On the day when things became clear to me, I was walking towards the Meryons' gates when I met her coming alone along the sunset road, in the late gold of the afternoon. She looked pale and a little wearied, and I remembered I wished I did not know every change of her face as I did. It was a symptom that alarmed my selfishness - it galled me with the sense that I was no longer my own despot.
"So you have been up the Khyber Pass," she said as I fell into step at her side. "Tell me - was it as wonderful as you expected?"
"No, no, -you tell me! It will give me what I missed. Begin at the beginning. Tell me what I saw."
I could not miss the delight of her words, and she laughed, knowing my whim.
"Oh, that Pass! -the wonder of those old roads that have borne the traffic and romance of the world for ages. Do you think there is anything in the world so fascinating as they are? But did you go on Tuesday or Friday?"
For these are the only days in the week when the Khyber can be safely entered. The British then turn out the Khyber Rifles and man every crag, and the loaded caravans move like a tide, and go up and down the narrow road on their occasions.
Naturally mere sightseers are not welcomed, for much business must be got through in that urgent forty eight hours in which life is not risked in entering.
"Tuesday. But make a picture for me."
"Well, you gave your word not to photograph or sketch - as if one wanted to when every bit of it is stamped on one's brain! And you went up to Jumrood Fort at the entrance. Did they tell you it is an old Sikh Fort and has been on duty in that turbulent place for five hundred years And did you see the machine guns in the court? And every one armed - even the boys with belts of cartridges? Then you went up the narrow winding track between the mountains, and you said to yourself, 'This is the road of pure romance. It goes up to silken Samarkhand, and I can ride to Bokhara of the beautiful women and to all the dreams. Am I alive and is it real?' You felt that?"
"All. Every bit. Go on!"
She smiled with pleasure.
"And you saw the little forts on the crags and the men on guard all along the bills, rifles ready! You could hear the guns rattle as they saluted. Do you know that up there men plough with rifles loaded beside them? They have to be men indeed."
"Do you mean to imply that we are not men?"
"Different men at least. This is life in a Border ballad. Such a life as you knew in France but beautiful in a wild - hawk sort of way. Don't the Khyber Rifles bewilder you? They are drawn from these very Hill tribes, and will shoot their own fathers and brothers in the way of duty as comfortably as if they were jackals. Once there was a scrap here and one of the tribesmen sniped our men unbearably. What do you suppose happened? A Khyber Rifle came to the Colonel and said, 'Let me put an end to him, Colonel Sahib. I know exactly where he sits. He is my grandfather.' And he did it!"
"The bond of bread and salt?"
"Yes, and discipline. I'm sometimes half frightened of discipline. It moulds a man like wax. Even God doesn't do that. Well - then you had the traders - wild shaggy men in sheepskin and women in massive jewelry of silver and turquoise,-great earrings, heavy bracelets loading their arms, wild, fierce, handsome. And the camels - thousands of them, some going up, some coming down, a mass of human and animal life. Above you, moving figures against the keen blue sky, or deep below you in the ravines.
"The camels were swaying along with huge bales of goods, and dark beautiful women in wicker cages perched on them. Silks and carpets from Bokhara, and blue - eyed Persian cats, and bluer Persian turquoises. Wonderful! And the dust, gilded by the sunshine, makes a vaporous golden atmosphere for it all."
"What was the most wonderful thing you saw there?"
"The most beautiful, I think, was a man - a splendid dark ruffian lounging along. He wanted to show off, and his swagger was perfect. Long black onyx eyes and a tumble of black curls, and teeth like almonds. But what do you think he carried on his wrist - a hawk with fierce yellow eyes, ringed and chained. Hawking is a favourite sport in the hills. Oh, why doesn't some great painter come and paint it all before they take to trains and cars? I long to see it all again, but I never shall."
"Why not," said I. "Surely Sir John can get you up there any day?"
"Not now. The fighting makes it difficult. But it isn't that. I am leaving."
"Leaving?" My heart gave a leap. "Why? Where?"
"Leaving Lady Meryon."
"Why - for Heaven's sake?"
"I had rather not tell you."
"But I must know."
"You cannot."
"I shall ask Lady Meryon."
"I forbid you."
And then the unexpected happened, and an unbearable impulse swept me into folly - or was it wisdom?
"Listen to me. I would not have said it yet, but this settles it. I want you to marry me. I want it atrociously!"
It was a strange word. What I felt for her at that moment was difficult to describe. I endured it like a pain that could only be assuaged by her presence, but I endured it angrily. We were walking on the sunset road - very deserted and quiet at the time. The place was propitious if nothing else was.
She looked at me in transparent astonishment;
"Mr. Clifden, are you dreaming? You can't mean what you say."
"Why can't I? I do. I want you. You have the key of all I care for. I think of the world without you and find it tasteless."
"Surely you have all the world can give? What do you want more?"
"The power to enjoy it - to understand it. You have got that - I haven't. I want you always with me to interpret, like a guide to a blind fellow. I am no better."
"Say like a dog, at once!" she interrupted. "At least you are frank enough to put it on that ground. You have not said you love me. You could not say it."
"I don't know whether I do or not. I know nothing about love. I want you. Indescribably. Perhaps that is love - is it? I never wanted any one before. I have tried to get away and I can't."
I was brutally frank, you see. She compelled my very thoughts.
"Why have you tried?"
"Because every man likes freedom. But I like you better." "I can tell you the reason," she said in her gentle unwavering voice. "I am Lady Meryon's governess, and an undesirable. You have felt that?"
"Don't make me out such a snob. No - yes. You force me into honesty. I did feel it at first like the miserable fool I am, but I could kick myself when I think of that now. It is utterly forgotten. Take me and make me what you will, and forgive me. Only tell me your secret of joy. How is it you understand everything alive or dead? I want to live - to see, to know."
It was a rhapsody like a boy's. Yet at the moment I was not even ashamed of it, so sharp was my need.
"I think," she said, slowly, looking straight before her, "that I had better be quite frank. I don't love you. I don't know what love means in the Western sense. It has a very different meaning for me. Your voice comes to me from an immense distance when you speak in that way. You want me - but never with a thought of what I might want. Is that love? I like you very deeply as a friend, but we are of different races. There is a gulf."
"A gulf? You are English."
"By birth, yes. In mind, no. And there are things that go deeper, that you could not understand. So I refuse quite definitely, and our ways part here, for in a few days I go. I shall not see you again, but I wish to say good-bye."
The bitterest chagrin was working in my soul. I felt as if all were deserting me-a sickening feeling of loneliness. I did not know the man who was in me, and was a stranger to myself.
"I entreat you to tell me why, and where."
"Since you have made me this offer, I will tell you why. Lady Meryon objected to my friendship with you, and objected in a way which-"
She stopped, flushing palely. I caught her hand.
"That settles it!-that she should have dared! I'll go up this minute and tell her we are engaged. Vanna-Vanna !"
For she disengaged her hand, quietly but firmly.
"On no account. How can I make it more plain to you? I should have gone soon in any case. My place is in the native city - that is the life I want. I have work there, I knew it before I came out. My sympathies are all with them. They know what life is - why even the beggars, poorer than poor, are perfectly happy, basking in the great generous sun. Oh, the splendour and riot of life and colour! That's my life - I sicken of this."
"But I'll give it to you. Marry me, and we will travel till you're tired of it."
"Yes, and look on as at a play - sitting in the stalls, and applauding when we are pleased. No, I'm going to work there." "For God's sake, how? Let me come too."
"You can't. You're not in it. I am going to attach myself to the medical mission at Lahore and learn nursing, and then I shall go to my own people."
"Missionaries? You've nothing in common with them?"
"Nothing. But they teach what I want. Mr. Clifden, I shall not come this way again. If I remember - I'll write to you, and tell you what the real world is like."
She smiled, the absorbed little smile I knew and feared. I saw pleading was useless then. I would wait, and never lose sight of her and of hope.
"Vanna, before you go, give me your gift of sight. Interpret for me. Stay with me a little and make me see."
"What do you mean exactly?" she asked in her gentlest voice, half turning to me.
"Make one journey with me, as my sister, if you will do no more. Though I warn you that all the time I shall be trying to win my wife. But come with me once, and after that - if you will go, you must. Say yes."
Madness! But she hesitated - a hesitation full of hope, and looked at me with intent eyes.
"I will tell you frankly," she said at last, "that I know my knowledge of the East and kinship with it goes far beyond mere words. In my case the doors were not shut. I believe - I know that long ago this was my life. If I spoke for ever I could not make you understand how much I know and why. So I shall quite certainly go back to it. Nothing - you least of all, can hold me. But you are my friend - that is a true bond. And if you would wish me to give you two months before I go, I might do that if it would in any way help you. As your friend only - you clearly understand. You would not reproach me afterwards when I left you, as I should most certainly do?"
"I swear I would not. I swear I would protect you even from myself. I want you for ever, but if you will only give me two months - come! But have you thought that people will talk. It may injure you.
I'm not worth that, God knows. And you will take nothing I could give you in return."
She spoke very quietly.
"That does not trouble me. - It would only trouble me if you asked what I have not to give. For two months I would travel with you as a friend, if, like a friend, I paid my own expenses-"
I would have interrupted, but she brushed that firmly aside. "No, I must do as I say, and I am quite able to or I should not suggest it. I would go on no other terms. It would be hard if because we are man and woman I might not do one act of friendship for you before we part. For though I refuse your offer utterly, I appreciate it, and I would make what little return I can. It would be a sharp pain to me to distress you."
Her gentleness and calm, the magnitude of the offer she was making stunned me so that I could scarcely speak. There was such an extraordinary simplicity and generosity in her manner that it appeared to me more enthralling and bewildering than the most finished coquetry I had ever known. She gave me opportunities that the most ardent lover could in his wildest dream desire, and with the remoteness in her eyes and her still voice she deprived them of all hope. It kindled in me a flame that made my throat dry when I tried to speak.
"Vanna, is it a promise? You mean it?"
"If you wish it, yes. But I warn you I think it will not make it easier for you when the time is over.
"Why two months?"
"Partly because I can afford no more. No! I know what you would say. Partly because I can spare no more time. But I will give you that, if you wish, though, honestly, I had very much rather not. I think it unwise for you. I would protect you if I could - indeed I would!"
It was my turn to hesitate now. Every moment revealed to me some new sweetness, some charm that I saw would weave itself into the very fibre of my I had been! Was I not now a fool? Would it not being if the opportunity were given. Oh, fool that be better to let her go before she had become a part of my daily experience? I began to fear I was courting my own shipwreck. She read my thoughts clearly.
"Indeed you would be wise to decide against it. Release me from my promise. It was a mad scheme."
The superiority - or so I felt it - of her gentleness maddened me. It might have been I who needed protection, who was running the risk of misjudgment - not she, a lonely woman. She looked at me, waiting - trying to be wise for me, never for one instant thinking of herself. I felt utterly exiled from the real purpose of her life.
"I will never release you. I claim your promise. I hold to it."
"Very well then - I will write, and tell you where I shall be. Good-bye, and if you change your mind, as I hope you will, tell me."
She extended her hand cool as a snowflake, and was gone, walking swiftly up the road. Ah, let a man beware when his wishes fulfilled, rain down upon him!
To what had I committed myself? She knew her strength and had no fears. I could scarcely realize that she had liking enough for me to make the offer. That it meant no shade more than she had said I knew well. She was safe, but what was to be the result for me? I knew nothing - she was a beloved mystery.
"Strange she is and secret, Strange her eyes; her cheeks are cold as cold sea-shells."
Yet I would risk it, for I knew there was no hope if I let her go now, and if I saw her again, some glimmer might fall upon my dark.
Next day this reached me:- Dear Mr. Clifden,-
I am going to some Indian friends for a time. On the 15th of June I shall he at Srinagar in Kashmir. A friend has allowed me to take her little houseboat, the "Kedarnath." If you like this plan we will share the cost for two months. I warn you it is not luxurious, but I think you will like it. I shall do this whether you come or no, for I want a quiet time before I take up my nursing in Lahore. In thinking of all this will you remember that I am not a girl but a woman. I shall he twenty-nine my next birthday. Sincerely yours, VANNA LORING.
P.S. But I still think you would be wiser not to come. I hope to hear you will not.
I replied only this :- Dear Miss Loring,- I think I understand the position fully. I will be there. I thank you with all my heart. Gratefully yours, STEPHEN CLIFDEN.