
 pealed to the connoisseur in Arnot Fleury. He was 
 an epicure of emotions, and her absolute freshness 
 savoured of something hitherto untasted. Her 
 soft and gracious beauty appealed in its very 
 immaturity. For him should the bud open, the 
 perfect rose unfold. So Love, so Protean in his 
 changes, touched him to rhapsody. Of the pos- 
 sibilities hidden beneath the lovely surface, he did 
 not pause to think; in his brief wooing, he had not 
 tried to awaken any slumbering passion. Like the 
 gourmet that he was, he preferred to prolong his 
 pleasures, and planned to teach her after marriage 
 how to love him in his own Epicurean fashion. 
 
 The munificence of his settlements, the quick
 
 Grey Retrospect 13 
 
 decisiveness of his character, and his not incon- 
 siderable charm of manner, drew gentle Mrs. Bagot 
 into the sphere of his orbit. With Arnot Fleury, 
 to want was to have, a rule of life to which For- 
 tune had hitherto subscribed with astonishing 
 docility. Perfect health, a masterful disposition, 
 a concentrated selfishness, and a purse into which, 
 with due moderation, he could dip at will, com- 
 bined to produce this somewhat imperial ordering 
 of his life. 
 
 At thirty-two it was time to range oneself. 
 Titian Bagot, the lovely experiment, was suffi- 
 ciently plastic to be moulded to what form he would ; 
 beneath those gracious yielding lines must dwell 
 a spirit as graciously yielding. So both plunged 
 into the Unknown, guided by the fatal doctrine 
 of Taking-things-for-granted. 
 
 At nineteen Titian had been curiously immature. 
 Her outlook had been that of a child, her horizons 
 oddly limited or wrapped in an impossible golden 
 haze. She had walked into matrimony with the 
 ignorant courage of a child; a little flushed and 
 excited at the possibilities of the unknown, a little 
 frightened, perhaps, of the bewildering and god- 
 like Arnot, but with all the simple trust that her 
 foolishly sheltered life had engendered in her. 
 
 Her years had been full of reticences, her inno-
 
 14 The Torch of Life 
 
 cence guarded with a touching unconsciousness of 
 any possible personal wrong. If it be true that 
 the Spinners of Destinies laugh at our tragedies 
 and weep at our comedies, with what silent 
 laughter must the Loom of Life have shaken on 
 that fragrant summer morning ! 
 
 Titian recalled it all vaguely. She remembered 
 odd irrelevant incidents, trifles scarcely noted at 
 the time, but now sharply etched upon the dimmer 
 significance of the day. 
 
 The mad rapture of the larks when she awoke a 
 little after dawn ; her mother's uncontrollable out- 
 burst of weeping after she had pinned on her veil ; 
 the way the net had clung to her cheek where the 
 tears had fallen; the big velvet bumble-bee that 
 had blundered into her wreath as she went out 
 through the doorway; the detaining touch of the 
 Scotch-rose bush near the gate a touch which had 
 torn a fragment of Arnot's beautiful lace, but which 
 had to be forgiven to the offending rose, it was so 
 pearly-pink and had such a heavenly smell; the 
 mote-filled dusk of the church. 
 
 Then Arnot's face, with its one swift glance of 
 enveloping fire; and a far-off sense of the tremen- 
 dous import of the vows she was so lightly making 
 before God and man. 
 
 She remembered vaguely the reassuring pressure
 
 Grey Retrospect 15 
 
 of Arnot's hand, the brief rapture of a kiss, the new 
 and developing sense of importance, the excite- 
 ment and delight of the journey, the dainty 
 appointments of the carriage which had met them 
 at the railway station. She could almost hear the 
 ticking of its silver clock, almost smell the perfume 
 of the tuberoses in their silver vase. To this day 
 the scent of tuberoses gave her a sick shudder of 
 horror .... They were to drive across London 
 to catch the Continental Express: she was to see 
 all the lovely dream-places of the world. The 
 dream had already begun; she remembered the 
 quick impulse of gratitude which had prompted her 
 to slip her hand into her husband's ; out of the mists 
 of the past stabbed the recollection of his passion- 
 ate response. 
 
 "My God, how lovely you are!" he had 
 whispered. 
 
 Then with the swift horror of the unexpected had 
 come the cataclysm. No one knew exactly how 
 it had happened. Titian retained a confused 
 memory of a crash, the plunging of hoofs, a violent 
 blow, and then darkness. 
 
 When she emerged once more into the light, it 
 was to find that Arnot had sustained such severe 
 spinal injuries that his life was despaired of. 
 Then, when the cloud of desolation which darkened
 
 16 The Torch of Life 
 
 her young days was lifted a little, and the doctors 
 told her that he would live, but only as a hopeless 
 cripple, paralysed from the waist downwards, the 
 bitterness of his despair, the wild rancour of his 
 railing awoke her once for all from her iris-tinted 
 dreaming, and set her feet in the path of grey 
 reality. 
 
 Poor Arnot! How all her warm impulses had 
 surged toward him! How she had begged to be 
 allowed to do even the smallest service for him ! 
 
 But the nurses had kept her tactfully away. 
 The sight of her excited and irritated him; she 
 belonged to a past which had slipped for ever from 
 his grasp; ill though he was, her presence awoke 
 in him the torments of Tantalus. 
 
 Titian, all unwitting, wept bitter tears over her 
 exclusion from his room. Her mother, who had 
 hastened, bewildered, from her solitudes, had no 
 comfort for her. Her councils seemed to the girl 
 tepid, almost platitudinous; she had no concep- 
 tion of her daughter's mental awakening, of the 
 chasm between life and life which she had bridged 
 with a single step. Life had given her no con- 
 ception of such an upheaval as that which had 
 happened to Titian ; she could only urge patience, 
 and again patience, and a remembrance of her 
 duty.
 
 Grey Retrospect 17 
 
 "For better, for worse, you know, my dear. In 
 sickness and in health." 
 
 Down the vista of years echoed the deprecating 
 murmur and her own impatient reply : 
 
 "Yes, of course, I know. But what's the use of 
 promising that when I am kept away from him in 
 sickness, when I am not allowed to go near him, 
 or do anything for him?" 
 
 "Be patient, he is not himself yet. They say 
 that it excited him to see you. Later on, when 
 he is better, he will want you. " 
 
 But had he? There, packed into the space of 
 five brief words lay the tragedy of Titian Fleury's 
 life. He had never wanted her. 
 
 "You do not understand men, my dear," went 
 on the gentle creature, who had only half com- 
 prehended the one of whom she had always been 
 an adoring echo. 
 
 It was too true. Titian did not understand men, 
 or women, or life, or reality, or any of the great 
 essentials, as she suddenly realised with a pang of 
 despairing impotence. 
 
 Then out of the grey welter of those nightmare 
 days emerged a comforting vision, the recollection 
 of the coming of Arnot's cousin, Fenton Mede: 
 a big silent man, who seemed to understand with- 
 out words, whose presence seemed to radiate com-
 
 i8 The Torch of Life 
 
 fort, and whose strong hands gradually drew order 
 out of chaos. 
 
 Fenton Mede, Fenty the reliable, as Arnot 
 always called him. They had become fast friends 
 at once. She leaned on him as instinctively as 
 she might have leant on the father who was but a 
 joyous memory. 
 
 It was Fenton who had persuaded Arnot to let 
 her come into his room, who had invented little 
 special services for her to do for him, who 
 had brought rare flowers for her to arrange, odd 
 books for her to read to him when he could en- 
 dure to be read to. All the alleviations of those 
 first strained awkward days had come through 
 Fenton Mede. 
 
 Dear old Fenty! 
 
 A spring of gratitude welled in her heart at the 
 thought of him. 
 
 Mercifully he was at home now, and Hammond 
 had sent for him. He would soon be here, he 
 would know what to do: she could grasp his kind 
 hand, his kind, warm hand. 
 
 At the thought an inexplicable rush of loneli- 
 ness flooded her; and the chill sense of desolation 
 pressed upon her like a tangible weight. How 
 alone she was! How terribly alone! Nobody 
 needed her, nobody wanted her. Even to Arnot
 
 Grey Retrospect 19 
 
 his man Hammond had been more necessary than 
 she, his wife! 
 
 His wife! The mockery of the name still had 
 power to prick. She thought that she had got 
 used to it, that the past ten years had schooled 
 her to an apathetic acceptance of the inevitable. 
 She had earnestly cultivated a placid calm, a 
 Buddha-like passivity. No emotions were al- 
 lowed to trace even a gossamer line on her face or 
 to shadow her tranquil eyes eyes, she had once 
 thought bitterly, which owned no deeper expres- 
 sion than those of a cow! 
 
 But that was what Arnot had desired, and her 
 chief duty in life had been to please him. What 
 that duty had cost her she had never dared to ask.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 PANDORA'S BOX 
 
 A S she lay in the great carved bed, hot-eyed 
 /* and tearless, staring at the flapping yellow 
 blind, it seemed to her as if the news of Arnot's 
 death had set Pandora-fingers at the secret casket 
 of her pent bitternesses and loosed them about 
 her in a bat-winged cloud. 
 
 The memory of the months which followed 
 Arnot's accident melted into the grey years of her 
 life at Camus, this old rock-perched castle of his, 
 to which he had been moved when transfer became 
 possible. From the first, Titian had loved its 
 peaceful stateliness. The place seemed to radiate 
 an atmosphere of quietude and dignity after the 
 undercurrent of fuss and busy life at the Nursing- 
 Home; and the subdued richness of its furnishing 
 appealed to some inner sense of beauty in the girl, 
 which had lain dormant in the simplicity of her 
 earlier home life. 
 
 20
 
 Pandora's Box 21 
 
 The first time she had seen Camus. That was 
 one of the memories. 
 
 After the journey had come the swift drive past 
 upland and valley, through thatched village and 
 stunted, wind-trimmed wood, to the lichened 
 castle perched upon the bold red headland which 
 guarded one horn of the bay. 
 
 How wearisomely familiar that drive was to 
 become ! Every stone on the road she knew, every 
 stain on the cottages' walls, every crooked spine of 
 thorn-bush, whether etched, bare and black, upon 
 a ruddy winter sky or foamed with bridal white- 
 ness against the blue of spring. 
 
 The motor-car which had taken Arnot and his 
 attendants had started before their carriage, and 
 the crippled master had been installed in his own 
 room before they arrived. 
 
 It was Fenton who had met them on the 
 threshold ; who had welcomed Titian to her future 
 home. The reliable Fenty, so unlike the wonder- 
 ful lover who had rushed her into this amazing 
 marriage, and who seemed to have vanished ir- 
 revocably in the shock of the fatal collision. 
 
 She remembered the pang it had given her to see 
 the inevitable substitution : the big, rather heavy 
 figure instead of the clean-knit, alert one, the 
 roughish fair hair and bearded face instead of
 
 22 The Torch of Life 
 
 the clear-cut features and proudly poised head, the 
 kind glance of sleepy blue eyes instead of the look 
 that had made her tremble so deliciously. 
 
 And then to think of the pitiful wreck upstairs, 
 over whom her heart yearned with something that 
 was at least akin to the Great Reality! Still, 
 Youth to whom all things are possible, had been 
 hers, and, in Pandora's box Hope spread her 
 iridescent wings so wide that there was little room 
 for creeping miseries. 
 
 She had no response for Fenton's somewhat 
 huskily-given greeting: 
 
 " Arnot says that I am to welcome you home for 
 him. It's cruelly hard that he can't do it himself." 
 
 Yes, it was, cruelly hard. 
 
 Tears welled into her eyes as she brushed 
 hurriedly past Fenton into the hall. She could 
 not speak; she had no control over her voice; 
 but he had understood. She knew that. It was 
 one of Fenton's good points; he always under- 
 stood, or nearly always. Little incidents some- 
 times cropped up in which he had sided with Arnot, 
 when all his pity and sympathy had been for him 
 and not for her; moments in which Fenty had been 
 irritating, even exasperating, but they were rare. 
 
 It was Mrs. Bagot who had ventured a timid: 
 "How is he?"
 
 Pandora's Box 23 
 
 "He has borne the journey wonderfully well. 
 He is in bed now. Nurse and Hammond are with 
 him." 
 
 "What a blessing!" Mrs. Bagot had murmured, 
 but whether the benediction referred to the success 
 of the journey or the fact of Arnot's being in bed, 
 or expressed an inner relief at the thought that 
 anyone should be with her son-in-law rather than 
 herself, nobody tried to determine. 
 
 She had stood rather in awe of Arnot in masterful 
 health. For Arnot, broken in body and mind, her 
 feeling almost amounted to terror. 
 
 Later, Titian had seen her room for the first 
 time her beautiful room whose charms had long 
 since merged into the commonplace of familiarity; 
 whose unusual yet lovely decorations of palest 
 yellow, burnt rose, and carved oak served as 
 fitting frame for her own beauty. 
 
 It was in the west wing of the castle. One 
 window looked out over the open sea; the others 
 faced the sandy curve of the bay, with the village 
 clustering along its margin and climbing up the low 
 brow of the opposite cliff. Camus had the left 
 horn of the crescent all to itself. The village 
 began tentatively at the landward end and drew 
 away in a thicker huddle at the other side. 
 
 The squat church tower thrust itself bluntly
 
 24 The Torch of Life 
 
 through a knot of wind-shorn trees. How often 
 had she seen its lit windows gleam like dim jewels 
 through the darkness of winter evenings! How 
 often had she watched the twinkling lights of the 
 village leap across the dusk each orange square 
 typifying the glowing centre of a home. 
 
 She remembered her vague wonderings as to 
 what life would bring to her on this red rock. 
 Solitude had no terrors for her as yet ; her days in 
 her own little village had been sun-filled and 
 happy, although she had had no companions 
 of her own years. If Arnot grew stronger and 
 happier and needed her more Vividly she 
 recalled her trailing thoughts, which had been 
 scattered suddenly by the entrance of a maid 
 with tea. Not Marshall, no, Marshall had 
 been the outcome of later, more critical days 
 days of reddening shame and swift hidden rebel- 
 lions. 
 
 Verily to-day Pandora's box had been set open 
 wide. 
 
 She remembered the refusal of her request to be 
 allowed to go to Arnot; she could see across the 
 past the half -pitying, half -critical look in Fenton's 
 eyes as he offered the usual sop. 
 
 "He is too tired to-night. Perhaps to-morrow
 
 Pandora's Box 25 
 
 "But if I stole in, it could not possibly disturb 
 him." 
 
 "He might rouse. It might excite him and spoil 
 his sleep. Perhaps to-morrow " 
 
 Perhaps to-morrow! That was what it had 
 always been. 
 
 "When another day is come, lo, we have already 
 spent yesterday's to-morrow," said a wise Latin 
 once. No one seemed to think of that. 
 
 Some quick retort sprang for utterance, but she 
 closed her soft lips upon it as she took her seat at 
 the head of the table. Her own table. Her own 
 strangely beautiful table. She studied it with a 
 sense of wonder as her mother and Fenton kept 
 up a desultory conversation. It had lost the 
 charm of novelty by this, but it never failed to 
 arouse a faint feeling of pleasure in what still 
 seemed to her its peculiar perfection. 
 
 The strips of finest linen and Venetian lace 
 showing glimpses of the polished oak beneath, the 
 tall Venetian vases with cascades of white, or pink, 
 or lavender orchids spraying over gold-flecked 
 dragons, the twisted silver candelabra thrusting 
 upwards clusters of white candles which blossomed 
 into golden flame, the silver salt-cellars whose 
 clasping sea-nymphs Cellini himself might have 
 fashioned, the Venetian beakers filled with ruddy
 
 26 The Torch of Life 
 
 or golden wine, the glasses fragile and iridescent 
 as foam-bubbles, the piled fruit in pierced silver 
 baskets. 
 
 Everywhere a subdued richness, a delicacy, a 
 fastidiousness, which affected her as subtly as 
 some strange perfume might have done. 
 
 But through it all, as beneath all other sounds 
 beat the incessant pulse of the sea, surged a sore 
 sense of loss, of disappointment. 
 
 Some fragment of conversation recaptured her 
 wandering thoughts the echoing of the fatal word 
 "to-morrow," but used in reference to other than 
 herself. 
 
 " No, I'm not going until to-morrow, " she heard 
 Fenton say. 
 
 "You're not going away?" she cried quickly, 
 almost turning the question into an assertion. 
 
 "I'm not going very far, " he answered, with his 
 slow smile. 
 
 "But why ? But where ? ' ' 
 
 He ignored the first query and answered the 
 second. 
 
 "I must go to look after my own small prop- 
 erty." 
 
 "What will Arnot do without you?" 
 
 " He won't be obliged to do without me. I warn 
 you that you'll be sick of the sight of me. "
 
 Pandora's Box 27 
 
 " Oh, no, " interposed Mrs. Bagot, to whom man 
 in general represented the universe and man in 
 particular, as in the present instance, a straw to be 
 snatched at by the drowning. 
 
 "Is your place far from this?" Titian asked. 
 
 "A crow-flight of five miles, six by the road. 
 That means being almost in your pocket as dis- 
 tances go in the country." 
 
 "It's a pleasant surprise to find that you are so 
 near a neighbour," said Mrs. Bagot. "Some- 
 body, I forget who it was, said that you spent most 
 of your time abroad. " 
 
 "Soldo." 
 
 "What a pity!" went on the gentle lady, pur- 
 suing her own train of thought. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, I was only thinking what a pity it is that 
 you should spend your time in wandering over the 
 globe when you might marry and settle down 
 happily in this charming country-side." 
 
 With the cessation of her trickle of words came a 
 pause. Not the dull heavy pause which sometimes 
 checks and lies upon conversation, but a sharp- 
 edged significant pause which held discomfort in 
 its brief duration. Fenton suddenly ended it. 
 
 "I am married, and that is the reason why I 
 do not settle down here. "
 
 28 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Bagot, checked by 
 something in his tone. 
 
 A suggestion of hidden tragedy rang through 
 the terse announcement. 
 
 With her first conscious effort at social duty, 
 Titian tried to rise to the occasion as hostess, 
 saying, in a soft way which Fenton never forgot, 
 how wise she thought he was to see as much of the 
 world as he could. 
 
 Responsive to her effort, he became unusually 
 conversational. He told them something about 
 his hobby, bird photography, and how he pursued 
 it in many strange and distant places. 
 
 Titian could associate patience but not energy 
 with this big, rather lazy-looking man, and yet 
 the recital of some of his adventures implied the 
 possession of unusual vigour and endurance. She 
 could still less associate tragedy with so slow and 
 sleepy-eyed an individual, and yet something 
 beyond her ken had certainly rung in his tones, 
 had flashed across his face for one lightning 
 instant. 
 
 The leaves of the Book of Life were fluttering in 
 her fingers, and the very first pages puzzled her. 
 
 So life at Camus had begun ; and after a period 
 of alternating reactions, day linked itself with day 
 into an unending chain of routine.
 
 Pandora's Box 29 
 
 First there had been the shock of her mother's 
 death. One night in her sleep, Mrs. Bagot had 
 slipped into the Great Shadow, never to return, 
 and Titian had mourned her long and sorrow- 
 fully. 
 
 Then there had been the fluctuations of Arnot's 
 health; until, growing physically stronger, he had 
 emerged from the anxious stages to the settled 
 monotony of invalidism. On fine days, he was 
 wheeled on to the terrace which spread its paved 
 length along the western and southern sides of the 
 castle, or into the walled garden, where all sorts 
 of semi-tropical plants and shrubs throve and 
 flourished in the mild sea air. The high mossy 
 walls gave no more indication of the treasures 
 which they enclosed than did the grim weather- 
 worn exterior of the castle. 
 
 Although motor-car and carriage were there for 
 his pleasure, Arnot refused to go outside his own 
 domain. 
 
 "If it is my Vatican," he said bitterly one day, 
 " I reign absolutely here. I am not going out to be 
 a raree-show for the country-side." 
 
 When visitors, few in that lonely place, called, 
 he would not see them, and sent Titian alone to 
 return the visits, which were rarely repeated. 
 
 "They only come out of curiosity," he said.
 
 30 The Torch of Life 
 
 "They want to see what the wreck of a man is 
 like, and what type of fool he married. " 
 
 It was difficult to become used to such speeches, 
 impossible to foresee what might evoke them. 
 
 Titian sometimes wondered, until her temples 
 throbbed, where the lover of those magic weeks had 
 gone? Why, if he cared at all for her then, should 
 he repulse and gibe at her now? What could the 
 quality of the love have been if it changed so woe- 
 fully at the breath of calamity? She was the same 
 Titian, only that now she was his wife. Was it 
 marriage which had made the cruel alteration? 
 she wondered innocently. She longed to be of 
 use to him. She tried to serve him in all sorts of 
 tentative pathetic ways. 
 
 Once, when after summoning up her courage she 
 descended to the kitchen to make little dainties 
 for him, and brought him the result, his thin 
 laughter lashed her like a whip. 
 
 "My dear girl," he said, and the phrase held 
 more of sarcasm than affection, "please under- 
 stand that I infinitely prefer the skilled productions 
 of a paid professional to the efforts of the unwary 
 amateur, however well-intentioned." 
 
 " Mother used to like my creams, " she faltered, 
 wounded, but trying to be patient with him. 
 "I thought "
 
 Pandora's Box 31 
 
 "I am not your lamented mother," he said, 
 looking at her with his piercing gaze; no flame 
 now, but a rapier, seeking for opportunity to thrust. 
 "What business have beautiful fools to think? 
 Thinking's damnable. Damnable. You are better 
 without thoughts. Thoughts are toll-free but not 
 hell-free, curse them!" 
 
 "Why do you call me a fool so often? " she asked 
 with a show of spirit, although her lips trembled. 
 "It hurts, and I don't think I deserve it." 
 
 She remembered how his face had twisted, but 
 his voice had not softened as he answered : 
 
 "Don't you think you've earned the title by 
 marrying me?" 
 
 "I begin to think I have," she answered, wear- 
 ing her pride until she had escaped from his 
 scrutiny into the seclusion of her own room, where 
 it fell from her like a dropped mantle, leaving 
 unsheltered a bewildered and unhappy girl. 
 
 When the nurse had been dispensed with, 
 certain duties had devolved upon her, but they 
 were as few and as light as possible. Hammond 
 became indispensable ; Hammond, the thin-lipped, 
 deft-handed attendant. Silent-footed, too, for, 
 obeying childhood's admonition, he was generally 
 seen before he was heard. Titian often wondered 
 if he ever said anything but "yes" or "no"; but
 
 32 The Torch of Life 
 
 concluded that he must talk to Arnot when she was 
 not present, for sometimes her husband quoted 
 him. 
 
 "Hammond says this, or Hammond says that." 
 
 If Arnot were monarch of his spray-blown realm, 
 then assuredly Hammond was his Grand Vizier. 
 Orders filtered through him. It was "I have 
 told Hammond; he will see to it." "Don't 
 bother. Hammond will manage; " until some- 
 times she had an odd fancy that it was Hammond 
 who really held the reins, while Arnot only wielded 
 the whip. 
 
 When Arnot had complained of her maid's in- 
 capacity, it was Hammond who found and pro- 
 duced Marshall, and it was the same in other 
 emergencies. Hammond was always resourceful. 
 If anything was wanted it was: "Ask Hammond. " 
 And to give him his due, Hammond rarely failed 
 to rise to the occasion. 
 
 His devotion to his master was unstinted; 
 he never spared himself day or night. Titian 
 sometimes blamed herself for not liking him 
 better. 
 
 On his bad days, Arnot could not endure her 
 presence, and she spent long lonely hours in 
 wandering about the cliffs or in striving to forget 
 the unhappiness against which she daily fought, by
 
 Pandora's Box 33 
 
 going down to the village and trying to make 
 friends with the people. 
 
 By what strange magic had the accident dis- 
 torted Arnot's feeling for her as well as his poor 
 body? Sometimes he looked at her almost as if 
 he hated her, while at other times his glance swept 
 her with its old enveloping fire. But behind the 
 fire burned something from which she instinctively 
 shrank, and no knowledge, acquired or imparted, 
 told her what it was. 
 
 In her cloistered upbringing, innocence had 
 implied ignorance, and to shield that innocence at 
 any cost had been her mother's dearest task. The 
 consequence was that Titian Fleury at twenty was 
 as ignorant of life and its meaning as Titian Bagot 
 had been at thirteen.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE PHASE PITILESS 
 
 r ~PHE period which had followed Fenton's 
 * first long absence showed kaleidoscopic in 
 Titian's memory a jumble of oddly-shaped, 
 crudely-coloured reminiscences, violent in hue, 
 and shaken continuously from one restless pattern 
 to another, each angular and with points that 
 pricked. 
 
 The time after his return seemed almost happy 
 in contrast. 
 
 Arnot's tongue had never so sharp an edge in his 
 cousin's presence, nor did the lambent fire of his 
 sarcasm play so frequently about his wife. Some- 
 times Fenton wheeled him along the terrace and 
 told fragmentary stories of his adventures with 
 the camera; sometimes they halted by one of the 
 carved stone benches, and Fenton would pull some 
 little vellum-covered volume from his pocket and 
 bid Titian read for a while. 
 
 34
 
 The Phase Pitiless 35 
 
 Her voice was soft and pleasantly modulated, 
 and, as she had often read for her mother, the task 
 did not induce the self -consciousness of a novel 
 effort. 
 
 Once Fenton had asked her to sing. She never 
 forgot the incident. 
 
 "Your voice sounds so musical when you read, " 
 he said in his kindly way, "that I am sure you can 
 sing. Can she, Arnot?" 
 
 "I don't know. I should think not," Arnot 
 answered, smiling disagreeably. 
 
 Titian, anxious to please, responded rather 
 uncertainly: "I can sing a little. I always used 
 to sing in the choir at home. " 
 
 She could almost hear the tang in Arnot's voice. 
 
 "Ah, the choir! Pray delight us, my dear." 
 
 A little shyly, but very simply and naturally, she 
 lifted her head and sang an old-fashioned ditty, 
 Kirtle Red, but before she was able to finish the 
 second verse Arnot shrieked and put his fingers in 
 his ears. 
 
 "No more music-murder, please." 
 
 She stopped abruptly, and looked away to sea, 
 biting her lip to still its trembling. The onslaught 
 had been so sudden, so cruel, that a slow tear 
 forced its way down her averted face. 
 
 "I didn't know you were such a connoisseur,"
 
 36 The Torch of Life 
 
 Fenton said sternly, as he got up and wheeled the 
 chair farther along the terrace. 
 
 Arnot's words came back to her. 
 
 "But, my dear Fenty, her voice is like a bellows 
 with the air escaping. Untaught. Horrible." 
 
 "I thought it was very soft and sweet." 
 
 "But you are no musician, my good cousin." 
 
 Titian thought she heard him ejaculate: "So 
 much the better for me, perhaps!" but she could 
 not be sure, and the episode had ended. 
 
 She had never sung again, save at the services at 
 the squat-towered church, where she had a happy 
 consciousness that God would not object to the 
 huskiness of her voice if the spirit which rang 
 through it were pure and true. 
 
 Arnot had at first laughed at her desire to go to 
 church; then he had bidden her: "Go, by all 
 means, if it amuses you, but don't let any parsons 
 near me. I don't want any spiritual spring- 
 cleaning at Camus. " 
 
 "Don't you?" she had asked, and thought that 
 his look answered her with a sharp scrutiny. 
 
 Truth to tell, in those days she puzzled him. 
 He began to realise that she was not the simple 
 fool he had taken her to be. 
 
 So she went twice to church every Sunday, and 
 tried honestly to be "joyful in the Lord" when
 
 The Phase Pitiless 37 
 
 circumstances seemed to offer but little occasion 
 for rejoicing; and she sang in due season, in her 
 soft husky voice, the rapturous : 
 
 " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, 
 And be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, 
 And the King of Glory shall come in. 
 
 Who is the King of Glory? 
 Even the Lord of Hosts, 
 He is the King of Glory, " 
 
 and felt vaguely comforted. 
 
 Once she had touched upon the hidden tragedy 
 of Fenton's life. 
 
 Arnot, after one of his visits, had been softened 
 and reminiscent, and had spoken of his early boy- 
 hood, an unusual expansion for him. 
 
 " I was chucked on the world at an uncommonly 
 early age. It made me a hard little beggar. Only 
 for the Medes I might have gone to the bad 
 altogether. " 
 
 "How many of them were there?" Titian 
 ventured to ask. As a rule, he resented being 
 questioned. 
 
 "A little French family, Uncle Robert, Aunt 
 Margaret, Fenton, and Mollie. Their place was 
 the only home I ever knew. I used to go there 
 tor the holidays."
 
 38 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Where are they now?" 
 
 "Scattered to the four winds of heaven," said 
 Arnot hardly. "Uncle Robert broke his neck out 
 hunting, Aunt Margaret died a few years after. 
 Mollie is married and highly disapproves of me 
 now, and Fenton dragged his anchor in his youth, 
 and sails about from harbour to harbour." 
 
 "What happened to Fenton?" 
 
 "Ask him," said Arnot, his eyes on her face. 
 
 "He told us that he was married." 
 
 "The deuce he did!" Surprise sharpened his 
 tones. " I didn't think he ever spoke of it. " 
 
 "It was on the night we came here. He just 
 said that he was married in answer to some remark 
 of mother's. Is there a mystery about it? You 
 might tell me, Arnot. I don't ask out of mere 
 curiosity." 
 
 "Oh, don't you, Eve? Well, for once the apple 
 is mine and I refuse to give you even a bite of it. 
 It's a nasty sour apple, not good for little girls. " 
 
 "If it were really sour I believe you'd give it to 
 me just for the pleasure of setting my teeth on 
 edge," she cried, exasperated. 
 
 "Very well, then. It's Dead Sea fruit and will 
 turn to ashes in your mouth, " he answered, sober- 
 ing suddenly. "His wife is in a lunatic asylum. 
 It's nothing to wag tongues about. "
 
 The Phase Pitiless 39 
 
 "To whom could I mention it, even if I had the 
 opportunity?" she asked. 
 
 Since then she had felt a deep sympathy for 
 Fenton, although he seemed to be quite happy and 
 contented, and was the last person in the world 
 with whom one would associate the tragedy of a 
 broken life. 
 
 The days of his sojourning at Belfield were 
 indeed red-letter days. When they fell in summer, 
 he would sometimes take her sailing round the 
 coast in his little yacht. Once or twice, on a blue 
 summer day, a seal had followed them through the 
 water, pushing up its shiny wet head, sniffing, 
 and staring at them with its round black eyes, 
 then suddenly diving out of sight, to reappear 
 later as if in answer to Fenton 's soft whistle. 
 
 Sometimes he took her across the cliffs to some 
 far strand or cave to show her where he got some 
 of his photographs of sea-birds. Once she got 
 inside the artificial rock which concealed him and 
 his camera, and which he was able day by day to 
 push nearer and nearer to the unsuspecting birds. 
 She thought it felt very hot and stuffy, and she 
 wondered anew at his patience. He told her the 
 names of the different gulls and sea-birds, only to 
 find that she knew them as well as he did : gannets, 
 guillemots, cormorants, kittiwakes, muirs, puffins,
 
 4Q The Torch of Life 
 
 terns, sea-crows, dunlins, curlews, sand-pipers, 
 whimbrels. She remembered his face of astonish- 
 ment when she had rattled them off, and how he 
 had made her substantiate her claim to knowledge 
 by pointing out to him each specimen as she 
 recognised it. 
 
 It was she who had found the blue-tit's nest in 
 the far wall of the garden, and had helped him to get 
 some admirable pictures of the tiny shrill-sweet 
 chirping family. It was she who had pointed out 
 to him a gorged sparrow-hawk upon the gate-post 
 of the courtyard, and enabled him to get what was, 
 for him, a unique series of photographs. It was 
 she who had found and shown him a special 
 haunt of the black-backed gulls, great soaring 
 creatures that looked as if a feather from the 
 wing of night had fallen across the broad sweep 
 of their wings. 
 
 But these good days were few and far between, 
 for Arnot was jealous of Fenton's society and 
 grudged the time he spent with Titian. 
 
 When Fenton came to Belfield in the winter, and 
 the sea outside raged and crashed upon the rocks, 
 and the wind howled around the castle and dimmed 
 the windows with the salt spray, the trio in 
 Arnot's room spent days of comparative peace. 
 Arnot's nerves were always ready to be jarred, but
 
 The Phase Pitiless 41 
 
 Fenton had a calming influence upon him. Some 
 sudden whim prompted him to take up painting 
 again. He had once sketched quite creditably 
 in water-colours. Now the fancy took him to copy 
 some of Fenton's bird-studies, and make what he 
 called Japanese pictures of them. When Fenton 
 objected to the elimination of one detail or the 
 elaboration of another, or questioned the correct- 
 ness of his colouring, Arnot only laughed, and 
 said it was the effect that mattered and not 
 accuracy. 
 
 Had Titian dared to comment, the lash of his 
 tongue would have turned harmony to discord. 
 Because she was untravelled and comparatively 
 unlettered he gave her credit for neither intelli- 
 gence nor knowledge, and he was all too prone to 
 snub her tentative efforts at conversation. 
 
 Once or twice, after Fenton had gone and Arnot 
 had dismissed her, when she sat in her own room 
 brooding in the firelight, she wondered wistfully 
 what a real home would have been like the home 
 of her girlish dreams? A home where someone 
 would have loved and wanted her, would have 
 been kind to her, would have taken little services 
 from her. She tried to choke down the thought 
 as being disloyal to Arnot, but the repression of her 
 warm and tender impulses was a daily trial. Of
 
 42 The Torch of Life 
 
 late, she had hoped that she was hardening, that 
 she was growing not to mind so much. 
 
 Were most marriages like this? She wondered 
 again and again. 
 
 Fenton's had come to shipwreck through no fault 
 of his ; her own was yes, she was forced to admit 
 it a ghastly failure, a broken thing whose frag- 
 ments wounded her sorely in the breaking. Did 
 a calamity such as had befallen them of necessity 
 kill love? She thought of her mother's quiet 
 acceptance of her sorrow, and of her gradual fad- 
 ing out of life. Were men so utterly different 
 from women? She knew so few for purposes of 
 comparison. 
 
 Mr. Gerard, the Rector of Breston, an elderly 
 bachelor, who had taught her what she knew of 
 literature and the classics. A gentle quiet dreamer, 
 ruled by his house-keeping sister and never happy 
 unless book in hand. She could not picture him 
 otherwise. The Reverend Mr. Martyn of Camus, 
 a widower, of whom she knew little save that he 
 read beautifully and that his sense of self-import- 
 ance was so hurt by Arnot's attitude that he only 
 spoke to her in platitudes. 
 
 Dr. Bailey, a ruddy cheerful little man who 
 came occasionally to see Arnot. 
 
 Arnot said he had " glimmerings, " whatever that
 
 The Phase Pitiless 43 
 
 might mean, but he did not glimmer much to her. 
 He generally told her that his patient was getting 
 on nicely, very nicely indeed. He ejaculated, 
 "Well, well, well!" or "My, my, my!" in answer 
 to her laboured remarks, and usually rounded up 
 his visit with a compliment either to her or to her 
 flowers. She did not know what he was like at 
 home: whether he cared for his wife or not; 
 whether he made her happy or allowed her to do 
 things for him. She only knew that she rather 
 liked him, although she never quite knew what to 
 say to him ; and his cheery visits made a pleasant 
 break in the monotony of her life. 
 
 Fenton Mede. Dear old Fenty! He could 
 never be anything but kind. He was like a very 
 nice uncle, she concluded. Of course she had 
 never seen him in illness, but somehow she could 
 not imagine that any trouble, no matter how 
 devastating, would warp his nature as Arnot's 
 seemed to have been warped since the accident. 
 
 Seemed to have been warped! 
 
 This reflection brought her up against an illumin- 
 ating fact. 
 
 How much of the apparent perversion of his 
 character was inherent, how much acquired? Like 
 a flood, the realisation of her utter ignorance of 
 Arnot's true nature overwhelmed her. What did
 
 44 The Torch of Life 
 
 she know of the real character of the man whom she 
 had married with such appalling thoughtlessness? 
 What did she know of his life, his tastes, his habits, 
 his pastimes, his vices, his virtues? Nothing, 
 absolutely nothing. He was still as a sealed book 
 to her. He had been an ardent wooer, a bewilder- 
 ing lover, but what had lain behind the golden 
 love-mist? On what foundation had she built her 
 flimsy dream-castle? She felt the quick-sands 
 shifting. 
 
 More than once she had realised with a shock 
 of bitterness that it was only for her beauty he 
 cared, but now even that attribute, which she still 
 owned in lovely abundance, failed to please. 
 Sometimes he seemed to hate the very sight of her. 
 
 Her thoughts went round and round in their 
 squirrel-cage with maddening persistence; there 
 was not one amongst them untinged with the 
 sharpness of regret. 
 
 One, a most bitter-sweet dream, came upper- 
 most again and again. A tiny dream, a soft dream, 
 the yearning dream of a dear impossibility, it beat 
 against her heart with the longing insistence of 
 little hands. Its little footfalls pattered through 
 her thoughts like leaves through a wood ; its little 
 shadow fell wraith-like across her path, poor 
 tiny thwarted ghost of what might have been!
 
 The Phase Pitiless 45 
 
 But these things were locked in the innermost 
 recesses of her being ; and she sometimes wondered 
 wistfully if people noticed her love for little young 
 things, or were aware of her lingering touch upon 
 some curly head or rosy cheek in the village. In 
 those days, the singing of the Magnificat used to 
 give her a pang, and she wondered dully why 
 no one had written a Miserere for the Mothers- 
 who-might-have-been, who had not been found 
 worthy to pass on the torch of life through the 
 generations. 
 
 Then the housekeeper, Mrs. Brooke who daily 
 went through the solemn farce of coming to her 
 for orders pitying her youth and loneliness, had 
 brought her a Persian kitten, a soft grey ball of 
 fur and playfulness. No words could adequately 
 express the joy which the little thing's companion- 
 ship gave her. Youth bubbled afresh in her; in 
 some odd way its presence strengthened her and 
 enabled her to bear Arnot's nervous outbursts with 
 renewed patience. She did not tell him of her 
 treasure ; he disliked animals, and took no interest 
 in her doings, so she kept little Bibi away from 
 his quarters. 
 
 One day, as she was playing with the kitten on 
 the stairs, she heard the sharp trill of Arnot's bell. 
 Fearing that he might need someone in a hurry, she
 
 46 The Torch of Life 
 
 caught up Bibi hastily and fled along the corridor 
 to his room. 
 
 "What is it, Arnot?" 
 
 "I want Hammond." 
 
 "Is it nothing that I can do for you?" 
 
 "Nothing. What's that?" 
 
 As she stood, flushed and breathless, at the end 
 of his couch, the kitten's soft fur pressed against 
 her cheek, the sight of her seemed to madden him 
 inexplicably. 
 
 " This? " she answered, nestling closer to the lit- 
 tle thing, and smiling as he had never seen her smile 
 before. "This is Bibi, my precious little kitty." 
 
 "Damn you!" he burst forth violently. "How 
 dare you bring your abominable animals into my 
 room? How dare you come in here cooing, and 
 smiling, and cuddling the little beast? As if I 
 were not tormented enough without that! Go 
 away. I'll have the brute drowned. Ah! thank 
 God, here's Hammond. Hammond, see that that 
 grey beast is drowned before night. " 
 
 "Arnot!" 
 
 "I'm master here, I tell you, " he almost snarled 
 at her. 
 
 She remembered the way in which his lip had 
 curled back from his teeth and how it had fright- 
 ened her.
 
 The Phase Pitiless 47 
 
 "The kitten is mine," she said, facing him like 
 a thing at bay. "I will kill anyone who dares to 
 touch it." 
 
 Then Arnot's anger had evaporated in laughter, 
 a thin crackling laugh that held but little mirth. 
 t "My God! you do look fine when you are in a 
 passion," he cried, with an admiration which stung. 
 
 She looked at him for a full minute. Her gaze 
 was fiercely concentrated upon his altered face; 
 it neither wavered nor sank before his as it was 
 wont to do, but shone with the flame of some 
 intense feeling. 
 
 " Arnot, I think I hate you, " she said at last, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 Then she fled from the room. 
 
 An hour later, Fenton found her with the kitten 
 in her arms, sobbing her heart out on one of the 
 stone benches on the terrace. 
 
 It was late September, and the trails of creeper 
 covered the wall behind her in a glory of rose, yel- 
 low and scarlet, emphasising by their fiery splen- 
 dour the desolate curve of the crouched figure on 
 the bench. The mists of twilight drew towards 
 them from the sea. 
 
 Fenton sat down beside her and took one hand 
 gently in his. 
 
 "What is it, Titian?" he asked kindly.
 
 48 The Torch of Life 
 
 Lifting her swollen tear-blotched face she told 
 him. 
 
 He was silent for a moment; then he asked 
 unexpectedly : 
 
 " How old were you when you married Arnot? " 
 
 "Nineteen," she answered. 
 
 "You are a child no longer, then. You must be 
 patient." 
 
 "Patient! Patient! I am sick of patience." 
 
 "It is hard on you, my dear," he continued 
 slowly. "But you must realise how hard it is on 
 Arnot too." 
 
 " It is no worse for him than for me, " she broke 
 out childishly. 
 
 "That's not a fact," said Fenton bluntly, "and 
 in your heart you know it. You have your beauti- 
 ful youth and health and strength. What has he? 
 Think of what he was before his accident ! Why, 
 he was tingling with vitality ! I never knew a chap 
 who enjoyed life more than he did. To think 
 of what he is now makes me want to swear at 
 something." 
 
 "I know. I know. I'm a wretch to complain. 
 I am sorry for him. I'd do anything to help him, 
 if he'd only let me." 
 
 " Don't you see that he can't just yet? He's too 
 sore. Think of his marriage, his hopes. You
 
 The Phase Pitiless 49 
 
 can't know what it means to him " He stopped 
 abruptly. 
 
 "But Fenty, sometimes sometimes he seems 
 to hate me!" 
 
 "Oh, no, he doesn't," Fenton returned drily. 
 "It's only the bitterness of his disappointment 
 finding vent. You don't realise what it is to him, 
 my dear. You don't understand, and I'm afraid 
 I can't enlighten you." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "My sympathy goes more to him than to you 
 on this occasion," Fenton answered, looking at 
 her curiously. Then his regard altered; melted 
 into the old kind look. "Keep on playing the 
 game, Titian. Believe me, it's worth while. " 
 
 That had been one of Fenton's exasperating 
 times one of the very few, she was obliged in 
 honesty to admit ; but the incident had sown seeds 
 of thought, and she tried to see Arnot's point of 
 view from a new outlook. 
 
 4
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE PHASE AMOROUS 
 
 TTHEN followed a period which Titian never 
 * liked to recall : a period of passionate admira- 
 tion, which seemed to spring, phoenix-like, from 
 the ashes of Arnot's fiery outburst over the kitten. 
 
 He did not apologise : that was not his way ; but 
 one day soon after, when she was in his room, he 
 dismissed Hammond with a nod, and called her to 
 him. 
 
 As she stood beside his couch he took her hands 
 and drew her closer. 
 
 "Kneel down beside me, you lovely thing," he 
 whispered. 
 
 She knelt obediently, and his thin arms pressed 
 her passionately to him. His kisses burned on her 
 lips and throat and hair. His fierceness frightened 
 her, and she shrank in his embrace. He felt her 
 shrinking and strained her closer. 
 
 "Kiss me," he whispered again. "Kiss me as 
 you ought to kiss me." 
 
 50
 
 The Phase Amorous 51 
 
 She touched his cheek gently with her lips. The 
 suddenness of this fury of affection overwhelmed 
 her. The unexpectedness of the demand after 
 months of repulsion left her mentally a-gasp, and 
 she felt that she could not respond at once to his 
 desire. She stroked his hair timidly the first 
 caress she had dared to offer him since they came 
 to Camus. He moved impatiently. 
 
 "Oh, you are cold. Cold. Half a man has no 
 appeal for you. You have only pity for the 
 wreck." 
 
 "No, Arnot. No, dear," she cried. "I love 
 you. Indeed, I do." 
 
 He pushed her from him suddenly. 
 
 "Love! What do you know about love?" he 
 cried. "You undeveloped fledgling thing! But 
 if I can't teach you, by God, no one else shall." 
 
 "But Arnot, do teach me," she pleaded. "I 
 am not really stupid. That is a lesson I could 
 learn very easily. Only try." 
 
 But his fire spent itself with disquieting rapidity. 
 He lay back on his cushions white and exhausted. 
 
 "What's the use? " he murmured. "What's the 
 use of anything? Life is a devil's jest, a tragedy 
 of errors. What does some old German chap call 
 it, a short blossoming and a long withering. My 
 God, my withering seems very long!"
 
 52 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Arnot, my dear!" 
 
 "Oh, go away. I can't stand platitudes." 
 
 Then, as she went to the door, reluctant, dis- 
 comfited, he called her back. 
 
 "Come here. Slip your sleeves up from your 
 arms. " 
 
 Hesitant for an instant, she obeyed him, blush- 
 ing, and pushed the silken sleeves up as far as they 
 would go, revealing soft dimpled curves and round 
 white contours. 
 
 Arnot ran his thin hot fingers eagerly over their 
 cool smoothness. He pressed his face against them ; 
 he drew one arm round his neck and kissed it. 
 There was an avid hunger in his actions which 
 accentuated the faint sense of repugnance that 
 Titian had experienced before, but she tried to 
 stifle it. He was her husband: why should she 
 deny him this passing pleasure? There was so 
 very little that she could do for him. She suf- 
 fered him to caress and play with her bare arms, 
 but still some inner instinct rebelled. When he 
 closed his eyes, tired, she laid cool hands upon his 
 forehead and softly stroked his hair. There was 
 sheer joy in that, pure pleasure unexpectedly 
 captured. 
 
 Suddenly he opened his eyes. 
 
 " I read somewhere of an old marquis who had a
 
 The Phase Amorous 53 
 
 lovely young wife something like you, child, 
 I expect. He had a room hung with black satin, 
 and a black-satin-covered couch, and he used to 
 make his wife sit naked on it, while he feasted on 
 her beauty." 
 
 Titian reddened. "Horrible old man!" 
 
 "I should like to do that with you," said 
 Arnot very low. 
 
 She sprang away from him, aflame from head to 
 foot. Shame scorched her; all her modesty felt 
 outraged at his words. She hastily pulled down 
 her sleeves, feeling degraded. 
 
 Arnot laughed. "Oh, I'm not going to force you 
 to do it against your will. " 
 
 "Arnot!" she cried, in a choked voice. 
 
 "If you really cared for me you would do any- 
 thing to please me." 
 
 "Arnot!" 
 
 "You really are rather like a doll that can only 
 say 'Mamma' and 'Papa.' You needn't get 
 into such a panic. I'm not going to undress my 
 doll to-day." 
 
 The hot mocking eyes, the jeering tones killed 
 her new-born tenderness and roused a passion fierce 
 as his. 
 
 "Arnot, don't make me hate you," she cried 
 hoarsely.
 
 54 The Torch of Life 
 
 "The charming variations of the eternal fem- 
 inine!" His voice flicked her as if indeed she 
 stood naked before him. 
 
 A wave of burning resentment rushed over her, 
 and flamed in her eyes. He read it in her gaze and 
 answered it with a crackle of laughter. 
 
 Quivering with shame she rushed from the room, 
 and did not enter it again until he sent for her 
 some days later. 
 
 Reluctantly she went at Hammond's sum- 
 mons. 
 
 By Arnot's couch lay a handsome red setter, 
 who beat the floor with feathery chestnut tail at 
 her approach. 
 
 "I am one who loves that beauty should go 
 beautifully," Arnot quoted, as carelessly as if 
 continuing some former conversation. 
 
 She shrank from meeting his eyes; she still felt 
 oddly shamed. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, without looking at him. 
 "You sent for me?" 
 
 " I want you to take charge of this fellow for me. 
 He matches your hair to perfection." 
 
 "You mean?" 
 
 For answer he made the dog rise to his feet, and 
 pointed to his silver-mounted collar. 
 
 Titian bent to look at it.
 
 The Phase Amorous 55 
 
 "I, Rufus, belong to Mrs. Fleury of Camus," 
 was engraved upon it. She flushed faintly. 
 Was it a peace-offering? A sudden memory of 
 Fenton's words urged her to more gracious 
 response. 
 
 "He is for me?" she asked. "Thank you very 
 much. He is a beauty. " 
 
 "Like to like," said Arnot, with an odd little 
 glance at her. "Take care of him when you are 
 out on the cliffs, for if my devil has entered into 
 him he may rush down a steep place violently into 
 the sea!" 
 
 "Has he?" she half -whispered. 
 
 " Perhaps. For the moment, at any rate. You 
 are safe for to-day, pretty prude. Shed the light 
 of your countenance on me for awhile. Sit there, 
 where I can see you." 
 
 "Do you really want me, Arnot?" 
 
 "I shouldn't ask you if I did not. You are a 
 delight to the eye. Let's play the little comedy 
 of Tantalus." 
 
 But when she brought a chair to the end of the 
 couch, and sat with one hand on Rufus's silky 
 head, he closed his eyes on their avowed delight, 
 and lay for a long while motionless, with thin 
 lines of pain drawn about his clear-cut lips. 
 
 From that time he had given vent to an extrava-
 
 56 The Torch of Life 
 
 gant delight in her beauty, though he never 
 repeated the suggestion which had so shocked 
 her modesty. It was then that he first evinced 
 dissatisfaction with her maid; from that epoch 
 dated Marshall's reign. He sent to Paris for 
 designs for gowns for her; he had her attired in all 
 that was rare and exquisite for his delectation. 
 He amused himself by designing unusual jewels for 
 her to wear, and spent hours in comparing the 
 rival charms of plaque or necklace against her 
 snowy skin. 
 
 He had her hair done in different ways to see 
 which pleased him best. One would think that 
 the fate of empires depended on the choice of fillet 
 or aigrette, so long did he take over the selection. 
 He was like some miser gloating over his treasure in 
 secret. 
 
 Though Titian liked the gowns and jewels well 
 enough, all her womanhood revolted against the 
 incessant bedecking and parading. She sometimes 
 thought bitterly that she was indeed the doll to 
 which he had compared her, a toy to be adorned 
 and made look beautiful ; not the wife and comrade 
 that she might have been to the warped rebellious 
 creature. He never cared to probe below the sur- 
 face save when he wished to wound; she felt that 
 she was no more to him than is a beautiful odalisque
 
 The Phase Amorous 57 
 
 to the lord of the harem, and her pride revolted 
 from the thought. 
 
 Still she tried to play the game, hard though it 
 was: to remember his affliction, his limitations. 
 She endured his fierce but fluctuating outbursts of 
 passion to which nothing in her nature responded, 
 as she endured his exploitation of her charms, with 
 a sense of shamed passivity. When the fleeting 
 years awoke in him the fear of her youth's passing, 
 and with it her beauty, she sat and listened with 
 numb acquiescence to endless discussions between 
 him and Marshall as to the claims to superiority 
 of this face-cream or that, this system of massage 
 or the other, the advisability of trying electric 
 vibrations, the best tincture for keeping the glory 
 of her hair undiminished. 
 
 What did it matter? In a very few years all 
 her looks would vanish irrevocably, while the 
 soul, the personality, the essential Titian, the 
 only thing that really mattered was being slowly 
 stifled, slowly atrophied. 
 
 It seemed to her as if the circles which the Stone 
 of Calamity had started when cast into the pool of 
 her life, had grown wider and wider until they now 
 reached its edge and ceased to disturb the placid 
 surface. The pool had become tranquil, even 
 stagnant, when one day Arnot was overwhelmed
 
 58 The Torch of Life 
 
 by the horrible possibility of her becoming fat! 
 He thought that he detected a richer generosity 
 of outline, a fuller amplitude of curve, and the 
 thought worried him almost to frenzy. 
 
 As usual, it was Hammond who supplied the 
 solution of the difficulty. He suggested fencing 
 lessons for his mistress, in the longest speech which 
 Titian had ever heard him make. 
 
 "Mr. Mede can teach Mrs. Fleury when he is 
 at Belfield, sir, and she can practise with me, if 
 you wish, when he is away. " 
 
 "Why, Hammond, can you fence?" 
 
 "After a fashion, sir." 
 
 " Invaluable creature ! ' ' 
 
 So the fencing lessons had begun, with the result 
 that the new interest and the additional exercises 
 aroused Titian from her clogging apathy. 
 
 Fenton was a skilled fencer, and Titian made an 
 apt pupil. 
 
 The piquancy of the contrast between the 
 graceful figure in its black satin fencing-suit 
 and the flushed lovely face above it gave a new 
 savour to Arnot's pride of the eye; and he often 
 urged them to fresh displays long after they had 
 had enough. 
 
 Hammond, too, had a neat way with the foils, 
 but the practice with him only held the zest of
 
 The Phase Amorous 59 
 
 trying to excel him, which, to her chagrin, Titian 
 could never succeed in doing. 
 
 Thus the days had woven their endless chain 
 until the hand of Death suddenly clove the links 
 asunder.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PHASE FORLORN 
 
 A TAP at the door was followed by the entrance 
 ** of Marshall full of discreetly subdued excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "The doctor and Mr. Mede are here, madam," 
 she announced. 
 
 "Are they?" asked Titian dully, sitting up in 
 bed, and looking at the woman as if she did not 
 really see her. 
 
 "And the doctor wants to know if you would care 
 to see him. " 
 
 "No, oh, no. Why should I see him? I am 
 quite well. " 
 
 "He thought perhaps you might like to know 
 about Mr. Fleury. Hammond says it is only 
 what was to be expected. A clot " 
 
 "Please don't, Marshall." 
 
 "Then I am to tell Dr. Bailey that you don't 
 want to see him, madam?" 
 
 "No, I don't want to see him. I needn't, need 
 60
 
 The Phase Forlorn 61 
 
 I?" She felt lost, bewildered; as if she were in 
 some new plane of being that was neither past nor 
 present. 
 
 "Mr. Mede will attend to everything that is 
 necessary, he says," Marshall returned. "He 
 desired me to ask you if you would like to see him 
 presently. He will wait your convenience, he 
 says. " 
 
 "Yes. I think I should like to see him. Oh, 
 yes. Please ask him to wait. I'll get up now. 
 Get my bath ready, Marshall. " 
 
 Marshall vanished into the bathroom with the 
 air of one who considered it slightly indecorous 
 for a newly-made widow to think of having a bath. 
 Some dim Eastern analogy of smitten breast and 
 ash-strewn head floated through her mind as being 
 an attitude more appropriate to the occasion. 
 
 Titian gave a little shudder when she saw that 
 Marshall had laid out a black frock for her to wear. 
 It almost seemed as if the woman had been pre- 
 pared for all the horrible staging of death. 
 
 Arnot was dead, and she was a widow. Arnot 
 had lived and she had been his wife. But in her 
 inmost heart she knew that she was no more a 
 widow than she had been a wife. 
 
 Suddenly, Marshall and her conventionalities 
 seemed to smother her like the black gown which
 
 62 The Torch of Life 
 
 the maid was slowly slipping over her shoulders. 
 She felt that she wanted to scream as she emerged 
 from its folds. 
 
 Arnot had ordered the dress as an experiment. 
 He had wanted to see how a black gown would look 
 with her platinum chain and plaque set with 
 emeralds. He had not liked it ; she had only worn 
 it once. What would he say ? But how could 
 she think of such trivialities? Arnot had done 
 with such things. He cared no longer. He knew 
 better now, she thought, and then wondered if 
 she were irreverent. She could not think of him 
 as being in an orthodox Heaven;. she would not 
 imagine him in an orthodox Hell. In one irresist- 
 ible flash of thought, of which afterwards she felt 
 hotly ashamed, she pictured him as being happiest 
 in the Mahometan Garden of Paradise surrounded 
 by lovely houris. 
 
 Her thoughts wandered irrelevantly. 
 
 As Marshall fastened her gown, the window-blind 
 nearest to her flapped inward and hung suspended 
 over the back of a chair. Through the revealing 
 space she saw the sea, which looked unbelievably 
 blue after the artificial gloom of the room. White- 
 crisped waves broke with a curling hiss over a rock 
 on which a seagull was perched, and swayed its 
 fringing seaweed. When one wave bigger than
 
 The Phase Forlorn 63 
 
 the rest rushed towards the bird, she thought 
 absurdly, for a moment, of how wet the seagull's 
 feet would get. Then she laughed aloud at the 
 thought. 
 
 The sight of Marshall's face in the glass sobered 
 her instantly. 
 
 "Would you like me to get you some sal volatile, 
 madam?" she inquired primly. 
 
 Titian shook her head, while Marshall mur- 
 mured something about "nerves" and "the 
 shock." 
 
 " I am all right, " she said a little impatiently. 
 
 "Now," added Marshall, saving the situation in 
 her own eyes. 
 
 When she entered her sitting-room, which bore 
 the forlorn aspect induced by drawn blinds in 
 daylight, Fenton rose from the couch and came 
 towards her with outstretched hands. 
 
 He said nothing, but his face looked rather pale 
 in the unnatural light. She put her hands into his, 
 and stood for a moment looking at him. Then 
 trembling seized her, and her lips quivered. 
 
 "Oh, Fenty!" she said. And again "Oh, 
 Fenty!" 
 
 She broke into uncontrollable sobbing as Fenton 
 put his arm gently round her, and led her to the 
 couch.
 
 64 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Poor child," he said softly. "Dear child. 
 I am so sorry. " 
 
 As if she were indeed the child he called her in his 
 pity, she turned and buried her face in the rough 
 tweed of his coat, crying and clinging to him as if 
 she would never let him go. The touch of warm 
 humanity was sufficient to unlock the sluice-gates 
 of her emotion. His kindness and the sense of 
 contact emphasised and yet mitigated her loneli- 
 ness as Marshall's aloofness had failed to do; and 
 the flood of tears washed away the bitterness of 
 her retrospect and loosed the grip of the nervous 
 shock. Fenton did nothing to check it for a time. 
 
 "Have you got a handkerchief?" he asked at 
 last, in some embarrassment. 
 
 "N no," she sobbed. "I haven't even got a 
 pocket." Then she lifted her head and gave a 
 queer, choked laugh. "Oh, Fenty, how ludicrous 
 it seems that you should ask me if I have a hand- 
 kerchief ! I wonder that Marshall forgot to provide 
 me with such an appropriate accessory. " 
 
 "Here's mine," said Fenton, unfolding a white 
 silk one and putting it into her hand. 
 
 He looked at her pityingly. He did not quite 
 know what to say to her. Conventional sympathy 
 if he could ever offer it, was out of place here. 
 And yet, what a deep spring of sympathy welled
 
 The Phase Forlorn 65 
 
 within him for the lonely creature beside him! 
 The black dress changed her, he thought. It 
 seemed to accentuate her pathetic appeal. 
 
 "Dear Fenty, you are so nice and human," she 
 said, drying her eyes and trying to suppress her 
 sobs. "I am so glad you have come. I was 
 frightfully lonely. Marshall is so aloof and dis- 
 approving. She is acting according to some code 
 of regulations of her own, and she expects me to do 
 likewise. But I don't quite know what is expected 
 of me, and I'm not sure that I should do it if I 
 did. I can't mourn conventionally. I needn't, 
 need I, Fenty?" 
 
 To this outburst Fenton answered never a word. 
 He only patted the hand which lay in her lap near 
 him, noting two things as he did so, its whiteness 
 against the black gown and the gleam of the wed- 
 ding-ring on its third finger. 
 
 "I am sorry. You believe I'm sorry?" she 
 continued feverishly, as if speech must flow regard- 
 less of response. "It's simply that it all seems 
 unbelievable, impossible. Yesterday and the day 
 before and weeks ago the same things happened, 
 the same routine went on. Last night he was just 
 as usual, and to-day! Oh, I can't believe it, 
 Fenty." 
 
 "It's true enough, child," said Fenton.
 
 66 The Torch of Life 
 
 "But there was no warning? Could we have 
 done nothing to guard against it?" 
 
 "Would you have wished to guard against it? 
 Would he have wished to guard against it?" 
 
 "I don't think so," said Titian, nervously 
 rolling the handkerchief into a wet ball. "But 
 do you think he wanted anything? Was there 
 nothing we could have done for him? That 
 thought has been haunting me. " 
 
 "Lay its ghost once and for all," Fenton re- 
 turned. "Arnot died in his sleep, painlessly, 
 peacefully. As he would have wished. As any- 
 one who cared for him would have wished if they 
 could have chosen." 
 
 In the silence that followed, her eyes sought the 
 direction of his, which were still held by the gleam 
 of that emblematical gold band. 
 
 Flushing, she looked up suddenly. 
 
 "I did play the game, didn't I, Fenty?" 
 
 He pressed the hand that bore the wedding- 
 ring. 
 
 "You played it like a man, Titian, " he answered. 
 
 Through her pleasure at his response pricked a 
 half -amused wonder at the form of it. 
 
 "I suppose it would never do to say I played it 
 like a woman," she said. Then giving his arm a 
 quick little squeeze, she cried, "Oh, Fenty, you are
 
 The "Phase Forlorn 67 
 
 so nice and human! You are such a big warm 
 thing in a huge cold world. Don't leave me all 
 alone here with Marshall. " 
 
 Her tears flowed afresh, but she tried to check 
 them. 
 
 Again his heart swelled with pity for her. 
 
 "Have you no relations of your own, Titian? 
 No one you would like to send for?" 
 
 She shook her head. " My mother was an only 
 child. My father's relations never forgave him 
 for marrying her. He jilted an heiress for her sake, 
 and they ran away together. No, I don't think 
 I have a single relation in the world." 
 
 1 ' Have you no woman friend , then ? You should 
 have someone with you." 
 
 "I haven't been able to make friends here, as 
 you know, Fenty. Arnot didn't encourage people, 
 and they soon dropped us. I have lived a sort of 
 hermit's life for the last ten years. " 
 
 "I know. I know. Poor child!" For a mo- 
 ment his loyalty to the dead gave way, and he 
 thought bitterly of Arnot's selfishness. 
 
 " Had you no friends at Breston?" 
 
 "There were only the Gerards. Perhaps Miss 
 Gerard would come to me if you thought I ought 
 to have someone, but I don't think she'd be happy 
 here. She is always bustling about the Rectory
 
 68 The Torch of Life 
 
 at home The old word slipped out uncon- 
 sciously. " She would have nothing to do here. " 
 
 " She would be a woman in the house with you, at 
 any rate, and not a fish, like Marshall. Besides, she 
 could help you to see about things. Women " 
 
 "Please don't be conventional, Fenty. I couldn't 
 bear it. Things, indeed ! No doubt Marshall will 
 see that I am suitably attired for any and every 
 occasion. Oh!" she cried, rising with sudden pas- 
 sion. "How I hate and detest the very name of 
 clothes!" 
 
 Fenton looked at her with some surprise. To 
 the outward eye life had flowed through Camus 
 of late years with a deceptively calm placidity. 
 He had no idea of the rebellions and humiliations 
 which had seethed below the apparently tranquil 
 surface. 
 
 "I thought that all women " he began, 
 
 puzzled. 
 
 "You've no right to think anything about all 
 women, or any women," she broke forth. "Wo- 
 men are as different as as dogs. You've no right 
 to generalise." 
 
 "I never meant to ' 
 
 "No, I'm sure you didn't. You must forgive 
 me, Fenty. I'm unstrung to-day. Everything 
 seems so strange. I don't think that you are the
 
 The Phase Forlorn 69 
 
 sort of man who looks upon a woman merely as a 
 beautiful doll to play with and bedeck." Then 
 she stopped and looked at him with quick scrutiny. 
 "Or are you?" 
 
 "No, I'm not," he answered bluntly. 
 
 Titian looked away and pushed back her hair 
 from her forehead. 
 
 It was an unconscious trick which Fenton had 
 often noticed. He liked the curve of her white 
 fingers as they thrust back the wave of hair, and 
 he liked the way the tress fell back into place, 
 spraying a little over her forehead. He had some- 
 times wondered why Arnot had not made her self- 
 conscious by commenting upon it. Perhaps it 
 counted to him for righteousness that he had not 
 done so. 
 
 "Would you like me to telegraph for Miss 
 Gerard?" he asked, after a pause. 
 
 "If you think it would be best," she answered 
 passively. 
 
 "Did Arnot ever tell you anything about his 
 affairs?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Did he tell you that he had asked me to act as 
 your trustee?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Do vou know what a trustee is?"
 
 70 The Torch of Life 
 
 She shook her head again. Then, with a smile 
 which irradiated her tear-stained face, she said: 
 "If it means a person whom one can trust it is a 
 very appropriate thing for you to be, Fenty. " 
 
 Fenton got up and walked to the window before 
 he answered. Then he came back. 
 
 "That's as good a definition as you can get in 
 this instance," he said, rather huskily. "Do you 
 think that you can trust me, Titian?" 
 
 "Of course I can," she cried warmly. "Why, 
 Fenty, I always look on you as a sort of uncle!"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE CONQUERING OF ALL PHASES 
 
 be regarded as the uncle of a young and 
 beautiful woman may have its advantages, 
 but, to a man who can boast only nine years' 
 seniority, the implication of such advanced age is 
 scarcely complimentary. Fenton was taken aback. 
 
 "Had we not better say cousin?" he suggested. 
 "That is the real relationship." 
 
 "Just as you like," she assented. "You are so 
 steady, and so entirely dependable. You are like 
 a big rock, no, a great tree, for I think you could 
 shelter one from heat as well as from rain." 
 
 He felt touched at her outspoken confidence in 
 him. 
 
 "lam glad that you feel like that. I hope you 
 will always do so," he returned gravely. "At 
 all times I shall be ready to serve you. You must 
 never hesitate to call on me. If you give me 
 Miss Gerard's address I'll write out the wire for 
 her."
 
 72 The Torch of Life 
 
 "The Rectory, Breston. You'll find forms in 
 my desk. " 
 
 He went over to the desk and hastily wrote a 
 couple of telegrams; then turned to Titian. 
 
 "I've sent one also to my sister Mollie Lady 
 Tempest. I wish she was at home. She would 
 come to you, I am sure. " 
 
 A wave of loyalty surged up in Titian. "She 
 never came while Arnot was alive. Why should 
 she come now?" 
 
 Fenton looked rather embarrassed. 
 
 "She and Arnot had a a misunderstanding, I 
 believe. They were once very good friends. In 
 the old days they were regular chums. Mollie was 
 a year younger than Arnot. They did everything 
 together. They used to bully me dreadfully. " 
 
 "Why did you let them?" 
 
 "It was a case of two against one, and I was 
 three years younger than Mollie." 
 
 "Three years younger!" cried Titian, making a 
 rapid calculation with the tips of her fingers against 
 the chintz of the couch. "Why that makes you 
 four years younger than Arnot, and only nine 
 years older than I am!" 
 
 "Even so, most sapient mathematician." 
 
 " I never was so surprised in my life. I thought 
 that you were years older than Arnot. It must be
 
 The Conquering of All Phases 73 
 
 your beard. Why did you grow a beard when you 
 were so young, Fenty?" 
 
 "Laziness," he answered laconically. 
 
 "Do you know why Arnot and your sister 
 quarrelled?" 
 
 "Yes." The curt affirmative gave no promise 
 of further enlightenment, and seemed to clang a 
 door in Titian's face. 
 
 "Oh," she said dubiously. "I suppose I 
 mustn't ask questions." 
 
 "If you say that you suppose that I mustn't 
 answer them it would be nearer the mark," said 
 Fenton, rising. 
 
 Titian clutched at the corner of the couch in a 
 sudden tremor. 
 
 "Fenty, you're not going. Don't go. Don't 
 leave me. " 
 
 "I'm only going to ring for someone to take 
 these wires." He looked compassionately at her 
 as he went towards the bell. "I'll stay as long as 
 you want me." 
 
 "Just let me see you. Let me know you are 
 there," she went on, speaking quickly. "Talk 
 if you can. Don't if it's too much of an effort, 
 but just let me feel that there's a human being 
 somewhere near me whom I can touch if I want to. 
 I daresay you think me very callous and queer to
 
 74 The Torch of Life 
 
 talk about anything and everything as I have been 
 doing. To be able to laugh, even. I daresay it is. 
 But down underneath is the consciousness of that 
 icy fact, and all my words and thoughts come 
 trooping, hurrying by, to try to pretend that it's 
 not there. Do you understand, Fenty? Do you, 
 I wonder? Even the least little bit?" 
 
 She gazed up at him. Her eyes looked dark and 
 wild in the pallor of her face. Fenton sat down be- 
 side her, and took her nervously-working hands in 
 his. 
 
 " I understand that you have had a great shock, 
 my dear," he said quietly. "It will take some 
 time for your nerves to readjust themselves. That 
 is why I think you ought to have a woman with 
 you. Should you have got up?" 
 
 "I couldn't stay in bed," she cried. "I did 
 nothing but think and think. All the horrid 
 things, all the bitter things, all the humiliating 
 things, came thronging into my mind. It was 
 ghastly. " She shuddered. " Why couldn't I think 
 nice things, Fenty? Why have I no happy or 
 beautiful memories like other people? Why should 
 I feel nothing but this underlying sick terror?" 
 
 "Poor child. Poor child," he said soothingly. 
 
 Silence fell, while Fenton strove to find words 
 that might bring comfort. At last he said:
 
 The Conquering of All Phases 75 
 
 "Titian, I think there is one thing which might 
 allay that terror." 
 
 She looked at him quickly, nervously. In her 
 inmost heart she knew what he was going to 
 suggest, but she shrank inexpressibly from hearing 
 it put into words. 
 
 "To this house Death has come only as a 
 friend," said Fenton slowly. "The bringer of 
 rest. First to your mother, now to Arnot." 
 He hesitated for a moment, then continued: 
 "Will you come with me to see him?" 
 
 She shrank back into the corner of the couch, 
 and pulled her hands from his. 
 
 "No. Oh, no. I couldn't. Don't ask me. I 
 don't believe I could." 
 
 "There is nothing to frighten you; nothing to 
 repel," he said quietly. 
 
 "I " she began, then stopped, with her eyes 
 fixed on him in a desperate appeal of which she 
 yet felt half -ashamed. A lump rose in her throat ; 
 she felt as if it would choke her. 
 
 "I won't urge you to come if you would rather 
 not, but I think it would do you good," he per- 
 sisted gently. 
 
 She knew that he was right, but could not bring 
 herself to consent. As she looked at the big quiet 
 figure on the couch near her, some subtle strength
 
 76 The Torch of Life 
 
 seemed to emanate from him to her. It was as 
 if spirit touched spirit with friendly invigorat- 
 ing contact; as if his sympathy tried to instil 
 some of his own calm into her wavering tormented 
 mind. 
 
 Speech at all times was difficult to Fenton Mede, 
 but speech about the deeper intimacies of life was 
 almost impossible. Yet he felt that at all costs 
 his slow tongue must be untied, his reticence 
 conquered, if he were to help this troubled creature 
 who leaned upon him, who trusted him so abso- 
 lutely in her forlornness. 
 
 At last, with a visible effort, he forced speech 
 halting with frequent shy pauses: 
 
 "I suppose there's always a a sort of war be- 
 tween what we are, and and what we might be. 
 St. Paul's old fight, the flesh and the spirit. Well 
 Arnot's spirit has has dropped the burden of 
 the flesh found it too heavy to carry any longer. 
 It's at rest, the poor body, and and, Titian the 
 marks of of the fight have been rubbed out. He 
 looks the the Arnot that he might have been. 
 He looks as if the best of him had triumphed, 
 somehow. If you'd only come and see for your- 
 self I think it would comfort you as nothing else 
 could." 
 
 He stopped. Titian could see something of
 
 The Conquering of All Phases 77 
 
 what the effort had cost him, and she felt oddly 
 touched. To-day the veil which had enwrapped 
 her life of late years had been rudely torn asunder. 
 She was face to face with real things now. 
 
 With a sigh that was half a strangled sob, she 
 rose and walked over to the window. 
 
 Fenton watched her, wondering. 
 
 She raised a corner of the blind and looked out 
 across the terrace and the bay. A gust of wind 
 eddied the fallen red leaves along the pavement, 
 and set them dancing and whirling over the low 
 parapet into the water beneath. The church 
 tower caught her eyes and held them for a moment, 
 while a tangle of thoughts rushed through her mind, 
 blown as swiftly as the leaves before the wind. 
 Suddenly, her gaze fell on a white house near the 
 church. In an upper window used to sit a young 
 girl who was dying of consumption. Titian had 
 gone to see her until Arnot had discovered and 
 forbidden the visits. 
 
 To-day that upper blind was drawn. Then 
 poor Agatha had got her order of release. Surely 
 to her also Death had come as a friend. 
 
 Fenton's efforts had not been in vain. His 
 halting words had touched the right chord. The 
 real Titian was still alive; her finer sensibilities 
 were not atrophied.
 
 78 The Torch of Life 
 
 She turned from the window with a softened 
 look upon her face. 
 
 "I will come with you, Fenty, " she said. "I 
 should like to think that Arnot is really happy."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE LAST FLICK 
 
 WHEN all that was mortal of Arnot Fleury 
 had been laid to rest, the question of the 
 future loomed portentously before Titian; yet 
 under its shadow she moved as one who is half 
 asleep. 
 
 The coming of Miss Gerard, welcome though it 
 was, brought no sense of inner companionship, 
 nor had she seen Fenton again from the day when 
 he had led her, smitten to stillness, from the silent 
 chamber of death, until they came face to face in 
 the library to hear the reading of Arnot's will. 
 
 It was a brief document. With the exception of 
 legacies to Hammond and Marshall "because 
 they knew how to carry out instructions, " he left 
 all that he possessed "to my wife Letitia, or Titian 
 Fleury, because her beauty never failed me. " 
 
 Fenton noted her start and flush as "our Mr. 
 Robert Bourne" of Messrs. Bourne, Bourne & 
 Gleed, read the clause aloud in dry legal tones; 
 
 79
 
 8o The Torch of Life 
 
 but beyond that brief involuntary betrayal no 
 further sign of emotion escaped her. 
 
 When Fenton had seen Mr. Bourne off in the 
 motor he caught sight of Miss Gerard walking on 
 the terrace and went to join her. 
 
 It was a still grey day. The sea spread calm 
 and silvery towards the misty horizon. Here and 
 there a russet-sailed fishing-boat lay dark upon its 
 surface. From a rift in the clouds a hidden sun 
 sent shafts of light raying downwards to touch the 
 shimmering water to bands of coppery brightness. 
 
 Miss Gerard turned with alacrity when she 
 heard Fenton's steps on the flags behind her. 
 
 "I am glad of this opportunity of a talk with 
 you Mr. Mede, " she said briskly. "I am rather 
 anxious about Titian. She seems to me to be 
 half-dazed. She must be roused. She must be 
 awakened to a sense of her position and her 
 responsibilities. " 
 
 Miss Emily Gerard was a neat spare woman of 
 about fifty, with smooth brown hair, quick grey 
 eyes, a bright fixed colour, and a mind which never 
 wavered in coming to a decision. Having made 
 up her brother's mind for him upon every subject 
 save literature (and one other) for nearly forty 
 years, she conceived herself to be capable of 
 grappling with any situation, however complex.
 
 The Last Flick 81 
 
 "People invariably make their own difficulties," 
 she was fond of saying. " If there's a way in, there 
 must be a way out." 
 
 Fenton felt that such a quality of mind might 
 be of inestimable benefit to Titian in her present 
 forlorn condition. 
 
 "How do you propose to rouse her?" he asked 
 with interest. "Have you any definite suggestion 
 to make?" 
 
 There was no hesitance about Miss Gerard's 
 answer. 
 
 "I have a piece of news that will surprise her 
 greatly aye, and shock her too! I haven't men- 
 tioned it to her yet, as I did not like to obtrude 
 my own affairs upon her." 
 
 "Is it permitted to ask the nature of the 
 news?" 
 
 "It is," replied Miss Gerard bluntly. She 
 paused for a moment ; then went on, with height- 
 ened colour and eyes so bright that they almost 
 seemed to snap sparks: "It ought to be no news 
 to any woman that a man is going to make a fool 
 of himself, and yet, I must say that I was com- 
 pletely taken aback." 
 
 She stopped again, and Fenton glanced at her 
 with a look compact of curiosity and amusement. 
 
 " 'Tis a true saying that a fool will always find a
 
 82 The Torch of Life 
 
 greater fool to admire him, but how anyone could 
 see anything to admire in my brother Baldwin I 
 can't imagine. He's a regular gomeril about 
 everything except his books." 
 
 Light began to dawn upon Fenton. 
 
 "Who is the lady?" he inquired politely. 
 
 " Lady? She's not a lady ! " sniffed Miss Gerard. 
 "That's the worst feature of a disgusting case. 
 She's the new village school-mistress, a designing 
 minx!" 
 
 "Is Mr. Gerard going to marry her?" 
 
 " I believe so, " returned Miss Gerard in a hard 
 voice, looking out to sea. "He says she is the 
 only woman he has ever met who knew anything 
 about Greek epigrams. Greek epigrams, indeed! 
 I believe she just cribbed them all out of some old 
 book in order to blind the poor gullible creature. 
 Will Greek epigrams darn his stockings or see that 
 he has a decent dinner, aye, and eats it too, for 
 he's very apt to forget it?" 
 
 "Is there a disparity?" Fenton ventured. 
 
 "Disparity?" retorted Miss Gerard. "A mild 
 word, indeed ! He's thirty years older than she is. 
 A whole generation between them! What does 
 she know about domestic economy, except to teach 
 it out of silly little books? Maybe she'll find it 
 easier to marry than to housekeep ! Now, do you
 
 The Last Flick 83 
 
 think that's bombshell enough to rouse Titian?" 
 she added, turning sharply to him. 
 
 "I should think it would be," he replied, sup- 
 pressing a smile, because he felt that a very real 
 pain underlay Miss Gerard's vehemence. 
 
 Anything that was hurt or halt or maimed made 
 instant appeal to him, and he divined the sore re- 
 sentment at being so easily cast aside for a strange 
 woman that burned through her commentary on 
 mankind in general. 
 
 "I don't wish to seem intrusive," Fenton con- 
 tinued. "But am I to infer from what you have 
 just told me that you are now free to come and go 
 as you wish?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, her lips tightening. "If 
 3^ou call it freedom to be suddenly cast aside by 
 the person you care most for, and forced to stand 
 with tied hands while you see him drifting to 
 destruction." 
 
 " It may not be as bad as that. Such marriages 
 sometimes turn out quite happily. If people have 
 tastes in common " 
 
 Miss Gerard turned to wither him with a glance. 
 
 "Tastes in common!" she cried. "I wonder 
 how soon they'll come to the end of the Greek 
 epigrams, and what they'll find when they get 
 there?"
 
 84 The Torch of Life 
 
 "One never knows," returned Fenton, looking 
 at his watch. "I should like to see Titian before 
 I go." 
 
 "Aren't you going to stay to tea?" Miss Gerard 
 asked, clinging to his presence in the lonely house 
 as Mrs. Bagot had clung so many years ago. 
 
 "I don't think so," he answered. "Not un- 
 less Titian specially wants me." 
 
 "I think she must be in her own room. Shall I 
 see?" 
 
 "No, thank you. I'll find her for myself. It 
 would be a pity to bring you in. " 
 
 As he walked along the terrace, his thoughts 
 turned to the news which Miss Gerard had told 
 him. Surely the marriage of the Reverend Baldwin 
 Gerard had been providentially arranged! In 
 his inmost heart he blessed the happy inspiration 
 which had led the prospective bride to bait 
 her nets with Greek epigrams. He forgot Miss 
 Gerard's pain in the pleasure that he felt at the 
 thought that Fate had, at the psychological mo- 
 ment, provided the very person best fitted to look 
 after Titian. 
 
 He felt a sense of responsibility towards her. 
 Of her true capabilities he knew but little. She 
 had led a life of such cloistered seclusion that he 
 was unaware of what potentialities had been
 
 The Last Flick 85 
 
 nipped in budtime or what were still capable of 
 coming to fruitage. All that he knew of her was 
 sweet and womanly. Still, he felt dimly that there 
 must be unnoted possibilities hidden beneath the 
 surface. 
 
 She was sitting in her favourite corner of the 
 couch; a pathetic, black-robed figure against the 
 burnt-rose cushions, with Rufus's silky head on 
 her knee. She was bending over the dog as he 
 entered the room, stroking and pulling his smooth 
 ears. She looked up quickly at Fenton's approach 
 There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. 
 
 "Ah, Fenty, I am glad to see you," she said. 
 "I've been hoping that you would come, ever since 
 I heard the car go away." 
 
 "Why didn't you send for me?" he asked. "I 
 thought you didn't want to be bothered." 
 
 "I don't believe that you could ever bother 
 me," she answered, with a little smile. Then she 
 drooped her head and bent once more over the dog. 
 
 As he looked at her he noticed a sudden inde- 
 finable change. Even to himself he could not tell 
 in what it lay, whether in poise, manner, or expres- 
 sion. Her face was wistfully lovely in its unusual 
 pallor; her shadowed eyes held their old childish 
 appeal; the little hinted dimple still lurked at the 
 corner of her mouth. It was the same and yet not
 
 86 The Torch of Life 
 
 altogether the same Titian who had clung to him so 
 piteously at their last meeting. Where was the 
 change? The query pricked him. 
 
 "I have wanted to talk to you, Fenty," the 
 soft voice went on. "I have wanted to ask you 
 things about myself my position. " 
 
 "I suppose you know that you are what the 
 world would call a rich woman," said Fenton 
 slowly. 
 
 "Am I?" 
 
 "Camus Castle belongs to you and, roughly 
 speaking, about 10,000 a year." 
 
 "I suppose that's a good deal." 
 
 "A comfortable income," returned Fenton 
 drily. 
 
 "How much a year have you got, Fenty?" 
 
 "Not quite a fifth of that." 
 
 "I'm afraid I don't know much about money," 
 she went on, stroking the dog's ruddy head. "I 
 never had the spending of any until mother's 
 money came to me. " 
 
 "How much was that?" asked Fenton in his 
 turn. 
 
 "About a hundred a year," she answered. 
 
 "Was that what you had to live on before you 
 married?" 
 
 "I suppose so. I never asked. I never both-
 
 The Last Flick 87 
 
 ered about money. I was a child, a baby, an 
 absolute idiot," she broke out suddenly. "I 
 suppose I'm little better now." 
 
 "Did Arnot give you no allowance?" 
 
 "No, he paid for everything I had himself. 
 He said that I did not need money, that I should 
 not know how to use it. True, perhaps, then. 
 But now I have to use it and I don't know how. " 
 
 Fenton was aware of some straining turbulence 
 tightly leashed by the quiet figure on the couch 
 beside him. 
 
 "You will soon learn, " he said gently. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose there's not much art in spend- 
 ing money," she said a little bitterly. "Arnot 
 spent it like water on my dresses and my jewels. " 
 
 "He was one who 'loved that beauty should go 
 beautifully,'" Fenton returned. 
 
 "Oh, don't quote that to me, Fenton!" she 
 cried, with sudden vehemence, striking the end of 
 the couch with her hand. "If you could only 
 guess how sick, how shamed that quotation makes 
 me feel! It was Arnot's justification for every- 
 thing. Oh, how he has humiliated me! Even 
 in his will " She covered her face with her 
 hands. Hot tears trickled through her fingers. 
 
 " Titian ! My dear child. " 
 
 "Oh, don't touch me, don't come near me," she
 
 88 The Torch of Life 
 
 cried, wildly. "You don't know what I've been 
 for the last few years. A doll, a toy, a whim ! An 
 atrophying soul, whose only beauty lay in the flesh 
 that clothed it. Every day, in every way, he 
 made me feel that it was only for my body that he 
 cared." She stopped abruptly. 
 
 "I never knew," Fenton faltered. 
 
 "How could you? It's not likely that he would 
 have exploited such ideas to you. I was shamed 
 enough without that. Every decent impulse in 
 me he tried to check. Every bit of the real me he 
 tried to stifle. Everything that was natural and 
 human he strove to kill, while my hateful body 
 was massaged and creamed and exercised in order 
 to keep its beauty a delight for his eyes. I bore 
 it while he was alive. Right or wrong, I thought 
 it was my duty. He was fond of saying that 
 many women would sell themselves for such clothes 
 and jewels as mine. If I had sold myself I should 
 not have felt half so humiliated. But I didn't, 
 Fenty." Her voice trailed into a sob. "I 
 married him for love for love which he did his 
 best to kill. He might have spared me after 
 death. He might! He might! I can't forgive 
 him for putting that in his will. " She broke into 
 piteous sobbing. 
 
 It was a revelation to Fenton. Hot anger
 
 The Last Flick 89 
 
 surged within him as he thought of the years of 
 hidden suffering which she had endured so bravely ; 
 suffering less easily borne by a proud spirit than 
 tangible, curable pain. 
 
 "To shame me before everyone," she sobbed. 
 "It was too cruel." 
 
 "Listen, Titian. Listen," he said, gently in- 
 sistent. "You were not shamed. Nobody thought 
 anything of that clause except yourself. It 
 conveyed nothing to me except ' : 
 
 "Except what?" she asked, sitting up and 
 looking at him as if she would read his very 
 soul. 
 
 "Except well, a rather exotic appreciation of 
 you," he answered reluctantly. "You must rid 
 your mind of such thoughts, child. You must 
 wipe them away as you would off a slate. " 
 
 "They were not written with slate pencil," she 
 said very low. "They were burned in, Fenty. " 
 
 "Well, turn over a new leaf, then, and start 
 afresh. I know how easy it is to say these things, 
 and how it is cruelly hard to do them. I, too " 
 He stopped abruptly. 
 
 Titian turned away; a few shining drops fell on 
 the dog's head. Then she whispered: 
 
 "Do you really think they didn't understand? 
 Miss Em and Mr. Bourne?"
 
 9o The Torch of Life 
 
 "I'm quite sure they didn't." 
 
 "You didn't yourself? Honour bright?" 
 
 "Honour bright," he answered, a little huskily. 
 "Not till you told me. Look here, Titian," he 
 continued, with difficulty, "you don't mind my 
 knowing, do you?" 
 
 She shook her head. "But you're the only 
 person. I couldn't bear it if anyone else knew, 
 but somehow I think I'm glad you do. " 
 
 Fenton got' up and paced about the room 
 for a moment or two, coming at last to a halt 
 before her. 
 
 "Titian!" 
 
 She looked up hastily at the strained sound in 
 his voice. 
 
 "It's only that I honour you above all 
 women, if it's any satisfaction to you to know it. 
 I oh, I can't say things, but you understand, 
 child, don't you?" 
 
 "I understand that you are always good to me, 
 dear Fenty, " she said, smiling through her tears. 
 Then she caught the hand that hung by his side 
 and gave it a quick little kiss. 
 
 Fenton disengaged it, and turned suddenly 
 away. When he found voice it was in tones which 
 were drained of all emotion. 
 
 "Now I think it is time for us to map out your
 
 The Last Flick 91 
 
 tour of the world," he said, with determined 
 lightness. 
 
 "My tour of the world? Oh, Fenty!" she 
 cried, a new light dawning in her eyes.
 
 BOOK II 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE CITY OF BELLS 
 
 sense," remarked Miss Emily 
 Gerard, " is so called because it ought to be 
 common, not because it is!" 
 
 "It's an admirable virtue, Miss Em," returned 
 Titian lazily. 
 
 "Why don't you try to cultivate it, then?" 
 
 "How can you have the heart to ask me to do 
 anything so strenuous as to cultivate a virtue in this 
 dolce far niente place?" asked Titian, changing 
 her position for a more comfortable one. 
 
 The two were sitting on one of the curved mosaic 
 seats in the garden beneath the broad plateau of 
 the Piazzale Michelangelo. 
 
 Behind them, in the centre of the Piazzale, 
 young David in bronze, sling in hand, poised dark 
 against a luminous sky. Above and to their left 
 the gold and marbles of the old church of San 
 
 92
 
 The City of Bells 93 
 
 Miniato glittered in the setting sun. Beneath 
 them the avenue of cypresses, up which the Merci- 
 ful Knight had trodden the way of redemption, 
 quivered in the sunlight like black flames. 
 
 At their feet lay Florence, whose plain of red- 
 roofed houses was broken here and there by soaring 
 tower or campanile or the bubble of church dome. 
 The Arno, a glittering ribbon of gold, threaded its 
 way through the tangle of buildings to the haze- 
 dimmed trees of the Cascine. 
 
 Pigeons wheeled and circled, their breasts flash- 
 ing against the blue as they turned ; bees hummed 
 in the flowers that tumbled over the stone edges 
 of the terraced garden; all the sweets of spring 
 scented the warm air. 
 
 Just beneath where they sat was a cream house 
 with vivid green shutters and a little balcony with 
 a rust-red awning. A girl in a white bodice 
 stepped out upon the balcony, and leaning over 
 its rail began to sing. A note or two floated up 
 through the golden afternoon air, throbbing, pas- 
 sionate. After a little, she stopped and laughed: 
 then plucking a sprig of scarlet geranium, she 
 kissed it carelessly and flung it downwards to 
 some unseen person. Then she disappeared be- 
 hind the green shutters. 
 
 Titian drew a long breath. It was like watch-
 
 94 The Torch of Life 
 
 ing a scene at a play, but incomparably better. 
 This was life. No stage scene which she had 
 ever beheld approximated to reality as she con- 
 ceived it. The men and women had always 
 seemed artificial, the situations improbable, if not 
 impossible. 
 
 Miss Gerard's voice broke sharply upon her 
 musings. 
 
 "If I did not know you, I should totally dis- 
 approve of you!" 
 
 Titian laughed. "Why? Because I don't want 
 to cultivate the virtues? After all, what's mo- 
 rality? Like the sabbath, it was made for man, 
 not man for it." 
 
 "Titian!" 
 
 "Since I came to Italy I have felt that I was 
 coming into my kingdom. I know that I was a 
 pagan in a former existence. Haven't you ever 
 felt that you had lived before? Don't you re- 
 member the time when ' I was a king in Babylon, 
 and you were a Christian slave?" 
 
 "Certainly not," returned Miss Gerard firmly. 
 
 "Not even a Christian slave," Titian coaxed. 
 "I wouldn't have dared to imagine you anything 
 else, Miss Em, after the Colosseum." 
 
 " If you can imagine yourself a Babylonish king, 
 you are capable of imagining anything," said
 
 The City of Bells 95 
 
 Miss Gerard. "But you were always a great one 
 for talking nonsense. " 
 
 The light suddenly died out of Titian's face, 
 and she dropped her hands listlessly into her lap. 
 
 "But that was years ago," she said slowly. 
 " Illimitable years ago. I haven't talked nonsense 
 to anyone since, except to Bibi and Rufus. That 
 was when I was young far back in the Middle 
 Ages." 
 
 " I don't mind your talking nonsense, " returned 
 Miss Gerard. "Go on if you like. It amuses 
 you and does me no harm." 
 
 But the rill had been stopped for the moment, 
 and Titian sat with folded hands looking at the 
 scene before her. In the gardens on the hills 
 opposite, almond- trees flushed rosily beside the 
 cypresses, which always seemed to her to be so 
 poignantly a part of Italy that the sight of them 
 stabbed her with a pleasure that was closely akin 
 to pain. 
 
 It seemed as if in the sun of these wander- 
 months her arrested youth stirred and turned 
 towards the light, pushing forth little tentative 
 shoots of growth. 
 
 Over and above the storied wonders of the cities 
 they visited, it was life that held for her the greatest 
 fascination: the life which flowed past her in the
 
 96 The Torch of Life 
 
 streets, parks, shops, and boulevards; the life 
 which environed her without actually touching her; 
 the life on whose outskirts she stood, gazing 
 wistfully. 
 
 The reaction from the warping influence of her 
 married life showed itself in a continuance of 
 withdrawal from contact. A faint reluctance, 
 born of diffidence and self -distrust, enwrapped her 
 as a cloud and prevented her from joining in the 
 great procession as it went by. Sometimes her 
 heart stirred to the sound of light steps tripping to 
 a lilting measure. Sometimes the tread of strong 
 feet marching awoke an answering echo within her. 
 What tune would the Pipe of Life play for her? 
 she wondered. Oh, it must be a gay one, a happy 
 one, a magic one, her starved youth cried. 
 
 Her pulses quickened as she listened. Soon, 
 soon she would hear the tune that would set her 
 own feet, dancing on the high-road. It was as if 
 far below in the depths of her nature she heard 
 the first faint bubblings of some hidden well- 
 spring of joy and delight. 
 
 She did not miss any inner comradeship. She 
 had never possessed it. Hers had been a lonely 
 mind, thrust back perforce upon itself. As far 
 as outward companionship went, she and Miss 
 Gerard got on excellently. Each was content to be
 
 The City of Bells 97 
 
 lenient with the idiosyncrasies of the other. Miss 
 Gerard dismissed Titian's dreamy enthusiasm 
 with an indulgent wave, and Titian ceased to look 
 for comprehension once she had explored Miss 
 Em's limitations. 
 
 While Titian, in mere spectator-sense, saw life, 
 Miss Gerard diligently strove to make the most of 
 the unexpected opportunity which had fallen to 
 her lot. 
 
 Her predilection was a curious one. Scenes of 
 past violence, lit by the red torch of murder, held 
 for her an unconquerable fascination. With an 
 avidity singular in a woman who had hitherto led 
 such a placidly blameless life, she followed the 
 blood-trail through the centuries with all the zest 
 of a sleuth-hound. 
 
 In Paris, each detail of the blood-stained Eve 
 of Saint Bartholomew and the even gorier period 
 of the Revolution claimed her keenest interest. 
 To the riotous tales of the Commune she lent a 
 slightly less willing ear, while modern Paris she 
 dismissed as being frivolous and immoral. 
 
 " How do you know it's immoral? " Titian had 
 asked bluntly. 
 
 "I feel it in my bones," Miss Gerard returned. 
 "Don't you?" 
 
 "I'm glad to say I don't," Titian answered.
 
 98 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I don't think my bones can be as morally sensitive 
 as yours, Miss Em!" 
 
 "Ah, that's because you're married," retorted 
 Miss Gerard. 
 
 Titian reddened, and let the subject of Parisian 
 immorality drop. 
 
 In Rome, the Colosseum had been Miss Gerard's 
 favourite haunt, and the entry from which the wild 
 beasts were wont to emerge upon their hapless 
 victims drew her as if with a spell. 
 
 In Florence, her imagination was captured by the 
 gloomy palaces and narrow paved streets whose 
 gutters had run red where Guelph had met Ghi- 
 belline in the feud of generations. Splendidly 
 insular, she traced the "streams of foreign gore," 
 with less horror than the shedding of one drop of 
 English blood would have given her. 
 
 Titian often teased her gently on the subject. 
 
 "It's history, my dear," she always replied, as 
 if that answer at once supplied argument and 
 excuse. 
 
 Now, as their wandering thoughts circled like 
 the pigeons over a city wrapped in a golden haze, 
 the sound of bells came towards them on the 
 mellow air. 
 
 Titian roused herself. 
 
 "If Rome is the City of Fountains," she said
 
 The City of Bells 99 
 
 dreamily, "surely Florence is the City of Bells. 
 I never heard so many or such varied tones." 
 
 "Where would you hear them, after all?" asked 
 Miss Gerard.* "Perched, as you were, like a sea- 
 gull on a rock at Camus! Have you heard lately 
 from Mr. Mede?" 
 
 "Not since we came to Florence," Titian 
 answered. "I expect that he is very busy. I'm 
 sure he will have some wonderful studies to show 
 us when he gets back. Dear old Fenty ! It's such 
 an interesting hobby, isn't it?" 
 
 "Photographing birds? Well, I don't know. 
 It seems to me that a man might do something 
 better with his time." 
 
 "Shoot them, instead of snap-shoot them," 
 retorted Titian quickly. "I suppose one might 
 expect that from you with your bloodthirsty 
 tendencies." 
 
 Miss Gerard rose. " Come, I think it is time we 
 were getting back, if you mean to walk. " 
 
 "I certainly do, said Titian. I can't bear that 
 squeaking tram. Let us go down by the cypress 
 walk. I love the story of the Merciful Knight." 
 
 "Roman Catholic legends!" sniffed Miss Gerard 
 with her most aggressively Protestant air. "I 
 wonder that you can bring yourself to believe in 
 such rubbish."
 
 ioo The Torch of Life 
 
 "Nothing so beautiful or helpful can be called 
 rubbish. And as for believing, isn't it better to 
 believe and be wrong than not to believe and be 
 wrong?" 
 
 This saying gave Miss Gerard so much food for 
 thought that she was silent until they reached the 
 paved stretch of the Lung 'Arno, when she startled 
 Titian, whose thoughts had wandered far afield, 
 by exclaiming: 
 
 "Not if it means believing in all those Popish 
 legends!" 
 
 " Oh, Miss Em ! " Titian began ; but, having long 
 since learned the value of silence, she closed her 
 lips upon further speech.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE WATER-LILY CITY 
 
 MANY people would have been glad to make 
 friends with Titian had she permitted it. 
 Her beauty always caused a slight stir wherever 
 she appeared a stir of which she herself was quite 
 unconscious. 
 
 The richness of her colouring was enhanced by 
 the clinging black gown with which Marshall had 
 provided her; while the look of appeal which her 
 brown eyes cast on a still unfamiliar world was 
 emphasised by the shadow of her mourning. It 
 was mourning seen through a prism, edged with all 
 the rainbow hues of romance. 
 
 Time had accustomed her to Arnot's scrutiny 
 and appraisal. She accepted the fact of her beauty 
 with a calmer spirit than that with which she 
 greeted a blue morning or a rose-flushed sunset. 
 It was there, but it, unlike these joy-inspiring hap- 
 penings, was one of the things that did not matter. 
 She had heard enough about it in the years which 
 now clanked their chains behind her. 
 
 101
 
 102 The Torch of Life 
 
 It was only men who cared if a woman were 
 beautiful or not. She had had enough of men, 
 she thought in all the arrogance of her ignorance, 
 quite unwitting of the fact that if she were ever to 
 drink of the Wine of Life for which her starved 
 being unconsciously craved it must be a man who 
 would hold the cup to her lips. 
 
 This attitude of aloofness was carefully fostered 
 by Miss Gerard and Marshall, who looked with the 
 eye of suspicion upon any traveller however harm- 
 less. They saw behind the most innocent atten- 
 tion a wile of the predatory male, while Titian 
 went on her way serenely unconscious of their 
 efforts on her behalf. 
 
 Thus were the difficulties of chaperonage to a 
 young, rich, lovely, and inexperienced widow 
 modified. 
 
 From Marshall, Miss Gerard learned some de- 
 tails of the Camus menage which rather puzzled 
 her. 
 
 Poor Mr. Fleury, she was told, had simply doted 
 on Mrs. Fleury. He could hardly bear to let her 
 out of his sight. He had loaded her with dresses 
 and jewels. 
 
 If this were indeed the case, Miss Gerard mused, 
 it was odd that Titian did not show more affection 
 when speaking of him. She mentioned his name
 
 The Water-Li ly City 103 
 
 as casually, even more coldly than that of an utter 
 stranger. Why had she not loved him more? 
 She had never shown any real grief at his loss, and 
 hers was a warm nature. Miss Gerard lacked the 
 imagination necessary for filling up the chinks of 
 the known with the merely conjectural. 
 
 Her own affairs she resolutely thrust into the 
 background. Sometimes a curiosity as to how the 
 misguided Baldwin's married life was progressing 
 obtruded itself through her other preoccupations, 
 but she pushed it back again and slammed the door 
 upon it. 
 
 She had only heard from him once since she had 
 started on her travels. It was while they sojourned 
 in Rome. The letter was bestrewn with Latin 
 quotations which she could not understand and 
 which irritated her as much as if they had been the 
 successful Greek epigrams. Bits of local news 
 were interspersed between the quotations and the 
 letter concluded with a rather pathetic allusion to 
 her good fortune in being in her present surround- 
 ings. "I had hoped to go to Rome for our 
 honeymoon," it ran, "but Gwendoline preferred 
 London. I could not let her feel that she has 
 sacrificed her youth to me, but the traffic was most 
 disconcerting and more than a little dangerous. 
 We are very happy. Dear Gwendoline is perhaps
 
 104 The Torch of Life 
 
 not quite so meticulous in household matters as 
 you were, my dear Emily, but doubtless she will 
 soon learn. Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere 
 causas!" 
 
 "Will she indeed?" sniffed Miss Gerard, ignor- 
 ing the self-gratulatory Latin phrase. "We'll 
 see. Not so meticulous! A nice word to use. 
 I suppose that means that the house is filthy, aye, 
 and the dinners raw! But what could one expect 
 from a person named Gwendoline?" 
 
 The reflection was not untinged with satisfac- 
 tion; but as Miss Gerard wandered later through 
 the Forum, seeking in its tumbled fragments "the 
 grandeur that was Rome," a beautiful single 
 column which loomed in front of her became 
 inexplicably multiplied into two at the thought of 
 Baldwin's underwear and table napery as her worst 
 forebodings conceived them. 
 
 So the scroll of their days lengthened until at 
 last it unfolded itself at the Water-Lily of Cities, 
 Venice, whose palace steps are lapped by the green 
 ripples of the Adriatic, whose very name is redo- 
 lent of romance. 
 
 "Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee." 
 And still she bears traces of the barbaric splen- 
 dour of such capture.
 
 The Water-Lily City 105 
 
 Marshall, who proved to be as capable a courier 
 as she was a coiffeuse, engaged a suite of rooms 
 in the Hotel Bianca, rooms whose balconies were 
 veritable "magic casements" to Titian. 
 
 Her bedroom owned two, one which overlooked 
 the shadowed mystery of a side-canal, while the 
 other jutted upon the sunny sweep of the Canale 
 Grande. From it she could see the grey dome of 
 Santa Maria della Salute, and the delicate, wind- 
 blown figure poised on the summit of the Dogana, 
 black against a pearl-tinted sky. 
 
 Here was life with a difference : the gay, gracious 
 water life upon which the ancient palaces, rich in 
 the dim magnificence of faintly-coloured marbles 
 and exquisite traceries, looked down with all the 
 stately indifference of the ages. 
 
 Titian felt as if she could not tire of watching it. 
 It fascinated her to the point of silent ecstasy. 
 She loved the dark winding water-ways which 
 threaded their green paths between brooding 
 mask-like houses, past mysterious weed-grown 
 steps and rusty iron gate-ways, past clamped 
 wooden doors which looked as if they had been 
 closed upon the secrets of centuries; beneath 
 pierced marble bridges and little spanning arches 
 trailing creepers towards the sluggish water; past 
 walls of hidden gardens over which the roses
 
 io6 The Torch of Life 
 
 tumbled riotously, swinging censers before the 
 coming summer. 
 
 Just at first she was content to explore the 
 wonders of Venice in her gondola ; and she resisted 
 all the inducements of her gondolier, Beppe, a 
 handsome, black-eyed fellow, with a sprig of 
 scarlet geranium stuck behind his ear, to visit the 
 manufactories of lace or glass. 
 
 "Presently, presently, Beppe," she said in 
 Italian, with a smile, and Beppe, struck to silent 
 admiration of her beauty, ceased his persuasions 
 until the next day. 
 
 "I am afraid that the water has washed away 
 the blood-trail, Miss Em," she said, as the gondola 
 floated over the dancing ripples of the Grand Canal 
 on the day after their arrival. 
 
 The sunshine smote flashes from the heavy steel 
 prow and the little burnished brass horses which 
 held the crimson ropes along the gunwale. 
 
 Other gondolas sped past them, gay with silken 
 sunshades and pretty women; gondolas with mer- 
 chandise, gondolas ferrying work-people across the 
 track of the fussy steamers. Everywhere was 
 light, colour, movement. 
 
 Long quivering reflections from painted gold- 
 topped palle threw vivid splashes of colour across 
 the water, blue, orange, scarlet ; colour which was
 
 The Water-Lily City 107 
 
 repeated above in the gay striped awnings on 
 balconies. The air was warm and scented; the 
 lapping of the water sweet as music. 
 
 Titian drew a long breath of delight. 
 
 "I know that I have lived here before," she 
 said, looking triumphantly at Miss Gerard. 
 
 "I've no doubt that we'll find you on the walls 
 of some of these palaces," returned Miss Gerard, 
 with an unusual flash of insight. "Isn't it here 
 that all the Titians are to be found after which your 
 father named you? It was on account of your er 
 auburn hair, I believe, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Call it red, Miss Em, if you like. I shan't 
 mind in the least, I am too happy and too excited. 
 I feel somehow as if I had suddenly joined the 
 pageant. I don't feel outside it any longer. Isn't 
 that funny?" 
 
 Miss Gerard looked at her critically. 
 
 Certainly her beauty seemed to have blossomed. 
 There was a sparkle in her eyes and a deeper tinge 
 of colour in her cheeks than they had owned yes- 
 terday. Even Miss Gerard's unimaginative soul 
 was struck by her curious response to her environ- 
 ment. Leaning against the dark leather cushions 
 of the gondola, Titian seemed to be in her rightful 
 place. Had she -worn trailing draperies of silk 
 and velvet instead of her sombre black gown, she
 
 io8 The Torch of Life 
 
 might have been transported straight from some 
 gold-framed chronicle of more sumptuous Venetian 
 days. 
 
 Sub-consciously Miss Gerard was aware of this; 
 but it was her practical mind that made practical 
 answer, cutting across the tissue of the other's 
 dreams. 
 
 "You're beginning to wake up. Your trip is 
 doing you good." 
 
 "Am I beginning to wake?" said Titian, slowly; 
 then as if half to herself: "I wonder when I shall 
 begin to live?" 
 
 Low as the murmur was, Miss Gerard caught it. 
 Her hearing was lynx-like in its sharpness, and the 
 captured words smote her uncomfortably. 
 
 From "if" to "when" is a scarcely less decisive 
 step than that from wonder to desire; while be- 
 tween desire and fulfilment may lie a barrier no 
 wider than a threshold or more impassible than 
 an abyss. 
 
 It was a dangerous train of thought, and a dis- 
 turbing one withal. 
 
 Miss Gerard plunged into lurid tales of the 
 Council of Ten and the Council of Three, and drew 
 once more, in imagination, the black cloth of 
 oblivion and ignominy across the portrait of the 
 traitor Doge.
 
 The Water-Lily City 109 
 
 Suddenly Beppe turned the gondola into a side 
 canal with a murmur of, "A shorter way, excel- 
 lenza. " 
 
 A sharply defined shadow cut the rio in twain. 
 Along the sunny side ran a paved pathway bor- 
 dered by a railing, which suddenly opened into a 
 little square, with a well sculptured with lions in 
 the centre. Round the square stood cream- 
 coloured, red-roofed houses with the friendly air of 
 clustered gossips. A woman or two stood in the 
 open ddbrways, children ran about, screaming over 
 their play like the swifts in the blue above; a girl 
 stood near the well, letting down a copper bucket 
 with a cheery clank. 
 
 As the gondola glided along, Beppe gave a low 
 whistle. 
 
 Out of the nearest house darted a pretty young 
 woman in a black shawl with long knotted fringe. 
 A child, whose rings of dark hair curled tight as a 
 hyacinth's, was in her arms; a toddler, with big 
 brown eyes, clutched at her skirt and peered from 
 behind it. 
 
 She smiled and kissed her hand to Beppe. The 
 toddler cried "Babbo!" and hid its abashed head, 
 while the little one in the mother's arms opened 
 and shut its tiny palm in true Italian greeting. 
 
 Titian turned, with a quick smile, to the gon-
 
 1 10 The Torch of Life 
 
 dolier. The little scene touched a chord which 
 made her eyes grow dewy as she looked. 
 
 "Your wife?" she queried. 
 
 Beppe, all flashing teeth and eyes, apologised for 
 his daring, in Italian so fluent that she could 
 scarcely follow it, in spite of her months of 
 study. 
 
 Yes, it was his wife, he admitted, and those were 
 his children; yes, he was twice father. The little 
 girl, she was full of mischief. The son, already he 
 swung his arm like a gondolier. It was a liberty 
 no doubt to bring the signore past his own Campo, 
 but he trusted that they would graciously pardon 
 him. It was only that he could not resist showing 
 his Marietta the beautiful lady whose gondolier 
 he had the honour to be. 
 
 Titian, still smiling, told him of the pleasure it 
 had given her to see his family. It was no doubt 
 foolish of her, she said gaily, but she had never 
 thought of gondoliers as being married. She had 
 always pictured them as standing under balconies 
 and serenading the beloved one. 
 
 Beppe threw back his handsome head, and 
 laughed. 
 
 "But that comes first, signora," he said. "No 
 more balconies and serenades when one has a wife 
 to work for. First one must provide the bread and
 
 The Water-Lily City in 
 
 wine, and then, when the little ones come, it is 
 they who supply the singing, non e vero?" 
 
 "A serenade that is not always welcome, per- 
 haps?" she suggested, smiling. 
 
 " Macche, no! Signora. It sounds out of tune 
 when one is sleepy. The signora speaks as one who 
 knows. She has perhaps a little one of her own? 
 No? Che peccato! But there is still time. To 
 love, to marry, to work, to die. That is life. " 
 
 "Do you leave no time for play?" she asked, 
 flushing from the sudden thrust of his question 
 and consolation. 
 
 "That is understood," returned Beppe, with a 
 gleam of white teeth. "A cameriera of her Excel- 
 lency's hotel gave me this flower to-day." He 
 touched the scarlet geranium behind his ear. "I 
 wear it. It pleases her. To-night I give it to 
 Marietta. That pleases her. And all goes on its 
 own feet!" 
 
 He laughed again, and Titian laughed in sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 Here was life, quick and vivid. 
 
 "What is he saying?" asked Miss Gerard. 
 
 "He was telling me," she began, then stopped, 
 feeling that Miss Em might not quite approve of 
 the conversation. "Oh, just little bits of human 
 nature," she ended rather lamely.
 
 ii2 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Human nature?" echoed Miss Gerard, sus- 
 piciously. "I am not at all sure that human 
 nature is quite proper." 
 
 "I am sure that it often isn't," said Titian, 
 smiling. "But it's life! That's what it is, Miss 
 Em ! Do you feel that in your bones ? I do. "
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THREADS OF FATE 
 
 nPO add a zest to Titian's days Fate spun a 
 * thread and sent her an adventure. 
 
 At first sight it appeared to be a mere episode, 
 to be tossed aside and forgotten as lightly as a 
 flower, but when the episode recurred, it ceased 
 to be fragmentary and negligible, and assumed 
 new and distinctly disturbing proportions. 
 
 It was Miss Gerard who precipitated matters 
 and brought to Titian's notice what might have 
 altogether escaped her observation had she been 
 less watchful and suspicious. 
 
 "I do believe that man is following us," she 
 exclaimed one afternoon. 
 
 "What man?" asked Titian lazily. 
 
 1 ' There ! In that gondola with the old gondolier. ' ' 
 
 Titian looked across the intervening space of 
 water and met a man's eyes. 
 
 After a glance she looked carelessly away. 
 
 "I think you must be mistaken," she said, and 
 8 113
 
 ii4 The Torch of Life 
 
 wondered that Miss Em did not hear the quick 
 beating of her heart. 
 
 For in that one swift glance a look had flashed 
 from thickly-lashed grey eyes to her brown ones 
 which had thrust her back into the vanished days 
 of her youth, and set her pulses throbbing as they 
 had not done since then. 
 
 It was not merely that fires of admiration or 
 desire had burned in them ; to that Arnot had pain- 
 fully accustomed her. It was something more or 
 something less. Something which seemed to set 
 the Pan-pipes playing. Some swift half -com- 
 prehended call of youth to life. 
 
 Her starved youth cried to her. She turned to 
 look at the trees in the Public Gardens a green 
 blur; at the black poles that marked the channel 
 to the Lido dark blots upon an opaline sea. 
 
 When she dared to look again towards the other 
 gondola it had vanished. 
 
 The trees once more merged into feathery out- 
 line. The posts were silhouetted sharp and clear, 
 but her face was pale when she repeated her assur- 
 ance to Miss Em. 
 
 "I think your studies of the olden days have 
 coloured your imagination," she said, with forced 
 lightness. " You will not be happy until you have 
 us assassinated by hired bravos, Miss Em!"
 
 Threads of Fate 115 
 
 "I never suggested anything of the sort. I 
 merely remarked that a man appeared to be 
 following us. I saw him yesterday too." 
 
 "Miss Em, you must have given him distinct 
 encouragement!" Titian laughed, poised on a 
 sudden wave of exhilaration. 
 
 " Do you think I imagine it was me he followed? " 
 
 "Who else?" asked Titian calmly, but with an 
 air that forbade further comment. "The wicked 
 has ceased from troubling now, Miss Em, so the 
 weary, as exemplified by you, may be at rest." 
 
 "I hate that flippancy," retorted Miss Gerard, 
 who appeared to be distinctly ruffled. 
 
 "I'm afraid that you are a little inconsistent," 
 pursued Titian, leaning over the gondola and 
 trailing her hand in the water. "At one moment 
 you beseech me to talk nonsense, at another you 
 rebuke me for being flippant. Is it a suppressed 
 yearning for the unattainable, Miss Em? The 
 desire of the moth for the star? For what I am 
 not, when I am?" 
 
 " Oh, do stop, " cried Miss Gerard, half-laughing, 
 half -crossly. 
 
 Titian shook the sparkling drops from her 
 fingers and leaning across laid her dry hand on 
 Miss Gerard's arm. Her eyes appealed for 
 understanding.
 
 n6 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Don't be cranky with me, Miss Em. You 
 said the other day that I was waking up. Let 
 me! Let me be frivolous and irresponsible if I 
 like. Don't nip my poor little attempts in the 
 
 bud. If you only knew But it's because 
 
 you were part of my youth To you I'm 
 
 still a child It's only to you I can even 
 
 appear to be young and and silly. Do let 
 me!" 
 
 Miss Gerard was touched, she cleared her throat 
 in her rasping fashion and patted the slim white 
 fingers that lay upon her arm. 
 
 "Yes, yes, poor child," she murmured inco- 
 herently. " Heaven forbid that I should check you 
 in any way. You've had a hard enough time. 
 Sometimes I'm afraid I'm apt to forget your 
 recent affliction." 
 
 "Oh, it isn't that," began Titian abruptly, her 
 brow clouding. 
 
 Miss Gerard glanced at her. Here was the 
 incomprehensible again. 
 
 "As for the young man," she continued, with 
 an outburst of generosity, "I may have been 
 mistaken. He may have been only taking an 
 airing like ourselves. At any rate he looked a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "An Englishman?"
 
 Threads of Fate 117 
 
 "That goes without saying," said Miss Gerard, 
 resenting the implication of the question. 
 
 For all that she might read of European aris- 
 tocracy, from Russian nobles to the favoured 
 "born" of Germany, from princely Roman to 
 proud Spaniard, no list, pedigree, title-deed, or 
 family-tree could ever convince her that the 
 "grand old name of gentleman" could possibly 
 be borne by any other than an Englishman! 
 
 "Shall we have tea at Florian's?" asked Titian. 
 "You can have your photograph taken, feeding 
 the pigeons if you like, Miss Em, or else go to the 
 Sala della Bussola and throw a denunciation of the 
 poor young man into the Lion's Mouth! I'm 
 sure you must have been one of the Three in a 
 former incarnation!" 
 
 "We'll let him alone for to-day," returned 
 Miss Gerard restored to good humour at his 
 disappearance. 
 
 She enjoyed having tea at Florian's. She 
 liked the gay bustle of the Piazza. It gave her 
 a keen sense of pleasure to see the tourists (as 
 she always called them, ignoring the fact that 
 she herself belonged to the goodly company) 
 "making fools of themselves." She delighted in 
 seeing the British Papa immortalised by being 
 photographed with a pigeon perched on his tweed-
 
 n8 The Torch of Life 
 
 clad arm and another poised on his green Horn- 
 burg hat. 
 
 So preoccupied was she with the humours of 
 a family group who desired to be photographed 
 "all together" first "with pigeons " then "in 
 gondola," that she failed to notice the presence of 
 a young man at a table a little way from theirs. 
 Not a young man either, but the young man- 
 slight, well-groomed, of medium height, with 
 strikingly handsome face, and heavily-lashed grey 
 eyes. 
 
 Titian became aware of him as she withdrew her 
 gaze from the bubble-like domes and jewelled 
 facade of San Marco. 
 
 He was caressing a small moustache and appar- 
 ently studying the Bronze Men on the Clock Tower 
 when her eyes first lit upon him, but she caught a 
 gleam from beneath the fringed lids which made 
 her turn away her head, with an absurd feeling of 
 confusion. 
 
 She moved her position slightly and detached her 
 gaze from any part of the scene which might even 
 remotely include him. 
 
 It was ridiculous, she thought, that the glance of 
 a passing stranger should have the power to dis- 
 turb her, no matter how faintly. It was due to the 
 secluded life she had led, and was still leading.
 
 Threads of Fate 119 
 
 She must mix more with men and women. She 
 must try to make friends with some of the people 
 who were evidently only anxious to be kind. Then 
 she would know how to meet the glances of 
 strangers with equanimity, how to ignore them, 
 as she had done hitherto. She had not noticed 
 before whether people had looked at her or not. 
 It was all Miss Em's fault for detaching him from 
 the throng. Sharp as a lance-thrust came the 
 memory of Arnot's face in the church at Breston, 
 separated from the others by that luminous ray. 
 
 She sighed; then raised her head proudly, 
 pressing her foolish preoccupation into the back- 
 ground of her thoughts. 
 
 A tall Venetian girl with high-piled fair hair was 
 coming across the Piazza. The sun struck glints 
 from her gold pins and the round earrings which 
 swung as she walked. Her long-fringed black 
 shawl stood sharply out against the scarlet flag- 
 staffs as she passed by each in turn. Her heels 
 clicked upon the pavement. She bore a great 
 basket of carnations poised lightly against one 
 hip crimson, rose-red, and pale yellow. 
 
 As she drew near the table at which Titian and 
 Miss Gerard sat, she thrust her hand into the 
 basket and drew out a bunch of the spice-scented 
 blossoms with a smile.
 
 120 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Will her excellency buy my flowers?" she 
 asked, holding them towards Titian. "See these 
 rosy ones, they have the colour of love. " 
 
 "They are very beautiful," said Titian, taking 
 them and burying her face in their sweet petals. 
 "And these crimson ones, what colour have they? " 
 
 The girl flashed a glance at her. It held all the 
 Southern homage to beauty. "These have the 
 colour of life," she answered. 
 
 "And the yellow ones?" 
 
 "Ecco! The sulphur ones have the colour of 
 jealousy. The signora need have nought to do 
 with them!" she cried, with gleaming teeth and a 
 toss of her head that set her earrings twinkling. 
 
 Titian drew out her little gold purse. 
 
 "I will buy some of each," she said. 
 
 The girl separated the colours with deft fingers. 
 The warm sun drew out their odour, heady as 
 wine. 
 
 "Here, for the most beautiful signora, love and 
 life, at such a little price, excellenza! For the old 
 signora the flowers of jealousy. They will not 
 harm her. She must have closed the door of her 
 heart against them long ago." 
 
 She handed a knot of the sulphur-coloured ones 
 to Miss Gerard with a most misleading smile, 
 unwitting, like all superficial observers, of the
 
 Threads of Fate 121 
 
 tinge of that lady's sentiments towards the errant 
 Gwendoline. 
 
 "Love and life at a little price," mused Titian 
 when the click of the girl's heels had merged into 
 the other sounds of the Piazza. She smelt the 
 carnations eagerly. "Does one ever pay a little 
 price for anything that matters, I wonder? Love 
 and life. I want to know what life tastes like at 
 any rate. Does it matter what one pays? I 
 have paid heavily enough for the only love I have 
 known. " 
 
 She gazed with eyes that saw nothing, across the 
 busy sun-filled Piazza. 
 
 From his table the young man feasted his eyes 
 undisturbed upon the lovely line of cheek and neck, 
 upon the waves of ruddy hair beneath the curving 
 hat brim, upon the graceful contour of the whole 
 figure, upon the slim beautiful hands that held 
 the glowing flowers; and thought that never in 
 his life had he beheld so exquisite a creature 
 or one who seemed to be so unaware of her own 
 beauty. 
 
 She had forgotten his very existence now, that 
 was evident to the most casual observer; but he 
 would have given much to know if her carefully 
 careless movement as she sat down at the table 
 indicated any knowledge of his presence. He had
 
 122 The Torch of Life 
 
 haunted her, persistently, but unobtrusively, since 
 her beauty first swam upon him out of a moonless 
 sky, worshipping it with the fervency of a Greek 
 and the impersonality of an artist, and wondering 
 vaguely what man would play Pygmalion to her 
 Galatea. 
 
 For the .moment, he had no desire for closer 
 acquaintanceship. 
 
 "She may be a beautiful fool," he said to him- 
 self, as if one of Arnot Fleury's oft-repeated phrases 
 vibrating through the ether, had set some respon- 
 sive wave in motion in his brain. "She ought to 
 hire some exquisite old Palazzo and sit there for 
 hours letting herself be admired. Such beauty 
 as hers should be public. It should belong to the 
 nation. However, if it did, some enterprising 
 American would probably snap it up. As it is, 
 there is still a chance for England." 
 
 Titian pushed back her chair and rose. So 
 did Miss Gerard, shaking the crumbs from her 
 lap. 
 
 The young man noticed the different way in 
 which the two women held their flowers. In 
 Titian's hand they seemed to be a part of the 
 picture, emphasising the note of life in her glowing 
 hair and rose-leaf skin. Miss Gerard grasped hers 
 firmly but self-consciously, with no pleasure in
 
 Threads of Fate 123 
 
 their beauty, but a determination to do her duty 
 towards the giver by carrying her gift. 
 
 They moved; they melted into the crowd. 
 
 With a deep breath that was almost a sigh, the 
 man rose too, and went upon his way.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 "SKIRTS OF STRAW" 
 
 A S if Titian had truly evoked the Spirit of 
 ** Life from the flower-girl's basket, the sense 
 of awakening stayed with her, quickening her. 
 
 She felt as if she had stepped across a threshold 
 into Venice, a threshold which led her into a won- 
 der-world; a world where one lived, where one 
 had encounters, where things happened. The 
 happy zest of her lost youth seemed to dance like 
 Will o' the Wisp in front of her, luring her steps 
 whither? 
 
 She did not stop to question or to analyse. She 
 only wanted to feel for once what it meant to be 
 young and free; to feel what girls feel before life 
 fetters them. For it does fetter them, she thought, 
 no matter whether their chains are of gold or iron. 
 Hers had been gilded, but oh, how grievously they 
 had encumbered her! They were gone now. 
 They clanked no longer, but still her feet went 
 heavily because of them. 
 
 124
 
 "Skirts of Straw" 125 
 
 She was a girl still in spite of her thirty years 
 and her matronly title. She would capture Will 
 o' the Wisp. She would learn to do as other girls 
 did, to enjoy what other girls enjoyed. She 
 would learn to live, before all the leaves of life 
 had fallen from the tree; to taste its wine before 
 all the drops had oozed out of the cup. 
 
 With lighter step, she entered the courtyard of 
 the Hotel Bianca, still illumined by that dawn- 
 light of awakening. 
 
 After the brilliance of the outer world, the hall 
 seemed semi-dusk. Some people were coming out, 
 and Titian, turning aside to avoid them, collided 
 with a lady who stood in the shade of a great palm. 
 
 In the confusion, Titian dropped her book and 
 purse. An elderly man who followed in the lady's 
 wake picked them up and handed them to her. 
 
 The book was a copy of the Rubaiyat which 
 Titian had had bound in Florence. Her name 
 Titian Fleury was blazoned delicately across its 
 vellum cover. 
 
 The lady's eyes, blue and bright, lit upon it as 
 Titian took the book with murmured thanks. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, " she said, "but are you, by 
 any chance, Mrs. Arnot Fleury?" 
 
 Titian looked quickly at her. Her voice was 
 pleasant and there was a familiar timbre in its
 
 126 The Torch of Life 
 
 tones. There was something oddly familiar also 
 in the rather square face with its blue eyes and 
 frame of faded fair hair, yet Titian knew that she 
 had never met her before. 
 
 "Yes, that is my name," she said, wondering 
 how anyone should know her. 
 
 "What a delightful coincidence!" the semi- 
 familiar tones continued. "We have just been 
 calling on you, and were so disappointed to find 
 that you were out. May I introduce my husband, 
 Sir Hugh Tempest. I am Mary Tempest, poor 
 Arnot's cousin." She held out her hand. 
 
 Titian took it in a sort of dream. This must be 
 the cousin Mollie with whom Arnot had quarrelled 
 long ago. 
 
 "Are you Fenton's sister?" she asked. At the 
 thought of Fenton, her only real friend, a little 
 waft of loneliness floated across her new-found joy, 
 like a wisp of mist across a sunny meadow. It was 
 the shadow of past loneliness cast by the promise 
 of future companionship, but it lent an appeal to 
 her gaze which went straight to Lady Tempest's 
 warm heart. 
 
 "Of course, I'm Fenty's sister," she answered, 
 pressing the hand she held. "He has often spoken 
 of you. It is not my fault that we have not met 
 before."
 
 "Skirts of Straw" 127 
 
 "No," answered Titian simply. "You fell out 
 with Arnot, didn't you? He told me that you 
 disapproved of him." 
 
 Lady Tempest smiled a little uncomfortably. 
 
 "That is all past and forgotten. Poor Arnot 
 was his own worst enemy. But I hope it will 
 not prevent you from being friends with us. " 
 
 "I don't see why it should. People must judge 
 for themselves," answered Titian, attracted by 
 Lady Tempest's likeness to her brother. ' ' Fenty 's 
 sister ought to be worth making friends with." 
 
 "You're a sensible young woman, Mrs. Fleury, " 
 said Sir Hugh Tempest, in a deep voice that 
 startled her. 
 
 He was a delicate-looking man of about fifty, 
 with mild eyes and a drooping moustache, and the 
 incongruity between the fragility of his physique 
 and the resonance of his voice was striking. 
 
 " Oh, please say that to my friend Miss Gerard, " 
 cried Titian, with her swift child-like smile. 
 "Miss Em why, she's gone! I should like her 
 to know that one person in the world considers 
 me sensible." 
 
 " Doesn't she?" asked Sir Hugh, with an answer- 
 ing smile. 
 
 "Quite the reverse, I assure you. But why are 
 we standing here?" cried Titian, all her hospitable
 
 128 The Torch of Life 
 
 instincts afire. "Won't you come up to my room 
 and let me give you tea?" 
 
 "No, thank you. We've already had some. 
 Besides we must be getting back. My husband 
 is forbidden to be out late. We've come to Venice 
 in search of health for him." Lady Tempest 
 turned a look upon the drooping figure beside her 
 which made her plain face beautiful. Love, such 
 as Titian had never seen, irradiated every feature. 
 She drew back a little, abashed as at the uncon- 
 scious revelation of some treasured secret. 
 
 "Oh, I hope you will find it," she cried, impul- 
 sively. Then she half regretted her words, fearing 
 lest they should think her what was it Arnot 
 used to call her "a gushing simpleton?" Yes, 
 that was it. He had at least implanted in her a 
 nipping dread of her own impulses. 
 
 Lady Tempest noted the warmth of her response 
 and the sudden shrinking. 
 
 "Poor child, what a life she must have led!" 
 she thought. " We must do what we can for her. " 
 Aloud she said with a little smile: "I think I may 
 say that we are on its track, mayn't I, Hugh? 
 We have an appartimento in a delightful old pa- 
 lazzo here, the Palazzo Marin. Will you come 
 and have tea with us to-morrow, you and your 
 friend?"
 
 "Skirts of Straw" 129 
 
 "I shall be delighted, thank you, and I am sure 
 she will too. " 
 
 " Come early. Come about four o'clock, " said 
 Lady Tempest. "I want you to meet my daugh- 
 ter. She has a wholesome regard for her Uncle 
 Fenty. I think he is the only being in the world of 
 whom she stands in awe. " 
 
 "Fenty?" Titian echoed. "I cannot imagine 
 anyone standing in awe of Fenty. He is so gentle, 
 so kind." 
 
 "Have you ever seen Master Fenton in a tem- 
 per?" boomed Sir Hugh. 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "I did, once," Sir Hugh continued. "It was 
 with a lad who had been ill-treating a dog. I never 
 forgot it. Neither did the lad," he added, after 
 an effective pause. 
 
 "Oh!" said Titian, "I think I can understand 
 Fenty's getting into that sort of temper, but I 
 don't think I should like to see it." 
 
 " It was a sight for the gods," answered Sir Hugh. 
 "A grand Berserk rage. Something for which to 
 be thankful in these bloodless days." 
 
 "My dear Hugh, if you begin being Norse there 
 is no knowing where you will end, " said his wife, 
 slipping her hand through his arm. "Come home 
 and read sagas to your heart's content, and let
 
 130 The Torch of Life 
 
 Mrs. Fleury ponder over this new revelation of 
 the mild and gentle Fenty. " 
 
 A very true affection rang in her tones as she 
 spoke of her brother, and Titian's heart warmed to 
 her because of it. She had had so little fondness in 
 her own life that she longed to sun herself even in 
 its reflection now. Whatever Arnot's quarrel with 
 Lady Tempest had been, she was not'going to take 
 it up. She could not afford to thrust aside the 
 friendship that was so graciously proffered. What 
 would it be like to meet people who were so friendly 
 disposed towards her as these people evidently 
 were? She had no friends save Fenton and Miss 
 Em, and while she knew that one belonged to 
 another generation she felt as if the other did. 
 She had not yet re-adjusted her ideas on the sub- 
 ject of Fenton's age. 
 
 Acting on another of her budding impulses she 
 asked Lady Tempest not to call her Mrs. Fleury. 
 
 "It will make me feel as if I really knew you," 
 she said flushing, "if you will call me Titian." 
 
 "It is good of you to let me. It is the name by 
 which I know you best. You must remember that 
 we are cousins by marriage. Arnot and I were like 
 brother and sister once." She sighed a little as 
 she turned away; a sigh for one of life's lost 
 opportunities.
 
 "Skirts of Straw" 131 
 
 She had not striven very hard to get to know 
 Arnot's young wife. She had let hurt pride stand 
 between her and a reconciliation which might have 
 meant much to this beautiful young creature who 
 looked at her with such appealing eyes. She had 
 taken Arnot at his word and let him alone, and now 
 the ghost of what she might have done rose re- 
 proachfully before her. The path of middle life 
 is haunted by such ghosts for those whose inner 
 vision Time has not dulled. 
 
 Titian crossed the courtyard with them, and 
 stood on the steps while their gondolier untied his 
 boat from the blue and white palle. 
 
 The sun was setting, and Venice was bathed in 
 rosy light. Bats flitted over the flushed water. 
 
 "Don't forget to-morrow," called Lady Tem- 
 pest. "Palazzo Marin. Anyone will tell you." 
 
 "I am not likely to forget. My gondolier, 
 Beppe, is sure to know." 
 
 Titian raised her carnations to her face as she 
 turned away and went to seek Miss Gerard to tell 
 her this surprising news. The scent, the light, the 
 wonderful day, the new zest, seemed merged into 
 one magic whole. 
 
 She smiled to herself as she went up the marble 
 stairs, and many a head was turned to gaze 
 admiringly at her.
 
 132 The Torch of Life 
 
 Miss Gerard received the news of the encounter 
 with unassumed delight. 
 
 "I'm thankful we've come across some people 
 whom you can know, " she said. " I went straight 
 on instead of waiting for you, when that crowd of 
 tourists was going out. I thought you were be- 
 hind me. What sort of looking people are the 
 Tempests?" 
 
 "Lady Tempest is like a small, neat, feminine 
 Fenty. Her eyes are brighter and more alert than 
 his." She thought of the look she had seen in 
 them, and wondered if Fenton's could ever glow 
 like that. Then she reflected that she had never 
 seen Fenton's eyes properly. They were always 
 half-veiled by his dusty-fair lashes. 
 
 ' ' Well ? ' ' said Miss Gerard, impatiently. ' ' That's 
 not much of a description. " 
 
 "There's nothing very distinctive about her, 
 I think. She has Fenty's nice smile and pleasant 
 voice. I like her. She seems kind. " 
 
 "And Sir Hugh? What is he like?" 
 
 " If you can imagine a reed-pipe with the note of 
 an organ, you have him in a word. " 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't got your lively imagination, 
 Titian. Even if I could mentally summon the 
 picture you suggest which is the word?" 
 
 "Oh, don't be so literal, Miss Em. Reed-pipe
 
 "Skirts of Straw" 133 
 
 and organ, of course. He is thin and slight and 
 faded as a rush, and he has one of the deepest 
 voices I have ever heard. It booms at you in 
 a most startling fashion." 
 
 "Any family?" 
 
 "Lady Tempest mentioned a daughter. She 
 must be quite young. Oh, Miss Em, isn't it ex- 
 citing to think of meeting young people? She 
 will seem like a child to me. I wonder if I shall 
 know how to talk to her. I have forgotten what 
 it is like to be young, and yet, deep down there's 
 something stirring stirring." She stopped ab- 
 ruptly and turned away. "I must put these de-. 
 licious things in water. Love and life at a little 
 price." She looked back impulsively from the 
 door. "Oh, Miss Em, to-night I feel as if I could 
 believe anything anything pleasant, I mean. As 
 if one should say, not that things were too good to 
 be true, but that they were good enough to be 
 true!" 
 
 She hummed a little song to herself as she shut 
 the door and Miss Gerard saw "as in a glass 
 darkly," a reflection of how joyless her days must 
 have been when this trifling incident seemed 
 enough to flood them with light. She felt a qualm 
 for a temperament so impulsive, so responsive, 
 so unguarded by knowledge or wisdom and she
 
 134 The Torch of Life 
 
 wondered, not for the first time, how Titian would 
 fare in her encounters with an unfamiliar world. 
 
 Titian herself had no such qualms. She dis- 
 patched Marshall for vases for the carnations and 
 sang softly as she stepped out on the balcony to 
 look at Santa Maria's looming majesty against the 
 sunset. The little figure on the Dogana with its 
 flying hair and outspread cloak stood black against 
 a rose-scarlet sky. The ripples in the water be- 
 neath were red as the carnations. Bats circled 
 about her, one coming so near that it brought a 
 waft of cool air to her flushed cheek. 
 
 "Is this life?" she asked herself. "This won- 
 derful glowing feeling? Am I really beginning to 
 taste it at last?" 
 
 She pressed her hands to her cheeks. Certainly 
 she had never felt like this at Camus. For a 
 thrilling moment she wondered if she were to be 
 thus set alight by a passing spark what would 
 happen if she met a flame? 
 
 Flames in the sky, on the water, in her cheeks, 
 in her heart ! 
 
 What a fool she was! How could she be so 
 easily excited about nothing? Why should the 
 world look suddenly rosy because she had met two 
 elderly people who seemed inclined to be friendly? 
 It was not anything personal, either. Their kind-
 
 " Skirts of Straw" 135 
 
 ness was shown vicariously for Fenton's sake, and 
 not for her own. 
 
 "Perhaps Arnot was wise to curb my impulses, " 
 she thought, with a sudden quelling sigh. "They 
 seem to run riot when I am left to myself. As for 
 future flames as Miss Em says, it's only she who 
 wears skirts of straw need fear a fire ! I wonder if 
 I wear skirts of straw? I wonder if it hurts much 
 to be set on fire? Some fires purify, while some 
 only scorch." 
 
 She thought of Arnot's gloating gaze and of the 
 light she had seen in Lady Tempest's eyes an hour 
 ago an inner light which had transfigured her 
 whole face like a flame seen through alabaster. 
 
 Then Marshall entered with green twisted vases 
 and the commonplace closed in upon her once 
 more. 
 
 When she was ready to go down to dinner she 
 took a knot of the rose-red carnations and thrust 
 them into the folds of her belt. 
 
 Marshall saw the action with disapproval. She 
 opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it again, 
 and finally could not refrain. 
 
 "Madam, I don't think those flowers are quite 
 the thing. With mourning one doesn't if they 
 were white, or heliotrope but that vivid pink ! " 
 
 Titian arranged them to her liking before she
 
 136 The Torch of Life 
 
 answered. Then she said in a tone that Marshall 
 had never heard her use before: 
 
 " Please understand that I shall wear what I like, 
 when I like, Marshall. I am not in mourning in 
 any sense of the word. I have never really pre- 
 tended, but I am not even going to pretend to 
 pretend any more! I am going to enjoy life as 
 much as I possibly can. " 
 
 With that she swept from the room, leaving the 
 astonished Marshall gaping like the fish to which 
 Arnot had not inaptly compared her.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ROSE-RED CARNATIONS 
 
 A FTER dinner Miss Gerard retired to her 
 ** room to write letters. 
 
 Titian, too full of her vague unrest to sit still, 
 too much stirred to wonder at her new sensations 
 to take interest in the written phases and fancies 
 of others, wandered from window to window, 
 from table to table, moving papers, taking up 
 books and putting them down again without 
 looking at them. 
 
 Presently the sound of music drew her to a 
 balcony. 
 
 A barca hung with lanterns had paused beneath 
 the hotel, and the thin tuning sound of mandolin 
 and violin twitched across the stillness. 
 
 With the light step of a girl, she ran into her 
 bedroom for a wrap, and found a velvet cloak 
 edged with ermine lying ready on her bed. 
 
 "Marshall is really wonderful, " she said to her- 
 self with a smile, remembering how her maid had 
 
 137
 
 138 The Torch of Life 
 
 not wished to bring the garment at all, as she 
 deemed it "unsuitable for mourning wear!" 
 "She adapts herself to circumstance with the ease 
 of a chameleon ! Or is it meant as a silent rebuke, 
 I wonder? Never mind, I'm going to put it on. 
 I'm going to listen to music on the water. Music 
 in Venice! How enchanting!" 
 
 The soft fur touched her cheek pleasantly and 
 nestled against her neck as she drew on the cloak. 
 It reminded her of Bibi, now a stately courtier with 
 an Elizabethan ruff. Her arms felt suddenly 
 empty. She pulled the folds closer about her as 
 she went out on the balcony. 
 
 It was a clear night. As yet the moon was 
 hidden, but the blue depth of the sky was fretted 
 with the silver fire of stars. The gondolas' lights 
 flitted about the canal like golden fire-flies, shed- 
 ding flakes of orange-colour along the dark ripples. 
 Here and there a steel prow flashed as it caught a 
 ray. 
 
 The square awning of the singmg-barca was 
 outlined with paper lanterns, pink, yellow, saffron, 
 red, softly-suffused globes of colour which flung a 
 warm light upon the faces of the singers. As the 
 barca swayed, the rich reflections quivered on the 
 water with a fantastic suggestion of keeping time 
 to the swinging notes of voice or violin.
 
 Rose-Red Carnations 139 
 
 The music was not particularly good, but for 
 Titian it was touched with the glamour of the time 
 and place. 
 
 There was all the enchantment of novelty to her 
 in strains that would have re-echoed with boring 
 familiarity to others. There was for her no cloy- 
 ing in the sweetness of "0 Sole mio," or " Ciri 
 biri bin. " They were fresh and magical as " horns 
 of Elfland faintly blowing." 
 
 At last a girl stood up to sing, a girl with a pale 
 face and lips as red as her coral necklace. She had 
 a voice which throbbed like a nightingale's through 
 the velvet dusk. She seemed to be caught in the 
 net of some inner emotion as she sang. Titian 
 could see the curve of her half -closed lids and the 
 dark crescent of her lashes against the whiteness 
 of her upturned face. It was a love-song in the 
 soft Venetian dialect. "Amor', amore," pulsed 
 through it like a heart-beat. The notes were 
 liquid and melting; the soft superlatives were 
 murmured as if for the ear of the beloved 
 alone. 
 
 A listening silence fell upon the crowd of gon- 
 dolas clustered round the barca. Not a breath was 
 heard until the last "amore" rang on the air like a 
 silver trumpet call, and died away in an exquisite 
 diminuendo.
 
 140 The Torch of Life 
 
 There was a pause, a sigh, and then a burst of 
 applause. 
 
 Titian, as she fumbled for her little gold purse, 
 found that her eyes were wet. It was the last song. 
 As the orchestra struck up a merry march the 
 surrounding gondolas began to disperse. The 
 shifting lights of the Chinese lanterns detached 
 white patches of faces in them as they moved away. 
 
 On the side of the barca where the girl sat a hand 
 began to untie a rope that was fastened to the 
 gunwale. Its movements caught Titian's eyes and 
 held them. It was a strong brown hand and it 
 paused for a moment as if the knot were too closely 
 tied for its undoing. Then it touched the black 
 shawl which the singing-girl had slipped over her 
 shoulders with a swift furtive caress before it 
 returned to its legitimate task. Titian, fasci- 
 nated, saw the knot grow looser. Then the hand 
 slid round the girl's waist and pressed it passion- 
 ately. The girl made no sign except to slip her 
 own hand over it with a quick clasp. She half- 
 closed her eyes again, and her red lips parted in a 
 smile as the rope slipped off the gunwale and the 
 barca floated away. 
 
 The gondola did not follow it. Titian, leaning 
 over the balcony, saw that it held only one figure 
 beside that of the amorous gondolier, of whose face
 
 Rose-Red Carnations 141 
 
 she caught a glimpse in the lantern's flash as he 
 ran deftly back to his place at the stern. It was 
 a face alight, working with some swift emotion. 
 
 The sight thrilled her. The episode awoke 
 a sudden excitement. She looked again. The 
 gondola had not moved. The gondolier kept its 
 place with a dexterous motion of his oar. It lay 
 like a dark shadow on the water beneath, scarcely 
 distinguishable from the other shadows save for 
 the golden firefly at its prow. 
 
 The figure in the stern moved slightly, turned 
 its face upwards towards her. Through the dusk 
 it seemed a white blur. From the distant barca 
 came a thin tinkling of mandolin, a high wail of 
 violin, the sound of a note or two of far-away song. 
 
 Suddenly out of the shadows beneath came a 
 nearer note. The man in the gondola was singing 
 at first softly as if to himself, then with a care- 
 less abandon, as if he sang for his own pleasure 
 and cared not if any heard. He sang in English. 
 That in itself held the elements of surprise. 
 Titian listened eagerly. She caught a phrase here 
 and there happy lilting phrases, beads of joy 
 strung on a golden thread of song. 
 
 "I hear the bird-song closes 
 
 Ring out in the sunshine, 
 In all the wood-reposes,
 
 142 The Torch of Life 
 
 There runs a magic wine 
 
 Of music all divine. 
 All things have scent and singing, 
 The happy earth is ringing 
 With praise of love and June. 
 Have I alone no tune? 
 Have I alone no tune?" 
 
 ^/The voice, a light tenor of admirable quality, 
 paused for an instant on its question, and then in 
 an exquisite cadence gave the joyous answer: 
 
 " All dumb are birds and singer, 
 The song in kisses dies 
 And sound of happy sighs. 
 What need of songs and singing 
 When love for us is ringing 
 Bells of enchanted gold? 
 Bells of enchanted gold." 
 
 Titian held her breath as she listened. Here 
 was song of a quality to which her ears were un- 
 accustomed. Each note was round and perfect 
 as a pearl, each word coloured with its own special 
 significance. The voice was not very strong, but 
 it had a peculiar searching sweetness that seemed 
 to pluck at her very heart-strings and set them 
 quivering in instant response. 
 
 She leaned farther over the balcony, but noise- 
 lessly, lest she should disturb the singer, who had 
 ceased with his softly echoed "Bells of enchanted
 
 Rose-Red Carnations 143 
 
 gold." She wished with her whole soul that he 
 would sing again. Never in her thirty years had 
 she wished for anything with such a disproportion- 
 ate longing. 
 
 What was it, after all? The voice of some 
 chance-heard wanderer, who, like herself, was 
 caught in the magic mesh of a Venetian night, a 
 web spun of blue darkness and silver fire. Ah, 
 but the voice wove the final spell, made the 
 enchantment articulate. 
 
 She heard a murmur from the gondolier, and an 
 answer in Italian spoken in crisp English tones. 
 
 "No, Giacomo, not yet. I wish to wait a little 
 longer." 
 
 "The night is young, signore." 
 
 It was an Englishman then. She wondered 
 her cheeks grew suddenly hot. How foolish she 
 was! There could be nothing in the coincidence, 
 if it were a coincidence. How she wished that 
 Miss Em had not put that stupid idea into her 
 head! It was too schoolgirlish of her even to 
 remember it. 
 
 "I wish to wait until the moon comes up from 
 behind those clouds," the clear tones went on. 
 
 " Va bene, signore. She will not now be long." 
 
 Titian's cheeks cooled again. He was only 
 waiting to see the moon. She had been dimly
 
 144 The Torch of Life 
 
 aware of a growing brightness which was gradually 
 causing the mystery of shifting lights and half- 
 lights and velvet darknesses to merge into shadowy 
 bulk of houses, long water-ripples, and black 
 darting gondolas. 
 
 She hoped desperately that he would sing again. 
 She sent her yearning towards the dark outline 
 in the gondola with all the force that she could 
 summon. 
 
 As if in response, the pale blur turned upwards 
 once more, and the round even notes welled into 
 the blue dusk. 
 
 This time the singer voiced the Wish of &dh in 
 a melody which seemed one with the night, the 
 place, and the magical words, so closely were they 
 all interwoven. 
 
 "Had I the Heavens' embroidered cloths 
 Enwrought with golden and silver light, 
 The blue and the dim and the dark cloths 
 Of night and light and the half light, 
 I would spread the cloths under your feet; 
 But I, being poor, have only my dreams; 
 I have spread my dreams under your feet; 
 Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." 
 
 The beauty and wonder of the song and its set- 
 ting held Titian spellbound. 
 
 It was a dream-happening, an unhoped-for
 
 Rose-Red Carnations 145 
 
 glimpse through a "magic casement." Her 
 fingers loosed the soft fur which she had held 
 closely about her throat: her cloak fell back re- 
 vealing the lovely line of her neck and shoulders. 
 Then, sudden as a silver flame, the moon sprang 
 from behind a barrier of palaces, and flooded the 
 Grand Canal with light, frosting the fretted 
 marble of balconies, and cresting each ripple with 
 crystal fire. 
 
 Its rays fell full upon the still figure on the 
 balcony, on the proudly-poised head with its 
 waves of ruddy hair, waking to green fire an 
 emerald on one slim clasped hand. 
 
 The white blur in the gondola revealed itself as 
 a face the face of the young Englishman of the 
 afternoon, gazing upwards with a tranced delight 
 at the figure on the balcony above him, so beauti- 
 ful in her mantle of black velvet and white fur, so 
 exquisitely right in every detail of environment. 
 For a moment or two he gazed his fill. Then 
 Giacomo the gondolier made an unconsidered 
 movement, which drew Titian's eyes upon him. 
 
 The magic casement closed with a little clang 
 and the "perilous seas and faery lands forlorn" 
 vanished from her gaze. She came back to earth 
 again. 
 
 It was still night, still enchanting, still Ven-
 
 146 The Torch of Life 
 
 ice, but the real had obtruded itself upon the 
 ineffable. 
 
 Slowly her inward vision adapted itself to out- 
 ward detail. Her gaze fell from the gondolier 
 to the singer. Recognition was instant. She 
 flushed, moved, drew herself up abruptly. 
 
 The sudden movement detached the carnations 
 from her belt. They fell upon the parapet of the 
 balcony. She put out a swift hand to grasp them, 
 but the edge of her cloak swept them outwards, 
 and they slipped, with a warm waft of perfume, 
 into the gondola beneath. 
 
 For a moment she stood rigid, transfixed with 
 hot shame and anger. 
 
 "He will think I did it on purpose, " she thought. 
 "He will never understand." 
 
 Then, with a chiding, "What does it matter 
 after all? I shall never see him again, I hope," 
 she turned abruptly into the darkness of her own 
 room, pressing the backs of her cool hands to her 
 burning cheeks.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE TEMPESTS 
 
 THE Palazzo Marin stood in a side canal which 
 widened at the point where it flowed into 
 the Lagoon under one of the marble bridges of the 
 Riva degli Schiavoni. Farther in, it grew narrower 
 and the tall houses almost met overhead, thinning 
 the sky to a strip of blue. 
 
 The green water lapped sluggishly at the weed- 
 grown steps which led up to a great gate, across 
 whose time-worn surface the word "mystery" 
 seemed to be blazoned in the hieroglyphic of its 
 tarnished copper studs. 
 
 To-day it stood hospitably open, although it still 
 bore its air of secrecy as Titian and Miss Gerard 
 mounted the great echoing stairway to the apparti- 
 mento of the Tempests. 
 
 In the huge bare sala, with its expanse of marble 
 floor inadequately dotted with rugs and its vast 
 walls hung with tattered and faded tapestry, Sir 
 Hugh and Lady Tempest seemed almost micro- 
 scopic. 
 
 H7
 
 148 The Torch of Life 
 
 "We have made an oasis here near the window, " 
 said Lady Tempest, advancing to meet them. 
 " By turning our backs on the rest of the room, we 
 can pretend that the desert does not exist." 
 
 "But it is beautiful," said Titian, with soft 
 enthusiasm. "Why do you call it a desert? It 
 is perfect, and the tapestry is fascinating. Look 
 at the lovely dim old browns and greens and 
 purples! And the marbles of the mosaic, and the 
 beautiful old carved chairs!" She looked around 
 her with an unfeigned delight at what her hostess 
 considered moth-eaten rags and dust-traps. 
 
 The afternoon sunshine slanted through the 
 window. Titian stood in its light and Lady 
 Tempest could not fail to notice how the faded 
 richness of the tapestry behind her set off the living 
 richness of her beauty. With an unwonted 
 artistic impulse, she drew forward one of the old 
 carved chairs and placed it against the tapestry. 
 
 "You must sit here, then," she said. "But if 
 you admire all these ragged old things so much, 
 I don't know what you'd call our oasis." 
 
 "I should call it an anachronism," answered 
 Titian, smiling as she stroked the lion's head on the 
 arm of the chair with a caressing touch. 
 
 "I prefer modern comfort to suiting ourselves 
 to our environment," put in Sir Hugh. "We are
 
 The Tempests 149 
 
 anachronisms in ourselves. My wife and daughter 
 and I have absolutely nothing in common with a 
 mysterious, legend-haunted Venetian palazzo. We 
 are impertinent in living here at all, so it is only 
 part of our original impertinence to affront these 
 bare deserted chambers with our modern acces- 
 sories. Now you, Mrs. Fleury, if you will permit 
 me to say so, are absolutely in the picture. You 
 are the right person in the right place. You look 
 as if you had lived in Venetian palaces all your 
 life." 
 
 His voice woke resonant echoes in the big half- 
 furnished room. 
 
 Titian smiled; she felt an odd sense of having 
 passed through this scene before. The great 
 palazzo seemed to echo with the footfalls of elusive 
 memories. 
 
 "I am sure that I must have been a Venetian 
 lady in some former incarnation," she said, still 
 caressing the carving with little quick touches. 
 
 "Titian, when will you learn sense?" put in 
 Miss Gerard. " I admire Lady Tempest's wisdom 
 in making at least one corner of this big barrack 
 habitable." 
 
 "Sir Hugh thinks me a very sensible young 
 woman, don't you, Sir Hugh?" She appealed to 
 him as a child would. "As for Miss Em, in her
 
 150 The Torch of Life - 
 
 Pagan days, which of course she has quite for- 
 gotten, she erected a little altar to a square-toed, 
 square-shouldered godling, with straight hair and 
 a blunt nose, whom she christened the God of 
 Common Sense, and at whose shrine she has 
 worshipped ever since ! ' ' 
 
 "I like modern comfort combined with ancient 
 tradition," said Sir Hugh, "and if I am any reader 
 of character I should say that Miss Gerard tho- 
 roughly agrees with me." 
 
 "You are quite right," replied Miss Gerard, 
 obviously gratified. 
 
 "If Miss Gerard likes old traditions you had 
 better show her the bloodstain in the dining-room, 
 Hugh, before the sun goes down." 
 
 "Would you care to see it, Miss Gerard? It is a 
 room in which any crime might have been com- 
 mitted. This particular one was what the French 
 poetically .call a 'crime passionel.' A jealous 
 husband hid behind the tapestry to surprise his 
 wife's lover. He succeeded. He gave him the 
 extreme surprise of finding a dagger between his 
 ribs! A beautiful bloodstain marks the scene. 
 They repaint it for every new tenant, I believe." 
 
 "Hugh!" said his wife, half -laughing, with a 
 glance at Titian to see how she took his juggling 
 with the storied past.
 
 The Tempests 151 
 
 But Titian was smiling too. 
 
 "That's better than letting it get rubbed out 
 altogether," she said, unexpectedly. 
 
 When Sir Hugh and Miss Gerard had gone in 
 search of the bloodstain, she turned to Lady 
 Tempest. 
 
 "You did not tell me how you knew that I was 
 here." 
 
 "Fenton told me that you hoped to be in Venice 
 in May, and asked me to look out for you. I saw 
 your name in the list of arrivals at the Hotel 
 Bianca, and went at once to call on you." 
 
 "That was really kind." 
 
 "Not at all, my dear child. I would have done 
 more than that for Arnot's wife, if I could," she 
 added, with a little sigh. 
 
 "Would you mind telling me why you quar- 
 relled with Arnot?" Titian asked, diffidently. 
 "Don't, if you'd rather not, but I think we'd 
 understand each other better if I knew why you 
 fell out. You were once inseparable, Fenty 
 told me." 
 
 "Ah, that was in the old days. Arnot was just 
 as much of a brother to me as Fenty then more in 
 a sense, for he was nearer my own age and more 
 companionable. When he grew to manhood and 
 got the sole control of his fortune he ran wild for
 
 152 The Torch of Life 
 
 a time. Naturally, as I see now. You are sure 
 that this won't hurt you?" 
 
 "Nothing that you could tell me of Arnot could 
 hurt me now," answered Titian in a low voice, 
 clasping her hands in her lap. 
 
 Lady Tempest looked at her curiously for a 
 moment before she went on. Her swift changes of 
 mood puzzled her. At one moment she seemed 
 gay and impulsive as a child, at another grave with 
 the gravity of a woman who has known the searing 
 touch of sorrow: now frank and confiding, then 
 withdrawn into a sudden shy reticence. She was 
 as intriguing as an enigma to the less complex 
 woman who strove to study her, and who failed of 
 knowledge because she lacked the key- word. 
 
 "He ran wild, as I said. Sowed a fine crop of 
 wild oats in London, Paris, Vienna. When he 
 came home to reap them, I foolishly put in my 
 sickle. I presumed on the unreal sistership, I 
 suppose, and he resented it. That was the 
 beginning. Then I married." Her face softened 
 and her eyes glowed for a moment, but there was 
 no such magical illumination as Titian had seen 
 yesterday. "You know what young married 
 women are like." She laughed a little, but Titian 
 was unresponsive. "They think that they have 
 a mission to regenerate the world, particularly
 
 The Tempests 153 
 
 the celibate portion of it. I had a friend, a very 
 pretty girl. Arnot worshipped beauty, as you 
 know." 
 
 This time a perceptible tremor ran over the still 
 figure in the great carved chair, like a shiver of 
 wind across a cornfield. 
 
 "He was greatly attracted," Lady Tempest 
 continued. "She, too, was fascinated by him. 
 He had a way when he chose which few women 
 could resist. You are sure you don't mind?" 
 
 Titian shook her head. "Quite, quite sure." 
 
 "There certainly was an understanding between 
 them, if not an actual engagement. Hugh had 
 taken some shooting in Scotland. It was near the 
 sea. The girl, I won't tell you her name, it's 
 better not, was staying with me. Arnot, we 
 heard, was cruising in his yacht." 
 
 Back, in a flash, came the moment of their meet- 
 ing. The tapestry-hung room vanished. She 
 saw the pier and the sunlit sea, and the advancing 
 white figure. She caught her breath. 
 
 "You are sure that this does not upset you?" 
 said Lady Tempest anxiously. " I would not hurt 
 you for the world. I forgot how recent this is." 
 She touched a black fold. 
 
 Titian looked full at her. Some unknown 
 emotion burned in the depths of her eyes.
 
 154 The Torch of Life 
 
 "This, as you call it, is a mockery. My heart 
 wears no mourning for Arnot, and that is the only 
 grief that counts. Please go on." 
 
 "Arnot's yacht put into the nearest harbour. 
 The girl and I were full of delight and excitement. 
 We went down to meet him. He had people with 
 him. Not the right sort of people. There was 
 a a woman, a musical-comedy actress, an im- 
 possible person. He should not have brought her. 
 It was an insult to us both. Quite unforgivable. 
 She, the girl, broke off the affair at once. I saw 
 him and told him what I thought of him. I sup- 
 pose I was uncharitable. I know I was too out- 
 spoken. I was young and happily married, and 
 since then I have learnt that such are wont to be 
 appallingly virtuous and narrow-minded. Arnot 
 let me say my say. Then he sneered at me, and 
 told me that willingly he would never see me or 
 speak to me again. He didn't. After the acci- 
 dent I wrote to him. I begged of him to let by- 
 gones be bygones, to allow me to come and see 
 you even if he would not be friends with me him- 
 self, but he would not. He refused, first through 
 Fenty, then, in answer to a final appeal, through 
 his man." 
 
 "Hammond! How like him!" The past came 
 swirling round Titian like a flood.
 
 The Tempests 155 
 
 "I could not take messages through a servant. 
 You understand, don't you? You forgive me? 
 I should, perhaps, have been more persevering, 
 but Arnot said things that were very hard to 
 bear." 
 
 "He would, " said Titian, in the same low voice. 
 "It amounted to genius with him. He always 
 knew exactly what would cut deepest." 
 
 "He wasn't cruel to you, child?" cried Lady 
 Tempest, in swift incredulity. "Fenton never 
 told me that." 
 
 "What did Fenton tell you about me?" asked 
 Titian, ignoring her question. 
 
 "He spoke of your beauty " 
 
 Titian moved abruptly. 
 
 "Your loyalty, your goodness to Arnot, your 
 amazing patience with him. He was full of 
 wonder at you." 
 
 The coldness ebbed from Titian's face. Life 
 and warmth flowed back into it, softening it once 
 more into its former graciousness. 
 
 "Fenton is a good friend," she said simply. 
 
 "Will you let me be another?" asked Lady 
 Tempest. "Forget what I have told you. Rak- 
 ing up the past is rarely pleasant or advisable. 
 The present is all we can count on. Let's make 
 the best of it."
 
 156 The Torch of Life 
 
 She held out her hand and Titian clasped it 
 warmly. She was again her old impulsive self. 
 
 "It is wonderful," she said quickly. "Yes- 
 terday I had no friends in the world except Fenty 
 and Miss Em. To-day I feel as if I had known 
 you for years. And Sir Hugh too." 
 
 "Ah, Hugh takes some knowing," said his wife 
 softly. "He is a very fastidious person, let me 
 tell you, and is by no means easy to please. He 
 took to you at once. But that is not surprising, " 
 she added quickly. "To begin with you won't 
 mind my saying it but you are so beautiful, my 
 dear." 
 
 To her amazement, Titian's face clouded. A 
 veil of disappointment was drawn across its 
 brightness. 
 
 "If you only knew " she began. Then she 
 stopped abruptly, but a second later spoke again: 
 "If you would only like me for something else. 
 Won't you try? Beauty is so superficial. It 
 doesn't really matter." 
 
 Lady Tempest glanced at her, puzzled. 
 
 "That's an odd saying for a woman, my 
 dear." 
 
 " I have learned some things in a strange school," 
 Titian half -whispered. Then she moved a little 
 as if to shake off some mental oppression. " Won't
 
 The Tempests 157 
 
 you tell me something about your daughter. Is 
 she your only child?" 
 
 "No, I have two sons. Hugh is at Oxford, and 
 Fenton young Fenton we have to call him is at 
 Winchester." 
 
 " Hugh and Fenton, " Titian repeated the names 
 with pleasure. 
 
 "Yes, I called them after my two dear men," 
 said Lady Tempest, softly. 
 
 "I have never known young people. I had no 
 friends of my own age. The only young people 
 I have ever spoken to were the villagers at home 
 and at Camus. At Camus, somehow, I felt a 
 little shy of them. I didn't quite know what to 
 say to them. I think I liked the old people and 
 the little ones best." 
 
 The naivete of the statement touched Lady 
 Tempest. 
 
 "Perhaps one is most in touch with realities at 
 the opposite ends of life. In the marching years, 
 when our vision should be clearest, we are rather 
 liable to blur our outlook with the dust which we 
 raise with our feet." 
 
 "Ah, the marching years? You have felt that, 
 too?" Here was comprehension that was as the 
 breath of life to Titian. She leaned forward 
 eagerly, her lips parted, her eyes glowing.
 
 158 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "You haven't told me a word about your 
 daughter yet." 
 
 "My daughter, Toye, is a very modern young 
 person." 
 
 "Toye! What a quaint name." 
 
 "She was christened Mary Toye after her two 
 grandmothers, and when we were wondering how 
 to get over the difficulty of having a second Mary 
 in the house she solved the problem by calling 
 herself Toye. Toye she has remained ever since. 
 It suits her somehow." 
 
 "Is she like you?" 
 
 " No. She is like neither of us. She has struck 
 out a line of her own." 
 
 "It's best to be original if possible. One is not 
 always too grateful to one's ancestors for inherited 
 traits or features. If one is the first of a mould 
 one hasn't such legitimate cause for grumbling." 
 
 "It all depends on the mould," returned Lady 
 Tempest. Her tone was dry. Again Titian 
 wondered why. 
 
 "I wonder if she'll like me," she said simply. 
 "I have led such a secluded life that I shan't be 
 able to talk of any of the things that interest her- 
 She will seem very young to me." 
 
 "Toye is twenty-one. Of age and fully emanci-
 
 The Tempests 159 
 
 pated. I am sure she will find plenty of subjects of 
 conversation if she's in the humour." 
 
 "In the humour?" queried Titian, looking up. 
 
 "My dear, you don't know the modern girl," 
 said Lady Tempest with a dry little smile. " Toye 
 herself will enlighten you. She is very fond of 
 saying that the greatest affliction which Provi- 
 dence can bestow upon old-fashioned parents is 
 an up-to-date child ! " 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Titian, feeling oddly dis- 
 appointed. "But you don't agree with her, of 
 course?" 
 
 As she spoke, the door of the sola was thrown 
 violently open and a tempestuous figure rushed 
 in: A small slim girl in a white frock and 
 smart bright green coat, wearing a hat with one 
 black feather posed at an apparently impossible 
 angle. 
 
 She rushed across the rug-strewn expanse, her 
 little heels clicking on the marble spaces. Be- 
 hind her came more discreetly a young man in a 
 light grey suit. He wore a rose-red carnation in 
 his buttonhole. 
 
 " Oh, mother, " cried the girl. " I found Cosmo 
 pigeon-worshipping in the Piazza and brought him 
 back to tea. He's horribly boring. He's found 
 a new divinity, and can talk of nothing else."
 
 160 The Torch of Life 
 
 She tilted a glance back at the young man, who 
 had paused perceptibly when he caught sight of the 
 figure in the carved chair. 
 
 Over Titian's face stole a slow burning blush.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 TOYE AND THE TANGO 
 
 HPITIAN hoped that her confusion passed un- 
 * noticed in the little flutter of introductions. 
 The young man, Mr. Cosmo Trevor "a neigh- 
 bour of ours in Hampshire and a very old friend," 
 showed no sign of recognition when he was 
 made known to her. Not even by the flicker 
 of an eyelash did he denote that he had ever seen 
 her before. 
 
 Of course not! She felt furious with herself 
 for that deep betraying blush. It was all Miss 
 Em's fault for her horrid prudish suspicions. 
 The episode of last night had been a mere 
 coincidence, and as for the carnation, the flower- 
 girls' baskets were full of them. Rose-red car- 
 nations bore a strong family resemblance to one 
 another. She must curb these silly flutterings 
 and excitements, this magnifying of the trivial 
 into the momentous. 
 
 She would have given much for the cool self- 
 161
 
 1 62 The Torch of Life 
 
 possession of the girl before her, who swept into 
 their conversation, re-arranging the group and 
 taking the lead as by right divine. 
 
 Toye Tempest was surprisingly different from 
 what she had expected. 
 
 Lady Tempest had spoken truly when she said 
 that the girl resembled neither father nor mother. 
 She had certainly struck out a type of her own, a 
 type which to Titian seemed one of quaint, almost 
 Byzantine ugliness. 
 
 Her hair, which she wore in a sweep across her 
 forehead and coiled into a sort of cap at the back, 
 was smooth and red not the deep, beautiful 
 auburn of Titian's own, but an uncompromising 
 hue that verged perilously upon the sandy. Her 
 face was small and piquant, her nose tilted, her 
 mouth wide and variable, now mutinous, now 
 laughing, now passionate, now almost sulky. Her 
 skin was intensely white, but its pallor was veiled 
 by a powdering of freckles. Her eyes were a 
 greenish-hazel, very bright and vital. They were 
 set rather at an angle beneath slanting dark-red 
 brows. 
 
 It was a face full of possibilities for good or evil, 
 a face elfish, a face provocative. Ugly it might be, 
 nay, undoubtedly was, but it was arresting in its 
 very ugliness, and was so full of life that it would
 
 Toye and the Tango 163 
 
 stand out where other and even lovely faces were 
 passed over. 
 
 "I can only boast of le beaute de diable," she 
 said once, with the amiable desire of shocking her 
 mother a favourite pastime of Toye's. "I mean 
 in the literal sense, and not merely as applied to 
 youth." 
 
 Now she gazed with frank curiosity at Titian, 
 while she kept up a running fire of comment on 
 things in general. Once she paused with a hot cake 
 halfway to her mouth, gave a little chuckle, and 
 cast a wicked sidelong glance at Cosmo Trevor. 
 
 "My dear Toye, are you choking?" he asked 
 with pretended concern. 
 
 "No," she answered. "I've been suddenly 
 smitten with an idea, and the event is so unusual 
 that it made me laugh. You are generally inter- 
 ested in my ideas, Cosmo darling. Would you 
 like to hear this one?" 
 
 Cosmo Trevor looked at her with swift apprehen- 
 sion. The pseudo-affection of the "darling" was 
 nicely tinged with mockery. Titian too felt a 
 vague uneasiness. She did not quite like the 
 ring in the girl's tone. 
 
 "What?" she continued mockingly. "Ideas, 
 even ideas as brilliant as mine go begging? What 
 an age we live in!"
 
 1 64 The Torch of Life 
 
 "It's precisely ideas as brilliant as yours which 
 have proved to be the undoing of their originators," 
 returned Cosmo calmly. "You have heard of 
 people being blinded by a flash of lightning? I 
 have no desire to be blinded by a flash of intelli- 
 gence." 
 
 "Intelligence sounds like the British Museum 
 and parsons' wives!" cried Toye. "Call me any- 
 thing you like but intelligent, as you love me." 
 
 "But I don't," Cosmo retorted. "I don't love 
 you one bit. You don't deserve it. Does she, 
 Mrs. Fleury?" 
 
 Titian smiled with a little embarrassment. 
 This quick interchange of familiar flippancy left 
 her outside, somewhat bewildered. It was a side 
 of life which had hitherto been untouched by her, 
 and she felt instinctively that it would always 
 remain strange. 
 
 To her surprise, it was Toye who rescued her 
 from the difficulty of an answer. 
 
 "I won't let you appeal to Mrs. Fleury. It's 
 not fair to force her to make personal remarks so 
 soon. By the way, where's Dad?" 
 
 Lady Tempest started. "I completely forgot 
 him. He took Miss Gerard, Mrs. Fleury's friend, 
 into the dining-room to show her the blood-stain. 
 They never came back. I must "
 
 Toye and the Tango 165 
 
 "I'll go look for them," said Toye, rising. 
 "Perhaps he has murdered her, or eloped with her. 
 How exciting that would be of the dear man!" 
 
 She sauntered down the long room humming a 
 tune as she went. 
 
 If Sir Hugh and Lady Tempest were anachron- 
 isms in the faded glories of the sola, what was she? 
 Titian wondered. As utterly incongruous as a 
 Futurist picture would be in the Doge's Palace, 
 she thought, then chid herself for the comparison. 
 
 "You love Venice." The soft assertion broke 
 upon her musings. 
 
 She turned to find Cosmo Trevor's eyes fixed on 
 her. 
 
 Toye Tempest was fond of telling him that his 
 eyelashes were wasted on a man. He had never 
 found them so. They had proved distinctly use- 
 ful in his varied and pleasant career. A younger 
 son, blessed, or cursed, with a competence, he had 
 drifted delightfully to his twenty-fifth year, un- 
 spurred by necessity to work. He was a privileged 
 person among his friends; his thick lashes success- 
 fully veiled many a fluttering impertinence. He 
 had charm as well as audacity, an admirable 
 temper, and an excellent digestion. Some women 
 complained that he had no heart. Some mothers 
 fancied that he had too much, and labelled him
 
 1 66 The Torch of Life 
 
 dangerous. His favourite pastime was playing 
 with fire. So far even his beautiful eyelashes had 
 remained unscorched. They made his glance at 
 Titian inscrutable now. 
 
 "Of course," she murmured, fighting with her 
 embarrassment. "But how do you know?" 
 
 "The right sort of person always loves Venice." 
 
 "Why should you think that I am the right sort 
 of person?" She could not resist the question. 
 
 "You should not need to ask." His look swept 
 her, the carved chair, and the tapestry into one 
 comprehensive whole. 
 
 "Why? " she persisted. 
 
 Cosmo was disappointed. She did not know 
 the rudiments of flirtation apparently, and it 
 looked like sheer stupidity for one so lovely as she 
 was to descend to such obvious fishing for com- 
 pliments. 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. Fleury ! " he gave a little sigh. Then 
 he began to experiment. "You are surely one 
 who is susceptible to all beautiful influences. 
 Venice should make an instant appeal to you." 
 
 "It does," answered Titian frankly, now surer 
 of her ground. 
 
 "What interests you most? The sad decaying 
 splendour of the palaces or the dream-life of the 
 lagoons?"
 
 Toye and the Tango 167 
 
 "Neither," she answered unexpectedly. "It 
 is the homely everyday life of Venice which 
 interests me most. The women drawing water 
 at the wells, the clink of the copper buckets, the 
 girls with their swinging earrings and long black 
 shawls, the tap-tap of their little heels on the 
 pavement. Oh, that's a delicious sound! So 
 characteristically Venetian ! Don't you love it? " 
 
 She turned to him, her face alight as it had not 
 been since he and Toye entered. 
 
 "The flower-girls' heels?" he ventured, bending 
 almost imperceptibly towards the carnation in his 
 buttonhole. 
 
 Titian flushed. "Not especially. I delight in 
 them all." 
 
 "I should have thought that the dim splendours 
 of the past, the jewelled beauty of St. Mark's, the 
 legends of mad loves and dead passions and 
 vanished mysteries would have appealed to you 
 more than anything else." 
 
 "They do appeal. They have their own place. 
 But it is the vivid life of the people of to-day that 
 most appeals to me." 
 
 "I confess that the doings of the proletariat do 
 not interest me in the least," said Cosmo Trevor. 
 "Frankly, I am greatly disappointed in you, Mrs. 
 Fleury."
 
 1 68 The Torch of Life 
 
 Titian's laugh rang out, gay and unrestrained 
 as a child's. 
 
 "What a pity!" she cried, feeling suddenly at 
 home with him. "I am afraid that you'll find 
 many things to disappoint you in me if we see 
 much of each other. Things that seem common- 
 place and everyday to you have all the charm of 
 novelty forme." 
 
 "I am willing to take the risk." 
 
 "What risk?" 
 
 "The risk of disappointment." 
 
 "Oh, that?" She laughed again, but she 
 flushed a little too. 
 
 "I would take any risk," he continued in lower 
 tones, "if only you will permit me to see something 
 of you, Mrs. Fleury. The request implies the 
 very recklessness of my courage." 
 
 Titian's dimple sprang into being. "Perhaps 
 the danger isn't as great as you imagine, " she said, 
 feeling a tinge of pleasure at her new-found powers 
 of repartee. 
 
 At that moment, Toye returned. 
 
 "The worst has happened, I am glad to say," 
 she announced. "Dad has not murdered Miss 
 Gerard, but he has eloped with her! Saunders 
 tells me that they have gone to see the Arsenal. 
 They said they didn't want any tea."
 
 Toye and the Tango 169 
 
 Lady Tempest came back from the window at 
 which she had been standing. 
 
 "I hope Hugh won't tire himself," she said 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Mother, you coddle him a great deal too much. 
 If you let him alone, he would be twice as well." 
 
 Her mother turned as if to speak; then checked 
 herself. Her whole demeanour had altered since 
 the coming of her daughter. A cloud of repression 
 seemed to envelop her and make her suddenly 
 colourless. 
 
 Titian could scarcely realise that she was the 
 same woman who had talked to her with such sweet 
 wisdom of her outlook on life only half an hour 
 before. With a swift flash of intuition she saw 
 something of Arnot's warped and warping dispo- 
 sition in this little slim ugly girl. She wondered 
 what the warping influence had been. Surely on 
 the surface her life seemed to spread before her 
 fair as a meadow. Was the twist of mockery 
 inherent, or had her character acquired it by the 
 way? 
 
 Toye made a few sliding steps across the floor to 
 them, her eyes fixed on Titian. 
 
 "This really is a ripping old room, isn't it?" she 
 said. 
 
 Titian assented with an echo of her former
 
 170 The Torch of Life 
 
 enthusiasm, surprised to find such a point of 
 contact. 
 
 "For tango dancing," Toye added, laughing 
 impishly at the irrepressible change in Titian's 
 face. "Do you dance the tango, Mrs. Fleury?" 
 
 "No, I have never even seen it danced. I am 
 very ignorant of modern life," Titian answered 
 simply. "You will scarcely believe me when I 
 tell you that I don't know what rag- time is." 
 
 "Oh, rag- time's a tune with a hiccup in it," 
 Toye said. "But rag-time's dead, syncopated 
 into its grave, praise be! The tango is a cat of 
 another colour, as the Italians say. To think that 
 you've never even seen it danced! Such a state- 
 ment takes one back almost to the Garden of Eden, 
 though I'm sure the Serpent would have tangoed 
 beautifully ! Aren't you, Cosmo? " 
 
 Cosmo's eyes were on Titian's changing face. 
 Her beauty fascinated him, but her transparency 
 was beginning to amuse him as well. There was 
 all the piquancy of contrast between the gracious 
 ripeness of her beauty and the suggestion of almost 
 childlike immaturity which thrust itself at inter- 
 vals through her manner. 
 
 She rose to go. 
 
 "I am sure that Miss Gerard will go straight 
 back to the Hotel Bianca, " she said. "I must
 
 Toye and the Tango 171 
 
 thank you for a most delightful afternoon, Lady 
 Tempest." 
 
 "But you mustn't go yet, Mrs. Fleury," cried 
 Toye, swaying towards her, her greenish eyes 
 alight. "I could not answer it to my conscience 
 to let you go without having taken the first step 
 towards your education in modernity. Cosmo, 
 roll up those rugs and we'll dance the tango for 
 Mrs. Fleury." 
 
 "Perhaps Mrs. Fleury doesn't care to see the 
 tango danced," put in Lady Tempest. 
 
 Toye laughed a little tinkling glassy laugh that 
 echoed up to the painted ceiling. 
 
 "That means that you don't, " she cried. " Poor 
 mummy!" She turned to Titian, who looked 
 from one to the other in faint embarrassment. 
 " Dad thinks the tango isn't quite nice, but mother 
 considers it positively indelicate." 
 
 "To the pure all things are pure," murmured 
 Cosmo Trevor in a voice meant for her ear alone, 
 while his amused eyes were still fixed on Titian. 
 
 "Oh, purity's largely a matter of anaemia!" 
 said Toye, shrugging her shoulders as she bent to 
 roll up a rug. 
 
 "What is your Uncle Fenton's opinion?" asked 
 Lady Tempest, stung into speech. 
 
 Toye's face clouded. "Bother my Uncle
 
 172 The Torch of Life 
 
 Fenton! Fenty's an anachronism if you like. 
 He's an early- Victorian old woman who has never 
 been emancipated from the crinoline!" 
 
 "Does he scold you?" asked Titian, hoping in 
 her heart that he did. 
 
 ' ' Not much ! ' ' Toye laughed again. ' ' It is not 
 wot 'e sez but the nahsty way 'e doesn't say it. 
 It would be quite unpardonable for any one to say 
 the things that Fenty looks!" 
 
 " Good man, Fenty ! " said Cosmo Trevor. " It's 
 a blessing for us poor ordinary mortals that there 
 is even one person in the world of whom you stand 
 in awe." 
 
 "But I don't stand in awe of Fenty. Make no 
 mistake about that, my good youth. I think it's 
 rather the other way round. I resent Fenty's 
 abominable capacity for silence. It's wicked to be 
 so secretive and self -restrained. There should be 
 give-and-take in the interchange of opinions." 
 
 "We all have more time for taking than giving, 
 in your presence, Most Irrepressible! " said Cosmo, 
 laughing softly. "Now, if Lady Tempest will be 
 so good as to play El Choclo, we are ready to begin." 
 
 "And remember, Mrs. Fleury, " said Toye over 
 her shoulder, "that both as regards your educa- 
 tion and the tango it is not the first step that 
 counts, nor perhaps the forty-first!"
 
 Toye and the Tango 173 
 
 Lady Tempest moved reluctantly towards the 
 cottage piano which formed part of the anachron- 
 ism of the oasis. 
 
 "Toye will not stay anywhere without a piano," 
 she said. "We had to hire one here. It came in a 
 gondola! Can you imagine anything more incon- 
 gruous?" 
 
 "Is your daughter fond of music?" 
 
 "It's one of her crazes. She has a voice like a 
 bird. She has had good teaching. Toye, will you 
 sing something for Mrs. Fleury before you start 
 dancing? She would like to hear you." 
 
 "Please let my charms dawn gradually on Mrs. 
 Fleury. Too much at a time is not healthy. I 
 think the tango is all she will be able to digest 
 to-day. Come, Cosmo." She held out white 
 hands invitingly. There was swift allure in her 
 posture. 
 
 " I should have known better, " murmured Lady 
 Tempest, with a little sigh. "She never will sing 
 when I ask her." 
 
 Toye caught the sigh and guessed its import. 
 She stamped her foot impatiently. 
 
 "Cosmo, are you coming?" she cried, frowning. 
 Then the frown softened as he came up and slid an 
 arm about her. She flashed a sidelong glance at 
 him that to Titian seemed charged with unexpected
 
 174 The Torch of Life 
 
 passion ; but when she looked again it had sparkled 
 into her former mockery. 
 
 There was nothing to shock or repel in the tango 
 as Toye and Cosmo danced it in the tapestry- 
 hung sola on that May afternoon. 
 
 Titian looked on as at a stage spectacle, ad- 
 miring the litheness, the grace and dexterity of the 
 dancers, who appeared to be animated by a single 
 spirit. Each seemed to move in absolute concord 
 as they abandoned themselves now to the languor, 
 now to the fire of the dance. There was something 
 sensuous in the appeal of the music and the woven 
 paces that set Titian's heart throbbing as she 
 gazed. Suddenly through it all stabbed a tiny 
 prick of loneliness. 
 
 The dancers, in their isolation and the harmony 
 of their movements, seemed as one, dancing within 
 a fairy ring for their own delight, close-clasped, 
 with eyes for none but each other. 
 
 Lady Tempest, spinning the music for their feet 
 to weave, was outside one edge of the magic circle. 
 She, the onlooker, was outside the other. What 
 place had she here? How could she expect to 
 come in touch with this young life? 
 
 As they stopped after a final daring pirouette, 
 Cosmo Trevor looked at her across Toye's back- 
 flung lissom body. Their eyes met. Again youth
 
 Toye and the Tango 175 
 
 seemed to flow back to her, to environ her, as once 
 before. 
 
 She rose, feeling a sudden glow. 
 
 "It was wonderful, quite wonderful," she cried 
 warmly. "How beautifully you dance! I wish 
 I could dance like that!" 
 
 "We must teach you," said Cosmo. "Toye 
 dances like a fairy, doesn't she? We'll give you 
 lessons, won't we, Toye?" 
 
 " Rather," said Toye, but her tone lacked enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 "You will find me a stupid pupil," Titian 
 demurred. "I don't know how to dance at all." 
 
 "Not even the antiquated waltz?" cried Toye. 
 
 Titian shook her head. She felt tall and 
 clumsy beside the girl's slender grace, and now 
 Toye was making her feel every day of her years 
 as well. 
 
 "We'll begin with the waltz, then," Cosmo put 
 in. "You look as if you could dance divinely, 
 Mrs. Fleury." 
 
 "Perhaps for a daughter of the gods like Mrs. 
 Fleury the waltz would be more suitable, " flashed 
 Toye. "The tango is meant more for little 
 devils like me. As a French friend of mine says, 
 'Le tango, c'est un danse intime!' Which 
 being interpreted according to mother means that
 
 176 The Torch of Life 
 
 it can only be danced with propriety with either 
 your brother or your husband!" 
 
 "Toye, I will not have you quoting imaginary 
 sentiments as mine. I don't think I have ever 
 said more than a few words about the tango." 
 
 Toye's shrill-sweet laugh rang out, tinkling as 
 Japanese wind-bells. 
 
 "You may not have said it, mummy, but you 
 looked it. You have your dear brother Fenty's 
 capacity for looking unutterable things. Do you 
 ride or skate, Mrs. Fleury?" 
 
 "No," answered Titian, ruffled by the girl's 
 catechism. "But I can fence. I'll take you on. 
 with the foils any time you like, Miss Tempest." 
 
 "I never learned fencing. I didn't think my 
 figure needed it." 
 
 The shaft went home, and hung quivering for an 
 instant. Arnot's frenzied reason for the acquisi- 
 tion of her accomplishment seemed to inspire the 
 girl's words, and prick through them. For a 
 moment, Titian felt as if she hated her, as if 
 through her recurred the old hurts which she tried 
 so earnestly to forget. 
 
 "Fenton used to be very keen on fencing," put 
 in Lady Tempest. 
 
 "It was he who taught me," answered Titian, 
 turning towards her with flushed cheeks. "I am
 
 Toye and the Tango 177 
 
 afraid it cannot rank among the modern accom- 
 plishments." She held out her hand. "You will 
 come and have tea with me soon, won't you?" 
 
 Lady Tempest thanked her. 
 
 "Aren't you going to ask Cosmo and me?" put 
 in Toye. 
 
 "With pleasure, if you care to come." 
 
 "Ask us at different times, then, please," Toye 
 continued. "I hate going about in flocks, like 
 sheep. Dad and mother always hunt in couples, 
 unless Miss What's-her-name now has come be- 
 tween them. It might be unwise of you to throw 
 them together too much, Mrs. Fleury." 
 
 Titian remembered Mary Tempest's look and 
 smiled. Her smile was reflected on the face of the 
 older woman. 
 
 "I think I may safely take the risk, "she an- 
 swered.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 FIRES OF SUNSET 
 
 TREVOR took his leave with Titian, 
 in spite of Toye's request that he should 
 stay to try over some accompaniments for her. 
 Titian felt a little glow of triumph, as if she had 
 scored an unexpected point. In spite of Toye's dis- 
 claimer, she had caught sight of the flash of a foil. 
 
 Beppe, all attention, awaited her at the foot of 
 the water-worn steps. 
 
 "Can I take you anywhere?" she asked, when 
 Cosmo, bareheaded, had helped her into the 
 gondola. 
 
 " If you will let me come with you as far as your 
 hotel I shall find the rest of my way on foot." 
 
 "Oh, no, Beppe will take you wherever you want 
 to go, " she said, leaning back against the cushions 
 with a sense of relief. 
 
 The setting sun had left the canal. Its green 
 water moved sluggishly past the paved campi, 
 swaying the weeds on the walls as it passed. The 
 
 178
 
 Fires of Sunset 179 
 
 shadows of the overhanging houses deepened the 
 sense of mystery which enwraps the Venetian 
 waterways like a veil. 
 
 Cosmo Trevor's voice was confidential as he bent 
 towards Titian, who was half-sunk in reverie at 
 his side. 
 
 "How has our specimen of modern girlhood 
 impressed you, Mrs. Fleury?" he asked softly. 
 
 Titian moved slightly. "The type is new to 
 me," she answered. "I daresay I shall get used 
 to it. At present ' She stopped, every in- 
 stinct rebelling against discussing the people 
 from whom she had just accepted hospitality. 
 
 Cosmo read her thoughts. "You need not 
 mind discussing them with me. I know them as 
 well as better perhaps than my own people. I 
 confess that I am rather curious to know what 
 effect Toye has had upon you." 
 
 "I don't like her manner towards her mother," 
 answered Titian with some reluctance. 
 
 This ingratiating young man seemed to draw 
 speech from her against her will. 
 
 "Ah, I thought that might jar. It isn't really 
 as bad as it sounds. It is more habit than any- 
 thing else." 
 
 "An unpleasant habit." 
 
 "Perhaps. Until you grow used to it. Lady
 
 i8o The Torch of Life 
 
 Tempest is a dear, but she and Sir Hugh are abso- 
 lutely wrapped up in each other, and I fancy that 
 Toye sometimes feels out in the cold." 
 
 "She did not strike me as being the sort of 
 person who would mind that. She seemed to me 
 to be as well, as hard as she is brilliant." 
 
 "You mean flippant," corrected Cosmo gently. 
 "I think she resented it in her early youth, and 
 assumed that mantle of bright hardness to pre- 
 vent any one from suspecting that she could 
 possibly care." 
 
 "But does she?" 
 
 "Sometimes I have fancied that she does." 
 
 "Ah, that's it, then," Titian cried. 
 
 "That's what?" 
 
 "I thought there must be something under- 
 neath, something to account for her rather vicious 
 desire to sting, " Titian blurted out, impulsively. 
 
 Cosmo laughed. "She doesn't really mean to 
 sting. It's mostly manner, acquired at first out 
 of bravado, but now second nature. You must 
 get used to modern manners, Mrs. Fleury. Toye 
 and her mother are on ideal terms as compared 
 with some mothers and daughters. Many mothers 
 look upon their girls as hated rivals, and most 
 daughters cordially detest their mothers." 
 
 "Ah, you are laughing at me!" cried Titian.
 
 Fires of Sunset 181 
 
 "You are taking an unfair advantage of my 
 ignorance." 
 
 "I assure you I am not," he asserted. "It's 
 quite true. Wait until you go into society. 
 Society spelt with a large S." 
 
 "I don't want to go into it if it is composed of 
 people like that," she cried warmly. "I'm too 
 old-fashioned to enjoy it or appreciate it. You 
 belong to it, don't you?" 
 
 "More or less," he answered, amused. 
 
 "Then isn't this the fashionable time of year in 
 London, when people Society people, I mean 
 congregate there and do things?" 
 
 He laughed softly. She really was delicious. 
 
 "You are quite right." 
 
 "Then why aren't you there, doing things?" 
 
 "Have you ever heard of a fiend called In- 
 fluenza?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I don't know whether he or fiend Boredom is 
 the worst. I suffered from both, rather badly, and 
 when the Winstanleys asked me to come yachting 
 with them in the Mediterranean I jumped at the 
 chance, as energetically as the fiends permitted." 
 
 "Are you staying on a yacht, then?" How 
 inextricably her life seemed to be mixed up with 
 the sea and the ships that sail thereon! Was she
 
 1 82 The Torch of Life 
 
 never to get away from the spider-threads of the 
 past? 
 
 "No, not now. They shed me here. I am on 
 my way home." 
 
 "You don't seem to be in a hurry, " said Titian, 
 with her laugh that was so frankly childlike, so 
 utterly different in timbre and inspiration from 
 Toye's sweet sophisticated tinkle. 
 
 "Who could be in a hurry to leave Venice?" 
 
 As he spoke, the gondola shot under the dark 
 arch of a bridge into the dazzling brightness of 
 the great lagoon. 
 
 "Don't go in yet," Cosmo urged, moved by a 
 sudden impulse. "It's too lovely. One so sel- 
 dom gets the time and the place and the er 
 appropriate person all together." 
 
 He wondered if she knew the true version of the 
 quotation which he had just mangled. She made 
 no sign. 
 
 "Row out into the lagoon for a little, Beppe, " 
 she commanded, drawing off her long black gloves 
 and trailing one hand in the water. 
 
 As she held it up the sun's rays caught the drops 
 of water at each pink finger-tip, flashing them to 
 diamonds, while the green fire of her emerald 
 blazed for a moment. 
 
 Neither spoke as the gondola sped over the sun-
 
 Fires of Sunset 183 
 
 lit water with delicious motion. The whisper of 
 the ripples at its bow was soothing as music. At 
 last, with a swift gesture, Beppe turned again and 
 stopped dramatically. 
 
 The sun was sinking, turning the lagoon into a 
 sea of gold, barred by long rolling amethyst ripples: 
 groups of palle, black against the gold, marked the 
 waterway to the Lido, a low sapphire cloud on 
 the horizon. Chioggian fishing-boats, like strange 
 richly coloured butterflies, orange, yellow, scarlet, 
 drifted slowly homewards. 
 
 To the right lay Venice, a fairy city, wrapped in 
 an opal haze. The delicate atmosphere changed 
 almost imperceptibly from palest blue to lavender, 
 rose, topaz, turquoise ; owning, withal, an ineffable 
 glory which no jewel even remotely suggests. 
 
 The gondola floated on enchanted waters. 
 Titian was lost to all but the beauty and wonder 
 around her. Cosmo's thoughts were held by the 
 magic of the scene with this rose of womanhood 
 for centre and the fires of sunset for background. 
 They were aloof from their kind, detached from 
 the world, held silent as if by a spell. 
 
 Suddenly across the still lagoon came the sound 
 of many bells, deep-toned, thin, mellow, clear, ex- 
 quisite. 
 
 It was the Angelus. Beppe reverently doffed
 
 1 84 The Torch of Life 
 
 his cap and crossed himself; then bent with swift 
 grace to his oar. 
 
 The spell was broken with sound and motion. 
 With a deep sigh Titian returned to reality 
 again. 
 
 "Ah, you've come back!" said Cosmo softly. 
 
 "Where was I?" she asked, the dream still 
 lingering in her eyes. 
 
 "How should I know to what 'faery lands for- 
 lorn' you had wandered?" 
 
 "I don't think I know myself. But it was very 
 beautiful very wonderful." 
 
 "And it's not like coming back to earth to come 
 back to Venice." 
 
 "Ah, you feel that too." She turned to him 
 with quick delight. There was something almost 
 pathetic in the surprised pleasure with which she 
 greeted any sign of mutual understanding. 
 
 "Venice itself is a dream," he said, still in the 
 same soft caressing tones. "A dream from which 
 I, for one, am always sorry to awaken." 
 
 "You needn't awake just yet, need you?" 
 
 "I should like this part of the dream to last for 
 ever." 
 
 Titian turned away her head. It seemed one 
 with the magic of the evening that she should be 
 here with this man, whose eyes said even more
 
 Fires of Sunset 185 
 
 than his lips, drifting upon glamorous waters, 
 lulled by the music of his lightly uttered words. 
 It was the recapturing of youth, this delicious 
 acceptance of the momentary joy; this sensation 
 of easy companionship and something more. 
 It was the something more, that subtly tinging 
 nuance, which coloured the rest, and shone upon 
 the iris-tinted wings of her lost youth a-flutter 
 before her. 
 
 "No dream can last for ever," she said with a 
 little sigh. "At best we can only pretend that it 
 does." 
 
 "That is where the beauty of a dream lies. In 
 its fragility. If it were to last for ever it would 
 lose its charm." 
 
 "Why did you wish this one to last, then?" 
 
 "There are some dreams that one wants to 
 turn into realities," he answered, looking full 
 at her. 
 
 She veiled her eyes quickly, and her ready blush 
 answered his gaze. His words stirred her as his 
 looks had done before. She did not realise that 
 such ease of speech must have been won by long 
 practice with other women. Some lovers' purses 
 are tied with cobwebs, and the coins of the man 
 who makes love easily are worn thin, and polished 
 by constant interchange. Her ears were pleased
 
 1 86 The Torch of Life 
 
 by their ready jingling: her eyes perhaps a little 
 dazzled by their brightness. 
 
 Beppe deftly steered the gondola through the 
 dark traffic of boats by the Doge's Palace, whose 
 marble colonnade and peach-hued walls were 
 touched with the rose of sunset. The winged 
 Lion on its grey pillar loomed black against the 
 sky, while its crystal eyes seemed to be afire. For 
 the moment of their passing the Campanile glowed 
 in its new ruddiness. The broad pavement was 
 thronged. The sinking sun struck glints from 
 copper pots on the yoke slung across a girl's 
 shoulders. 
 
 As they drew near the Hotel Bianca, Cosmo 
 bent towards Titian. 
 
 "You will not forget your promise." 
 
 "What promise?" she asked, a little startled. 
 
 "Your promise to let me see more of you." 
 
 "Did I promise that?" 
 
 "You were going to, I think, when Toye inter- 
 rupted us." 
 
 "Was I?" 
 
 " I am sure you were. Weren't you?" 
 
 She shook off her embarrassment and smiled. 
 
 "Perhaps I was." 
 
 1 ' Will you begin to-night ? Will you let me take 
 you out in the moonlight?"
 
 Fires of Sunset 187 
 
 "To hear the singing?" she ventured. 
 
 "To hear any singing you wish." He flashed a 
 glance of understanding at her. 
 
 She grew frightened. Her heart began to beat 
 again. Oh, what a fool she was to be so fluttered ! 
 Again she longed for the cool self-possession of 
 Toye Tempest. She shook her head. 
 
 "Not to-night." 
 
 He did not press her. "Perhaps to-morrow, 
 then. If you were inclined to be very gracious, 
 perhaps you would come with me to-morrow 
 morning to Salviati's and help me to choose some 
 Venetian glass for a wedding present." 
 
 Her face brightened. Here was something she 
 could do to help. She possessed in abundance the 
 true woman's desire to give a desire which had 
 never as yet known real fulfilment. 
 
 "I should like that very much. Shall I meet 
 you there, and when?" 
 
 "If you will permit me to call for you and be 
 your escort " he suggested. 
 
 "That will be delightful," she returned. "I 
 have seen very little of Venice from the inside yet. 
 Miss Em loves shopping." 
 
 "Miss Em?" His face feU. 
 
 " I forgot that you hadn't met her, " said Titian, 
 realising the different aspects of the situation with
 
 1 88 The Torch of Life 
 
 a rush. "Miss Gerard, I should have said. She 
 is a friend of mine who is travelling with me." 
 
 "A sheep-dog?" 
 
 She looked at him with raised uncomprehending 
 brows. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. But need you bring her? " 
 he continued, with clouded air. 
 
 " I think she would feel very hurt if she were left 
 out," she answered simply. 
 
 For a moment, Cosmo wondered if she were 
 really as innocent as she appeared to be, or pos- 
 sessed of a subtlety with which he had not credited 
 her. He rather hoped the latter. Sophistication 
 held for him a far greater appeal than simplicity. 
 He preferred jewels to flowers, and was no admirer 
 of the uncut diamond. In its roughness, the gem 
 was lost for him. 
 
 "Bring her by all means," he said. "That is 
 understood, then. I shall call for you both at 
 half -past ten." 
 
 He held her hand for a moment longer than was 
 necessary at parting. 
 
 "Time is relative," he murmured. "Don't 
 you agree with me?" 
 
 "I'm not quite sure that I know what you 
 mean." 
 
 "I mean that friendship, like other things, is
 
 Fires of Sunset 189 
 
 not to be measured by moments. I have only 
 known you, Mrs. Fleury, for an hour or two, as 
 one counts time, and yet I feel as if I knew you 
 better than people with whom I have been inti- 
 mate for years." 
 
 "Do you?" asked Titian, rather wistfully. "I 
 wonder why?" 
 
 "There are some hours which count above any 
 telling. The hour on the lagoon. ... Be kind, 
 and say that you felt it a little too." His grey 
 eyes besought under their thick lashes. 
 
 Titian was only human. Her crushed youth 
 stirred and troubled her to a sweet confusion. 
 
 "Indeed I did," she cried softly, scarcely 
 knowing what she said. "It was it was an 
 unforgettable hour." 
 
 "Ah, thank you," he breathed. 
 
 Then he went away, having rounded off his 
 moment exquisite.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 TOYE INTERRUPTS 
 
 TREVOR'S first glance at Miss 
 Gerard read prejudice, if not actual enmity, 
 in every spare line. This was a state of affairs 
 not to be permitted. He never made an enemy 
 of a woman if he could possibly help it. Even 
 those for whom his light love had flown upwards 
 as a spark, dying as suddenly as it had risen, 
 rarely felt a real resentment towards him. 
 
 "There is no fire in grey ash," was his general 
 consolation, and he seldom troubled himself to see 
 if the ash hid any embers that might be rekindled 
 into flame. 
 
 On this dancing May morning, when white 
 clouds slipped joyously across a vivid blue sky, 
 any attitude of disapproval was not to be con- 
 templated. 
 
 "I must tame this dragon until she comes and 
 eats sugar out of my hand, " he thought. 
 
 He was almost as sensitive towards dislike as a 
 190
 
 Toye Interrupts 191 
 
 young girl. It made him curl up inside, he 
 used to say, and he never spared his efforts until 
 he had changed the atmosphere to that degree of 
 warmth in which his sun-loving personality best 
 expanded. 
 
 The subjugation of Miss Gerard was by no 
 means one of his most difficult achievements. 
 The most rigid spinster is only a man-hater until 
 some man begins to pay court to her. 
 
 Cosmo Trevor deferred to Miss Gerard's opinion 
 as well as to Titian's, as she stood tranced at the 
 beauty of the glass, the gold-flecked beakers, the 
 amber and opal and sea-green shapes of exquisite 
 beauty which had been blown, like bubbles, by 
 Venetian lips into the clasp of golden dragon or 
 sea-horse. 
 
 "They're not any better than your own at 
 Camus," said Miss Gerard, at last. 
 
 "Oh, no. Mine are beautiful, but these are 
 beautiful too." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you have Venetian 
 glass like this at home?" Cosmo asked. 
 
 Titian smiled with a new joy of possession. 
 
 "Yes. And we use it every day too." 
 
 He looked at her with an added interest. "You 
 do? How delightful ! How perfect! How abso- 
 lutely right!"
 
 192 The Torch of Life 
 
 "And my table-cloths are strips of finest linen, 
 edged and inset with Venetian lace." 
 
 "No wonder I called you an appropriate 
 person," he said. "How exquisite of you to 
 surround yourself with what suits you so ex- 
 actly!" 
 
 "It was not my doing," said Titian, quick to 
 disclaim praise that was not her due. "My 
 husband bought and chose the things. They were 
 there when I arrived." She stifled a sigh. "But 
 I love them, all the same." 
 
 "Of course. Will you come with me now to a 
 lace shop and show me the sort of lace you've got. 
 Then I can picture you with all your beautiful 
 accessories." 
 
 "I didn't think men cared about lace." 
 
 " I care about all things lovely." He sharpened 
 the point of his remark with a glance. 
 
 She turned towards the door. Such inferences 
 held embarrassment. 
 
 The vast arcaded Piazza, was thronged with 
 people. The gold tops of the scarlet flag-staffs 
 and the ramping Bronze Horses on San Marco 
 glittered in the sun, which shone full upon the 
 jewel-like mosaic. Pigeons fluttered and alighted 
 in clouds, scarcely moving from beneath the feet 
 of the saunterers.
 
 Toye Interrupts 193 
 
 Trevor led the way to a window full of specimens 
 of lace. 
 
 "Are your possessions anything like these?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She shook her head. " Mine are much better, " 
 she said. " There, that oval cloth with the medal- 
 lions do you see it? I have two something like 
 that, only I think that the work on mine is finer." 
 
 For a moment, he wondered if she were boasting, 
 but her evident sincerity disarmed him, and the 
 thought of the fitness of her surroundings gave him 
 a moment of aesthetic pleasure. 
 
 Titian seemed to divine his thoughts. 
 
 " Perhaps you will see them one day, " she began 
 diffidently. 
 
 "Oh, do give a house-party and ask me," he 
 responded. 
 
 "And me too," said a voice behind them. 
 
 They turned, startled, to see Toye Tempest, her 
 greenish eyes alight with mischief. Her father and 
 mother lingered a few paces away, looking into a 
 shop window in which dangled beads of every 
 colour imaginable. 
 
 "How nice to meet you!" Toye cried. "You 
 looked so absorbed that I could not resist the 
 temptation of startling you. I am bored to tears. 
 Mother and Dad will stop to look in at every 
 
 13
 
 194 The Torch of Life 
 
 window. Mother now can't tear herself away 
 from those beads. There's nothing of the primi- 
 tive about me. I have no desire to revert to the 
 squaw and hang myself with beads. Have you, 
 Mrs.Fleury?" 
 
 "No," answered Titian. She felt sorry that 
 this interruption had struck across the path of 
 their wanderings. She had been quite happy 
 strolling from shop to shop, warmed by the 
 pleasant sense of Cosmo Trevor's nearness and 
 understanding. 
 
 As she turned with a feeling of relief to greet 
 Sir Hugh and Lady Tempest, her quick ears 
 caught Toye's sotto voce: 
 
 "I say, Cosmo, you have been making hay!" 
 
 She flushed hotly. The girl was intolerable. 
 
 Lady Tempest wondered what had occurred to 
 stir her. Was it annoyance at their interruption? 
 Had the incorrigible Cosmo already begun to make 
 love to her? She could not imagine anyone as 
 taking Cosmo seriously, ignoring the vast differ- 
 ences that may lie between one point of view and 
 another. 
 
 "Have you heard that Fenty is coming to 
 Venice, my dear?" was her first question. "But 
 I suppose you have, as it is your affairs which 
 are occupying him."
 
 Toye Interrupts 195 
 
 "Yes, I heard this morning. Isn't it delight- 
 ful?" Her voice softened. "Venice certainly is 
 my lucky place. Look at all the friends I have 
 found here! And now Fenty. I hope he won't 
 be too full of business to enjoy things." 
 
 "I am sure he won't," said Lady Tempest. 
 "But I suppose you ought to learn about the 
 management of your own property. You have a 
 certain responsibility ' 
 
 "Dear Lady Tempest, I know. When I go 
 home, when my wanderings are over, I am going 
 to be very good and learn everything I can, and 
 give Fenty as little trouble as possible. But this 
 is my holiday. I am just learning how to enjoy 
 life, how to be young, how to forget." Her 
 voice fell. "That's why I hope Fenty will enter 
 into the spirit of the place, and play a little, as I 
 want to do." 
 
 "Poor child, your youth seems to have been 
 starved." 
 
 "It was beaten as well," cried Titian with 
 sudden passion. "I wonder that you don't see 
 the marks. But why do we think of these horrible 
 things in this lovely place? I've put the past 
 behind me. I'm really looking resolutely towards 
 the future." 
 
 "I hope it will be a very sunny one."
 
 196 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I suppose we need clouds to make us appre- 
 ciate the sunshine," Titian said, with her open 
 smile. 
 
 Lady Tempest gave her arm a quick little 
 squeeze. 
 
 "I wish Toye had been more like you," she 
 said, impulsively. 
 
 Toye and Cosmo walked behind at a discreet 
 distance. Her hat-brim tilted over and com- 
 pletely obscured her right eye, and her raiment 
 expressed the latest word in smart simplicity. 
 The eye which was visible glittered like a jewel. 
 For a moment, Cosmo shrank from its darting 
 brightness. 
 
 "Yes, you have been making hay, " she repeated 
 slowly. "Really, Cosmo, I admire you beyond 
 words." 
 
 "May I ask why?" His tone was slightly 
 ruffled. 
 
 "For your absolute 'lightness' in putting salt 
 on the golden tail of Opportunity." 
 
 He reddened. "How long were you behind 
 us?" 
 
 Toye chuckled elfishly. "Only that instant. 
 What ! Did you really comment on her ' absolute 
 lightness?' I can hear you! Poor darling! It 
 thinks it's unfathomable and yet it is as trans-
 
 Toye Interrupts 197 
 
 parent as a sheet of glass! Oh, Cosmo, Cosmo! 
 In the throes of its very latest grand passion and 
 doesn't want to be laughed at! Never mind, my 
 Cossie. You're absolutely right (quotation is the 
 sincerest form of flattery). Absolutely right to go 
 in for the lovely widow. She's rolling in un- 
 restricted money and has a wonderful castle 
 perched on a cliff near the sea. Her late un- 
 lamented was a cousin of mother's, and the delect- 
 able Fenty, who for our sins in coming to Venice, 
 is her guardian angel, so you can believe what I 
 tell you." 
 
 Cosmo curbed his annoyance with an effort. 
 
 " If she's a sort of relation of yours how is it that 
 I've never met her before?" 
 
 " Mother quarrelled with her husband. Turned 
 rusty at discovering some little liaison or other of 
 his. Rather dog-in-the-mangery of her, when she 
 didn't want him for herself, but you know how 
 narrow-minded she is! I never discovered the 
 details too young to know these things!" She 
 grimaced. "Well, to make a rigmarole telegraphic, 
 the poor wretch was smashed up in a carriage 
 accident on his wedding-day, and your Golden 
 Opportunity was immured in the old castle until 
 he died. Et voild,!" She shrugged her shoulders 
 expressively.
 
 198 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Toye, why do you try to vulgarise every- 
 thing?" 
 
 "Because I'm such a perfect little lady," she 
 laughed. "I'm a little lady to my finger-tips, 
 aren't I, Cosmo?" 
 
 "Sometimes I think you are a perfect little 
 devil, " he said. 
 
 "If I were a cat I'd purr. That's the prettiest 
 thing you've ever said to me!" 
 
 ' ' Are you serious ? ' ' 
 
 "How could I be?" she countered, with another 
 of her swift side-long glances. "Haven't I been 
 handicapped from birth, or rather baptism? Toye 
 Tempest Storm in a Teacup. Who could be 
 serious with a name like that?" 
 
 "Roseleaf Tragedy," he capped. 
 
 She gave an impish chuckle. 
 
 "Dear, dearest, darling Cosmo, how like you! 
 Don't waste it on me, my Cossie, I beg of thee! 
 Keep thy poesies for the G. O. She will appreciate 
 them." 
 
 "I wonder that the Holy Water didn't frizzle 
 on your forehead when they baptised you," said 
 Cosmo, with sudden temper. 
 
 She pinched his arm. 
 
 "Are you ever cross with anyone but me?" 
 
 "No. I've an admirable temper."
 
 Toye Interrupts 199 
 
 "Do you ever say things like that to other 
 people?" 
 
 "Emphatically no!" 
 
 "Not even to the G. O.?" 
 
 "I wish you would not call her that." He 
 tapped his stick impatiently on the pavement. 
 
 "What shall I call her then? The Sleeping 
 Beauty? The Lord knows she might well have 
 been asleep for a hundred years, she's so un- 
 sophisticated!" 
 
 "That suits her better," he admitted. "Yes, 
 she has a sort of half -awakened look." 
 
 "Are you going to make it your business to 
 awaken her wholly? You're rather good at 
 opening people's eyes, you know, Cossie. " 
 
 "Once and for all I decline to allow you to call 
 me by that odious derivative." 
 
 "Lord, he's hurling words of ten syllables at me! 
 I'd better get out of the way for fear I should be 
 hit." 
 
 "If we were not in such a public place I'd shake 
 you. It's not the first time I've longed to. " 
 
 "All in words of one syllable, praise be! I 
 needn't put up my parasol ! Nor will it be the last 
 I imagine, my dear young friend," she continued 
 calmly. "Shall I be serious now, and give you a 
 word of advice?"
 
 200 The Torch of Life 
 
 "The change would be so remarkable that I 
 feel inclined to risk it." 
 
 She played with the green tassel of her parasol 
 for a moment, then looked up. Gravity peeped 
 for a fleeting instant from behind the mask of 
 mockery. 
 
 "To play with Simplicity is risky. Simplicity 
 doesn't know the rules of the game. She thinks 
 that counters are real coins. Perhaps she even 
 thinks that the game isn't a game. You and I 
 know better than that. " 
 
 "For whose sake are you giving the warning?" 
 
 "Not for Simplicity's, you bet," cried Toye. 
 "Water ices, no matter how beautifully they may 
 be coloured, are only water ices. I prefer some- 
 thing with more flavour. " 
 
 "So do I," said Cosmo. 
 
 For a moment, they looked at each other. Toye 
 realised, as she turned away her head, that in her 
 own peculiar fashion she had discovered exactly 
 what she wanted to know as regarded Cosmo's 
 relations with Mrs. Fleury. 
 
 Her mental processes were more curious than 
 logical, but she rarely failed to arrive at the 
 desired point.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 FENTON IN VENICE 
 
 TN the morning of Fenton's arrival, Titian rose 
 * with a feeling of pleasant expectance. It was 
 good to think that she would see him so soon; 
 good to feel that she could share her new pleasures 
 with her old friend. 
 
 But could she? She paused on the thought to 
 wonder how he would fit in with his surroundings. 
 At Camus there had been no room for creeping 
 questions. His coming had been welcomed, his 
 varying sojourns at Belfield regarded as green oases 
 in the desert of her days ; but here in Venice? She 
 drew her brows together as she looked at herself 
 in the glass. Would Fenton be content to dream 
 away his time in a gondola? Was he capable of 
 making a magic hour still more magical? 
 
 She flushed hotly as she turned away from the 
 mirror. 
 
 "Who taught you the trick of comparison, you 
 ungrateful creature?" she chid herself. "Wasn't 
 
 201
 
 2O2 The Torch of Life 
 
 it Fenty who gave you the only good hours of your 
 life?" 
 
 Yes, she was ready to admit it. All her me- 
 mories of Fenton were good as bread, or water, or 
 air the elemental necessities of life good, but 
 not glamorous. For the new Titian a difference 
 lay between the two that entirely lacked propor- 
 tion. Fenton was a dear, all that was true and 
 dependable but there was a certain shagginess 
 about him. That was how she phrased it to her- 
 self. She had never seen him in any environment 
 but Camus. Now she wondered how he would 
 adapt himself to his surroundings. She remem- 
 bered a comment of Miss Em's. 
 
 "Mr. Mede is himself always. There's nothing 
 of the chameleon about him, thank God!" 
 
 She laughed softly. No, there was nothing of the 
 chameleon about Fenton. Was there about 
 
 Marshall, entering, told her that Fenton had 
 come. 
 
 "He is an early visitor, " she said, going back to 
 the glass for a final glance. 
 
 She felt a sudden desire to look her best for the 
 friend towards whom she seemed to have shown a 
 moment's disloyalty. Then she paused for an 
 instant at the door with an absurd accession of 
 shyness. As she entered the sitting-room with
 
 Fenton in Venice 203 
 
 hands held out in greeting, she stopped half way 
 in surprise. 
 
 "Fenton! Is it really you?" she cried. 
 
 He came towards her and took bothliands in his, 
 smiling down into her lovely astonished face. 
 
 "My very self," he answered. "Am I so 
 changed?" 
 
 "Changed? I should think so. You're a new 
 Fenty. I'll have to get to know you all over again." 
 
 She spoke truly. Here was a new Fenton 
 indeed. A clean-shaven Fenton, whose strong 
 beautiful mouth was a visible revelation of what 
 he had been to her in her dark hours. A Fenton 
 whose tailor was as admirable as Cosmo's own ; a 
 slighter, younger Fenton, who held his big frame 
 with a new erectness, but who looked at her with 
 the same whimsical blue eyes which seemed to be 
 all that remained of the outward semblance of the 
 Fenton whom she had known. 
 
 "I didn't want you to look on me as an uncle 
 any longer." 
 
 His smile touched her. 
 
 "Oh, Fenty, I didn't. I don't." 
 
 "Don't you? Then that's all right. Am I less 
 like Nebuchadnezzar now?" 
 
 "I never said that you were like Nebuchad- 
 nezzar!"
 
 204 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Didn't you? You thought it, though." In 
 his shy way, he was eager to hear the word of 
 approval for which he would not ask. 
 
 "Of course not." She gave his arm a little 
 squeeze. "The change is a trifle embarrassing, 
 though. I must get used to it. " 
 
 " Do you like it? " There was no use in beating 
 about the bush any longer. 
 
 "Yes, very much. It makes you look years 
 younger." 
 
 "Does it?" He felt absurdly pleased. "Nearer 
 your own age?" 
 
 She nodded gaily. 
 
 "I thought I might have caught you up, but I 
 haven't. You've run away from me again. You're 
 looking " 
 
 "What, Fenty?" 
 
 "Very well," he ended tamely. 
 
 "What a dull remark!" 
 
 "Very beautiful, then, you spoilt child, " he said. 
 " I'm glad to see those bits of white about you. " 
 
 He indicated the collar and cuffs of Venetian 
 lace which she wore. There was no searchlight of 
 criticism in his eyes. He looked at her as a man 
 who has been prisoned in a cellar may look at the 
 newly risen sun. 
 
 "I braved Marshall's disapproval once for all.
 
 Fenton in Venice 205 
 
 I am emancipated, Fenty. It's such fun to be 
 independent, to do what one likes, to wear what 
 one likes." She gave a happy little laugh. 
 
 Fun! Fenton had not heard her say that any- 
 thing was " such fun " since the day when they had 
 crept on tiptoe to the blue-tit's nest. She had had 
 but little fun in her life, poor child. 
 
 "That's right," he answered with a twinkle. 
 "But you mustn't emancipate yourself too far. 
 Remember that I'm partly responsible for you. " 
 
 " I see business trembling on your lips with that 
 awful word "responsible." I really couldn't bear 
 it this morning. We'll strike a bargain. We'll go 
 out in the gondola now, and you shall come back 
 here to lunch with me. When we are fortified 
 you may talk business if you like, but you must 
 give me the morning first. " 
 
 "I'd give you more than that." 
 
 "Very well. Just wait until I put on my 
 hat." 
 
 She ran into her room. He marked the new 
 lightness in her tread and his heart rejoiced. 
 These wandering months were doing all that he 
 had hoped for her, restoring her poise, renewing her 
 youth, fulfilling her beauty. 
 
 He sighed involuntarily when he thought of the 
 warm welcome of her smile.
 
 206 The Torch of Life 
 
 In a moment, she returned, and swept him from 
 the room on a wave of joyous excitement. 
 
 "Just imagine, I have my own gondola. Doesn't 
 that sound delicious? But I told you in my letter, 
 didn't I?" 
 
 "You haven't written to me since you came to 
 Venice. You sent me a picture-postcard from 
 Florence giving your address here, but that was 
 all." 
 
 "How remiss of me! But I really haven't had 
 time; you arrived nearly as soon as your letter. 
 You are much nicer than your letters, Fenty. " 
 
 "Ami? I'm glad you think so. I'm not much 
 use with the pen." 
 
 A train of thought led her to point out the 
 Brownings' palazzo as they passed beneath it. 
 
 "Have you read their letters, Fenty?" 
 
 "The love-letters, you mean?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "No. Would you?" 
 
 " I don't know. Why not ? " 
 
 "I'm very old-fashioned, I suppose, but it seems 
 to me to be nothing short of sacrilege to read an- 
 other person's love-letters. If anything in the 
 world is purely personal and private surely it is the 
 love-letters of a man and woman to each other. I 
 should feel ashamed of myself if I read them. "
 
 Fenton in Venice 207 
 
 Titian looked at him quickly. It was only 
 yesterday that Cosmo Trevor had expatiated on 
 the beauty and fervour of the " Letters. " He had 
 asked if he might send them to her when he had 
 had them fittingly bound. Here were two very- 
 different points of view, as widely different as 
 the men themselves. 
 
 "But, Fenty," she demurred, "those two were 
 not merely man and woman. They were poets. 
 They belonged to the nation. " 
 
 "They were man and woman before they were 
 poets. Their poems may have belonged to the 
 nation, but surely their love-letters belonged to 
 themselves. I'm sorry you don't understand my 
 point of view. " 
 
 "You told me once before that I didn't under- 
 stand, " she said slowly. " Do you remember? It 
 was long ago. That day about the kitten." 
 
 ' ' Yes. I remember. ' ' 
 
 "I understand you better this time," she went 
 on. Then she added in a low voice. " You know, 
 Fenty, I never had any love-letters of my own. 
 Perhaps if I had I should really understand. " 
 
 "Perhaps you would, " Fenton rejoined, averting 
 his eyes from the wistfulness of her face. Then he 
 said in a deliberately matter-of-fact tone: "Do 
 you remember those cottages on the brow of the
 
 208 The Torch of Life 
 
 hill, near the Winthrops' house? Poor Agatha 
 died there of consumption, you remember." 
 
 "Yes," she answered in her turn. 
 
 "I want to ask your consent to have them pulled 
 down and rebuilt. They are thoroughly unsani- 
 tary and there is no proper sewerage. " 
 
 "Fenton!" she cried, turning indignantly upon 
 him. "I asked for this morning. I bring you to 
 the loveliest spot in Venice and you actually dare 
 to talk of sewerage!" 
 
 Humour deserted her for the moment. She 
 thought of the golden evening hour on the lagoon, 
 the magic spell, the comprehending silence of 
 her companion, and memory sharply pointed a 
 contrast. 
 
 Fenton laughed, unaware of any comparison. 
 For the first time, he felt a sympathy with what he 
 used to consider Arnot's unnatural delight in see- 
 ing Titian flushed in anger. She certainly looked 
 lovely with her parted lips and sparkling eyes. 
 Too lovely, he thought, for the peace of mind of 
 ordinary men. 
 
 "I beg your pardon. I quite forgot. I won't 
 err again." 
 
 "I can't depend upon you." 
 
 "Not if I promise." 
 
 "I won't ask you to promise."
 
 Fenton in Venice 209 
 
 "Won't you? You needn't. Do forgive me. 
 Have I broken the spell?" 
 
 "There was no spell, " she answered, closing her 
 lips firmly. 
 
 "Wasn't there? I thought there was," he 
 returned, with becoming humility. 
 
 She relented. The dimple near her mouth 
 sprang from its lurking-place as she laughed, 
 half -reluctantly. 
 
 "There's no use in being angry with you, Fenty." 
 
 "Not a bit." 
 
 "I must be friends with you." 
 
 "That, at least." 
 
 "Why are you so prosaic?" 
 
 "Am I?" he asked, still looking at her. "Who 
 has been pointing out my defects, Titian?" 
 
 She gave a little start. " Oh, no one. No one. " 
 
 "Surely not Mollie?" 
 
 "Fenty, don't be ridiculous." 
 
 "Has Toye held her magnifying glass over my 
 many flaws?" 
 
 Titian smiled. "How did you succeed in in- 
 spiring her with awe? She says that no one 
 would dare to say the things that you look. " 
 
 "Poor little Toye. She's a queer restless un- 
 satisfied child. We are really fonder of each other 
 than we pretend to be." 
 
 14
 
 210 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Do you think she is capable of being fond of 
 anyone?" 
 
 Fenton turned quickly. "You don't like her?" 
 
 "I don't understand her," answered Titian 
 slowly. "She is an uncomfortable sort of girl, 
 I think. I always feel as if she were trying to score 
 off me. " 
 
 "Toye score off you?" he repeated, with a com- 
 forting disbelief. "Absurd! She has too much 
 sense to attempt any such thing. You mustn't 
 grow fanciful." 
 
 His bluntness gave her a warm sense of well-be- 
 ing. She smiled at him. 
 
 "You're rather a nice person after all," she 
 said softly. 
 
 "I have my uses, I suppose, in spite of being so 
 prosaic. How do you like Mollie?" 
 
 "Oh, she's a dear. She is the image of you, 
 Fenty. That drew me to her at once. " 
 
 " Did it? Did it really? " He bared his head to 
 the sunshine, and, as the strong light fell upon his 
 face, Titian noticed that it looked a little worn. 
 His eyes were tired, and there were lines about the 
 sensitive mouth that was so new to her. 
 
 "Did you come straight through last night? 
 Had you any sleep?" 
 
 "Plenty. Why?"
 
 Fenton in Venice 211 
 
 "You look tired." 
 
 "I've been having a rather worrying time 
 lately." 
 
 " Poor Fenty. Not over my affairs I hope. " 
 
 "No, my own." 
 
 "Oh." The soft monosyllable held neither 
 query nor comment. 
 
 Fenton looked at her. This was not the time or 
 place for the crudities of the only confidences he 
 could give her, yet he made a tentative venture. 
 
 "Some day, if you will let me, I should like to 
 tell you, " he began and then stopped. 
 
 "I shall always be glad to hear anything that 
 you care to tell me." 
 
 He turned away abruptly. There was no more 
 than a friendly interest in her tone. She would 
 listen graciously; she would give her sympathy 
 perhaps, but she did not really want to hear. She 
 was deaf to the undertone of need which had rung 
 through his broken-off sentence. The thought 
 stung. 
 
 They had left Venice behind a magic blur of 
 domes, roofs, and campanili. The lagoon was still 
 and hyaline, palest blue with amethyst shadows. 
 On the horizon, a range of hills, capped with snow 
 and faintly flushed, lifted a fairy outline towards an 
 ethereal sky. Nearer lay the dim hyacinth streaks
 
 212 The Torch of Life 
 
 of islands; nearer still the slow-moving black 
 silhouettes of gondolas. 
 
 It was as if the world lay under the thrall of an 
 opal-tinted dream, so hushed was the air, so 
 delicate the colours. 
 
 "Yet you deny that there was a spell," said 
 Fenton slowly. She looked curiously at him as he 
 leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, chin on 
 hand, gazing towards the mountains. His eyes 
 were opened wider than she had ever seen them; 
 they held a look which she could not read. 
 
 With one of her quick impulses, she turned to 
 him. 
 
 "There was a spell, of course, Fenty. I'm sorry 
 I was so cross. " 
 
 He looked at her in mute appeal for a moment. 
 Speech that he longed to utter was forbidden, and 
 he was no maker of jewelled phrases. Then he 
 held out his hand. She put hers into it with a little 
 sigh. " It's ' pax and chums,' isn't it? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "I should be poor in- 
 deed if I were to quarrel with you, Fenty. " 
 
 "And I, if Camus doors were to be closed against 
 me." 
 
 "That could never be." 
 
 "I hope not," he said gravely. "Camus has 
 meant the only home I've known for years. "
 
 Fenton in Venice 213 
 
 "Oh, poor Fenty, what a wretched substitute for 
 the real thing! " she cried out in swift pity. 
 
 "No, it wasn't," he said, and again, very low, 
 "oh, no, it wasn't." 
 
 She felt touched, troubled, and proud all at 
 once. 
 
 " But I did nothing for you, " she protested in a 
 voice that trembled slightly. "It was you " 
 
 "You did everything," he returned in the same 
 curbed tone. "You kept a light burning."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 TOYE'S HINT 
 
 WHEN Fenton's business interview was over, 
 he went back to the Palazzo Marin, a 
 tangle of thoughts in his brain. 
 
 From various remarks, uttered unconsciously 
 by Titian, deliberately by Miss Gerard, he gleaned 
 a fair idea of the looming importance of Cosmo 
 Trevor as a factor in their Venetian life. He heard 
 casual mention of tea at the Cafe Florian, trips 
 to Murano and the Lido, and various shopping 
 expeditions taken in his company, but he made 
 no comment. 
 
 As was his wont since boyhood's days, he went 
 in search of his sister Mollie to disburden himself 
 of his misgivings. 
 
 He found her knitting in a deck chair on one of 
 the balconies which jutted from the sola. 
 
 "Where's the family? " he asked, leaning against 
 the parapet and feeling in his pocket for his pipe. 
 
 "Hugh is resting. I'm afraid he walked too far 
 214
 
 Toye's Hint 215 
 
 this morning," Lady Tempest said, a little anx- 
 iously. "Toye is off somewhere with Cosmo 
 Trevor. She is a restless little being and can 
 never content herself indoors." 
 
 "How did you and Hugh come to have such a 
 daughter?" said Fenton, filling his pipe. 
 
 "If one believed in the changeling theory, Toye 
 might be quoted as a living proof! But don't let's 
 talk of Toye. I want to hear about you. You 
 never tell anything in your letters, and I want to 
 hear all about you, dear old boy. " 
 
 He smiled down at her before he answered. 
 "What do you want me to tell you?" 
 
 "Well, first of all how you found your ward. 
 She is a sort of ward, isn't she?" 
 
 "Titian?" He lit his pipe. "Oh, yes. A 
 responsibility at any rate. " He smoked in silence 
 for a little, enjoying the soothing influences of the 
 moment. "She's looking very well. She's sort 
 of blossomed, somehow. What do you think of 
 her, Mollie?" 
 
 "I think she's lovely, " returned Lady Tempest, 
 warmly. "She has a most interesting personality, 
 so naive in some ways, so mature in others. She 
 is like a child in her enjoyment of things. Yet 
 sometimes in the midst of her enthusiasms a little 
 veil of sadness suddenly comes over her, as if she
 
 2i 6 The Torch of Life 
 
 were stopped, pulled back by something, which she 
 had tried to forget and couldn't. I can't explain 
 properly, but you understand, Fenty, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why is it, I wonder?" 
 
 "Arnot kept a very tight hold of her. He 
 deliberately checked her development. He cared 
 only for her looks. " 
 
 Lady Tempest's thoughts flew backwards to 
 Titian's little plea to be liked for herself. 
 
 "Ah, that accounts for it." 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 "For something she said to me one day when I 
 commented on her beauty. " 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "She begged me not to like her for that. She 
 said it mattered so little. Could I not find any- 
 thing else to like in her? It was rather pathetic, 
 I thought, in one on whom Nature had showered 
 so much. She is as lovable as she is lovely. 
 Don't you agree with me, Fenty?" 
 
 Fenton did not answer. Lady Tempest re- 
 peated the question. 
 
 "Yes," he said, curtly. 
 
 He did not look at her. His profile was towards 
 her as he leant over the balcony gazing at the 
 freighted gondolas which passed beneath.
 
 Toye's Hint 217 
 
 Something in his tone roused her, dry as the 
 monosyllable had been. Dropping her work in her 
 lap she bent across it. 
 
 "Fenty, do you care for her?" she asked, with a 
 sudden flash of intuition. 
 
 "Yes," he answered again, in the same curbed 
 voice. 
 
 "Oh, my dear!" Her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Don't mind. It doesn't matter. It can't 
 be helped." 
 
 "Oh, my dear!" she cried again softly. "Does 
 she know?" 
 
 "Of course not. How could she?" 
 
 "Women have intuitions." 
 
 " She's not a real woman yet. " 
 
 Silence fell again. Then Lady Tempest spoke. 
 
 "When did it begin, Fenty?" 
 
 Fenton pulled at his pipe and looked hard at the 
 red-brown roofs opposite. 
 
 "Oh, you women, with your greed for detail! 
 What does it matter?" 
 
 "Don't tell me if you'd rather not." 
 
 "I've always told you things, Mollie. There's 
 no reason why I shouldn't now, if you want to 
 know." He drew a long breath. "I cared for 
 her the first moment I saw her in the Nursing 
 Home in London. Poor little lonely, bewildered
 
 218 The Torch of Life 
 
 soul! I didn't realise that she was the one 
 woman until she cried on my shoulder the day 
 Arnot died. Then I knew." 
 
 "Fenty, my dear, the world is a hard place to 
 live in." She wiped her eyes unobtrusively. 
 
 "It's the only place we've got at present, so we 
 must make the best of it." He shook the ashes 
 out of his pipe and refilled it. In spite of his 
 philosophy, his hand trembled slightly. "There's 
 no good in being tragic, Moll. " 
 
 "But it is tragic," she persisted. "It's cruel 
 to think that your whole life has been spoiled on 
 account of the wicked advantage that was taken 
 of a boyish infatuation." 
 
 "It hasn't been spoiled," he returned gravely. 
 "It's only we ourselves who can spoil our lives. 
 I've had as good a life as most men. As any man 
 could have, lacking the best." 
 
 "You take things philosophically." 
 
 "Don't make it harder for me, Mollie. Don't 
 make me sorry I told you. " 
 
 "You didn't tell me. I found out. " 
 
 "Well, don't make me sorry that you found out, 
 then." 
 
 "I won't." She looked up at the stooping 
 figure. She longed to put her arms round him, but 
 she knew how Fenton hated demonstration.
 
 Toye's Hint 219 
 
 For a long time, he smoked in silence. She took 
 up her knitting again, and dropped stitch after 
 stitch. 
 
 At last she spoke. 
 
 "Fenton, have you seen Adela lately?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered, looking at her for the first 
 time. "I wanted to tell you. I have seen her 
 twice. She is dying. " 
 
 "Dying!" A light gradually dawned through 
 the surprise in Lady Tempest's face. 
 
 "Dr. Brookwood says that she may linger for 
 months, but perhaps only for weeks, " Fenton went 
 on with unusual haste. "She asked to see me, so 
 I went. " 
 
 He stopped. His face paled a little. He laid 
 his pipe down on the parapet. 
 
 "Well?" she asked breathlessly. 
 
 "It was just as usual. The moment she saw me 
 she flew into a frenzy and rushed at me. It was 
 
 the same next time, only Well, she had a 
 
 knife the second time. An old rusty blade. They 
 didn't know where she had found it. " 
 
 Lady Tempest shuddered. " Did she hurt you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What an escape ! Oh, Fenty, it must have been 
 awful!" 
 
 " It was rather. "
 
 22o The Torch of Life 
 
 "And the law gives no redress?" 
 
 "None." 
 
 She pondered for a moment, ripping the wool 
 where the stitches had been dropped. Then she 
 cleared her throat and began tentatively: 
 
 "But, Fenty, if " 
 
 He turned sharply on her. "Hush, Mollie. 
 There are things which mustn't be said. " 
 
 "I want to say them. " 
 
 "That's no reason why you should." 
 
 "It's a very good reason." 
 
 "Have you no sense of honour?" 
 
 "A very keen one, but " 
 
 "Stop!" 
 
 "I must say one thing," she persisted desper- 
 ately. "If you are silent too long, it may be too 
 late when you speak. " 
 
 "I know. I saw that to-day." 
 
 She looked incredulous. "To-day? Oh, you 
 mean Cosmo Trevor." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I don't think you need have any fear of Cosmo. 
 He's a philanderer. " 
 
 "He won't philander always." 
 
 " Besides she's much older than he is. " 
 
 "Only five years. And she's at least ten years 
 younger than her real age in many ways. "
 
 Toye's Hint 221 
 
 This was a new point of view for Lady Tempest. 
 She considered it before she spoke again. 
 
 "Of course, she is very lovely and very rich," 
 she said at last, musingly. 
 
 "I never thought of that as a possible factor," 
 returned Fenton, simply. 
 
 "I'm sure you didn't, but other men would." 
 
 "Cosmo Trevor is not the man for her. " 
 
 "You are, Fenty," she asserted with hopeful 
 conviction. 
 
 "Don't," he said, turning abruptly. 
 
 As he moved, his elbow touched his pipe and 
 knocked it outwards. It slid over the parapet; 
 he watched it fall with a dull splash into the 
 canal. 
 
 "Another old friend gone," he said, straighten- 
 ing himself. "I loved that old pipe." 
 
 "Oh, what do such things as pipes matter?" 
 she cried. 
 
 Fenton thrust his hands in his pockets and 
 wheeled round to face her. His back was to the 
 light but she divined rather than saw the look of 
 pain in his eyes. 
 
 "You needn't rub it in, Moll." 
 
 " I don't mean to rub it in. " 
 
 "Rub it out, then, and never refer to it again." 
 His tone rang sharply. Its decision left no appeal.
 
 222 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Very well," she returned quietly. Her heart 
 ached for him. 
 
 "Are you starting with the politician's clean 
 slate, Fenty?" asked Toye's clear voice behind 
 them. 
 
 She stepped out on the balcony and regarded the 
 two with her usual air of detached amusement. 
 There was nothing to be read in the outline 
 which Fenton presented, but the light which fell 
 on her mother's face revealed cheeks unwontedly 
 flushed and more than a suspicion of tears on her 
 lashes. 
 
 "You look like a pair of conspirators, " Toye 
 declared. "Mother has an especially guilty air. 
 Has she been confiding her 'orrible past to 
 you, Fenty? If so, you've borne it wonderfully 
 well!" 
 
 "Perhaps it's yours she has been confiding to 
 me," returned Fenton slowly. "If the light were 
 better, you would see that my hair has become 
 thickly streaked with grey." 
 
 1 ' She doesn't know it, " retorted Toye. " To be 
 a successful daughter, one's past should be wrapped 
 in oblivion, one's present a sealed book, and one's 
 future a glorious possibility to one's parents. 
 Mother is only happy when she contemplates my 
 future, aren't you, Mummy? That not impossible
 
 Tbye's Hint 223 
 
 day when I shall settle down in a home of my 
 own" her voice put mocking quotation marks 
 round her descriptions "after a pretty wedding 
 in the ivy-covered church where the sniffing 
 village children will strew my path with flowers, 
 while my eight bridesmaids will whisper behind my 
 back, ' What an ugly little devil she is ! How on 
 earth did she manage to catch him?' Isn't that 
 your ideal for me, mother?" 
 
 Lady Tempest forced a smile. "I suppose it is 
 wholesome to see oneself through another person's 
 eyes sometimes, but I confess that I rarely recog- 
 nise myself in your quotations, Toye. " 
 
 " Don't I hold the mirror close enough to Nature, 
 then? Haven't I often heard you say that you 
 wished I was well married?" 
 
 "You have heard me say that I thought you 
 would be happier if you were married to the right 
 sort of man, but " 
 
 "Dear thing, you are old-fashioned! Well, 
 I'm afraid I can't please you. I want to enjoy life. 
 I prefer to amuse myself rather than risk the 
 problematical charms of matrimony." 
 
 "Can't you do both?" asked Fenton. 
 
 "Fenty among the moderns! What an up-to- 
 date remark for you, dear!" she cried impudently. 
 ' ' Amusement and matrimony ! Did you shed your
 
 224 The Torch of Life 
 
 crinoline with your beard? By the way, mother, 
 talking of amusement, I asked Cosmo to come to 
 dinner to-morrow night." 
 
 "Did you? But Mrs. Fleury and Miss Gerard 
 are coming." 
 
 ' ' What does that matter? It will only mean one 
 odd woman instead of two. Family parties are 
 so dreadfully dull. " 
 
 " I shouldn't call this exactly a family party. " 
 
 "Near enough to want some leavening." 
 
 "Is it for Mrs. Fleury 's sake that you have 
 invited the leaven?" asked Fenton, drily. 
 
 "Certainly not. For my own," she retorted, 
 wrinkling up her nose at him. "Do you know 
 what I've christened your married ingenue, 
 Fenty?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The Sleeping Beauty. Don't you think it 
 suits her?" 
 
 "Admirably." 
 
 Lady Tempest moved uneasily. Fenton saw 
 thexnovement with some irritation. He already 
 half-regretted his forced confidence. He knew 
 that now Mollie would be always studying him 
 tenderly, suffering vicariously for him, reading 
 between the lines of the simplest incident, and 
 the knowledge irked him. He did not want her
 
 Toye's Hint 225 
 
 to be tactful. There are some bruises which the 
 blows of ignorance hurt less than the salve of 
 knowledge. 
 
 "Those old fairy-tales are always profoundly 
 moral," continued Toye, with a glance at Fenton 
 as bright and quick as a lizard's. 
 
 "What is the moral of this one? " he asked. 
 
 "That though many princes tried to get into 
 the Enchanted Garden only the True Prince 
 succeeded." 
 
 "There's not much moral in that," returned 
 Fenton. 
 
 "Perhaps the real moral lies in the kiss," Toye 
 flashed back airily. "People who know, my dear 
 Fenty, have told me that there is a great power 
 of awakening in a man's kiss!" 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "They even go so far as to say that it may be 
 looked upon in the light of a test. " 
 
 "Of what, may I ask?" 
 
 "Of the difference between the False Prince 
 and the True!" 
 
 With a swift pirouette she turned and disap- 
 peared leaving Fenton to wonder uncomfortably 
 how long she had been in the sala, and how much 
 she had overheard. 
 
 Though he tried to dismiss the suspicion as being 
 
 IS
 
 226 The Torch of Life 
 
 unworthy, it came back again and again, and he 
 could not help feeling that her apparently careless 
 words had been intended either as a hint or a 
 warning.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE DINNER PARTY 
 
 1 N spite of his hidden pain, Fenton Mede spent 
 * hours of enjoyment in Titian's company. 
 Though honour sealed his lips, there was a sweet 
 pain, a poignant pleasure, to be found in her 
 nearness. He hoarded his moments in Venice as a 
 squirrel hoards his summer store of what will mean 
 life to him in winter days. 
 
 Together he and she and Miss Gerard journeyed 
 to the Islands, past the pine-crowned cemetery to 
 Murano and Burano, with their vivid huddle of 
 gaily-coloured houses, to see the revival of the 
 ancient arts of making lace and blowing glass. 
 
 The glow of the furnaces at Murano, the dark 
 corners, the swarthy half-naked workers, made a 
 Rembrandtesque contrast to the airy rooms of 
 Burano, where happy women, twittering gaily as 
 birds, wove fairy cobwebs of lace with dainty 
 fingers. 
 
 Over the railings by the canals, brown nets hung. 
 227
 
 228 The Torch of Life 
 
 In the doorways of the brightly-painted houses, 
 pink, yellow, blue, ochre, sat dark-eyed women 
 working at their snowy pillows. Curly-headed 
 children ran and tumbled about the cobbled streets. 
 A small boat was moored to a ring near the stone 
 steps at which their gondola lay. A light breeze 
 flapped its triangular sail of orange, barred with 
 scarlet. For a moment, the tarry smell of the 
 nets seemed to catch Titian in the web of the past. 
 Fenton's slow voice heightened the illusion. 
 
 She shook off the impression with impatience. 
 She did not want to go back; she wanted to go 
 forward; to follow rainbow Youth Will o* the 
 Wisp with roseate wings. For the moment, it 
 seemed as if Fenton had touched and shattered 
 her bubble. She had had no magic hours since 
 his coming, save that morning moment when his 
 lonely soul had tried to reach hers. No one had 
 sung of the "heaven's embroidered cloths" be- 
 neath her window; no one but Fenton himself 
 had pressed her hand and pleaded mutely for a 
 little kindness. 
 
 She looked forward with intense eagerness to the 
 dinner-party at Palazzo Marin. Fenton had told 
 her that Cosmo Trevor would be there. 
 
 Her first dinner-party ! And he was to be there 
 the new friend who understood her so well,
 
 The Dinner Party 229 
 
 whose touch, whose look brought back to her the 
 absurd delicious thrills of youth. 
 
 Then Memory flashed two pictures from 
 her mirror straight into Titian's dream-dazzled 
 eyes. 
 
 One was of Fenton struggling with speech, con- 
 quering an almost irresistible reticence in order 
 to lay bare his inmost thoughts to give her comfort. 
 The other was his attitude of reverence when she 
 had bowed her head to the dust before him after 
 Arnot's will had been read. Could any man, 
 Cosmo Trevor or another, have understood her 
 better than he did in those two bitter hours? 
 
 Swift shame flooded her cheeks, and she talked 
 to Fenton gently and with all her old warmth on the 
 journey back to Venice. 
 
 They spoke of little things, small happenings, 
 mutual memories the innumerable tiny threads 
 that bind the big moments of life together. 
 
 Fenton felt almost happy when he left them at 
 the Hotel Bianca with a smiling rejoinder not to 
 forget the dinner party at Palazzo Marin. 
 
 He was ready early and found no one in the 
 sola when he entered. Candelabra on little tables 
 thrust flowers of light into the gloom; here and 
 there glowed the pale orange globes of lamps. 
 
 He paced up and down in his favourite fashion,
 
 230 The Torch of Life 
 
 his hands clasped behind his back, his thoughts, 
 like moths, always wandering back to Titian. 
 
 Yes, she had blossomed. She was more beauti- 
 ful than ever, gayer, younger, more sweetly 
 womanly. How lovely her hands were! How 
 glad he was that she had not forgotten that trick 
 of pushing back the straying chestnut lock ! How 
 would it be to feel their satin coolness on his fore- 
 head when his head ached, as it had done sometimes 
 of late? He locked the door on the picture-gallery 
 of his imagination. That way madness lay. It 
 would not do. One could not tell where the 
 visions would end. 
 
 So absorbed was he that he did not hear a light 
 step behind him, nor was he conscious of another's 
 presence until Toye slipped her hand through his 
 arm. 
 
 "A penny for your thoughts, my prophetic 
 soul," she cried gaily. 
 
 "You won't want to pay, " said Fenton, swinging 
 round and catching her by the waist. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 She made a vividly arresting little figure in the 
 big half -lit room. She wore a dress of turquoise- 
 blue veiled in sea-green. Her smooth red hair was 
 piled high on her head and caught with a carved 
 jade comb. Round her neck was a chain of beryls
 
 The Dinner Party 231 
 
 which repeated the faint green of the jade and lay 
 like drops of sea-water on the milky whiteness of 
 her skin. Her eyes sparkled, her lips looked soft 
 and red. 
 
 "I always pay my debts when I can," she 
 continued. 
 
 "How long were you listening inside that 
 window to-day?" 
 
 She looked up at him with a little gasp and a 
 queer gleam came into her eyes. Then her bright- 
 ness grew suddenly veiled. Her head drooped and 
 two slow tears forced themselves from between her 
 light red lashes. 
 
 "How wickedly suspicious you are!" she said, 
 with quivering mouth; her tones trembled a little. 
 
 Fenton felt very uncomfortable. He wished 
 with all his heart that he had not yielded to im- 
 pulse. He had no desire to hurt Toye. He had 
 not even realised that she could be hurt. 
 
 She turned away; her shoulders shaking. He 
 followed her awkwardly. 
 
 "I say, Toye, child I didn't mean " 
 
 She swirled round on him, her face alight with 
 mischief, though the tears still hung on her lashes. 
 
 "Didn't you? Bless you, my Fenty, what a 
 lovely rise! I did it well, didn't I? It's one of 
 my gifts a valuable one, too being able to
 
 232 The Torch of Life 
 
 pump up my tears at will!" She chuckled as she 
 wiped away the drops with a lace-edged wisp. 
 
 Fenton, half-annoyed, half-amused, made a 
 step towards her. 
 
 "You little " 
 
 "Do say it, Fenty. You'll feel much better, 
 and I shan't mind. " Her diversion had been most 
 successful. She hummed a tango-tune and made 
 a few sliding steps, smiling up at him with her 
 head on one side. 
 
 "You little nettle!" he exclaimed. "Why do 
 you always sting everyone who touches you, 
 Toye?" 
 
 "I suppose because no one as yet has had the 
 courage to 'grasp me like a man of mettle,'" she 
 rejoined, bending one knee to the ground in search 
 of a new pose. 
 
 "Haven't they? Here goes, then!" 
 
 Fenton caught her by the waist, swung her 
 through the air and perched her up on the high 
 marble mantelpiece whose ledge was some six 
 feet from the ground. 
 
 ' ' Fenty ! ' ' she cried. ' ' Take me down at once. " 
 
 Fenton backed until he was out of reach. 
 "Certainly not. There you stay until you apolo- 
 gise for the trick you played on me, young lady. " 
 
 "Fenty, you're a beast!"
 
 The Dinner Party 233 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "You're not going to leave me here until they all 
 come, are you?" 
 
 "Certainly, unless you apologise." 
 
 "Fenty, don't you know that it is better to be 
 stung by a nettle than pricked by a rose?" 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 "You might take me down. I'd jump only 
 that I'm afraid of spraining my ankle. " 
 
 "That would be a pity," said Fenton noncha- 
 lantly. "You've fairly decent ankles." 
 
 "Yes, my extremities are quite good," she said, 
 swinging her little feet and spreading out her taper- 
 ing fingers. "You might take me down, Fenty. " 
 
 "I might, but I shan't," Fenton answered, 
 putting his hands in his pockets. "Unless you 
 apologise. " 
 
 "I'll see you hanged first!" 
 
 "You don't like to be laughed at. Neither do I. 
 The experience will be salutary for you. Here's 
 the first arrival." 
 
 The door of the sola opened to admit Lady 
 Tempest. 
 
 "Ah, you're down, Fenty. I thought I heard 
 you talking to someone." She peered forward. 
 
 Fenton laughed. "You did. I was talking to 
 Toye. There she is!"
 
 234 The Torch of Life 
 
 Lady Tempest looked and found her. 
 
 "Toye! My dear child, how ridiculous of you! 
 Do come down. Mrs. Fleury will be here in a 
 moment. " 
 
 Toye settled herself more comfortably on her 
 marble shelf. Her mother's remonstrance changed 
 her attitude. After all, she might be the means 
 of making Fenton look ridiculous in the eyes of 
 his beloved silly, antiquated, old-fashioned Fenty ! 
 How dare he pick her up and put her on the mantel- 
 piece as if she were a china ornament ! How dare 
 he treat her like a baby! 
 
 "My dear mother," she said coolly, "it is your 
 beloved brother whom you should scold and not 
 me. It was Fenty who put me here." 
 
 Lady Tempest turned to him. 
 
 "She's telling the truth for once, Mollie. She 
 played a nasty trick on me, and I perched her there 
 as a punishment until she says she's sorry. " 
 
 "With your regard for the truth, Fenty, I can- 
 not imagine why you should wish to force me to 
 tell a deliberate lie!" 
 
 "But, Fenty!" Lady Tempest began. 
 
 The door opened again. Titian and Miss 
 Gerard entered. Toye had an uninterrupted 
 view of the two as they came up the room. 
 
 Miss Gerard looked festive, her asperities soft-
 
 The Dinner Party 235 
 
 ened by a grey chiffon gown and a pink rose, but 
 Titian was radiantly beautiful in her filmy black 
 draperies. She wore no ornaments but her plati- 
 num chain and the plaque set with emeralds. 
 Toye noted the odd coincidence of their both 
 having chosen green stones to wear that evening. 
 She touched her pale beryls. Their lack of colour 
 seemed to emphasise by contrast the physical 
 differences between her and Titian. She caught 
 her breath for a moment at the sheer triumphant 
 loveliness of the other. Then she reflected with a 
 swift touch of satisfaction that at least Titian's 
 skin was no whiter than her own. 
 
 "Hullo, Mrs. Fleury, how do you admire the 
 new drawing-room ornament?" she called gaily. 
 Fenty should not have the satisfaction of thinking 
 that he had made her feel ridiculous, at any rate. 
 
 Titian looked up with a smile. 
 
 "Is this the newest craze?" she asked. 
 
 "The very newest," Toye responded. "It was 
 a brain- wave on the part of Fenty. He thought 
 that the mantelpiece looked rather bare, et voild! " 
 
 "A very charming ornament," said Titian. 
 She laughed as she turned to greet Sir Hugh. 
 Something in her look and tone pricked Toye to 
 annoyance. She felt suddenly hoydenish. Yet 
 Titian was conscious of admiring the girl's non-
 
 236 The Torch of Life 
 
 chalance as she half-lay along the mantelpiece 
 in a graceful attitude, supporting herself by one 
 slim hand. 
 
 Toye's face darkened a little as Cosmo Trevor 
 entered, paying his devoirs as he came up the 
 room. 
 
 She moved impatiently, swinging her feet. 
 The motion caught his eyes. 
 
 "Why, Toye! San Toye on a pedestal! Ye 
 gods and little fishes, what a spectacle!" 
 
 "I'm not posing as a new deity, Cosmo, so 
 there is no need for you to take fright ! " Her tone 
 was tinged with irony. In her heart burned rage 
 against Fenton, but she was not going to let him 
 see that she cared. She hated Titian for her air 
 of detached amusement. She almost hated Cosmo 
 for smiling. 
 
 "I'm tired of being so far from human-kind. 
 Take me down. " 
 
 "Let me enjoy the sight for a moment longer. 
 Who was the hero who put you there?" 
 
 "Fenty." 
 
 "Good man, Fenty. Fenton Mede, sir, I salute 
 you. I'll head the subscription list for a National 
 Monument to you. " 
 
 " That's all right, " said Fenton shortly. He was 
 beginning to tire of his joke.
 
 The Dinner Party 237 
 
 Toye looked down at her feet ; she felt glad that 
 they were so small. The satin-shod toes that 
 peeped from beneath Titian's skirt showed much 
 ampler proportions. 
 
 "If you have all quite finished being witty at 
 my expense you might take me down. Please, 
 Cosmo," she said, closing her eyes until they 
 looked like glittering greenish slits, and holding 
 out her hands. 
 
 Titian was reminded of the singing-girl's expres- 
 sion on that unforgettable night. Something in 
 Toye's face seemed to melt for a moment as Cosmo 
 came up to her. 
 
 "Put your hands on my shoulders and let me 
 get mine on your waist," he said. There was 
 no emotion in his tone, but his grasp tightened on 
 her soft body as she slid towards him and slipped 
 through his arms to the ground, a little breath- 
 less, but still defiant. 
 
 At the sight a swift pang shot through Titian. 
 Primitive woman awoke and stirred, and the 
 emotion was not pleasant. Why should it rouse 
 resentment within her to see Cosmo Trevor help 
 the girl to the ground? Could this stab of pain 
 really be caused by that meanest of all vices, 
 jealousy? 
 
 She looked up confusedly to find Fenton's eyes
 
 238 The Torch of Life 
 
 fixed upon her, and turned away with a sense of 
 annoyance. 
 
 Sir Hugh was at her side with extended arm. 
 She took it with a little sigh of relief and they went 
 in to dinner. 
 
 At dinner, Cosmo Trevor put forth all his powers 
 to please. For a while, Toye sat silent with a half- 
 sulky, half -mutinous look about her mouth; then 
 she shook off her annoyance with a little shrug 
 of her bare milk-white shoulders and became her 
 flippant, impudent self once more. 
 
 Titian, with carmine cheeks, talked to Sir Hugh 
 with forced lightness, charming him anew. She 
 was animated, even gay. She was learning the 
 ways of her world quickly. Fenton at her other 
 side was unusually responsive to her mood. It 
 was rather dear of him, she thought. 
 
 When the meal was over, Toye held out her hand 
 for Cosmo's cigarette-case. 
 
 "I left my own upstairs. Do you smoke, 
 Mrs. Fleury?" 
 
 "No," Titian answered. 
 
 " What a portentous no ! " laughed Toye. " I'm 
 sure you disapprove of the habit, though. The 
 really good woman always does." 
 
 "Does she?" answered Titian simply, ignoring 
 the desire to sting. "I really haven't thought
 
 The Dinner Party 239 
 
 about it. Still, it's charming of you to credit 
 me with a goodness which perhaps I may not 
 deserve. " 
 
 "It's an old-fashioned quality," put in Fenton 
 quietly, "and so it doesn't appeal to Toye." 
 
 "What about the really good man?" asked Cos- 
 mo, glancing at Fenton. 
 
 Toye's tone was vicious. "He doesn't exist, or 
 if he does he's always a fool. " 
 
 "Really, Toye, you're talking hopeless non- 
 sense, " said Lady Tempest, rising. 
 
 Cosmo opened the door for them. As Toye 
 passed, he murmured in her ear: 
 
 "Simplicity knows some of the moves in the 
 game at any rate. " 
 
 "Of course, the queen can do no wrong, " Toye, 
 snapped. "As for Fenty, I'd like to smack his 
 face." 
 
 "What a joy it would be to see you attempt it ! " 
 
 The girl's eyes seemed to shoot sparks like a 
 cat's. Then she laughed. "He did not realise 
 how he was giving himself away when he shaved 
 off his beard. He's a sphinx without a secret 
 now. " 
 
 " Is he, too, as transparent as a sheet of glass?" 
 
 "All men are transparent if you look at them 
 from the right angle."
 
 240 The Torch of Life 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "I don't want to be a sphinx without a secret," 
 she answered, slipping away after the others. 
 
 Lady Tempest and Miss Gerard sat near one of 
 the lamps, both heads bent over an intricate 
 pattern in knitting. Titian was in her favourite 
 carved chair, a little apart from them. 
 
 Toye glanced at her as she went to the piano 
 and ran her fingers over the keys in a pianissimo 
 chromatic scale. 
 
 " Do you sing, Mrs. Fleury ? " she asked over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You should have added, 'Only in church or in 
 my bath!' That's the formula for people who 
 say they are fond of music but don't sing. " 
 
 Titian gave an amused laugh. "I confess that 
 I had never before thought of my bath as a place 
 wherein I could lift up my voice. I am in your 
 debt." 
 
 Toye swerved round on the piano-stool and 
 looked at her with a franker interest. It was as 
 if she measured swords now where before she had 
 been content to leave hers in its scabbard. The 
 Sleeping Beauty was beginning to awaken. Here 
 was food for thought. 
 
 "Sing something, Toye," said her mother.
 
 The Dinner Party 241 
 
 "I will when Cosmo comes. No one can play 
 my accompaniments as he does." 
 
 "He will come when he hears the sound of 
 music." 
 
 Toye did not answer, but after playing aimlessly 
 for a second or two her wanderings crystallised 
 into the prelude of a song. 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ON THE BALCONY 
 
 '""PITIAN was conscious of a half-reluctant 
 * shock of delight when Toye, lifting her 
 head, broke into song. Her voice bubbled from 
 her throat as easily as a bird's does; like a bird's 
 too, it was high and clear and almost piercingly 
 sweet. The words had a familiar ring. Suddenly 
 she remembered that she had come across them in 
 one of Fenton's little vellum-covered books at 
 Camus. It was the Echo Song of Gauradas, set 
 to a rippling tune that was sweet and elusive as 
 the nymph herself. 
 
 " Echo, echo, are you here ? 
 
 (Here, did echo cry) 
 Doth my lover hold me dear ? 
 (Dear, she made reply). 
 
 " Comes the hour of gladness nigh ? 
 
 (Nigh, quoth echo gay) 
 Say her faithful swain and I 
 (Aye, she seemed to say). 
 242
 
 On the Balcony 243 
 
 " Gifts of love and pledges true, 
 
 These she shall not lack; 
 Who should carry them save you ? 
 (You, she whispered back). 
 
 " Echo, echo, if I go, 
 
 Shall I be denied ? 
 Tell me this, for you must know. 
 (No, the echo cried)." 
 
 It was a dainty performance and Toye gave the 
 echoed words with exquisite purity. 
 
 "How delicious!" cried Titian when the last 
 echo had faded up to the painted ceiling. " I know 
 the words, but where did you find such a perfect 
 setting?" 
 
 There was real warmth in her tone. 
 
 "The setting's Cosmo's," returned Toye care- 
 lessly. "The song is really a man's, but I took a 
 fancy to it, and as it suits my voice much better 
 than his, I invariably sing it whenever he's about, 
 so as to prevent him from doing so. " 
 
 "Amiable!" remarked Miss Gerard quite audi- 
 bly. She thoroughly disapproved of Toye, and 
 took no pains to conceal her opinion. 
 
 "It's kinder than you think, perhaps, Miss 
 Gerard, " said Toye, who was quite aware of the 
 fact, and rather enjoyed the knowledge than 
 otherwise. "It's too high for Cosmo, and he
 
 244 The Torch of Life 
 
 doesn't do the echo part a bit nicely. Do you, 
 Cossie?" she asked, swinging round on the piano- 
 stool as the men came in. 
 
 "Am I supposed to say yes, or no?" he asked, 
 drawing a chair towards where Titian sat. 
 
 "Come, my good youth, you're not going to be 
 let off like that," she said. "Here have I been 
 waiting for you to come in to play the accompani- 
 ment to a little ditty which expresses the views of 
 Mother and Dad and Fenty on the whole Sex 
 Problem (including the Feminist Movement) in 
 a nutshell." 
 
 "What's the name of the encyclopaedic lay?" 
 asked Cosmo, his hand still on the back of the 
 chair. 
 
 Titian gave a side-glance at him to see what he 
 would do, but she did not raise her eyes from the 
 plaque which she was twirling round and round 
 on its chain. She would not lift a finger to keep 
 him near her if he did not wish to stay. 
 
 Fenton stood near the piano, lifting sheets of 
 music and studying them with eyes that saw 
 nothing but the black-robed figure in the carved 
 chair and the green glints from the twirling jewel. 
 
 "It's The Auld Wife! I know Fenty will love 
 it," said Toye. "Be agreeable for once in your 
 short life, Cosmo, and come and play it."
 
 On the Balcony 245 
 
 "With pleasure, " he returned, taking his hand 
 reluctantly from the chair. "It is sweet to hear 
 you ask instead of order, Toye. I'm sure we all 
 owe your Uncle Fenty a debt of gratitude." 
 
 Fenton moved abruptly as Cosmo came up to 
 the piano. For a moment the two men stood side 
 by side. 
 
 It was the first time that Titian had had a chance 
 of actual comparison. She used to think that 
 Fenton looked rather nice in evening dress. Now 
 she saw that the firm line of cheek and chin and 
 the repressed sadness of his beautiful mouth won 
 distinction for him. Beside his strength, Cosmo 
 looked a dapper exquisite. 
 
 Fenton crossed to her side and sat in the chair 
 which Cosmo had left vacant. Something in his 
 look smote her to sudden pity. 
 
 "Tired, Fenty?" she asked softly, as Toye began 
 to sing. 
 
 Toye acted the little ballad with verve and point. 
 It was amusing to watch as well as to listen to her. 
 
 " Whustle, whustle, ye auld wife, 
 
 An' I'll gie ye a hen!" 
 " I couldna whustle for ma life, 
 
 Gin ye wad gie me ten." 
 
 " Whustle, whustle, ye auld wife, 
 An' I'll gie ye a cock."
 
 246 The Torch of Life 
 
 " I couldna whustle for ma life, 
 Gin ye gie me a flock! " 
 
 " Whustle, whustle, ye auld wife 
 
 An' I'll gie ye a man I " 
 " Whe-e-w ! Whe-e-w ! Whe-e-w ! ' ' 
 
 (Here Toye pursed up her lips in a mock attempt 
 to whistle) 
 
 "I'll whustle all I can!" 
 
 The applause which greeted her effort was un- 
 forced. Even Miss Gerard relaxed. Now that 
 Toye was in the mood for music her energies were 
 untiring. Song followed song, and when her voice 
 flagged, she made Cosmo take her place. But his 
 singing to-night held no thrill for Titian. She 
 enjoyed it from an artistic point of view, but it was 
 a pleasure that lacked glamour. 
 
 When Toye had had enough she whirled him off 
 the piano-stool. 
 
 "Now for the tango," she cried. "Mummy, 
 come and play El Choclo." 
 
 She drew Cosmo into a clear space and stood 
 with her hands on his shoulders, waiting for the 
 music to begin. She did not care whether anyone 
 else wanted to see the tango or rot. She wished 
 to dance it, that was enough. Over her shoulder
 
 On the Balcony 247 
 
 she flung a glance at Titian. The eyes of the two 
 women met, and Titian read defiance in Toye's 
 look. It was as if she said : "This is my playfellow, 
 not yours. He always has been mine always 
 will be mine. I came first. Hands off!" 
 
 "I came first!" That was written in every 
 supple curve of the bending body, of the red lips, 
 of the smooth hair rising above the carved jade 
 comb. 
 
 Something in Titian rose to the challenge. She 
 remembered the odd power which her beauty had 
 wielded over Arnot. For the first time, she recog- 
 nised it as a weapon of woman against woman. 
 For the first time also, she felt glad that she was 
 beautiful glad with the swift surge of that primi- 
 tive passion of which her inner consciousness was 
 somehow ashamed. 
 
 As the dancers lost themselves in the pleasure of 
 their woven paces, as they swayed backwards and 
 forwards in their magic circle of gold and orange 
 light, sending their shadows flickering, now to, 
 now from the watchers on the outskirts, Titian 
 had once more the lonely feeling of being thrust 
 outside a fairy ring. This time the sensation was 
 shot with a swift determination to get inside it 
 which made her incline graciously towards Fenton 
 when he touched her arm and said softly:
 
 248 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Come out on the balcony for a moment, will 
 you?" 
 
 Without a word, she rose noiselessly and fol- 
 lowed him to the open window. He stood aside 
 to let her pass, and she went out into the night 
 beneath the wide immensity of the star-pricked sky. 
 
 It was dark and clear. The stars seemed small 
 and bright and very far away. The distant lamp- 
 light threw a suffused glow on the balcony. 
 
 "What is it, Fenty?" she asked gently, leaning 
 over the parapet and looking down to the velvet 
 blackness of the canal, whose lapping waters were 
 scarcely visible. 
 
 Through the open window came the sound of 
 music and the "whisper- whisper" of sliding feet. 
 It seemed as if in one instant they had stepped from 
 a world of colour and movement into a solitude 
 of shadowy darkness. 
 
 Titian shivered a little. " Did you want to say 
 anything particular to me?" 
 
 "No. Yes. I don't know," answered Fenton, 
 leaning against the balcony and putting his hands 
 in his pockets. 
 
 He had been a fool to touch her bare arm, he 
 told himself. The contact with its smoothness 
 had sent fire through his veins. It was folly to 
 awaken needs which might never know fulfilment.
 
 On the Balcony 249 
 
 For one mad moment, he wondered what would 
 happen if he caught her in his arms and tried Toye's 
 test. Would his kiss have power to awaken her, 
 or was that boon for Cosmo or some other pleasant 
 trifler? No, he told himself, clenching his hands. 
 It would need a man to arouse her true woman- 
 hood. In his inmost being, he felt that he could be 
 that man, just as he knew that she was the one 
 woman for him. But it was his part to stand aside 
 and see others woo her. Honour, that most im- 
 palpable and indestructible of chains, held him 
 fast bound. 
 
 "You're rather vague, Fenty, " she said. 
 
 Fenton curbed himself to answer in ordinary 
 tones. 
 
 "The fact is that I wanted to have you to my- 
 self for a little. I wanted to get away from those 
 exuberant youngsters. They were beginning to 
 bore me." 
 
 "Oh, were they?" Her voice was cold. 
 
 In that one phrase, he seemed to put her on the 
 plane of his own middle-age, to shut her out once 
 for all from the charmed circle of youth. Exuber- 
 ant youngsters! He bracketed them together in 
 imagination, setting her aside. Hot tears sud- 
 denly welled into her eyes. It was cruel of Fenty 
 to rob her of her new-found youth.
 
 250 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Do you want to go back?" he asked wistfully. 
 
 The light from the window fell softly upon her 
 waves of hair and the line of her shoulders. 
 
 "I? Oh, no. It is very quiet out here." 
 
 "And you like quiet?" 
 
 " I don't. I hate it. I'm sick of it ! " she broke 
 forth. "I've had nothing but quiet all my life 
 until now." 
 
 He moved quickly. "I'm sorry. Let's go in." 
 
 She turned and laid a detaining hand on his arm. 
 
 "Oh, no, Fenty, don't be stupid," she cried 
 petulantly. She could not face the light again 
 until the tears had dried on her lashes. 
 
 He leaned back against the balcony rail. 
 
 "I'm afraid I am stupid," he said patiently. 
 "You must put up with me, Titian. You see, 
 I don't profess to understand women. I know 
 so few. Only Mollie and you." 
 
 "We're different types, at any rate," she an- 
 swered, touching her wet eyelashes surreptitiously 
 to remove the drops. 
 
 "You are." Then he asked suddenly. "Do 
 you agree with Toye that all good men are fools?" 
 
 ."I don't know," she replied, a little startled 
 by the intensity of the question. 
 
 "Think, then. It's time you learned to think. 
 You've got to think out heaps of things for your-
 
 On the Balcony 251 
 
 self. Only you yourself can live your own life. 
 Only you yourself can worry out your own Whys 
 and Wherefores. No one else is any use. " 
 
 " Fenty, why do you always find fault with me? '' 
 
 "I find fault with you?" he cried under his 
 breath. He moved farther into the shadows. He 
 did not want her to see his face. "I'm not find- 
 ing fault with you, child," he said gently. "I 
 only want to help you if I can. Tell me, do you 
 think a man is a fool who puts honour above all 
 considerations? " 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "Above his one chance of happiness?" 
 
 "No, indeed." 
 
 "I wish I could be sure that you understand 
 what you are saying, " he said with a stifled sigh. 
 
 "How can I when you talk in riddles?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I can't help it, Titian," he answered. "The 
 world's an odd place and man is the queerest 
 animal in it." 
 
 "I quite agree with you there." 
 
 Silence fell between them. From the room be- 
 hind, the music still sounded gaily, though the 
 sliding steps had ceased. Murmurs of voices, 
 snatches of instruction, a trill of laughter from 
 Toye floated through the open window.
 
 252 The Torch of Life 
 
 Titian stirred impatiently. She had no desire to 
 be a looker-on at life. She did not want to stay 
 moping here with Fenty in the shadows, especially 
 when he had grown so cross and queer. 
 
 "I haven't offended you?" he asked humbly. 
 
 "Oh, no." 
 
 "I was afraid I had." 
 
 "It isn't like you to be so meek, Fenty," she 
 said, with a little laugh. 
 
 The sound hurt. He felt very lonely, very 
 unhappy. 
 
 1 ' Isn't it ? " He went on with difficulty. ' ' You 
 see I want you to give me a a pleasant memory 
 for my for my " 
 
 "For your what, Fenty?" she asked. 
 
 "For my last evening," he blurted out. 
 
 "Your last evening?" 
 
 "Yes. I must get back to England to-morrow." 
 
 "Why? Oh, I am sorry." 
 
 "Business of various sorts," he answered shortly. 
 "I didn't tell you sooner because well, because I 
 didn't want to spoil the day." As he spoke he 
 felt miserably that the knowledge would not have 
 spoiled the day for her. 
 
 Her heart melted. She laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 "What pleasant memory can I give you, Fenty? 
 Tell me. I'll do anything you like. Would you
 
 On the Balcony 253 
 
 like to come out in the gondola? You haven't 
 been on the Grand Canal at night. It's entrancing. 
 
 There was nothing in her tone but the sweetest 
 friendliness. 
 
 Entrancing! Yes, it would be that. Out in 
 the darkness of the scented night, he and she, 
 alone beneath the stars. Too entrancing for him. 
 
 "No," he answered. His throat was dry. He 
 could not trust himself to say more. 
 
 "What then?" she queried. 
 
 "Nothing," he said, turning abruptly. "I 
 think we'd better get back to the others. " 
 
 "You are a stupid old Fenty, " she said, with a 
 puzzled smile, stepping into the light. Her eyes 
 were quite dry now. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, following her. 
 
 The tango was over, the dancers flushed and 
 smiling. He avoided the kind anxiety of Mollie's 
 look.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 LOVE WITHOUT WINGS 
 
 ODERN manners," said Miss Gerard, "leave 
 much to be desired. " 
 
 "We haven't seen enough of them to be able 
 to judge," answered Titian, putting down her 
 cup. 
 
 "You didn't see the way that little hussy danced 
 last night," Miss Gerard continued. "You had 
 the good sense to go out on the balcony with 
 Mr. Mede, delightful man!" 
 
 Deep down in Titian's heart lurked a feeling of 
 regret for Fenton; she feared that she had not 
 been nice enough to him. His little holiday was 
 so short, poor old Fenty, and now he was gone and 
 she could not make it up to him. It was good to 
 be with him ; she wished that he could have stayed 
 longer. 
 
 "I expect he was disgusted at his niece's per- 
 formance. Such antics I never saw! And then 
 her brazenness, cocked up on the mantelpiece!" 
 continued Miss Gerard. 
 
 254
 
 Love Without Wings 255 
 
 "It was Fenton who put her there, Miss Em." 
 
 " Of course. That sort of girl always provokes a 
 man to do that sort of thing to her. How well she 
 waited for Mr. Trevor to take her down!" 
 
 Titian flushed at the remembrance of the scene. 
 She felt a little tired this afternoon. A feeling of 
 flatness pervaded her day. A cloud, albeit a small 
 one, seemed to have arisen between her and Fenty, 
 and Cosmo Trevor appeared to be in no hurry to 
 renew that pleasant companionship which had 
 added such a new savour to life. Miss Em's 
 comments were too prejudiced to be amusing. 
 Venice had certainly lost some of its sparkle. 
 
 "Will you have some more tea, Miss Em?" 
 
 " No, thank you. Shall I ring to have the things 
 taken away?" 
 
 "Please," said Titian listlessly. 
 
 "She is lonely without Mr. Mede," thought 
 Miss Gerard. "Ah, I wonder " As she won- 
 dered, her sharp forefinger pressed the electric 
 button in time to an imaginary wedding-march, 
 and she came back to the tea-table with a smile on 
 her thin lips. 
 
 "What are you going to do now?" she asked. 
 "I'm half-thinking of going out to buy some of 
 those coloured postcards of the Lido which we saw 
 this morning. Would you care to come too?"
 
 256 The Torch of Life 
 
 "No, thanks. I don't think so. I think I'll 
 read for a little. I've hardly opened a book since 
 I came to Venice." 
 
 She rose as she spoke and went over to a table 
 which held some books. 
 
 "Very well, I won't urge you," said Miss 
 Gerard, "but it seems a pity to be indoors this 
 glorious afternoon. " 
 
 "I'll go out on the balcony presently. " 
 
 She turned over the books. None of them 
 appealed to her present mood. She was not in 
 the humour for the calm philosophy of Marcus 
 Aurelius, the brave self-satisfaction of Cellini, or 
 the delicate allusiveness of Lucas. The Tauchnitz 
 novels she dismissed as being unreal no novel 
 that she had ever read was anything like life as 
 she knew it; no imaginary characters thought or 
 felt as she did. Poetry was too romantic; she 
 was out of tune with the joyous paganism of old 
 Omar. 
 
 The waiter, Giuseppe, who had flown upstairs 
 at the imperative instance of Miss Gerard's hy- 
 meneal summons, lingered for a moment. 
 
 "The signora requires nothing more?" 
 
 "Nothing, thank you, Giuseppe." 
 
 "The signora receives?" 
 
 "Yes, if anyone calls."
 
 Love Without Wings 257 
 
 She pushed aside the books discontentedly and 
 walked to the window which opened on the bal- 
 cony. Beneath her moved the water-life, gay and 
 varied as ever. To-day it held no appeal. She 
 wondered why. Was it she who had changed? If 
 so, what had changed her? She did not quite 
 know. She would not admit any obvious reason. 
 
 A sound behind her made her turn a voice 
 saying in soft Venetian accents: 
 
 "77 signore Trevdre, miladi." 
 
 Cosmo Trevor came across the room towards 
 her. His face was alight. 
 
 Her own brightened in response. 
 
 "How good of you to see me," he said, taking 
 her hand in a quick possessive grasp. " I had not 
 a word with you last night. You were very 
 unkind. I had sad dreams all night. " 
 
 "Had you? Poor you!" she laughed softly. 
 "I was just going to sit out on the balcony and 
 read, but I couldn't find anything that I cared 
 about. Will you come and sit out too, or would 
 you rather stay here?" 
 
 "I would much rather be on the balcony with 
 you," he said, stepping out after her. 
 
 The afternoon sun sent golden shafts across the 
 green water ; the vivid reflections of the scarlet and 
 white palle beneath swayed like giant petals upon
 
 258 The Torch of Life 
 
 the ripples. Swifts screamed and darted. A gon- 
 dola with striped awning went by ; its two rowers 
 had orange sashes bound about their waists. 
 
 Titian drew a long breath. 
 
 It really was a glorious evening. Miss Em was 
 quite right; it was too good to be wasted indoors. 
 She pulled forward a low wooden chair with carved 
 arms and sat down. 
 
 Cosmo Trevor leaned against the edge of the 
 marble parapet and looked down at her. Certainly 
 she was very good to look at, and her trick of 
 flushing and paling made her seem strangely young. 
 There was a certain fascination in calling up and 
 watching for her lovely blush. 
 
 "Now give an account of yourself, most beauti- 
 ful lady," he said, with a quick look from his 
 handsome grey eyes. 
 
 "An account of myself?" she queried. 
 
 "Why did you desert us last night? Why did 
 you leave me to expend my utmost store of energy 
 in dancing with the irrepressible Toye?" 
 
 "I thought that was what you wished to do." 
 She laughed as she glanced up at him. Life had 
 suddenly grown amusing again. 
 
 "Did you indeed?" he asked softly. "I ad- 
 mired the masterly way in which Fenton en- 
 gineered your retreat. "
 
 Love Without Wings 259 
 
 "I didn't think you noticed," she exclaimed 
 simply. 
 
 "Didn't you? I notice most things, Mrs. 
 Fleury. I am a most observant person." 
 
 "I think you must be." 
 
 "I envied Fenton last night. All the time that 
 I was treading the mazy tango I was consumed 
 with a burning desire to rush out on the balcony 
 and bundle the offending Fenty, neck and crop, 
 into the canal." 
 
 "Were you?" she said, veiling her eyes. "I 
 wonder why?" The impossibility of the feat 
 gave her a feeling of pleasure. 
 
 He bent towards her. "Do you really wonder 
 why? I think you must know. Of course, I 
 wanted you to be nice to me instead of to Fenton. " 
 
 "But I wasn't," she cried remorsefully. "I 
 really was rather horrid to him." 
 
 "Were you? What a relief! I wish I had 
 known that last night." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I shouldn't have had such sad dreams," he 
 answered, smiling down at her. 
 
 What lovely limpid eyes she had, clear and 
 brown as mountain streams! What a soft, lovable 
 mouth! He felt a sudden desire to kiss it. He 
 would too, some day.
 
 260 The Torch of Life 
 
 He bent a little closer. 
 
 "Is this the balcony?" he asked. 
 
 "The balcony?" she echoed. For a moment, 
 she did not know what he meant. 
 
 Then the steady fire of his gaze enlightened her 
 and her cheeks flamed beneath it. 
 
 "Ah, I see you remember now," he said caress- 
 ingly. " I was afraid for one horrible moment that 
 you had forgotten, though I had no right to hope 
 for remembrance. You are very gracious. It 
 was rather an impertinence on my part. " 
 
 "Oh, no," she said in soft hurried tones. "Oh, 
 no." 
 
 "Shall I tell you what I saw that evening when 
 the moon shone out so suddenly?" 
 
 "Yes, if you like," she returned, feeling oddly 
 shy. Her breath came faster, her pulses quick- 
 ened as v they had done on the night of which 
 he spoke. It was as if he gave her back the 
 gift of youth which Fenty had seemed to snatch 
 away. 
 
 "I saw a goddess in a flood of silver light, a 
 goddess draped in the mantle of the night edged 
 with a drift of cloud. I saw a beautiful rapt face 
 as far above me as the stars, a neck of snow, aloof 
 as the moon in its whiteness. Then in answer 
 to my song the goddess became a woman. With
 
 Love Without Wings 261 
 
 divine generosity she rewarded her minstrel with 
 a flower." 
 
 His voice had sunk to a passionate whisper. 
 Speech had no difficulty for him. His very mur- 
 murs wooed. 
 
 "Stop!" cried Titian. "It was an accident. 
 I didn't really mean to give you those flowers. 
 They slipped out of my dress when I leaned over. " 
 
 "What does it matter? They were yours. 
 They came to me warm from you. That is all I 
 care about." 
 
 He moved nearer to her, his eyes glowing. 
 
 She felt a sudden shy fear. She pushed back her 
 chair. It grated on the marble. 
 
 Cosmo passed his hand over his smooth hair, and 
 gave a little embarrassed laugh. 
 
 "Forgive me, most beautiful lady," he said. 
 "You go to my head like wine." 
 
 " I you mustn't say such things, " she breathed. 
 
 "Don't you like to hear them?" 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 He laughed softly. " If I mustn't say them, you 
 mustn't provoke them. " 
 
 "But how do I provoke them?" she asked 
 innocently. 
 
 "Look in your mirror for the answer," he said. 
 
 To his surprise, his glance found her face clouded.
 
 262 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Is it always to be that?" she said, half to 
 herself. "Will no one ever like me for anything 
 but the outside me? " 
 
 He responded instantly to her change of mood. 
 In some ways, he was as intuitive as a woman. 
 
 "The outward you is the lovely inevitable 
 expression of the inward you," he said quickly. 
 "They are indivisible. He who loves one must of 
 necessity love the other. 
 
 "I was not talking of love," she answered, 
 leaning her chin on her hand. 
 
 "Were you not? Like is a cold word. It has 
 no colour." Cosmo embarked once more upon 
 his favourite pastime of playing with fire. 
 
 Deep down in Titian's heart, something stirred, 
 something which sounded a warning to her to keep 
 the game on the level of a game. One might play 
 earnestly, even seriously, so long as one remembered 
 that it was but a game, but danger lay in the 
 chance of forgetting that it was only play. 
 
 Her womanhood turned in its sleep. There was 
 a fuller note in her voice when she spoke, a note 
 which only sounded when she was moved. She put 
 aside his counters with a gesture. 
 
 "We will not talk of love, if you don't mind," 
 she said gently. "Love is too big a thing to be 
 laughed at."
 
 Love Without Wings 263 
 
 "I am too good an amorist to laugh at love," 
 he began. Then he stopped abruptly as he met a 
 dawning question in her eyes. 
 
 Seeing that something in his phrase had jarred, 
 he hastened to efface the impression. 
 
 "I have brought you an unworthy offering," 
 he said, going back into the sitting-room and 
 returning with a parcel, which he put into her 
 hands. "You honoured me before by promising 
 to accept it. " 
 
 He cut the string and left her the pleasure of 
 opening it. The unfolding paper revealed two 
 little volumes printed on thin paper and beautifully 
 bound in deep green leather tooled with a design 
 of pomegranates. 
 
 Titian gave an exclamation of pleasure. 
 
 "You like them?" he asked. "I did not need 
 to have them specially bound after all. By the 
 greatest good fortune, I came across them in a shop 
 this morning." 
 
 The Letters of Robert and Elizabeth Barrett 
 Browning. As Titian's fingers caressed the smooth- 
 ness of the leather, her thoughts flew back to 
 Fenton's comment on this very book. 
 
 "Those two knew what a big thing Love is," 
 continued Cosmo softly. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, still thinking.
 
 264 The Torch of Life 
 
 "There are latitudes in Love," he pursued ten- 
 tatively. "There are the warm valleys as well as 
 the mountain peaks. It is not given to all to 
 attain the heights. I was lucky to find these 
 already bound in green." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I wanted to have them bound in green to 
 match this," he touched her emerald ring and 
 with it her finger "and this." He took the 
 plaque in his hand and kept it there. "Also I 
 wanted to see a green book in your white hands. " 
 
 "Did you?" 
 
 It was the sort of thing which Arnot might have 
 said. A colour scheme which he might have 
 evolved for his own sybaritic pleasure. For an 
 instant her soul quailed within her. Her bitter 
 knowledge of Arnot threw a searchlight on his 
 type. Were all men like that, mere worshippers 
 of the beautiful external? Pain mingled with 
 her pleasure. 
 
 She felt the faintest pull at the platinum chain. 
 Cosmo had drawn it to its fullest length. She felt 
 as if he were slowly, slowly drawing her to him by a 
 thinner, less palpable chain. Their eyes met. His 
 look confused her. Her qualms melted beneath 
 it to give place to a sweeter troubling. 
 
 She ran her fingers along the chain until they
 
 Love Without Wings 265 
 
 reached the emerald plaque and touched his, 
 trembling slightly. 
 
 "Please," she said softly, looking away from 
 him. 
 
 "Very well," he said, answering her averted 
 look rather than her word. He drew a long 
 breath that was half a sigh as he released the 
 chain. 
 
 " I must go, " he exclaimed, as one who makes a 
 sudden and necessary resolution. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because the Wine of Life might prove too 
 strong for me if I stayed," he answered, taking 
 her hand in his. 
 
 "Good-bye, then, and thank you for these." 
 She touched the green books in her lap. 
 
 "Not good-bye. A rivederci," he murmured, 
 kissing the hand he held. 
 
 Turning abruptly from the sunshine to the 
 comparative dusk of the room inside, he almost 
 collided with Toye, who was coming in. 
 
 "Why, Cosmo, is that you?" she cried, survey- 
 ing him keenly. " You seem to be in a great hurry. 
 Did you see me coming and think you would 
 escape before I saw you or what?" 
 
 "What!" said Cosmo shortly. He had the 
 uncomfortable feeling of a child who is caught.
 
 266 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I suppose you were trying to console Mrs. 
 Fleury for the loss of Fenty. The same laudable 
 idea occurred to me. We must be twin souls, 
 my Cossie. " 
 
 "I thought that I had told you not to call me 
 that." 
 
 "Asked would be a better word. What shall I 
 call you, then? Cosmo mio?" 
 
 "Anything but that odious diminutive." 
 
 4 ' Cosmo mio, ' ' she repeated. ' ' That would be a 
 good thing to say before you were photographed. 
 Try it. Say it very quickly. Cosmo mio, Osmo 
 mio, Smo mio, Mo mio, Mio, lo, O!" 
 
 Cosmo muttered something inaudible. 
 
 "It would leave your mouth quite a pretty 
 shape. Quite kissable, eh Cossie? I think I'll 
 teach it to Mrs. Fleury. I'm sure she'd look per- 
 fectly adorable after saying Cosmo mio " She 
 rattled off the inane string again, pursing her own 
 mouth at the "O!" 
 
 "You little devil!" murmured Cosmo politely, 
 evading her pirouetting form and making his 
 escape. 
 
 "What are you going to teach me?" asked 
 Titian, coming in from the balcony. 
 
 "I was only teasing Cosmo," laughed Toye. 
 "He took it very badly. I suppose the sudden
 
 Love Without Wings 267 
 
 contrast between you and me was too much for 
 him. You never tease him, do you, Mrs. Fleury ? " 
 
 "I don't think that teasing is my mStier," 
 returned Titian. "Won't you sit down?" 
 
 "Thanks. I will for a moment. I found that 
 mother had written a letter to you, and as I was 
 in an energetic mood I volunteered to bring it 
 and save her a penny, or is it a half -penny here in 
 Venice? It's only some old address or other which 
 she forgot to give you last night. " 
 
 Titian took the letter. "Thanks. It was good 
 of you to bring it. " 
 
 "Wasn't it, very?" Toye wrinkled up her 
 nose. "I'm an obliging little darling, aren't I? 
 When are you coming to take lessons in the tango, 
 Mrs. Fleury? Cosmo and I are burning to teach 
 you." 
 
 Cosmo and I ! She was being thrust out again. 
 
 Her fingers sought the emerald plaque and 
 caressed it secretly. After all, she had her own 
 magic circle a circle of sunlight and moonlight. 
 It was Toye who had only the lamplight one. 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't sufficient energy to learn. " 
 
 "We made Miss Gerard's hair stand on end 
 last night," Toye chuckled. "It wasn't disap- 
 proval, was it, that made you lure Fenty out on 
 the balcony?"
 
 268 The Torch of Life 
 
 "It was Fenty who lured me, " answered Titian 
 calmly. 
 
 " One to you, Mrs. Fleury. Poor old Fenty, one 
 quite misses him. " 
 
 "I thought you detested him." 
 
 "I'm an adept at concealing my feelings, 
 aren't I? Fenty and I may dissemble our love, 
 but we've quite a sneaking regard for each other 
 all the same. Fenty is a jolly long sight the best 
 man I know." 
 
 "I thought that you considered all good men 
 fools." 
 
 " So they are, but that doesn't detract from their 
 goodness. It makes them a little duller perhaps, 
 but, Lord! excitement isn't everything." 
 
 "Isn't it?" 
 
 "It means a lot to you just now, doesn't it, 
 Mrs. Fleury ? ' ' Toye countered shrewdly. ' ' Fenty 
 managed to pack most of his into his early life. " 
 
 "Did he?" 
 
 " His wife has been in a lunatic asylum for years, 
 a private one of course, but it's all the same. She 
 was a hopeless dipsomaniac. Her people knew it 
 and they let Fenty marry her. He was only a boy, 
 twenty-two, and she was years older. They were 
 glad to get rid of her, and took advantage of his 
 boyish infatuation."
 
 Love Without Wings 269 
 
 "Do you think that Fenton would like you to 
 tell me this?" 
 
 "Why not? There's no secret about it. I 
 wonder he didn't tell you himself. She's dying 
 now, thank goodness! Didn't Fenty mention it 
 to you last night?" 
 
 "No," Titian answered, rising abruptly. Her 
 action was meant as a dismissal. For the mo- 
 ment, she felt that she did not care whether she 
 were rude or not. She only knew that she could 
 not stand Toye's presence any longer. 
 
 Toye rose too, and held out her hand. 
 
 "I must be off," she said. Her green eyes 
 twinkled maliciously. "I only hope that the 
 wretched Adela won't be like Charles the First, or 
 Cromwell, or Thomas a Becket, or whoever it 
 was who had to apologise because he took so long 
 in dying. I want poor old Fenty to have a little 
 happiness before my own grey hairs go down in 
 sorrow to the grave. " 
 
 Titian looked at the girl searchingly for an 
 instant. 
 
 "You think Fenton isn't happy?" 
 
 "Did he look happy last night?" 
 
 Titian thought of his worn face, his sad mouth, 
 and shook her head. "What happiness do you 
 wish for him?"
 
 270 The Torch of Life 
 
 "A real wife and a real home of his own, " Toye 
 returned. "Not startlingly original, eh?" 
 
 "No," Titian answered. 
 
 A vision of Fenton's face when he had told her 
 that Camus was his only home flashed before her. 
 Some perception of what his life must have meant 
 to a home-loving man smote her to silence. She 
 wished that Toye would go. She wanted to be 
 alone with her thoughts. Life had quickened 
 in her to-day. It was a good world after all. A 
 world in which one might always keep a light 
 burning for a friend. A world in which one must 
 always play the game. 
 
 When Toye had gone, she left an atmosphere of 
 unrest behind her. Titian went back to the bal- 
 cony, lifted Cosmo's books from the chair and sat 
 down with them in her lap. 
 
 Her words to him rang in her ears. 
 
 " Love is too big a thing to laugh at. " 
 
 How did she know that? Who had taught her 
 that crude expression of an elemental truth? She 
 had not learned it from Arnot's feeling for her 
 nor from hers for him. His passion had been too 
 earth-bound to wander from the warm valleys; 
 hers too feeble to climb far by itself. 
 
 It was not from Cosmo that she had learned it 
 either. He attracted her strongly. There was a
 
 Love Without Wings 271 
 
 magnetism about him. He made her feel his 
 
 presence, but . He had called himself an 
 
 amorist. Amorist! That meant a lover, not of 
 one but of many. Her brows drew together at 
 the thought. It was distinctly unpleasing. 
 
 Of all the men whom she knew there remained 
 only Fenton. How could he have taught her 
 anything of the inner meaning of love? The 
 only love of his of which she was aware had been 
 called a boyish infatuation. That belonged to 
 love in the caterpillar stage. It certainly was 
 love without wings. 
 
 Love with Wings! 
 
 She drew a long breath. Some deeper instinct 
 told her that of those whom she had passed in 
 review Fenton was the only one who really knew 
 what winged Love Love Triumphant might 
 mean. 
 
 Dear Fenty! She hoped that some day he 
 would find a woman who would be able to mount 
 to the heights with him, who would not want to 
 clip the wings of his love. But did she? What 
 woman would be good enough for Fenty? He had 
 said that he knew only two, and she was one. 
 
 After a little, she opened the book and began 
 to read. The phrases were glowing, intimate, 
 purely personal.
 
 272 The Torch of Life 
 
 A flood of colour flamed over face and throat. 
 Suddenly she realised what Fenty had meant. 
 She felt as if she were doing a dishonourable act, 
 and closed the book hastily. 
 
 "They should have been kept sacred," she said. 
 
 She rose and locked the two little volumes away.
 
 BOOK III 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MISS GERARD IS ANGRY 
 
 again after what seemed to Titian 
 a veritable Odyssey. 
 
 She felt a strife of pain and pleasure within 
 her when she caught sight of its old grey walls 
 through the wind-shaven trees of the avenue. 
 
 The Virginia creeper was in full leaf now and 
 hung in tapering trails of deep green over wall and 
 courtyard. The memory of her first homecoming 
 came sharply back to her. This time it was Miss 
 Gerard who sat beside her, and not her mother. 
 This time she drove in the motor-car, not in the 
 carriage. This time there was no big kindly figure 
 waiting to welcome her on the steps. 
 
 The sunshine seemed paler, less radiant than 
 
 the Southern brilliance which she had left behind 
 
 her. The first freshness of summer had left the 
 
 trees. They looked dark, and of a uniform sombre 
 
 '8 273
 
 274 The Torch of Life 
 
 green, unbroken by any feathery spring lightness. 
 
 The place seemed empty, lifeless. There was 
 no one to greet them, no one, apparently, to mark 
 their coming. 
 
 Titian felt a waft of unutterable loneliness as the 
 car drew up before the silent house. 
 
 As if a spell had been broken, the place seemed 
 suddenly to come to life. 
 
 Mrs. Brooke, the portly housekeeper, bustled 
 forth upon the steps, servants became visible, and 
 like a ruddy flash Rufus bounded to meet her, 
 crouching his silken length upon the ground and 
 springing upwards to lick her cheek in ecstasy. 
 
 In the hall, Bibi arched a soft grey back and 
 raised a plumy tail in greeting. 
 
 "Your train must have been up to time, 
 ma'am," said Mrs. Brooke, "or else Smith must 
 have driven very quickly. I asked him to sound 
 the horn so that we might know when you were 
 coming." 
 
 "I suppose he forgot. It doesn't matter," 
 said Titian, looking with new eyes at her old 
 surroundings. 
 
 "Those chauffeurs are all the same, ma'am," 
 Mrs. Brooke continued, lowering her voice con- 
 fidentially. "A stuck-up lot, thinking of nothing 
 but themselves. "
 
 Miss Gerard is Angry 275 
 
 Titian laughed. "Is there any news, Mrs 
 Brooke?" 
 
 "Mr. Mede was here yesterday to see that 
 everything was in order. He's making great 
 improvements in the village, under your instruc- 
 tions, ma'am." 
 
 "Under my instructions?" 
 
 "So he says, ma'am, and indeed the people are 
 very grateful. He desired me to say to you that 
 he was very sorry not to be here to welcome you 
 to-day, but he was called away on business last 
 night and was not sure when he would be back. 
 He said he would be over the first moment he 
 could." 
 
 Titian felt a little glow. So Fenton had not 
 forgotten after all. She wondered if the business 
 were in connection with his poor mad wife. It 
 was just like Fenty to think of her comfort in the 
 midst of his own trouble. She wished that she 
 had been nicer to him in Venice. 
 
 " I've ordered tea in your sitting-room, ma'am, " 
 continued Mrs. Brooke. "I thought it would be 
 more cosy there than in the big drawing-room. " 
 
 "Quite right. I shall be glad of a cup of tea, 
 won't you, Miss Em?" 
 
 "I won't say 'no 'to it, at any rate," said Miss 
 Gerard, unpinning her motor veil.
 
 276 The Torch of Life 
 
 "There are letters for you and Miss Gerard in 
 the sitting-room, ma'am." 
 
 "Letters! That sounds exciting," said Titian, 
 moving quickly in the direction of her room. 
 
 As she stood upon its threshold, and saw its 
 unfamiliar familiarity, she had the feeling of one 
 who is looking for the first time with waking eyes 
 at a place seen hitherto in dreams. 
 
 This room, with its soft strange colours, its 
 burnt-rose and pale yellow, its rich brown carvings, 
 had this really been the setting of so many hours 
 of unhappiness, of lonely wonderings, of restless 
 rebellions against Fate? 
 
 It seemed to belong to a past that was remote 
 yet ever present. 
 
 With a little sigh she moved towards the mantel- 
 piece and took up the letters. 
 
 "Two for me and one for you, Miss Em," she 
 said. "Let's open them and see if they contain 
 anything exciting." 
 
 As she spoke she thought of Toye's words, and 
 wondered if excitement did still mean much to her. 
 Excitement. Pleasure. The feeling of the pulse 
 of life. She had not experienced any in full mea- 
 sure since she had left Venice ; drifting homewards 
 by easy stages, lingering where the fancy took her, 
 her wanderings had been unfraught with glamour.
 
 Miss Gerard is Angry 277 
 
 The very mention of departure had seemed first 
 to shake and then to break up their pleasant party 
 at Venice. She had only seen Cosmo Trevor once 
 alone after that hour on the balcony an unfor- 
 gettable night, when they had gone out in a gon- 
 dola to hear the singers, when the pale girl with 
 red lips had closed her eyes and sung of love as the 
 nightingale might, when Cosmo had taken her 
 hand in his and held it unrebuked. That had been 
 the night before his departure. The memory of 
 it still gave her a little thrill. 
 
 Yes, that had meant excitement, but had it 
 meant anything more? She did not care to probe 
 too closely. She was content to drift for a while. 
 
 As she took her letters, she saw, with a quick 
 pulse of pleasure, that one of them was from him. 
 The handwriting on the other was unfamiliar. 
 
 She opened it first, keeping, like a child, "the 
 best for the last." 
 
 It was from Lady Tempest, a few warm lines 
 to welcome her home and to remind her of her 
 promise to stay with them. 
 
 "We hope to see you the first week in August, " 
 she wrote. "Of course, the invitation includes 
 Miss Gerard too. Hugh is ever so much better, 
 I am thankful to say. He has been a different man 
 since we came home. This is a great crow for
 
 278 The Torch of Life 
 
 Toye, who was always against our going abroad, 
 but I don't mind anything so long as he gets well 
 again. We are looking forward so much to seeing 
 you both. " 
 
 Titian read these sentences aloud to Miss Gerard, 
 who was sitting bolt upright in a chair with a 
 straight carved back. Her eyes were very bright 
 and her fixed colour had deepened. She glanced 
 to and from her own letter in a way which showed 
 unusual perplexity. 
 
 "It's very kind of them, I'm sure," she said at 
 last, "but I cannot go." 
 
 "You can't go? Why, Miss Em?" 
 
 "I'm very angry," she blurted out. 
 
 "Why, dear Miss Em? What has upset you? 
 Can I do anything to help?" 
 
 "I'm afraid you can't," said Miss Gerard, with 
 a half rueful laugh. "That wretched Baldwin 
 is going to have a baby." 
 
 "Baldwin ! Your brother? " 
 
 "Well, his wife. They're both responsible. 
 What does it matter? What on earth does Bald- 
 win want to start a family for at his time of life? 
 Why, he'll be more like the child's grandfather 
 than its father!" 
 
 "Oh, Miss Em!" 
 
 "You may well say, 'Oh, Miss Em!'"
 
 Miss Gerard is Angry 279 
 
 "Perhaps perhaps the mother wants it very 
 badly, " suggested Titian. 
 
 "Perhaps so, indeed," sniffed Miss Gerard. 
 "They've lost no time, I must say, with then- 
 Greek epigrams ! ' ' 
 
 Titian went over to her perturbed friend, and 
 putting her arm round her shoulder, laid a soft 
 cheek against hers. 
 
 "Do be nice and human about it, Miss Em. 
 Don't think harshly of the new little soul that's 
 coming into the world. I've always felt dreadfully 
 sorry for unwanted babies. It seems so cruel 
 
 somehow, when there are so many who 
 
 You'll be quite proud to have a tiny niece or 
 nephew of your own." 
 
 "No, I won't, Titian, and, what's more, you're 
 not going to cajole me into thinking so. " 
 
 "You won't need any cajoling, " Titian went on 
 with soft persistence. "You are always good to 
 young things. I remember how good you were to 
 me when I was little." 
 
 "Ah, that was different. You were a most en- 
 gaging child. I can't believe that that Gwen- 
 doline could have an engaging child. " 
 
 " But it will be your brother's as well. It will be 
 your own flesh and blood, Miss Em. Think of 
 that."
 
 280 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I do think of that, my dear. The more I 
 think of it, the more it is borne in upon me what 
 a plain man Baldwin is!" 
 
 "But it may be like you. " 
 
 "That's going too far. Be. off with you," said 
 Miss Em, giving Titian's cheek a resounding kiss. 
 "I have no delusions about my appearance, I 
 assure you. Nor Baldwin's either. " 
 
 "But what has this to do with your refusing the 
 Tempests' invitation?" asked Titian, going back to 
 the couch on which Bibi lay spread flat as a muff, 
 while Rufus, who had followed her, sat on the floor 
 again at her feet, beating the ground with feathery 
 tail. 
 
 "I thought I had explained. That ere ture 
 is puny and delicate and evidently is unable to 
 look after the house properly. Could she ever 
 do it, I wonder? She's not even capable of 
 having a baby without whining and pining about 
 it! Reading between the lines of Baldwin's 
 letter I can see the state of filth and discom- 
 fort everything is in. He wants to know if 
 I will go and stay with them for a while to 
 help to look after things until Gwendoline is 
 stronger. 
 
 Every mention of her sister-in-law's name was 
 accentuated by a sniff.
 
 Miss Gerard is Angry 281 
 
 Titian's face fell. She did not want to lose her 
 companion now. 
 
 " How long do you think that will be, Miss Em? " 
 she asked, rather ruefully. 
 
 Miss Gerard took up the letter and referred to 
 its opening passage : 
 
 "You will no doubt be much interested to hear 
 that my dear Gwendoline hopes to become a 
 mother in September. " 
 
 "In September. That's two months off, and 
 they weren't married till the end of October!" 
 she said. "I suppose I'll have to go. I" she 
 looked away towards the window "I don't like 
 to think of Baldwin in dirt and discomfort. He 
 never was used to it. " 
 
 "Perhaps things aren't as bad as you think." 
 
 "They're probably much worse," said Miss 
 Gerard, pessimistically. "And I had trained 
 Annie so nicely." Then she turned to Titian 
 again, with a melancholy cheerfulness. "After 
 all, I needn't leave until you go to the Tem- 
 pests. " 
 
 "Oh, no, please don't, Miss Em, if you can pos- 
 sibly manage it," Titian pleaded. 
 
 Miss Gerard rose and put a bony hand on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "It would be a hard thing that I couldn't man-
 
 282 The Torch of Life 
 
 age to do to please you, " she said, her face working 
 a little. "I'm very fond of you, child. " 
 
 Then she hurried from the room as if ashamed of 
 her emotional outburst. 
 
 When she had gone, Titian took up Cosmo's 
 letter and opened it with a little smile on her lips. 
 
 It, too, was meant as a welcome home, and said 
 in scented phrases how much he had missed her 
 gracious companionship, how much he looked for- 
 ward to renewing it when she came to Craven, how 
 there had been no moon in his sky since he left 
 Venice, how on that last night there he had scarcely 
 envied Endymion. 
 
 Prettily passionate, tenderly sentimental, it 
 roused within her the same sense of excitement that 
 his presence always evoked. 
 
 "It's very delightful, but how much of it is only 
 words, I wonder?" she said to herself, laughing 
 softly as she put the letter away. 
 
 Upstairs there was a sense of chill loneliness. 
 It was strange not to feel Arnot's personality 
 pervading the place, as it had always done, despite 
 his seclusion. A silence lay tangibly about the 
 corridors. The soft carpets stole the sound of her 
 footsteps, yet instinctively she walked on tiptoe 
 as one who fears to awaken a sleeper.
 
 Miss Gerard is Angry 283 
 
 There was a certain relief in not encountering the 
 dark form and pale eyes of Hammond, a sense as 
 of greater freedom now that his alien presence was 
 removed. She shivered a little when she. came 
 across the foils in a cupboard. She was glad that 
 she need never fence with Hammond again. 
 
 At last she forced herself to enter Arnot's rooms. 
 
 They were bare, chill, neat, and bore the aspect of 
 callous tidiness, of almost menacing emptiness, that 
 rooms are wont to assume when one who has occu- 
 pied them for long has gone from them for ever. 
 
 She sat down by the couch, whose silken coverlet 
 was now folded in a flat square. There, where she 
 had spent fugitive moments of happiness, of rage, 
 of despair, a flood of understanding swept over her 
 and washed away those bygone bitternesses. 
 
 For the first time, she understood something of 
 what Arnot had endured. For the first time, she 
 realised the force of his piteous rebellion. How 
 could she, who knew nothing of the joy of life, 
 grasp what the loss of it had meant to Arnot? 
 Arnot, who had snatched with wilful zest at every 
 passing pleasure, as she herself had wished to 
 snatch of late. What must it have meant to him 
 to lie here, day after day, year after year, crippled 
 and tortured with memories that made his im- 
 potence a living hell?
 
 284 The Torch of Life 
 
 As she sat there, she blamed her own pitiless 
 ignorance. If she had only known, if she had only 
 understood better, she might have been able to 
 help him more. At any rate, she might have been 
 more patient with him, she thought, forgetting 
 her long hours of submission to his caprices. 
 
 How could she know what Arnot had lost in that 
 fatal accident? By the exquisite perfection of 
 his surroundings, by his passionate admiration of 
 her own beauty, she realised something of what 
 the externals of life had meant to him. The inner 
 deeps had never been laid bare to her. Arnot's 
 beliefs, if he had any, had always been carefully 
 locked away. 
 
 To-day, in the light of her new knowledge, many 
 things became clear. Perhaps those little patter- 
 ing ghosts had haunted Arnot as well as herself. 
 She had never thought of that. She suddenly 
 remembered the kitten episode. Fenton had been 
 quite right. She had not understood. She did 
 not really understand yet, but she did not know 
 that. She only regretted, as so many women have 
 regretted before her, the lost opportunities of 
 understanding, the vanished moments of the 
 might-have-been which Time had shaken from 
 her grasp like petals scattered by the wind.-
 
 TWO IN A GARDEN 
 
 HPWO mornings later, Titian put on a shady 
 * hat and a pair of white gauntlet gloves and 
 went out into the garden to cut roses. 
 
 There was a fountain with a broad-ledged stone 
 basin in one corner. A clump of feathery bamboos 
 beside it sprang lightly towards the blue of the 
 sky and cast flickering shadows upon the ledge. 
 
 Here Titian sat when she had filled her basket, 
 and here Fenton found her when he -came in search 
 of her through the perfumed ways of the garden. 
 She thought, as she lifted her head to see him 
 coming along the path, that he looked younger and 
 more alert than usual. There was a new light 
 in his eyes. 
 
 She sprang up to greet him, a pale pink bud in 
 one hand. 
 
 "Welcome home," he said smiling. "I was 
 sorry not to be here to greet you on your 
 arrival." 
 
 285
 
 286 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I missed you, Fenty, " she answered frankly. 
 
 "Did you really?" he asked, slipping the 
 rosebud from her fingers and putting it in his 
 buttonhole. 
 
 She laughed. "It makes you look quite 
 festive." 
 
 "This is a festival," he said simply. "You've 
 come home again." 
 
 "Home," she echoed, "it sounds rather nice, to 
 come home. " 
 
 "Coming home," said Fenton, stressing the 
 noun, "is the very nicest thing in the world." 
 
 Titian looked quickly at him. A warm colour 
 answered him. 
 
 A home-loving man who had no real home, whose 
 chances of simple happiness had been wrecked 
 when he was a boy. Here was tragedy in the 
 garden sunshine. 
 
 Yet Fenton was no tragic figure. He sat on the 
 broad ledge beside her talking of ordinary things in 
 an ordinary way, taking up her roses and inhaling 
 their velvety fragrance with pleasure, asking all 
 sorts of trivial questions about her travels and 
 her journey. He positively refused to be fitted 
 with a halo of romance. No dark cloak of gloom 
 enwrapped his tweed-clad figure. He was just 
 Fenty, dear and reliable as ever.
 
 Two in a Garden 287 
 
 He did not touch upon his own affairs, nor could 
 she ask or sympathise until he did. He spoke of 
 hers instead. 
 
 "Now that I have come home," Titian said, 
 " I want you to teach me all sorts of things. " 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 "About my property and the management of it. 
 I am beginning to think, Fenty, as you ordered 
 me," she put in with a smile. "I want to know 
 all about my responsibilities, and to undertake 
 them as far as I can." 
 
 Fenton bent to sniff at the rose in his buttonhole. 
 
 "I have secured an excellent fellow as agent for 
 you, an old University man named Trant. He lost 
 his own property through no fault of his own. 
 Then he tried farming in Canada, but couldn't 
 stand the rigours of the winter there, so came home 
 again looking for a job. You'll find him thor- 
 oughly reliable, Titian. You may take my word 
 for that. " 
 
 "I'd take your word for anything, Fenty," 
 she answered. 
 
 "Thanks." Fenton moved abruptly. 
 
 "When will you begin my lessons?" 
 
 "What lessons?" 
 
 "Lessons on the art of managing my property, " 
 she replied gaily.
 
 288 The Torch of Life 
 
 " Oh, Trant will teach you all that. " 
 
 She glanced quickly at him. "Don't you want 
 to teach me, Fenty?" 
 
 "Trant will teach you as well, if not better 
 than I should. Don't turn his head, that's 
 all." 
 
 "Turn his head?" She drew up her own 
 proudly. " I don't do that sort of thing. " 
 
 "Oh, don't you? What about young Trevor?" 
 
 Her voice chilled. "I'm not aware of having 
 turned Mr. Trevor's head." 
 
 "Then you have less perception than I gave you 
 credit for. His infatuation in Venice was patent 
 to anyone who had eyes to see, " Fenton said with 
 a hard little laugh. "But then, Master Cosmo's 
 affairs are always made very perceptible." 
 
 Master Cosmo's affairs! His infatuation! A 
 swift wave of anger flooded Titian. Really, Fenty 
 was going too far. 
 
 "I shall feel very grateful if you will let my pri- 
 vate affairs alone. I don't interfere with. yours." 
 There was an edge on her voice that cut her 
 hearer. 
 
 He looked at her keenly . ' ' Your private affairs ? 
 Why, child, you're not serious? I " 
 
 "I do wish you'd let me alone, Fenty," she 
 burst out impulsively. ."First you refuse to do
 
 Two in a Garden 289 
 
 the one thing I ask you, and then you worry me 
 and make me say things I don't mean "_, 
 
 "You don't mean them?" he interrupted. 
 
 "You know I don't." 
 
 He softened suddenly. "And you know that 
 nothing would induce me to interfere with your 
 private affairs, Titian. Unless you call my clumsy 
 chaff on the subject of your little flirtation with 
 young Trevor interference. " 
 
 Her wrath flamed up again. "It's not a little 
 flirtation. What an odious vulgar word!" 
 
 "What is it, then?" The amusement in his 
 lazy eyes flicked her. 
 
 "It's a a friendship." 
 
 "Oh, I see. " Then he leaned across and caught 
 her wrist. "Does it mean anything to you 
 really?" he asked. 
 
 She met his gaze with a little look of defiance. 
 
 "Yes, it does, a good deal, " she answered. 
 
 He dropped her wrist and turned away. 
 
 "Thanks for being frank." 
 
 She moved uncomfortably, half regretting her 
 admission. 
 
 "Apropos of frankness," she said, after a little 
 sharp-edged pause, during which Fenton whistled 
 a soundless tune, "Mrs. Brooke tells me that I am 
 
 getting credit which I don't deserve. " 
 19
 
 290 The Torch of Life 
 
 "In what way?" asked Fenton without looking 
 at her. 
 
 "I am being praised for your improvements in 
 the village. " 
 
 "They are being done by your permission, 
 with your money. The late agent, Butcher, 
 neglected the property shockingly." He looked 
 at his watch. "By the way, I asked Trant to 
 meet me here at twelve. I want to introduce 
 him to you. " 
 
 Titian looked up. The haze which had veiled 
 the summer blueness of the sky had thickened into 
 clouds which now hid the sun. She shivered 
 slightly. 
 
 "How dark it has got," she said. "I think the 
 sunshine of Italy has spoiled me for these fainter 
 gleams. The very air here seems damp. " 
 
 "That's from the sea, of course," said Fenton. 
 His lips closed firmly. The light had died out of 
 his eyes. 
 
 "Yes," answered Titian. She did not want 
 to quarrel with Fenton. He was her one real 
 friend. 
 
 She held out a sudden olive-branch. 
 
 "Fenty, " she said in her most coaxing tones. 
 
 ' ' Yes. ' ' At the cooing inflection, Fenton steeled 
 himself.
 
 Two in a Garden 291 
 
 11 1 don't want Mr. Trant to teach me things. I 
 want you." Her lips were parted; her eyes 
 melted beseechingly at him. 
 
 Fenton paled. "I I'm afraid I can't." 
 
 "You mean you won't, " she flashed at him. 
 
 "Yes. If you like." 
 
 "Fenton, I can't understand you." 
 
 "No, " he said, as once before, "and I'm afraid I 
 can't enlighten you." 
 
 "Why" she began. 
 
 " Don't, " he said at the same moment. 
 
 Down the path, like a messenger of Fate, 
 came a servant to say that Mr. Trant was in 
 the library. 
 
 "Tell him we are coming," said Titian rising. 
 
 Fenton caught his breath. 
 
 " We ! My God ! " he said to himself. Then he 
 took the rose from his buttonhole and threw it into 
 the basin of the fountain. 
 
 Titian stopped, feeling hurt in some inexplicable 
 way. 
 
 "Fenton, why did you do that?" 
 
 "The festival is over, " he said drily. 
 
 She turned away without answer. Tears rushed 
 to her eyes. She blinked them hastily away. He 
 should not see that he had hurt her. They left 
 the garden in silence.
 
 292 The Torch of Life 
 
 When Fenton and Mr. Trant had gone, Titian 
 went to her desk and took out Cosmo Trevor's 
 letter. Propping her chin on her hand, she read it 
 through once more. 
 
 It soothed her wounded pride and charmed her 
 as his presence had always done. Here was one 
 who never found fault with her, who was touchingly 
 grateful for her slightest favour. 
 
 With a quick blush, she recalled the legend of 
 Endymion and Diana. He was audacious, her 
 minstrel. She must not let him grow too bold. 
 She must show him that his friendship with her 
 was not to be numbered among his "little 
 affairs. " 
 
 How prosaic Fenton was! How she hated his 
 way of forcing one to assertions ! It was almost as 
 cruel to pin down half -realised thoughts as butter- 
 flies! Certainly they lost as much bloom in the 
 process. 
 
 She drew a sheet of paper towards her and 
 began to write to Cosmo Trevor, but in a mo- 
 ment she stopped. She did not know this new 
 Fenton. He was a much more disturbing person 
 than the Fenton of former days. She remem- 
 bered how she had compared him to a tree. 
 Well, the tree did not seem inclined to shelter 
 her any longer.
 
 Two in a Garden 293 
 
 She wondered why, and with the wonder came 
 back the sense of hurt that she had felt when he 
 threw the rose into the fountain. 
 
 A tear splashed down upon Cosmo's letter.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 TOYE ON KISSES 
 
 KISSING," Toye Tempest announced, "is a 
 mere convention. " 
 
 She lay in a hammock which was slung from 
 a cedar tree on the lawn at Craven. 
 
 Tea was being prepared under another cedar 
 whose branches touched the branches of Toye's 
 resting-place. The twin cedars were the pride of 
 Sir Hugh's heart. 
 
 Cosmo Trevor leaned against the trunk and 
 looked at her. The cheery clink of cups and the 
 stir beneath the other tree seemed to accentuate 
 their pleasant sense of isolation. 
 
 The day was sultry and the shade of the cedar 
 was grateful. Toye waved a walnut-branch to 
 keep away the midges. Its spicy odour was wafted 
 on the warm air towards Cosmo. 
 
 "If you give me one of your superfluous cush- 
 ions," he said, "I will compose myself in comfort 
 to listen to your dissertation on the subject. " 
 
 294
 
 Toye on Kisses 295 
 
 " Here, then, " cried Toye, pulling out a cushion 
 from behind her and throwing it at him. "Give 
 me a cigarette before you sit down, and then place 
 yourself where I can see you. You're a thing of 
 beauty, to-day, Cosmo, with your heliotrope socks 
 and tie! I've completed the picture with that 
 purple cushion." 
 
 Cosmo sat on the ground and looked at her. 
 There was never any fear of boredom in Toye's 
 company. She was wilful, provocative, sometimes 
 even maddening, but she was never dull. 
 
 "You must possess your soul in patience for at 
 least another half -hour, my poor young friend," 
 she continued. "Her train is not due until four, 
 and fat Rollo takes from twenty minutes to half 
 an hour to amble here from the station. Have 
 you kissed her yet, Cossie?" 
 
 Cosmo looked at her. 
 
 Toye laughed and waved her cigarette. "As I 
 remarked before, kissing is a mere matter of con- 
 vention. Some women do it and some don't. 
 To some, it means as little as drinking a cup of 
 tea, a pleasant and harmless stimulant. To some, 
 it is a sort of all or nothing. " 
 
 " Pray continue. This is highly instructive. " 
 
 "The verb to kiss is as encyclopaedic in its 
 meaning as the verb to love. The one poor word
 
 296 The Torch of Life 
 
 has to do duty for ever so many sensations. It's 
 like the one good black dress of the poor relation 
 which has to serve for both day and evening wear, 
 with little alterations. " 
 
 "Expound, please," said Cosmo. 
 
 "There's the daily family kiss, for instance, as 
 stodgy and uninteresting as a currant bun. Then 
 there's the forced relationy kiss. That's like 
 like cabbage in aspic!" 
 
 "But one doesn't put cabbage in aspic." 
 
 "That's my point. It's a callous travesty of 
 something good. Then there are other kisses, 
 the meringues of flirtation without any cream 
 inside! And then there's the real thing. So 
 much for kisses. As for the kissees, as I said before, 
 they resolve themselves into two classes, those 
 who allow it and those who don't. " 
 
 "To what category do you belong?" 
 
 "Which do you think?" 
 
 "Upon my word I don't know. You're an 
 enigma to me, Toye. " 
 
 "How unwise of you to admit it! I shall be 
 vainer than ever. But it's really all right, Cossie. 
 She's very simple and easily taken in. She will 
 never see through you as I do. " 
 
 "Toye, I do wish you wouldn't. " 
 
 "Wouldn't what?"
 
 Toye on Kisses 297 
 
 "Chaff so about Mrs. Fleury." 
 
 "Why, Cossie? Does it hurt?" 
 
 "N no, but it jars." 
 
 A silence fell, during which Toye took up her 
 walnut fan, and waved it to and fro. Cosmo 
 lit another cigarette. Presently he turned to 
 her again 
 
 "Do you think that Fenton cares for her?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Toye tried to read his face in a swift scrutiny 
 before she answered. She did not want to stimu- 
 late his interest in Titian by the mention of a 
 possible rival. 
 
 "How should I know?" she returned carelessly. 
 "Men generally admire that large soft type of 
 woman." 
 
 "But I mean more than admiration." 
 
 "You'd better ask him, Cossie. Fenty is so 
 communicative that I'm sure he will be only too 
 delighted to give you all possible information on 
 the subject." Her laughter tinkled gaily. 
 
 Cosmo moved impatiently. She waved the 
 walnut-branch at him in aromatic wafts. 
 
 "What is it that makes a kiss mean anything?" 
 she said at last, looking down at the branch. 
 
 "Does it mean anything beyond a passing 
 pleasure?"
 
 298 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Don't you know?" Her voice vibrated, and 
 there was a queer glint in her half-closed eyes. 
 
 "No, I don't, " he answered. Something in the 
 question stirred him. 
 
 He sprang up and went over to the hammock, 
 putting a hand on either side, and looking down 
 at her. 
 
 "I see that," she murmured. 
 
 "By gad, I believe you could teach me!" 
 
 "By gad, I believe I could," she said, glancing 
 up at him through those greenish slits. 
 
 " Will you, Toye? " He bent towards her. His 
 voice was eager. 
 
 She turned her head aside. "I'm not giving 
 any lessons just at present, thank you." 
 
 Cosmo stooped lower. "Aren't you? Perhaps 
 I'll take them. " 
 
 "No, you won't, Cosmo!" she cried sharply. 
 
 His eyes held hers for an instant. Then he 
 raised himself reluctantly, without losing hold of 
 the hammock. Never had he known Toye to be 
 so provocative. Never had he felt so strongly the 
 allure of the impudent freckled face so near his 
 own. It was as if he saw her to-day with new 
 eyes. 
 
 .Toye read his altered look and laughed up at 
 him softly.
 
 Toye on Kisses 299 
 
 "Oh, Cosmo, don't be silly!" she cried. "I'm 
 not one of your sentimental divinities who expects 
 to be made love to on all occasions. Do go and 
 sit down on your pretty purple cushion!" 
 
 "Damn!" said Cosmo Trevor. 
 
 "Which? The cushion or me?" she asked, 
 swinging her feet over the edge of the hammock, 
 suddenly alert. 
 
 He looked at her. Fire and anger mingled in 
 his glance. Then he gave a half -rueful laugh. 
 
 "You are a little devil," he said slowly. 
 
 "Yes. Aren't I?" she retorted, using the ham- 
 mock as a swing. 
 
 A sound of wheels drew their relaxed attention. 
 
 "Here's your Sleeping Beauty, Cosmo," said 
 Toye. "Let's go and meet her." 
 
 Titian had seen them from the moment that the 
 carriage had rounded the curve of the avenue, and 
 now watched them with a little pang at her heart 
 as they came across the grass two alert young 
 figures, careless, happy, and together. 
 
 Lady Tempest, who with old-fashioned hospital- 
 ity had met her guest at the railway station, 
 turned towards her. 
 
 "I see that tea is ready under the cedar," she 
 said. "There are Toye and Cosmo coming 
 towards us. Shall we go to meet them or would
 
 3oo The Torch of Life 
 
 you rather rest and have tea sent to your 
 room?" 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you," Titian answered hastily. 
 "I am not a bit tired. I would much rather be 
 out. I have been so much indoors all my life 
 that it seems to me to be a pity to waste a fine 
 moment in a house. " 
 
 "You are looking even better than you did at 
 Venice, dear." 
 
 "Am I? I suppose it's because I am happy." 
 
 "Happiness is the best beauty specialist," said 
 Lady Tempest. "I should like to think that you 
 were happy while you were with us. " 
 
 "I'm sure I shall be." Titian's pang was for- 
 gotten in the pressure of Cosmo's hand, the warm 
 look from beneath his thick lashes. 
 
 "And so poor Dad's inamorata could not come ! " 
 said Toye in her clear voice. "I'm sorry for his 
 sake that she is too much occupied at present in 
 becoming an aunt! For my own too, because it 
 affords me such innocent amusement to shock her. 
 I wish her relations had chosen a more convenient 
 season to have babies!" 
 
 "My dear Toye!" her mother murmured in 
 remonstrance, with a glance towards Cosmo. 
 
 "My dear mother!" mimicked Toye, her tones 
 chilled to a hard brightness. "I have never been
 
 Toye on Kisses 301 
 
 able to understand why it should be considered 
 indecent to refer to one of the principal events of 
 nature, when you would discuss without a blush 
 the fact of your neighbour's wife having eloped 
 with her chauffeur!" 
 
 "There are many points on which we all require 
 enlightenment, I daresay," said Lady Tempest, 
 hastening towards the shade of the cedar-tree. " I 
 am only surprised to find that there is any ques- 
 tion which modern girlhood does not profess to 
 understand!" 
 
 "One to you, mummy," said Toye, with her 
 little chuckle. "And as for modern girlhood, I 
 am a woman now. Twenty-one. Of full age, 
 and quite responsible for my own actions. " 
 
 "You have now reached the years of indiscre- 
 tion," put in Cosmo. "And you seem likely to 
 make full use of them. Take this chair, Mrs. 
 Fleury. I know them all and this is quite the 
 best." 
 
 "Thank you," said Titian softly. 
 
 "How is Fenty, Mrs. Fleury?" asked Toye, 
 flinging herself down on the grass. 
 
 "Very well, indeed. How beautiful it is here," 
 she said, turning to Lady Tempest. "It seems so 
 quiet after Camus. One hears the sea- voice always 
 there. "
 
 3O2 The Torch of Life 
 
 "And beauty born of murmuring sound shall pass 
 into her face," murmured Cosmo, in a tone that 
 was intended for her alone, as he brought her tea. 
 
 Low as the murmur was, Toye's lynx ears caught 
 it. She pinched his heliotrope ankle as he passed 
 her. 
 
 "Why do you never say those lovely poetical 
 things to me, Cossie?" she whispered. 
 
 There were real tears in her eyes, but Cosmo 
 was not so easily taken in as Fenton had been. He 
 knew Toye's gift of old. He, like Fenton, had 
 bought his experience. 
 
 "The only beautiful thing in nature of which 
 you remind me, Toye, is a stinging-nettle," he 
 answered. 
 
 "How funny!" she cried. "Great wits jump. 
 Fenty called me a nettle, too, that evening at 
 Palazzo Marin when he put me on the mantel- 
 piece. Do you remember, Mrs. Fleury?" 
 
 "I remember very well, indeed. " Titian's eyes 
 met Cosmo's, and they smiled. 
 
 He brought a chair to her side. 
 
 Toye bit her lip and was silent for a moment. 
 Then she said carelessly: "You must really let me 
 teach you to dance, Mrs. Fleury. You will be here 
 for my belated coming-of-age ball. You must 
 learn before then!"
 
 Toye on Kisses 303 
 
 "A ball!" Titian looked from one to the other 
 with delighted surprise. "Do you know that I 
 was never at a ball in my life?" 
 
 "It's time we remedied that," said Cosmo. 
 "You shall have your first dancing lesson this 
 evening, if Lady Tempest will invite me to dinner. " 
 
 Lady Tempest laughed. "You know you're 
 always welcome, my dear boy. " 
 
 "I wanted to have a costume ball of some sort, 
 but they were all too lazy to dress up, " Toye con- 
 tinued. "Cosmo said that nothing would induce 
 him to make a greater fool of himself than nature 
 had done already, or words to that effect, and 
 Fenty absolutely refused to come if it meant fancy 
 dress. It's too bad. I wanted to go as a candle. 
 A burning and a shining light. " 
 
 "What dark places you would be able to illumi- 
 nate!" said Cosmo. 
 
 "Is Fenty coming?" asked Titian quickly. 
 
 Toye cast a side-glance at her. 
 
 " I could not come of age properly if Fenty were 
 not there to see me sloughing childish things." 
 
 "Ah, there are Hugh and the boys. I must ask 
 Saunders to bring fresh tea. " 
 
 Lady Tempest rose. 
 
 "Let me go," said Cosmo, rising too. 
 
 For a moment, Toye and Titian were left
 
 304 The Torch of Life 
 
 alone together, as the other two went across the 
 lawn. 
 
 Toye plucked a blade of grass and nibbled 
 it reflectively. Then she glanced up again at 
 Titian. 
 
 "I suppose you've heard that that wretched 
 Adela is dead," she said. 
 
 "Who is Adda?" 
 
 "Fenton's wife." 
 
 "Oh." 
 
 "She died about a week ago. A happy release 
 if ever there was one. " 
 
 Titian looked at the girl. "I wonder why you 
 are so anxious to tell me of Fenton's private 
 affairs. " 
 
 "I thought you and he were such pals," she 
 answered, a little uncomfortably. "This grass is 
 delicious. Have you ever tried it, Mrs. Fleury? 
 It's got a really green taste." 
 
 "I don't think I should care for things with a 
 green taste, " said Titian, smiling. "It sounds too 
 Futurist for me. After all, one lives in to-day. 
 What's the use of snatching at the things of 
 to-morrow?" 
 
 She was never long in Toye's presence without 
 feeling as if the girl had touched some bright thing 
 and tarnished it. Why should not Fenton keep
 
 Toye on Kisses 35 
 
 his troubles to himself if he wished? There was no 
 reason why he should tell her about them. All the 
 same, deep down in her heart lurked a little sore 
 feeling of resentment at his withheld confidence; 
 but she was determined not to let Toye know that. 
 
 "How well your father is looking," she said, 
 rising to meet him. "Ah, Sir Hugh, I needn't ask 
 how you are." 
 
 "All the better for seeing you at Craven, my 
 dear young lady," he answered, smiling at her. 
 "Have you noticed my twin cedars? They, too, 
 are proud to welcome you. I assure you that we 
 are not going to lose sight of you in a hurry. My 
 sons, come and be introduced to the new cousin 
 whom we discovered in Venice. " 
 
 Titian felt her sense of happy well-being return 
 at the cordiality of Sir Hugh's greeting. It was 
 pleasant to hear the sound of his deep welcoming 
 voice. He looked less frail too than amid the 
 shadows of the huge sala at Palazzo Marin. Here, 
 on his lawn, playing the host, and displaying the 
 beauties of his immemorial cedars, he was in the 
 picture as he had not been there, and Titian's 
 impulsive heart warmed towards him anew.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MIDGES IN AMBER 
 
 TT seemed to Titian as if she had really recap- 
 * tured her lost youth in the time that followed. 
 
 She moved in an atmosphere of light-hearted 
 gaiety, an atmosphere redolent of youth, and 
 mirth, and the joy of life. The Tempest boys, 
 frank and exuberant, were swift to worship at her 
 shrine. They helped with the dancing lessons, 
 they taught her how to play tennis and croquet, 
 they disputed her favours with Cosmo Trevor 
 as if he were one of their own age. They or- 
 ganised tournaments, picnics, fishing-parties, and 
 swept her along on the crest of their young en- 
 thusiasms. 
 
 Titian was quick in responsive warmth. She 
 had never before tasted the joys of such fresh 
 companionship, and her whole nature expanded in 
 its light. She laughed at their jokes, and was 
 ready to ride, walk, or play with them as they 
 desired. 
 
 306
 
 Midges in Amber 307 
 
 Living in the centre of the family life as she did, 
 she seldom saw Cosmo alone, but this cast no 
 shadow on her golden days. She was floating on 
 a full tide at present ; she did not want to steer in 
 any given direction. Sometimes Cosmo snatched 
 an hour alone with her in the garden at Craven, 
 whose thick yew hedge held deep recesses cut for 
 seats. 
 
 Sometimes he read to her; sometimes he touched 
 her hand, so lightly that it seemed but the brushing 
 wing of a caress. She did not see the gossamer 
 threads which Toye had woven round him; fairy 
 filaments which yet were strong enough to hold 
 his hand from the bolder captures of Venice. At 
 all times, in all places, his eyes worshipped her 
 beauty, hymning its praises to her until they were 
 lost in the wonder of her blushes. 
 
 If she were aware of any check in their relations, 
 it was with a pleasurable consciousness. The tide 
 at Venice had seemed to verge perilously upon a 
 torrent. She had no desire to be swept onward in 
 its rush. She was content to drift ; content to hold 
 out her hands, as in her real girlhood, for the 
 flowers of these uncounted days; content to take 
 the blossom-gifts without question or analysis so 
 long as the golden hours were scented with their 
 sweetness. Sometimes she wondered if Fenton
 
 308 The Torch of Life 
 
 had quite forgotten her, but hurt pride quickly 
 thrust the thought aside. 
 
 It was a careless, happy time, fragrant with 
 unforced pleasures. 
 
 Sometimes in the evening when they tired of 
 dancing, Toye or Cosmo would sing. It was al- 
 ways to her that Cosmo seemed to sing, whether 
 his beautiful voice throbbed in the passion of To 
 Anthea or laid "the heavens' embroidered cloths" 
 beneath her feet in worship, or lilted of the ringing 
 of love's "bells of enchanted gold." He was al- 
 ways her minstrel. Hers, not Toye's, she thought, 
 with a throb of happy pride. 
 
 Like an unawakened girl she desired nothing 
 more for the moment. She was happy. She did 
 not want to probe for the why or the wherefore 
 while the uncapturable seemed to be really within 
 her grasp. 
 
 Sometimes Toye's voice would ring across 
 her musings with poignant sweetness, haunting 
 snatches of song that craved and questioned and 
 woke wistful echoes; but if ever their sadness 
 brought tears to Titian's eyes, Toye was sure to 
 dry them with quick self-mockery and a little 
 trilling laugh. 
 
 Try as she would to stifle the feeling, the girl 
 always jarred on Titian. There was something
 
 Midges in Amber 309 
 
 innately antagonistic in their temperaments. 
 They were as combatants differently armed for 
 encounter; Titian with the broadsword of her 
 beauty, Toye with the rapier of her wit. Neither 
 was willing to sheath her unconscious weapon in 
 the presence of the other, and the flash of each 
 wove a perturbing cross-fire of lights. 
 
 This was the fly in the amber of Titian's days. 
 Sometimes it was almost invisible; at others a 
 mere midge; and midges, she told herself, without 
 reckoning upon the preservative qualities of amber, 
 were ephemeral. 
 
 Only one disturbing incident occurred to ruffle 
 the calm, and catch Titian back into the whirlpool 
 of the past. 
 
 On a still, cloudless morning she sat reading be- 
 neath the cedar from which Toye's hammock hung 
 gaily. The boys had gone to play in a cricket- 
 match; Cosmo was going to borrow his brother's 
 car and drive her and Toye to see their prowess 
 in the afternoon, and for the moment she was 
 absolutely idle. 
 
 It was pleasant to sit under the cedar, to read 
 or dream as the mood varied ; therefore it was with 
 a smothered sigh of disappointment that she saw 
 Toye coming across the lawn presently. 
 
 "Why don't you try the hammock, Mrs.
 
 310 The Torch of Life 
 
 Fleury?" she said as she came nearer. "It's 
 awfully comfy, and I'm sure it would bear you!" 
 
 "I don't think that I shall test it, thanks," 
 Titian answered. "This chair is quite comfort- 
 able enough for me." 
 
 "That's Cosmo's favourite, " said Toye, slipping 
 into the hammock, and tucking up her feet with a 
 swirl of scanty skirts. " He's as lazy as a cat, and 
 as handsome. Don't you think he's very hand- 
 some, Mrs. Fleury?" 
 
 "Yes, he is good-looking," Titian admitted. 
 "But what do looks matter? Handsome men are 
 generally rather impossible." 
 
 "Do you consider Cosmo impossible?" 
 
 Titian smiled. "You must admit that he is a 
 little improbable at times." 
 
 Toye glanced up quickly. "He is rather. So 
 am I, you know. That's why we both shock 
 mother so much." 
 
 "Why do you take such a delight in shocking 
 your mother?" Titian asked. 
 
 "I shock mother purely for educational pur- 
 poses," Toye returned. "As long as you are 
 capable of being shocked, you are capable of 
 learning something. When you cease to be 
 shockable, you cease to be teachable, and your 
 mind begins to atrophy."
 
 Midges in Amber 311 
 
 Titian smiled. "That's quite a new point of 
 view to me. " 
 
 "Don't you see its truth, though? When one 
 ceases to be shocked, one calls one's attitude tol- 
 erance, but it really means that you've seen every- 
 thing and heard everything and done everything 
 that's worth doing, and that everything bores you 
 now. That's decay. That's mental atrophy. I'd 
 like to be killed by a flash of lightning before that 
 happens to me. Don't you think that would be 
 a glorious death, Mrs. Fleury?" 
 
 "I should like to die in the sun," Titian be- 
 gan, when her answer was checked by the sight 
 of Marshall coming towards her across the 
 grass. 
 
 Something in the alert figure, the mincing steps, 
 the purposeful air brought a little chill of fore- 
 boding to Titian's heart. 
 
 "What is it, Marshall? Anything wrong?" she 
 asked when the maid came nearer. 
 
 "Nothing wrong at all, madam. It is only 
 this. Hammond is here and wishes to know if 
 you will be kind enough to see him. " 
 
 Hammond! At the mention of his name, the 
 cloud of the past darkened once more over Titian. 
 The chill deepened. 
 
 "What does he want?"
 
 312 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I don't know, madam. He's very close, is 
 Hammond. He only said he wanted to see 
 you." 
 
 "Who's Hammond?" asked Toye, lazily. 
 
 "He was Arnot's man," Titian answered, turn- 
 ing a face towards her from which all the brightness 
 had fled. "I suppose I'd better go and see what 
 he wants. Where is he, Marshall?" 
 
 "In the small morning-room, madam. Her 
 ladyship said to take him there." 
 
 With a little sigh, Titian rose and went to the 
 house. Her footsteps lagged on the lawn. She 
 had banished Hammond with the past and had 
 hoped that she need never see his sallow face again. 
 Now she was to see him in a moment and with 
 him the pictures which she vainly trusted had been 
 blotted out for ever. 
 
 Her stifled years at Camus rose vividly before 
 her as she came into the man's presence. A wave 
 of dislike for him swept over her as he bowed 
 respectfully and placed a chair for her in his old 
 deft fashion. 
 
 "How are you, Hammond? What can I do for 
 you?'" she asked quietly, curbing her unreason- 
 able prejudice. 
 
 "I am after a place in the neighbourhood, 
 madam, " he replied, with a swift glance from his
 
 Midges in Amber 313 
 
 light eyes. "I should be most grateful for your 
 kind recommendation. " 
 
 "I shall be pleased to recommend you," she 
 answered, "if you think it necessary. Did I 
 not give you a reference when you left Camus?" 
 
 "Yes, madam, you and Mr. Mede were both 
 most kind, but it is a personal recommendation 
 I would ask for this time. Just a word from you, 
 madam, to Mr. Trevor would have great weight, 
 I am sure. " 
 
 "Mr. Trevor?" 
 
 "Yes, madam. Mr. Cosmo Trevor wants a 
 man, and I am applying for the post. I under- 
 stand that he is a friend of the family here, and 
 that a word from you would have great weight. " 
 
 Titian flushed. " I will write you a letter if you 
 like, Hammond, and answer any questions that 
 Mr. Trevor cares to ask. More than that I 
 cannot do. " 
 
 She felt a singular distaste to the whole matter. 
 She did not want to link Cosmo in any way with 
 her past. He belonged to the present, to the 
 future. She hated to think of him as connected 
 with Arnot, however slightly. It jarred upon her. 
 She wished Hammond in Jericho anywhere but 
 at Craven, in anyone's service but Cosmo Trevor's 
 yet she could not refuse so simple a request.
 
 314 The Torch of Life 
 
 The man had been an excellent servant. He had 
 been devoted to Arnot. She rose and went to a 
 writing-table. 
 
 "You will say a good word for me to Mr. Trevor 
 if he asks about me, madam?" said Hammond's 
 silky tone almost in her ear. 
 
 She started. She had not heard him move. 
 
 "Certainly," she answered curtly. "You may 
 go now, Hammond. I will send you the letter 
 when it is ready. " 
 
 "Thank you, madam. I am very grate- 
 ful." 
 
 Even when the door closed behind him, Titian 
 looked round again to be sure that he had really, 
 gone. 
 
 The morning's brightness had evaporated with 
 his coming. 
 
 Chin on hand, she sat for a long time before the 
 blank sheet of paper, seeing episode after episode 
 in which Hammond had played the part of silent 
 observer. Did men talk to their valets? she 
 wondered. Arnot had talked to Hammond when 
 she was not there. Would Hammond talk to 
 Cosmo Trevor? Would he tell him of her humilia- 
 tions? Would he tell him of her hours of sub- 
 mission, of her being decked and draped like an 
 idol, of the experiments tried upon her beauty?
 
 Midges in Amber 315 
 
 Would he? Would he? she wondered fiercely 
 
 and would Cosmo Trevor listen? 
 
 Her cheeks burned hotly at the thought. What 
 folly it had been to play at forgetting a past which 
 still lived, which could paradoxically run on ahead 
 of one, and lie in ambush, ready to leap out when 
 one least expected it! 
 
 Would he listen if Hammond talked? Would 
 men? Did men? She knew so little about them 
 really. She knew so little about anything, if it 
 came to that. She had not minded Fenton's 
 knowledge. He belonged to the past. He was 
 the one good thing in it. He understood. But 
 would the other? 
 
 With an effort she took up a pen and began to 
 write to Cosmo Trevor. When she had despatched 
 the letter she felt as if she could not face him that 
 afternoon, as if she must give up the cricket- 
 match, even if the boys were to be disappointed. 
 
 She spent her morning between formulating 
 excuses and telling herself what a fool she was. 
 She did not really make up her mind what to do 
 until Toye rapped sharply at her door and called 
 out: 
 
 "Did anyone tell you that we're lunching early? 
 I hope you're ready. " 
 
 Then she swept into a sudden bustle of pre-
 
 3i 6 The Torch of Life 
 
 paration, and found herself on the steps almost 
 before she knew that she had come to a decision. 
 
 A dark young man, Cosmo's brother, was driving 
 the car. 
 
 "On second thoughts, Billy refused to trust the 
 car to anyone but himself," Cosmo said. 
 
 "Don't you think I'm right, Mrs. Fleury?" 
 asked Billy Trevor. "Jump in, Toye. I haven't 
 seen you for a million years. At least, it seems 
 so to me. Cosmo will look after Mrs. Fleury. " 
 
 "Billy, you are the light of my eyes," cried 
 Toye, getting in next him. "I'm glad that you 
 have veiled your beauty in goggles, otherwise I 
 should be dazzled." 
 
 "Didn't I manage that nicely?" murmured 
 Cosmo as he arranged a cushion behind Titian 
 and tucked a rug around her. 
 
 "Did you manage it?" she asked. Her morn- 
 ing's disturbance had left her paler than usual, 
 but in Cosmo's eyes she looked distractingly 
 lovely. 
 
 He told her so in one of his magnetic glances. 
 
 "This is a chance hour," he said caressingly. 
 "I see so little of you when the cubs are 
 about. " 
 
 "You must not call them that. They are dear 
 boys/'
 
 Midges in Amber 317 
 
 " Don't let us waste time in talking about them. " 
 
 "What shall we talk about?" 
 
 There was almost the same pleasant sense of 
 isolation as in a gondola, as the motor hummed 
 swiftly through red-roofed village and arching 
 wood. 
 
 "I have a favour to ask," said Cosmo softly. 
 "But, before I ask it, I want to say that I am aw- 
 fully sorry I couldn't take your man, Mrs. Fleury. 
 I had already engaged another when he applied." 
 
 By her sudden sense of relief, Titian realised 
 what a storm in a tea-cup she had raised. 
 
 "It doesn't matter in the least," she cried. 
 
 " I'd have taken him if I could, of course. I hate 
 even to seem to refuse any request of yours. As 
 it was, I passed him on to my brother-in-law, Fred 
 Allendale, who wants a man. I hope he'll take 
 him." 
 
 "It really doesn't matter. I only wrote be- 
 cause I did not like to refuse him when he asked 
 me. It was in no sense a request of mine. Please 
 don't think any more of it. Now, what is your 
 favour?" She turned to him with a happy smile, 
 her foolish fears and fancies vanishing like a wisp 
 of mist before the sun. "I feel almost inclined to 
 grant it without knowing what it is. " 
 
 "That's very sweet and generous of you, but is
 
 318 The Torch of Life 
 
 it wise?" he asked softly. "Supposing it were 
 the half of your kingdom?" 
 
 A waft of wind blew the scented chiffon of her 
 veil across his cheek. It was like a delicate caress, 
 and the curve of her lashes on her creamy skin was 
 adorable. Any man might well lose his head in 
 her presence. 
 
 He captured the trail of chiffon and held it 
 lightly as he continued. "It is not as bold a 
 request as that now. It is something about the 
 ball." 
 
 She glanced up at that, with sparkling eyes. 
 "The ball? Yes? Oh, you don't know how 
 excited I am about it ! It's absurd of me, I know. 
 At my age " she murmured tentatively. 
 
 "The goddesses have nothing to do with age. 
 Their youth is eternal," he continued. His voice 
 trembled a little. 
 
 She took the veil gently from his fingers. 
 
 "You are forgetting your favour." 
 
 "I forget everything when I am with you," he 
 .cried. "The favour is this. Will you wear 
 white that night? I have only seen you in black 
 up to this, except for this wisp of cloud." He 
 touched her floating veil again. "Will you shine 
 like the day-star? Will you wear white? To 
 please me?" he added softly.
 
 Midges in Amber 319 
 
 A vivid blush surged up to meet her curving 
 lashes. 
 
 "To please you?" she echoed. "Yes. I think 
 I would do as much as that to please you. " 
 
 "I wonder if I shall be able to stand it," said 
 Cosmo boldly. "Do you know how divinely 
 lovely you are?" 
 
 "Please don't," she pleaded, with a feeling that 
 was half-elation, half -pain.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 FENTON'S VISION 
 
 T ADY TEMPEST, as onlooker, saw the game 
 from every aspect. She watched its trend 
 with a wary eye for Fenton's interests, and as the 
 time fixed for the ball drew nearer, she wrote him a 
 letter of some urgence, begging of him to come and 
 stay at Craven for at least a few days beforehand. 
 
 To which he replied that he was too busy serv- 
 ing Titian's interests to come before the day of the 
 ball. 
 
 Lady Tempest answered in some agitation that 
 he would serve his own better by an immediate 
 arrival, to which Fenton replied by quoting with 
 what seemed to her a more complete blindness than 
 that which inspired the poet to write the line: 
 
 They also serve who only stand and wait. 
 
 To which, Lady Tempest: "Those who stand 
 and wait are liable to be left standing. " 
 To which, silence on Fenton's part. 
 320
 
 Fenton's Vision 321 
 
 Then his sister washed her hands of him until 
 he arrived on the fateful day, when she put her 
 arms round his neck and hugged him, and drew 
 him aside into her little morning-room, where 
 dinner was already laid for the house-party. 
 
 "Aren't dances worse than earthquakes?" 
 she said. "Especially in quiet country-houses. 
 Hugh is entrenched in the smoking-room, which 
 needless to say has not been touched, as it belongs 
 to the men. Nothing will dislodge him but dinner. 
 He is as firmly fixed as a limpet on a rock. We 
 are to dine here presently, and then we shall be 
 hunted forth until the room is transformed into 
 a card-room. Everything else is in train, I think. 
 Toye and the boys and Cosmo have been inde- 
 fatigable." 
 
 Fenton put his hands on his sister's shoulders 
 and looked deep into her eyes. There was a light 
 in his own and his face was quickened and eager. 
 
 "Fuss agrees with you, Mollie," he said. "A 
 word before the pack is upon us. I stole past the 
 drawing-room where they were putting an extra 
 polish on the floor. How is she?" 
 
 Lady Tempest looked back at him with a ques- 
 tion in her eyes. 
 
 "Why didn't you come when I sent for you, 
 Fenty?"
 
 322 The Torch of Life 
 
 "Am I too late?" he asked quickly. 
 
 "I don't know. I wish I did. She is lovelier 
 than ever. Cosmo is always in attendance, and 
 I must admit that she seems to like it. No man 
 could be long in her company without feeling the 
 charm of her beauty. Hugh and the boys rave 
 about her. She has made heaps of conquests 
 since she came here." 
 
 Fenton drew a long breath. 
 
 "Her beauty is the least part of her to me. I 
 loved her best when her eyes were red from crying. 
 It is she, she herself, her lovely nature, her courage, 
 her sweetness." He stopped abruptly. "Does 
 she enjoy the dangling?" 
 
 "Fenty, she loves it. She is like a child with a 
 handful of toys. She likes them all, but doesn't 
 know which to choose." 
 
 His face cleared. "If that's the way " 
 
 "But, dear, I don't think that Cosmo is one of 
 the toys." 
 
 "What is he, then?" 
 
 "I'm not sure. Her eyes, her voice, soften 
 when she speaks to him. She has a different look 
 for him " 
 
 "The deuce she has!" 
 
 "I don't know," continued Lady Tempest 
 dubiously. "I hope it isn't serious. Of course,
 
 Fenton's Vision 323 
 
 it would be an excellent thing for Cosmo, but " 
 
 "It wouldn't be an excellent thing for Cosmo at 
 all," broke in Fenton decisively. "He's not the 
 man for her. I don't believe that a woman like 
 Titian would find happiness with a man like Cosmo. 
 God knows, if she would, I'd be the first to give 
 it to her if I could. She's had little enough, poor 
 child. The best thing the world has to give isn't 
 good enough for her, but I can't believe that Cosmo, 
 a soulless young philanderer, could give her the 
 best. He's frittered himself on too many other 
 women. He's not the man for her, Mollie, 
 whoever is." 
 
 He paced up and down the narrow space left by 
 the dinner-table in the little room. 
 
 "You are, Fenty, " she said softly. 
 
 "As for that," he returned, with difficulty, 
 "if there is such a gift for me I hope I may be 
 worthy of it. If not It's the real thing, Moll. 
 I'd live, or die for her happiness, whichever 
 way would give it to her most surely." He 
 stopped, and awkwardly moved things on the 
 mantelpiece. "I'll always have something. She 
 trusts me. She turned to me when she was in 
 trouble. That's a big thing, Mollie. She must be 
 happy now. But I don't want her to make a 
 mistake. One pays so much more heavily for
 
 324 The Torch of Life 
 
 mistakes than for actual sins. Yet you make a 
 mistake with your eyes shut, and you generally 
 sin with your eyes open, so the punishment ought 
 to be heavier. It isn't though. " 
 
 He sighed, and Mary Tempest knew that he 
 was thinking of his own great mistake. She put 
 her hand on his arm. 
 
 "That's all over now, my dear old boy," she 
 said lovingly. "Please God, you'll have your 
 happiness yet. Titian was chained up for so 
 long that she is enjoying her freedom to the full 
 now. She's running wild a little, and who could 
 blame her?" 
 
 "Not I." 
 
 "Will you speak to her to-night, Fenton?" 
 
 He moved his shoulders impatiently, then turned 
 to her with a half-shy, half -wistful smile. 
 
 "Don't let's talk about it, Moll, please. I 
 don't want to have the bloom rubbed off." 
 
 "My dear!" she whispered. 
 
 Then the door was flung open and what seemed 
 an avalanche of boys and dogs whirled into the 
 room, turning peace to babel. 
 
 "I say, Fenty!" 
 
 "Good old Fenty!" 
 
 "Nice way you sneaked in!" 
 
 "Mean old hoss not to give a shout!"
 
 Fenton's Vision 325 
 
 " 'Spose you're a nailer at the tango by 
 this." 
 
 "Two nailers," returned Fenton, emerging 
 from the pats and thumps and punches to greet 
 Toye as she entered. 
 
 "Hallo, Toye. Not dressed yet? Have you 
 learned to respect your uncle's grey hairs?" he 
 asked, kissing the little cool cheek she turned up 
 to him. 
 
 " I'll respect you, Fenty, when you become really 
 respectable, which I sincerely hope will be never!" 
 Toye answered. "We have had a day of it. Why 
 didn't you come earlier, you wretch, and help us 
 to bear its burden and heat? You reap the 
 benefit of our labours now." 
 
 "You forget, my child, that I am a man of 
 affairs. " 
 
 "Not of as many affairs as most men," she 
 retorted quickly. 
 
 "Are you speaking practically, or sentimentally, 
 may I ask?" 
 
 "Sentimentally, of course," she answered, with 
 a grimace. "I am a confirmed sentimentalist, 
 as you know. Aren't I?" 
 
 "I never met anyone who could talk more tosh 
 to the minute than you, Toye, " put in her brother 
 Hugh. "Why aren't you titivating yourself and
 
 326 The Torch of Life 
 
 hiding the burning light of your hair under a bushel 
 of ospreys or something?" 
 
 "I thought you admired red hair," Toye 
 retorted. "I've heard you rave over Mrs. 
 Fleury's." 
 
 "Hers isn't red. It's a glorious chestnut," 
 said Hugh indignantly. 
 
 Fenton laughed. Toye brushed against him. 
 
 "Your chestnut-tree is in blossom, Fenty, " she 
 murmured. ' ' A big lovely, rosy creamy thing. ' ' 
 
 Fenton looked at her lazily. " I was never good 
 at riddles, Toye. What's the answer?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know the answer," she said. 
 "You'll have to find that out for yourself. " 
 
 "Children all, it's time to go and dress," said 
 Lady Tempest. " You can continue your squabbles 
 at dinner if you like. I must try to dislodge your 
 father from the smoking-room or he will never be 
 ready in time. I made Titian go and rest," she 
 continued, turning to Fenton. "She is as excited 
 as a young girl over her first ball. " 
 
 "What else is she but young, I'd like to know?" 
 growled Hugh. "Isn't she a ripper, Fenty? And 
 she's taken to dancing like a bird. " 
 
 "How very odd!" Fenton remarked with a 
 twinkle. "Now, the only place where I've ever 
 seen birds dance was in South America. "
 
 Fenton's Vision 327 
 
 "Go to, thou literal old hoss!" cried Hugh with 
 another thump. "Let's come and make ourselves 
 look dazzling, Fenty, and I'll cheer you up with a 
 cigarette that's something like, I can tell you. " 
 
 "Something like what?" asked Fenton inno- 
 cently. "Hay?" 
 
 For which he was rewarded with another punch 
 between the shoulders as his nephews convoyed 
 him upstairs between them. 
 
 Toye looked after the three retreating backs. 
 Her gaze lingered upon Fenton's. 
 
 "I wonder?" she said to herself. "I wonder? 
 Some women are fools, but all men!" 
 
 There were greenish sparks in her eyes as she 
 ran lightly up the stairs. 
 
 When Titian saw her ball-dress, disappointment 
 surged uppermost in her mind despite its beauty. 
 Owing to the lateness of her decision to wear white, 
 the dress had not arrived until the very day of the 
 ball, and she saw it for the first time when she 
 went to her room to rest. 
 
 There it lay upon the bed, cleverly spread by 
 Marshall for her admiration. 
 
 It was what Madame Fadette, its creator, called 
 an inspiration, in its artistic mingling of ivory lace, 
 chiffon, and gold tissue. A pair of gold shoes came
 
 328 The Torch of Life 
 
 with it, and a fillet of golden roses. There was 
 also a golden rose to clasp the laces at her bosom. 
 
 Marshall hung over it in ecstasy, touching the 
 filmy folds with reverent fingers. Titian could 
 almost fancy that she purred with delight. At 
 last she looked up, struck by her lady's silence. 
 
 "Aren't you pleased, madam?" she asked. 
 
 "Y-es, " answered Titian slowly. "It's very 
 pretty, but " 
 
 "Pretty is not the word," returned Marshall 
 with decision. "It's ravishing, madam. That's 
 what it is. What is it that doesn't please you?" 
 
 "I thought it would have been all white," said 
 Titian. 
 
 "All white would have been insipid. It would 
 not have suited your style at all. I wrote to 
 Madame Fadette as you ordered, madam, and 
 asked her to create a white ball-dress for you. This 
 is the result. It is her own idea entirely. She 
 has made for you for so many years that she knows 
 exactly what suits you." 
 
 Marshall was right, Titian thought, as she tried 
 to rest, her brain in a whirl of excitement. What 
 had she, a woman of thirty, to do with the snowy 
 vestures of a debutante? Her day for that was 
 past, and she had never had it. 
 
 Yet in some ways she was as fresh and unspoilt
 
 Fenton's Vision 329 
 
 as the youngest girl who would be at the ball to- 
 night, as innocently eager in her desires, as simply 
 expectant of its pleasures. There was something 
 more in the contrast of her thwarted youth and 
 the ripeness of her years than that piquancy 
 which so pleasantly titillated Cosmo Trevor; 
 there was a pathos as well, if only he had eyes to 
 see it. 
 
 There was no thought of sadness or self-pity 
 in the radiant vision which looked at Titian from 
 the long glass later. 
 
 Madame Fadette had proved herself in the right. 
 The clinging gown with its clever touches of golden 
 tissue suited her rich beauty as no simpler white 
 would have done. Round her throat she wore a 
 quaint gold necklace of Indian workmanship from 
 which depended a golden bird with outspread 
 wings. It rose and fell on the white curve of her 
 breast with every happy breath. 
 
 Even Marshall was silent before such glowing 
 triumphant beauty. Titian seemed to radiate 
 joy, as if she were illumined from within. 
 
 "You think I shall do, Marshall?" she asked, 
 turning from the glass at last. 
 
 "Do, madam?" breathed the ecstatic Marshall. 
 "All I wish is that poor Mr. Fleury could see 
 you, " had been on the tip of her tongue, but she
 
 330 The Torch of Life 
 
 neatly nipped it off and turned the name to Miss 
 Gerard's. 
 
 "I'm sorry she is not here, " said Titian, but her 
 thoughts did not linger with her absent friend. 
 She was too closely enwrapped in the enchanting 
 atmosphere of the present. 
 
 Fenton dressed early and waited in the hall on 
 the chance of an unwitnessed greeting. His eyes 
 never left the broad staircase ; his heart leaped at 
 the sound of every footfall. Each hurrying maid, 
 each busy, darting man left disappointment in 
 their wake. Then he began to pace up and down 
 the hall, fearing the momentary advent of the 
 boys, and with them a vista of lost chances. 
 
 As he strode a soft sound made him turn sharply. 
 Titian was coming down. 
 
 On the instant, the old oak stairs became a lad- 
 der from heaven, and the starry host concentrated 
 in the person of one beloved woman. He held his 
 breath and turned a little paler at the sight of the 
 shining vision crowned with golden roses. Slowly, 
 clowly she came down. It was as if she were 
 deliberately stepping from her heights to come to 
 him, or so it pleased him to fancy. 
 
 O, world with stars en wrought! O, sun and 
 moon of wonders, was he to be made most blest
 
 Fenton's Vision 331 
 
 and happy of all unworthy men? He would fain 
 have knelt on the lowest stair until she came near 
 enough for him to kiss her beautiful feet, to touch 
 the hem of her garment. 
 
 As it was, he stood still, gazing at her with his 
 whole soul in his eyes. 
 
 She did not see him until she was more than half- 
 way down the stairs, lingering a little with unusual 
 self -consciousness, her eyes shining, her lips parted 
 dreamily. 
 
 When she caught sight of him, she quickened 
 her pace, and descended the rest of the stairs in a 
 little run, holding out both hands. 
 
 He took them in his. Words failed him for the 
 moment, but his eyes spoke. 
 
 "It's very good to see you, Fenty. I am so glad 
 you were able to come." 
 
 "Are you?" 
 
 "Of course I am. Do you do you think I 
 look nice, Fenty?" 
 
 Nice what a bald, meagre, inadequate word! 
 Oh, if he had but the gift of tongues! If he were 
 but a Chrysostom that he could lay golden phrases 
 at her golden feet. All he could muster was a 
 husky: 
 
 "Very." Oh, beautiful, beautiful, thrice beauti- 
 ful! Thy dumb servant hath no words for thy
 
 332 The Torch of Life 
 
 worship. He can but lay his heart within thy 
 hands, and fall on his knees before thee ! 
 
 "Really, Fenty? " She looked up at him with a 
 half -shy coquetry that was new to him. 
 
 "Really, Titian." 
 
 "When did you come?" she asked. 
 
 ' ' About an hour ago. ' ' He was beginning to feel 
 the earth beneath his feet again. For a time he 
 had been whirled dizzily through space. 
 
 "Then it was you whom I heard Hugh apostro- 
 phising as 'old hoss' just outside my door?" 
 
 "That's his favourite term of endearment for 
 me." 
 
 "I think you've forgotten that you're holding 
 my hands all this time, Fenty," she said with a 
 little laugh. 
 
 His clasp tightened. "No, I haven't. Not a 
 bit of it. How many dances am I to have?" 
 
 She looked surprised. " Do you dance, Fenty? ' ' 
 
 "I am better at sitting out, " he confessed, "but 
 you'll have so many dancing partners that you'll 
 probably be glad of a rest." 
 
 It was good to see him again, good to feel that 
 without effort they had slipped back once more to 
 their old terms. 
 
 "How many do you want?" she asked. 
 
 "Every one."
 
 Fenton's Vision 333 
 
 She laughed outright at his extravagance. 
 
 "You mustn't be greedy," she said. "I am 
 engaged about three deep already." 
 
 "You're not?" 
 
 "I am indeed. You've no idea of how popular 
 I am, Fenty. " 
 
 "Not the faintest," he said, still holding her 
 hands and smiling at her. " Give me two running, 
 at any rate. " 
 
 She hesitated. " If I can. " 
 
 "Not if. You must." 
 
 "Fenty, I don't know you to-night," she said, 
 raising her eyebrows. 
 
 The light fell full on the golden flowers in her 
 ruddy hair, on the golden bird that rose and fell 
 on her breast. 
 
 "No, you don't," said Fenton, dropping her 
 hands, and turning away his eyes.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ON THE CREST 
 
 nPITIAN rode on the crest of a wave of happy 
 
 * excitement. Ardent eyes burned incense 
 
 before her; eager tongues poured forth oblations. 
 
 Lady Tempest was besieged for futile introduc- 
 tions to her. She smiled and regretted, but her 
 programme was full to overflowing. The letter C 
 with an arrogant little curl at its top figured 
 frequently on her programme. It followed hot 
 upon the heels of the two spaces across which 
 "Fenty" was scrawled in a rather shaky hand. 
 
 The lights, the music, the dancing, the incense, 
 intoxicated her to a pitch of gay coquetry which 
 she had never known before. 
 
 Cosmo's touch, his nearness, the fire in his eyes, 
 thrilled her to an unconsciousness of danger- 
 signals. 
 
 She felt supreme, ineffable, as if nothing could 
 ever go wrong in this beautiful world again. 
 
 At last Fenton's turn came. He waited for her 
 
 334
 
 On the Crest 335 
 
 in the hall. She had seen him there for several 
 dances past, waiting, looking at her each time as 
 she swept by him on a partner's arm. Now he 
 came forward with that new air of determination. 
 
 "Our dance, I think," he said. 
 
 She smiled gaily at him. 
 
 "Our dances," she answered, giving his arm a 
 little squeeze. She felt him tremble as she touched 
 him. " A goose walking over your grave, Fenty ? " 
 she asked lightly. ' ' You really should have learned 
 the tango. Did you see how nicely I danced it?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Didn't you look on at the dancing at all?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 She looked up at him quickly. Had he grown 
 incomprehensible again? 
 
 "Where are you taking me to, Fenty?" she 
 asked. 
 
 They were going down a corridor which led to a 
 side door into the gardens. 
 
 "I am taking you to the garden, to the yew 
 hedge," he answered. " It is cool and quiet there." 
 
 The glass door at the end of the corridor was 
 open. As they neared it, a couple came hurrying 
 in from the blue darkness without. 
 
 They were Toye and Cosmo, and they laughed 
 as they came towards them.
 
 336 The Torch of Life 
 
 Toye wore a daring little frock with a tunic of 
 tulle almost the colour of her hair. The string of 
 pearls round her neck was no whiter than her skin. 
 
 "Don't go too far away, Mrs. Fleury, " said 
 Cosmo. "Remember that the second next dance 
 is mine." 
 
 She smiled. "I won't forget." 
 
 "Are you going to teach Fenty how to flirt?" 
 Toye asked. "I'm afraid you'll have a hard task. 
 He doesn't even know the rudiments. Do you, 
 Fenty?" 
 
 "I'm afraid I don't," Fenton answered. "But 
 if I wanted lessons in the art I'd rather go to 
 you than to Mrs. Fleury." 
 
 "Would you indeed?" Toye retorted, with a 
 glance up at Titian. "I'm not at all sure that 
 you'd be right." 
 
 "You're missing half this dance," said Fenton. 
 
 " Is that what you call a hint? " his niece laughed, 
 slipping her arm through Cosmo's. "Come along, 
 Cossie, we're evidently de trop." 
 
 The insinuation pricked Titian. What a knack 
 Toye had of trying to put her in her place and keep 
 her there! Her place was evidently on a plane 
 with Fenton and Lady Tempest, and Toye seemed 
 to push her with a light word and a laugh from the 
 rising generation to the risen.
 
 On the Crest 337 
 
 She checked Fenton with a touch. 
 
 "It would be better not to go so far away," 
 she said. "Let us stay somewhere nearer so that 
 we can hear when the dances begin." 
 
 "Are you so keen on dancing everything?" 
 
 "Yes. I am keen, as you call it. It's my first 
 dance, you know, Fenty. You may think me 
 absurd, but I can't help feeling excited. I want 
 to enjoy every moment of it." 
 
 "I don't think you absurd. Where would you 
 like to go?" 
 
 "There are plenty of nice places in the conserva- 
 tory, " she said, turning towards it. 
 
 "Oh, you've sampled them?" 
 
 "Some of them," she answered, with a smile. 
 
 The stars in their courses fought against Fenton 
 as they threaded their way to a secluded nook at 
 the far end of the conservatory. 
 
 A fountain tinkled pleasantly; quaint lanterns 
 hung among the palms like luminous butterflies 
 and diffused a faint radiance. 
 
 Titian was never in less mood for reality. All 
 her impulses were for fluttering capriciously above 
 the smiling surface of things ; for tossing pleasures 
 from hand to hand as a juggler plays with gaily- 
 coloured balls. For her to-night, no deeps existed. 
 
 In Fenton, the very foundations of his being were
 
 338 The Torch of Life 
 
 moved, and he, usually so swift to understand, 
 failed to see that to grasp to-night's chance were 
 to imperil its very existence. 
 
 "Do you care to know what I think of you?" 
 he asked in a low voice, as he sat down next her. 
 
 She looked at him. There was something por- 
 tentous about Fenty to-night. She really could 
 not be serious. At another time she would be 
 ready to respond to his mood, but not now. She 
 must be allowed to feel young, gay, irresponsible, 
 just for to-night. 
 
 "Not unless it's something nice," she returned 
 quickly, opening her fan and playing with it. 
 "I warn you, Fenty, that I am in a hopelessly 
 frivolous mood this evening. " 
 
 "Are you?" 
 
 "Would you like me to flirt with you? Or try 
 to?" she added, remembering Toye's comment. 
 
 "No, thanks." 
 
 "It's useless to be cross with me, Fenty. " 
 
 "I'm not cross with you." 
 
 "What is it, then?" 
 
 "It's just this," he said, clasping and unclasp- 
 ing the hands that hung between his knees. "You 
 want to play the fool to-night, and I can't. 
 Things have happened lately that have that 
 have altered things. "
 
 On the Crest 339 
 
 "I know," she answered softly, touched in spite 
 of her proclamation of frivolity by what she felt 
 underlay his halting phrases. 
 
 "You know?" he asked, turning quickly to her. 
 
 "Only bald facts. You never told me anything 
 about your own affairs, Fenty. " 
 
 "I did not want to bother you." 
 
 "As if my only friend could ever have bothered 
 me." 
 
 "Am I that?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "You were for years," she returned. 
 
 "But not now?" 
 
 "Not my only friend," she answered softly. 
 "You have your own place, Fenty dear. " 
 
 "Where is it?" he whispered, taking fan and 
 hand in his clasp. 
 
 She drew both away. "It's quite a comfortable 
 little niche," she said, with a smile. "You 
 mustn't be too grasping. " 
 
 "But I am grasping. I can't be content with 
 a mere niche, " he said huskily. 
 
 "I'm afraid you must be." 
 
 "Who has supplanted me?" 
 
 "My dear Fenty, don't be absurd. No one 
 has supplanted you." She melted again. "You 
 are safe in your own warm place. No one could 
 dislodge you from it, Fenty."
 
 340 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I suppose I must be satisfied with a crumb, 
 for to-night. " 
 
 " If you call that a crumb, " she answered lightly. 
 "I am becoming so spoilt that I think it sounds 
 rather ungrateful of you. " 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 Then after a pause: 
 
 "Yes. You're getting on quite nicely for a 
 novice. " 
 
 "At what?" 
 
 "Flirting." 
 
 "Don't, " he said, touching a fold of her gown. 
 
 Something in his tone pierced through her 
 deliberate lightness. She glanced quickly at him 
 and away again. 
 
 "Very well, I won't," she said. "What shall 
 we talk about? Tell me something of your life, 
 Fenty. You know all about mine. " 
 
 "All?" Doubt rang in the query. 
 
 The swift blood raced to her cheek, but she did 
 not lower her eyes before his. 
 
 "Well, nearly all," she admitted. 
 
 Silence fell for a moment. The fountain dripped 
 and tinkled coolly through the stillness. Then 
 there was a rustle of skirts and murmurs of voices 
 as the dancers in couples invaded their dim solitude. 
 No one came very near them. The chairs had been
 
 On the Crest 341 
 
 placed with tact and discretion. Presently the 
 whispers became soft as the rustle of palm- 
 leaves. 
 
 " Well? Have you nothing to say? " said Titian 
 at last. 
 
 Fenton turned a white face to her. "Yes. I 
 have; much to say. Much that is burning to 
 be out. But you don't want to hear it." 
 
 She looked a little startled. "I don't want to 
 be serious. Don't be serious, Fenty. Don't spoil 
 my enjoyment. " 
 
 "God forbid that I should spoil your enjoy- 
 ment," he said bitterly. "You never understood 
 me, Titian, if you could think that. " 
 
 "I don't know what to think," she murmured. 
 
 " Shall I tell you? Shall I tell you what I want 
 you to think?" 
 
 "I don't want to think at all to-night. Can't 
 you understand, Fenty?" 
 
 "I understand that you are deliberately playing 
 with me, " he said. 
 
 The dancers rose, drifted away, except for a 
 couple at the other end of the conservatory. 
 
 "No; oh, no, I'm not." 
 
 "What then?" He looked at her hands flut- 
 tering once more about the fan. In his present 
 mood, he did not dare to touch them again. He
 
 342 The Torch of Life 
 
 looked at the bent head, at the quickened rise and 
 fall of the golden bird, and then he looked away. 
 
 "I don't know," she faltered. "Fenty, don't 
 be unkind. " 
 
 "It is you who are unkind. You madden me. 
 You play with me, you tempt me to speak, and 
 then you seal my lips. You spoke the truth. 
 I don't understand you." He looked at her 
 with sombre unhappy eyes as if he would wrest 
 comprehension from her. 
 
 Gone was his starry vision. It was not to him 
 that the golden rose of womanhood was to be 
 given. His tongue was tied. His was no fiery 
 eloquence to sweep her from her feet to his arms. 
 Every halting word seemed to raise an invisible 
 barrier higher between them. 
 
 "I I don't think I understand myself." 
 
 "You can understand this much, at least. I 
 am a man, not a stone. You are a woman, not a 
 child. You should know better than to play 
 with fire. " 
 
 "Fenton!" 
 
 "You are playing with it now," he went on, in 
 a fierce undertone, clasping his hands until the 
 knuckles showed white. "To amuse yourself, you 
 have lit a blaze in me. You don't care what it 
 burns so long as you see its pretty flare. Take
 
 On the Crest 343 
 
 care. Don't come too near. Your beautiful 
 hands may get scorched." 
 
 "Fenton!" she cried again, lifting the necklace 
 from her throat as if it choked her. 
 
 As quickly as it had arisen, the flame died out of 
 Fenton's face, leaving it grey with the ashes of 
 despair. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "But you 
 should have learned by this that there are limits 
 to a man's endurance." 
 
 Hot anger suddenly swept over her. 
 
 "I have learned that there are limits to mine," 
 she cried, rising as she saw Cosmo Trevor coming , 
 towards her between the palms. " Ah, Mr. Trevor, 
 has our dance begun?" 
 
 The relief in her tone cut Fenton to the quick. 
 He rose too, and stood beside her silently. 
 
 "It's just beginning," Trevor answered. "I've 
 been looking for you everywhere. Come along, 
 Mrs. Fleury, I don't want to lose a bar. " 
 
 "Nor I," she said, turning to him eagerly. 
 
 As she moved, her fan slipped to the ground. 
 The two men stooped for it, but it was Fen- 
 ton who secured it and restored it to her. It 
 gave her a fierce pleasure to see that his hand 
 trembled. 
 
 "Thank you," she said in a tone that was
 
 344 The Torch of Life 
 
 delicately frosted. She was glad if she had hurt 
 him. He had tried to spoil her evening. 
 
 A tumult of feelings warred within her as she 
 swept away on Cosmo's arm, with eyes carefully 
 averted from the hurt look on Fenton's face. At 
 the bottom of her heart, she knew well what had 
 looked at her from his eyes, but she thrust the 
 knowledge from her as she had thrust the reality. 
 
 For the first time in her life, she felt really angry 
 with Fenton.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE GOLDEN BIRD 
 
 read disturbance in Titian's flutter- 
 ing breath and heightened colour, in the 
 forced ring of her laughter and in her high-held 
 head. 
 
 "Has old Fenty been making love to her, I 
 wonder?" he thought to himself, as he slipped his 
 arm round her. 
 
 The idea tightened his clasp; he could not let 
 himself be cut out by Fenton. This sleeping 
 beauty was lovely enough to turn any man's head. 
 He was an adept at smoothing ruffled feelings. 
 He began with the lightest stroke. What wonder 
 if the touch grew bolder at continued contact? 
 
 "I never like to talk when I am dancing, do 
 you," he said softly, looking at the beautiful 
 flushed face so near his own. 
 
 "You forget my inexperience," she laughed. 
 "But I think you are right. It is wiser to enjoy 
 one thing at a time. " 
 
 345
 
 346 The Torch of Life 
 
 "I am enjoying several," he murmured. "My 
 pleasure is exquisitely complex, as all pleasure 
 should be. " 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't agree with you there," 
 she demurred. "I think I like simple things 
 best." 
 
 "You can't call dancing like this simple." 
 
 "Is. it the point of view or the surrounding 
 circumstances which make pleasures simple or 
 complex?" she asked. 
 
 "In this case the surrounding circumstances, I 
 think, " he said, with a swift glance from beneath 
 his thick lashes. 
 
 Titian turned away her head. "I thought you 
 didn't want to talk. " 
 
 "Nor do I. I am content to drift." 
 
 "So am I." 
 
 "Let us drift, then." 
 
 Titian felt as if he had charmed her back to her 
 former sphere of joy. Cosmo always seemed to 
 restore to her what Fenton took away. She turned 
 to him again with happy parted lips, a swinging 
 lightness in every movement. 
 
 "I never thought that dancing could be like 
 this." 
 
 "Ah, you have much to learn, most beautiful 
 lady."
 
 The Golden Bird 347 
 
 "I have," she said, with a little sigh, "and I 
 have lost so many years." 
 
 "There are many more to come," Trevor mur- 
 mured. "I would like to teach you some things. 
 May I?" 
 
 "If you wish. But you have taught me much 
 already. " 
 
 "What have I taught you?" 
 
 A sudden shyness checked her. "Oh, I don't 
 know. Different things. Things about life." 
 
 "To have taught one such as you anything about 
 life should be privilege enough for any man, " said 
 Trevor in quickened tones. "Yet I am grasping. " 
 
 Ah, grasping! That was what she had called 
 Fenton a little while ago. Strange that Cosmo's 
 ambition should call forth no repulse. 
 
 "I want to teach you a little more. May I?" 
 
 It was a sweet avarice, one easily forgiven. 
 
 "What do you want to teach me?" she 
 whispered. 
 
 Cosmo did not quite know. He had drifted on 
 the tide of her beauty to his own skill in phrase- 
 making. 
 
 "Let us secure a seat before the rush comes. 
 We'll go to a nook behind the conservatory, which 
 I don't think anyone has discovered except 
 myself."
 
 348 The Torch of Life 
 
 It was cool and still in the open air. The high- 
 backed white seat which was their goal was set 
 in an angle between the garden wall and the faintly 
 luminous wall of glass. Once or twice a light shape 
 and the white patch of a shirt front flitted by in 
 search of seclusion, but otherwise they were alone, 
 in a scented solitude, silent save for the fluttering 
 of night-moths against the lure of the glass panes 
 behind them. 
 
 Trevor took Titian's fan and swayed it to and 
 fro. 
 
 "The night air is delicious," he said. "It is 
 like a caress on one's cheek. Don't you feel it so? " 
 He moved the fan nearer to her face. 
 
 "It is very pleasant," she admitted. 
 
 "The night wind has all sorts of privileges," 
 Cosmo continued. "But I have one advantage 
 over him. " 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Do you care to know?" 
 
 The soft waves of air were like caresses on her 
 cheek, but she could not think of them as coming 
 only from the night wind. 
 
 "Yes, please." 
 
 "I can tell you how beautiful you are. He 
 can't." 
 
 "Oh!" She moved a little.
 
 The Golden Bird 349 
 
 ''Why don't you like me to tell you that you are 
 beautiful?" he asked, bending closer. 
 
 "I oh, I don't know. It it seems to matter 
 so little, somehow." 
 
 "It matters tremendously." 
 
 " Do you really think so? " There was a wistful 
 ring in her voice which was lost on him. 
 
 "You are so used to the fact of your beauty that 
 you don't realise how much it matters. Haven't 
 men told you ?" 
 
 "Oh, don't," she cried. 
 
 "Why not? Doesn't it please you to have any- 
 one call you beautiful?" 
 
 "Not anyone." Her head was bent, her voice 
 low and confused. 
 
 " Does it please you when I call you beautiful? " 
 His tones were dangerously soft, and Titian's 
 heart began to beat quickly. She put out her 
 hand as if to stop him. He took it and kept it in 
 his. 
 
 "Yes. No. Yes, I think it does." 
 
 "Yes, no, most beautiful lady. We'll leave it 
 at that for the moment. You can't alter the great 
 fact of your beauty whether one tells you of it or 
 not." His fingers were deftly unbuttoning her 
 glove. "I want your satin hand, not your suede 
 glove, " he whispered, as he drew it off.
 
 35 The Torch of Life 
 
 Titian was silent. Words seemed to choke her. 
 She made a faint effort to withdraw her hand, but 
 the curious magnetism of his presence weakened 
 her as before. 
 
 "You were kind to me in Venice, " he went on in 
 the same soft tones. "Why be cruel to me now?" 
 
 "This is not Venice." 
 
 "That is no reason. I have travelled far since 
 the Venetian days. Haven't you?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, very low. 
 
 "Are you happier now?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "So am I," he murmured, carried away by the 
 influences of her touch, her nearness, and the 
 starry dusk. "It is a wonderful thing to be 
 happy, but it is a still more wonderful thing to 
 realise that one is happy. " 
 
 As he held her hand in one of his and stroked 
 the white curve from her wrist upwards with the 
 other, her thoughts unwillingly sprang back to the 
 long-ago day when Arnot had caressed her bare 
 arms. There was something of the same quality 
 in Cosmo's touch, something which left her inner 
 being unresponsive. In her careless desire to 
 drift, she had never looked to see whither she was 
 drifting, and wonder suddenly came upon her as 
 to whether she desired to go with this current or
 
 The Golden Bird 351 
 
 not. It seemed now as if there might be a whirl- 
 pool ahead. Was she prepared to be engulfed in 
 it, to be whirled in its wild embrace, or flung out- 
 wards on what shore? 
 
 She sighed. Her thoughts spun in a bewildering 
 tangle. In spite of herself, she was being forced to 
 think to-night. 
 
 ' ' Why do you sigh ? ' ' murmured Cosmo. ' ' God- 
 desses should only smile." 
 
 "I am not a goddess." 
 
 "What are you, then?" 
 
 "Only a woman." 
 
 "And a woman who has just said that she is 
 happy! Is that why you sigh?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "Not because the Golden Bird's feathers are 
 coming out?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked. 
 
 "Don't you know the legend of the Golden 
 Bird?" he asked. His hand slid up her arm until 
 it met the falling laces of her sleeve. 
 
 Her voice trembled as she whispered, "No." 
 
 "I came across it the other day in a little book 
 of prose poems. I meant to bring it to you. " 
 
 Titian felt that she ought to check his caresses, 
 but words failed her. 
 
 It seemed to her as if speech and emotion were
 
 352 The Torch of Life 
 
 on two absolutely different planes. What each 
 said appeared to bear no relation whatsoever to 
 what they did or felt. She only knew that speech 
 must continue. She felt safer while his voice 
 went on. 
 
 "Tell me," she whispered. She could not 
 speak above her breath. 
 
 "Every day on his way to school a boy passed a 
 lonely house, " said Cosmo, his eyes on the troubled 
 loveliness of her face, half -seen in the dusk. "In 
 an upper window was perched a beautiful golden 
 bird. It seemed to him that its head turned to 
 watch him as he went. He longed to see it 
 nearer, to touch it, to have it for his own. Day 
 by day, the longing grew, until it became an ob- 
 session. He pined. He felt that he would die 
 unless he got the Golden Bird for his own. At 
 last, one night, he broke into the house, climbed 
 softly to the upper room, and stole the bird. It 
 was very quiet. He hid it under his coat and ran 
 away. When he got to a secret place he gently 
 brought it forth to look at it. It was a stuffed 
 bird, and its feathers were coming out!" 
 
 His voice trailed away into silence. His arm 
 slipped suddenly round her. He touched the 
 pendant on her breast. 
 
 "Here is a better emblem of our golden bird,"
 
 The Golden Bird 353 
 
 he whispered. The soft contact went to his head. 
 He pressed her closely to him with sudden passion ; 
 kissed her as Arnot had kissed her in those bitter, 
 unforgotten days. 
 
 " My God, how lovely you are!" 
 
 It might have been an echo! 
 
 Yet, for a moment, his passion swayed and 
 held her, swung her into the grip of an emotion 
 which left her trembling, but only for a moment. 
 
 She put out hands of protest. 
 
 "Stop! "she cried. "Stop!" 
 
 He drew away, still holding her. 
 
 " Let me go, please, " she said. 
 
 He released her, sobering suddenly. 
 
 " Please go leave me to myself for a little " 
 
 "I hardly " 
 
 " If you care at all for me you will do as I ask. " 
 
 "Of course I care." 
 
 "Then please go." 
 
 "But you " 
 
 "I shall be all right here. No one will disturb 
 me. Please do as I ask you. " 
 
 "Won't you let me take you back to the house?" 
 
 " No. I shall go back myself in a few minutes. " 
 
 He turned to go, but came back quickly and bent 
 over her. 
 
 "You'll forgive me, won't you?" 
 33
 
 354 The Torch of Life 
 
 To his surprise and shame she began to cry 
 softly. 
 
 "Don't. You mustn't. I'm going," he said, 
 with swift alarm. 
 
 He turned and went without another word, and 
 Titian, with beating heart, began to dry her tears. 
 
 Cosmo Trevor's violence had unnerved her, 
 coming so suddenly upon the heels of his dallying 
 minstrelsy. She wanted to be alone to regain her 
 self-control before she had to face people again. 
 She felt as if each touch of his lips must have left 
 a burning imprint. She was a woman now, not 
 the girl whom Arnot's kisses had seared. She must 
 search her soul to see what this thing really meant. 
 
 Couples passed backwards and forwards. The 
 solitude had suddenly become populous. Where 
 could she go in search of her former happy poise? 
 Suddenly Fenton's words flash6d across her mind. 
 
 "I am taking you to the yew hedge. It is cool 
 and quiet there. " 
 
 Cool and quiet. That was just what she wanted. 
 She would slip away there now, although she 
 would not go with Fenton when he had asked her. 
 
 Poor Fenton! She had been cruel to him. 
 What a contrast ! 
 
 She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks as 
 she went hurriedly to the shelter of the great yew
 
 The Golden Bird 355 
 
 hedge. Spaces for seats had been cut in its depth 
 at intervals. Some of these bore glimmering forms 
 as she hastened by. The last two were empty, 
 and she chose the nearer, sinking back into it with 
 a sigh of relief. 
 
 Here she could be quiet. Here she could think, 
 when the bewildering whirl in her brain would 
 permit thought. Here she could rest until the 
 peaceful solace of the night laid cooling hands upon 
 her perturbed spirit, and armed her with self- 
 confidence enough to face the world again. 
 
 What was it that he had said? 
 
 "We have travelled far since the Venetian days ! " 
 
 How far had she not travelled since she had 
 looked at the glowing vision of herself in the glass 
 only a few short hours ago? How far had she 
 not travelled even since she sat with Fenton in the 
 conservatory? On what road were her feet set? 
 
 She hid her hot face in her hands again.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE YEW HEDGE 
 
 IT was dark and sheltered in the yew hedge. 
 The summer air was very sweet. No sound of 
 flute or violin broke the stillness. Only the lesser 
 night noises were to be heard tiny rustlings, the 
 soft whirr of moths, the crack of a twig, the sudden 
 chirp of a startled bird. 
 
 Titian did not know how long she sat there, 
 trying to sift the grain from the whirling chaff of 
 her thoughts. 
 
 At last, the sound of approaching steps and 
 voices roused her to a consciousness of her sur- 
 roundings. She shrank back further into the 
 recess ; she did not want anyone to find her here. 
 
 The voices became articulate; the steps passed 
 her retreat; she saw the pale glimmer of a girl's 
 dress; heard the clear timbre of a familiar voice 
 in words which cut across the stillness like a 
 whip-lash. 
 
 "So you kissed her at last, Cossie? How did 
 she like it?" 
 
 356
 
 The Yew Hedge 357 
 
 "Don't! I lost my head." 
 
 The tinkling laugh which came back through the 
 darkness made Titian gasp. She clutched the seat 
 with both hands and sat there incapable of sound 
 or motion as if a nightmare gripped her. Pangs of 
 fierce humiliation seized and rent her. Her brain 
 worked quickly enough now, illumined by that 
 lightning flash. 
 
 Toye and Cosmo laughed at her. He had dared 
 to kiss her, and now he made a mock of her. It 
 was nothing to him, but it was no light matter to 
 her. Her pride was in the dust. She had been 
 played with, laughed at. The thought stung. 
 
 She bit her lip fiercely to still its trembling. 
 They must never know. She could not bear to 
 think that they should ever fathom the depth of 
 her mortification. She must play the game now 
 as she had told Fenton that she had played it long 
 ago. 
 
 At the thought of Fenton, a stab of remorse shot 
 through her. He, at least, had never failed her. 
 In her darkest hours, she had felt the comforting 
 grip of his hand. But she when he would have 
 leaned upon her, she was as a reed that broke and 
 pierced him. From the background of her thoughts, 
 his eyes looked at her, sorrowfully questioning. 
 In her careless selfishness, she had deliberately hurt
 
 358 The Torch of Life 
 
 him, her one good friend. She must have been 
 mad. Well, she was sane enough now. Any 
 spell which Cosmo's presence had cast over her 
 was utterly destroyed by that one chance-heard 
 sentence. She despised herself for having fallen 
 under the glamour of his youth and magnetism. 
 A glamour which his passionate kisses had done 
 much to dispel. 
 
 She did not know how long she sat there in the 
 blue dusk of night. She was unconscious of 
 everything save the tumult within her. 
 
 At last, the power of motion returned to her, and 
 little by little the blood which seemed to have ebbed 
 from her being began to tingle through her veins 
 once more. With a trembling effort, she tried to 
 raise the oriflamme of her pride. All the struggles 
 of the past, all the occasions on which she had 
 fought and conquered and marched with colours 
 flying, came to her aid in this moment of need. 
 She must face her world again with head erect. 
 No one must guess at her humiliation. 
 
 She rose to find that her limbs were quivering as 
 if she had had an illness. Slowly at first, but then 
 with quickened steps, she went back along the 
 path down which she had hurried in search of 
 peace. 
 
 Peace? She thought to herself with a smile of
 
 The Yew Hedge 359 
 
 bitter self -mockery. She had not found peace 
 but a sword, whose wound still throbbed. 
 
 By good luck, she happened on an entrance to 
 the servants' staircase, now deserted, up which 
 she sped unobserved to the shelter of her own 
 room. 
 
 There she hastily bathed her face in cool water, 
 and rearranged the golden roses in the waves of 
 her hair. To outward eyes, it was the same Titian, 
 a little paler, a shade less radiant, who descended 
 the stairs some moments later. 
 
 She rallied all her forces to her aid as she went 
 slowly downwards; wondering how she was to 
 face the chattering crowd and the partners whom 
 she had deserted ; apologising to the couples whom 
 she disturbed on the stairs. Everything seemed 
 to have changed since last she had trodden them. 
 She found the house suffocating, the lights garish, 
 the distant music fretful and thin. 
 
 By some curious trick of Fate, Fenton stood as 
 before, waiting in the hall. When she saw him, the 
 impulse seized her to retreat. She stopped for an 
 instant and her heart seemed to cease its beating. 
 She did not want to see him now. She felt as if 
 she could not meet the scrutiny of his eyes, as if 
 she were too spent to face the possibility of another 
 scene. But flight was impossible. The way
 
 360 The Torch of Life 
 
 behind her was blocked. She must go forward. 
 It was part of the game. 
 
 Fenton, watching, saw the little struggle, and 
 wondered with a dull ache in his heart what had 
 happened to dull his Vision Splendid. It was as 
 if the former glowing flame had been quenched, and 
 he felt that he would give anything in the world 
 to have it relighted, whether Trevor or another 
 held the torch. 
 
 He had himself well in hand as he went to meet 
 her. No trace of his former emotion remained 
 except that his face, too, wore a quenched look. 
 
 "Have you had any supper?" he asked in his 
 most ordinary tone. 
 
 Her quick look of relief hurt him a little. Had 
 she imagined then, that he would make a scene? 
 
 "I?" she said faintly. "Yes. No. I don't 
 think so. " 
 
 He took her hand and tucked it within his 
 arm. 
 
 "Pax and chums," he said softly. "Come and 
 have some with me now." 
 
 "Haven't you had any?" 
 
 "Not yet. I was waiting." - 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 "You," he answered. 
 
 She looked up quickly at that, and her eyes
 
 The Yew Hedge 361 
 
 filled with tears. ' ' That was more than I deserved , 
 Fenty." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense," he said, leading her 
 towards a little table for two. 
 
 His curtness did her good, and helped to restore 
 her poise. Surely there was no one like Fenton. 
 There was not another in her world who had never 
 failed her. She rested on his silence while he saw 
 to her needs. He filled her champagne glass. 
 
 " Drink that. It will do you good. " 
 
 "Will it?" she asked, drinking it obediently. 
 " I don't think that I care very much for it. " 
 
 "It's an acquired taste," he answered. "What 
 will you have now? They offered me truffled 
 larks, but I didn't think that you would care to 
 eat an embodied song." 
 
 "Oh, no," she cried. "People don't eat larks, 
 do they?" 
 
 " Probably they're only sparrows, " Fenton said. 
 "I'll get you some galantine." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 It was such a relief to be ordinary again, to be 
 with someone who understood. In the revulsion of 
 her feeling, it seemed to Titian as if she had found 
 sudden harbour from stormy seas. It was an odd 
 place in which to find peace, this gaily-lit supper- 
 room full of chattering people, where the light
 
 362 The Torch of Life 
 
 clatter of fork and plate was punctuated by the 
 popping of champagne corks. 
 
 There was never any need to talk to Fenton if 
 one did not wish. The bond between them was 
 close enough to permit silence. Titian at inter- 
 vals studied his face the unfamiliar contour of 
 cheek and chin, the beautiful lines of his clearly- 
 cut mouth and wondered if the distraught Adela 
 had ever loved him. It should riot be difficult for 
 any woman to love Fenty, she thought vaguely; 
 any woman who really knew him. 
 
 "Are you tired?" His voice broke across her 
 musings. 
 
 She started. "I think I am, just a little." 
 
 ' ' You ought not to dance too much. Remember 
 that you are not used to it. " 
 
 "Oh, but I have had great practice lately," she 
 began, then stopped, reddening painfully. Her 
 eyes met his. What she read there prompted a 
 hasty, "Fenton, will you forgive me?" 
 
 He looked at her searchingly for a moment. 
 "There is nothing to forgive," he answered 
 slowly. 
 
 Her lids drooped. She felt chilled; as if she 
 had been put away to a little distance. As if 
 Fenton had accepted the olive-branch but had not 
 taken her hand with it.
 
 The Yew Hedge 363 
 
 The opening of the door let in a strain of music. 
 Titian rose. Fenton rose too. 
 
 "Are you dancing this?" he asked. 
 
 Glancing at her fan she noticed that the pro- 
 gramme was gone from it. 
 
 "I've lost my programme," she answered, "but 
 I know that I was engaged for everything. " 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't overdo it." 
 
 "What does it matter?" 
 
 "The lost programme will be a good excuse for 
 getting out of those you don't want to dance." 
 
 She brightened suddenly, but it was a chilly 
 brightness which puzzled Fenton. 
 
 "I thank thee, Fenty, for teaching me that 
 word," she paraphrased lightly. "Will you take 
 me back to the ballroom, please? The pillar near 
 the door is my general rendezvous. " 
 
 He took her back without a word. Before he 
 left the ballroom, an episode occurred which gave 
 him food for thought. 
 
 Near the pillar stood a reproachful partner of 
 Titian's. While she was making belated explana- 
 tions to him, Cosmo Trevor hurried up. His 
 eyes were bright and his manner a trifle nervous. 
 
 "This is ours, I think, Mrs. Fleury," he said, 
 tentatively. 
 
 The sound of his voice turned Titian to ice once
 
 364 The Torch of Life 
 
 more, but with an effort she controlled herself, 
 and faced him with a forced smile. He seemed 
 to have dwindled since last she had seen him. 
 
 "I think you are making a mistake," she said 
 coolly. She did not glance towards Fenton, but 
 she was aware of his quiet watchfulness. 
 
 "I assure you that I am not," he persisted. It 
 had taken some courage to come up and claim his 
 dance. He pointed to the space in his programme. 
 "This is number 15." 
 
 She shook her head. "I have lost my pro- 
 gramme," she said, "but I am quite convinced 
 that you are making a mistake. Captain March 
 has been patiently waiting here for me. Haven't 
 you, Captain March?" 
 
 "Impatiently, Mrs. Fleury, " returned Captain 
 March. 
 
 "You see?" she said, turning to Cosmo with an 
 explanatory air. 
 
 "I confess that I don't," he returned. "What 
 am I supposed to see?" 
 
 "That I have lost my programme," she said 
 lightly. "I cannot remember that any dances 
 are due to you. " 
 
 She smiled again as she swung away on Captain 
 March's arm, but she suddenly felt very tired and 
 her heart was as heavy as lead.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LOVE WITH WINGS 
 
 '""TITIAN awoke next morning to a full sense of 
 * some untoward happening. Then she re- 
 membered, and with remembrance came swift 
 longing for the shelter of Camus. The pleasures 
 of her visit, once so sweet, had turned to Dead 
 Sea Fruit. She wanted nothing so much as the 
 undisturbed peace, the once-fretting solitude of 
 her own home. 
 
 "Going home really is the nicest thing in the 
 world," she thought. "Fenty always knows." 
 
 It was strange how her thoughts fled to him in 
 any crisis; how he seemed to be part of her very 
 life. What madness had blinded her to the fact 
 that it was a king's gift which he had been ready to 
 lay at her feet? A gift which she had spurned 
 for a glittering bauble that broke and cut her 
 when she touched it. 
 
 A great sadness filled her at the thought. While 
 she had been playing at youth, perhaps she had let 
 
 365
 
 366 The Torch of Life 
 
 the real thing slip by. She remembered Fenton's 
 passion, then his altered look, and the sadness of 
 the mouth that had said, "There is nothing to 
 forgive. " 
 
 What had he meant by that? Did he mean that 
 she had shut a door upon herself at which she 
 might knock in vain, or did he mean that it really 
 did not matter? Or yet again was it only her own 
 smallness that read any lesser meaning into the 
 measure of his complete comprehension? 
 
 She turned restlessly in her bed. It was strange 
 how the proportions of last night's affairs had 
 altered. The memory of her humiliation had 
 shrunk to a hot pin-prick, while the scene in the 
 conservatory with Fenton now appeared to her 
 as one of life's touchstone moments in which she 
 had been found pitifully wanting. 
 
 Her one desire was for flight. She felt as if she 
 could not stay on in this altered atmosphere, as if 
 she never wanted to see Cosmo Trevor or Toye 
 again. She did not want to see Fenton yet either. 
 The thought of her recent attitude towards him 
 humiliated her even more than the remembrance 
 of Cosmo's kiss. 
 
 While she racked her brains for an excuse, Fate, 
 in freakish kindness, provided her with one in the 
 shape of news from Camus. Mrs. Brooke, the
 
 Love With Wings 367 
 
 housekeeper, had fallen downstairs and broken 
 her leg. 
 
 She hastened with her dressing and bade Mar- 
 shall pack, while she hurried to find Lady Tempest 
 and announce her going. 
 
 As she went downstairs, she shared the sense of 
 lassitude which pervaded the house. Everything 
 bore that aspect of tired disarray which is known 
 on the morning after a ball. 
 
 After the bustling activities of the past few days, 
 it seemed like a deserted house. Neither boys nor 
 dogs were to be seen. Not even a whistle was to be 
 heard. 
 
 She found Lady Tempest seated at her desk in 
 her own little room. She turned a rather tired 
 face towards her as she entered. 
 
 "My dear, why did you get up so early?" 
 she asked. "I wanted you to have a good 
 long rest after your triumphs of last night. 
 Hugh and I were very proud of our lovely 
 cousin. " 
 
 "Dear Mary, you are all too good to me," 
 Titian cried warmly. "Your ball was a huge suc- 
 cess. Everything was perfect. It was," she 
 assured herself fiercely. "It was only my own 
 folly that spoiled it for me. " 
 
 "I don't like to see those dark shadows under
 
 368 The Torch of Life 
 
 your eyes. Sit down and tell me all about your 
 conquests." 
 
 "I want to tell you something else," Titian an- 
 swered, choosing a chair with its back to the light. 
 
 "Yes?" Lady Tempest leaned forward with 
 quickened interest. "Yes, dear?" 
 
 "It is only that I must leave you to-day." 
 
 "Leave us?" Blank disappointment rang in 
 her tone. 
 
 "Yes," Titian went on hurriedly. "I had 
 disturbing news from Camus this morning. My 
 housekeeper, Mrs. Brooke, has fallen downstairs 
 and broken her leg. I must go home at once to 
 see that she is properly looked after." 
 
 "But could not someone else " 
 
 "No, I must go myself. I really must. Don't 
 ask me to stay, Mary dear. You have all been 
 more than good to me. You have given me a very 
 happy time, but I must go." 
 
 Mary Tempest looked closely at her, and being a 
 wise woman, ceased her persuasions. 
 
 "Very well," she returned quietly. "I will not 
 press you any more. I am very sorry. I don't 
 know what the boys and Fenton will say when 
 they come back." 
 
 "Where have they gone to?" The thought of 
 their absence brought relief.
 
 Love With Wings 369 
 
 "They took lunch with them and went off to 
 Craven Water to fish. " 
 
 Titian got up and stood for a moment by Mary 
 Tempest's chair. Then she stooped and pressed 
 her cheek against the older woman's. 
 
 "You do care for me a little, Mary, don't you?" 
 she whispered. 
 
 "My dear, I care for you very much," said 
 Lady Tempest, greatly touched. 
 
 Titian said nothing, but squeezed the shoulder 
 she held, almost passionately. 
 
 "You are a good friend, a true friend like 
 Fenty, " she said, after an instant. 
 
 Then she got up and slipped out of the room, 
 leaving Lady Tempest to wonder what had hap- 
 pened. She was not in the least deceived by the 
 urgency of Mrs. Brooke's need. 
 
 Mrs. Brooke was overwhelmed with gratitude 
 at her mistress's attentions, but when Titian had 
 seen to her comfort and paid her one or two daily 
 visits there remained little else to be done. Her 
 presence, if prolonged beyond the necessary ten 
 minutes, only embarrassed the good woman, and 
 conversation was wont to flag. 
 
 Titian missed Miss Em's company. The never- 
 failing salt of her conversation had done much to 
 
 24
 
 370 The Torch of Life 
 
 savour former days. She missed the young com- 
 panionship which had blown through her life like 
 a spring breeze at Craven. She missed the con- 
 stant claims of the two boys, the hourly call of 
 unnumbered yet insistent trifles, the games, the 
 merry lessons. 
 
 Now time seemed to go on leaden feet. Each 
 once-rounded hour spun to a long thin line. Life 
 seemed a flat affair. She was lonely and her 
 thoughts were but fretting company at best. 
 
 She tried to interest herself in her former occu- 
 pations, but they had lost their zest. She busied 
 herself for hours with Mr. Trant, going over plans, 
 specifications, and accounts until her head ached. 
 
 For those dreary days she saw no one but her 
 agent. From him, she learned that Fenton had 
 returned to Belfield. Her outlook brightened at 
 the thought of his coming, but she drooped again 
 when day after day passed without bringing him. 
 
 It seemed as if Nature were in league against her 
 as well, because for two whole days the world was 
 
 obscured in a white pall of fog. Thick webs of mist 
 I 
 
 hid even the wind-shaven trees of the avenue; the 
 grass outside the courtyard was veiled in greyish 
 gauze. Drops gathered, hung, and dropped from 
 window and lintel; ran and pattered from leaf to 
 leaf on the trails of the creeper.
 
 Love With Wings 371 
 
 The fog dimmed the sea-sounds, and was 
 pierced only by the recurrent wail of the fog-horn 
 at the lighthouse on the point, discordant and 
 menacing. 
 
 Within, the house felt close and airless. Pol- 
 ished surfaces were dimmed with damp; chintz 
 covers felt cold and cheerless to the touch. 
 
 Titian had a fire lighted in her sitting-room, and 
 sat by the blaze with Bibi on her lap and Rufus's 
 head against her knee, watching the blue and 
 orange flames crackling upwards through the 
 sticks. She felt very lonely and wondered anew 
 why Fenton did not come. 
 
 A letter from Miss Em, re-directed from Craven, 
 brought her some news of the outer world. It 
 appeared that Baldwin was a different man from 
 the deprecating uncared-for being whom she had 
 found at Breston on her arrival. 
 
 "Not a stocking to his foot, my dear, nor a 
 button to his shirts! Gwendoline has had the 
 sense to give everything into my charge a poor 
 wisp of a creature, I must say. She belongs to the 
 peakers and piners, and her ideal is to be ladylike. 
 For instance, she thinks it is ladylike to have a 
 small appetite and to be a poor sleeper! I am 
 sure she thinks me most unladylike because I 
 know the uses of a duster and a sweeping-brush
 
 372 The Torch of Life 
 
 and have cleaned the windows so that you can 
 now see through them. Tell me about your grand 
 doings whenever you can spare time to write. " 
 
 Spare time! She could spare time to write an 
 exhaustive chronicle now, but what had she to tell 
 Miss Em? 
 
 Nevertheless her letter acted as a spur to 
 thought. Titian rose from her fruitless musings, 
 and fetching her knitting-bag, began to work at 
 a tiny jacket for Miss Em's decried niece or nephew. 
 Her fingers moved quickly; the little garment 
 grew. 
 
 A gust of wind shook a patter of drops from the 
 creeper outside. They sounded like the echoing 
 footsteps of her little lost ghosts. Her sense of 
 loneliness deepened. She put the baby's jacket 
 down in her lap, and her tears fell quick as rain. 
 
 She dried them hastily lest they should fall on 
 the little garment, and sat gazing into the fire 
 with eyes that saw it as an orange blur. 
 
 She was awake at last. Now she realised what 
 Penton had always meant in her life. Now her 
 spirit answered to the call of his, as it had always 
 answered if she had only known. She wanted him, 
 her Fenty, her own man, with her whole heart. It 
 was love that had looked at her from his eyes that 
 night, a love with which she had played, as he had
 
 Love With Wings 373 
 
 truly said. It made her pain no easier to bear 
 to know that she had thrust it from her on the 
 impulse of a moment's folly. But Fenty knew. 
 He always understood. Why did he not come? 
 
 With the query flashed its answer. 
 
 Fenton, for all his gentleness, had a pride as 
 high as her own. That his love was as unalter- 
 able as the fixed stars, some inner instinct assured 
 her, but she knew in her inmost being that Fenton 
 was not the man to lay his heart again beneath 
 her feet for her trampling. 
 
 Something of his Vision Splendid came to her as 
 she sat there by the fire, and she saw once for all 
 how inextricably her life was knit with his. They 
 had grown together all these years. How was it 
 that she had not known? 
 
 He was necessary to her as air, bread, and water 
 three of the elements, she thought with a soft 
 little smile, making bread typify earth. What 
 of the fourth? Suddenly she remembered the 
 light that had shone in his eyes that night, a light 
 such as she had once seen in Mary Tempest's 
 face. There was the fourth element. Her spirit 
 leaped to meet it as flame to flame. 
 
 She hid her burning face in her hands. If Fenton 
 would only come all would be well once more be- 
 tween them. If they once looked at each other
 
 374 The Torch of Life 
 
 there could be no need for words. It seemed as if 
 a chink of the Gates of the World Invisible opened 
 at the thought. 
 
 Perhaps he was waiting for her to make the first 
 move. Could that be the reason of his absence? 
 If it were it was in her power to give at last, as 
 she had longed to do all her life. She would give 
 with both hands to Fenton, and her very first 
 gift should be her pride. 
 
 She got up hastily from the couch and went to 
 her desk. With flushed cheeks and shining eyes 
 she wrote her first love-letter. 
 
 "Fenty, dear," it ran, "when are you coming 
 home? The light is still burning. Titian. " 
 
 She kissed the paper just below her name, and 
 slipped the letter into an envelope. As she did so, 
 Rufus's tail began to beat the floor. There was a 
 step outside. The door opened and Fenton came 
 in. She turned and their eyes met. Then with- 
 out a word, she rose and put the letter into his 
 hand. 
 
 THE END
 
 JS: Selection from the 
 Catalogue of 
 
 C. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 Complete Catalogue nt 
 on application
 
 Matthew Hargraves 
 
 S. G. Tallentyre 
 
 Author of "Bassett," "Life of Voltaire," etc. 
 
 To those discriminating readers of fiction who 
 put human interest above the eccentric and ex- 
 ceptional, this new book by S. G. Tallentyre, 
 recounting with rare fidelity the progress through 
 life of Matthew Hargraves, son of the portly 
 landlord of the Hope and Anchor, with all the 
 qualities one respects and the limitations one 
 recognizes in the average man, will afford a 
 delightful few hours. The delicate way in which 
 the author conveys to the reader the sense of 
 growing sympathy between Matthew and the 
 girl whom he and his wife have taken into their 
 coldly correct household is a refreshing escape 
 from the clumsy, or even gross, manner in which 
 many writers of fiction, with an artistry less 
 perfect, would have done violence to the situa- 
 tion. But the supreme achievement of the 
 author's artistry is to have made a commonplace 
 man thoroughly interesting.
 
 The 
 Folk of Furry Farm 
 
 By 
 
 K. F. Purdon 
 
 With an Introduction by 
 
 George A. Birmingham 
 
 Very little has hitherto been heard 
 in modern Irish fiction of the great 
 midland plains of Meath, which Miss 
 Purdon has marked in this book for 
 her own. She has, in a sense, dis- 
 covered ^a peasantry which is new to 
 English readers. Its characteristic 
 pathos and humor run through her 
 story of life in Ardenoo.
 
 Syrup of the Bees 
 
 By 
 F. W. Bain 
 
 Author of "A Digit of the Moon," "A Draught 
 of the Blue," etc. 
 
 " Mr. Bain's stories are full of wistful- 
 ness and beauty. There is a tenderness, 
 a richness of color, a warmth of passion, 
 and an elemental understanding of men 
 and women. . . . They seem to me to 
 place Mr. Bain on an eminence isolated 
 and unique. . . . No words that I can 
 write can fittingly express the fascination 
 of these books." E. V. Lucas, in the 
 London Bookman.
 
 Children 
 of BanisHment 
 
 By 
 Francis William Sullivan 
 
 This robust tale of the northern woods, 
 with its atmosphere of camp and cabin, 
 and its background of stately forest, traces 
 the fortunes of one who through a happy 
 chance discovers the treachery of the man 
 to whom he has entrusted the fulfillment 
 of his life's ambition, and just in time to 
 avert disaster. Yet redress he must forego, 
 for the man who has attempted to wrong him 
 is the husband of the woman he loves. Out 
 of this antagonism of interests the author has 
 developed a love story that is full of capital 
 dramatic situations, that opens up many 
 unexpected developments, and that proceeds 
 to an impressive and satisfying climax.