Two on a Tower
convexity of the arch, coming and going silently. The temperature fell,
and Lady Constantine drew her wrap more closely around her.
'We'll go down,' said Swithin. 'The cabin is beautifully warm. Why
should we try to observe to-night? Indeed, we cannot; the Aurora light
overpowers everything.'
'Very well. To-morrow night there will be no interruption. I shall be
gone.'
'You leave me to-morrow, Viviette?'
'Yes; to-morrow morning.'
The truth was that, with the progress of the hours and days, the
conviction had been borne in upon Viviette more and more forcibly that
not for kingdoms and principalities could she afford to risk the
discovery of her presence here by any living soul.
'But let me see your face, dearest,' he said. 'I don't think it will be
safe for you to meet your brother yet.'
As it was too dark to see her face on the summit where they sat they
descended the winding staircase, and in the cabin Swithin examined the
damaged cheek. The line, though so far attenuated as not to be
observable by any one but a close observer, had not quite disappeared.
But in consequence of her reiterated and almost tearful anxiety to go,
and as there was a strong probability that her brother had left the
house, Swithin decided to call at Welland next morning, and reconnoitre
with a view to her return.
Locking her in he crossed the dewy stubble into the park. The house was
silent and deserted; and only one tall stalk of smoke ascended from the
chimneys. Notwithstanding that the hour was nearly nine he knocked at
the door.
'Is Lady Constantine at home?' asked Swithin, with a disingenuousness now
habitual, yet unknown to him six months before.
'No, Mr. St. Cleeve; my lady has not returned from Bath. We expect her
every day.'
'Nobody staying in the house?'
'My lady's brother has been here; but he is gone on to Budmouth. He will
come again in two or three weeks, I understand.'
This was enough. Swithin said he would call again, and returned to the
cabin, where, waking Viviette, who was not by nature an early riser, he
waited on the column till she was ready to breakfast. When this had been
shared they prepared to start.
A long walk was before them. Warborne station lay five miles distant,
and the next station above that nine miles. They were bound for the
latter; their plan being that she should there take the train to the
junction where the whip accident had occurred, claim her luggage, and
return with it to Warborne, as if from Bath.
The morning was cool and the walk not wearisome. When once they had left
behind the stubble-field of their environment and the parish of Welland,
they sauntered on comfortably, Lady Constantine's spirits rising as she
withdrew further from danger.
They parted by a little brook, about half a mile from the station;
Swithin to return to Welland by the way he had come.
Lady Constantine telegraphed from the junction to Warborne for a carriage
to be in readiness to meet her on her arrival; and then, waiting for the
down train, she travelled smoothly home, reaching Welland House about
five minutes sooner than Swithin reached the column hard by, after
footing it all the way from where they had parted.
XXI
From that day forward their life resumed its old channel in general
outward aspect.
Perhaps the most remarkable feature in their exploit was its comparative
effectiveness as an expedient for the end designed,--that of restoring
calm assiduity to the study of astronomy. Swithin took up his old
position as the lonely philosopher at the column, and Lady Constantine
lapsed back to immured existence at the house, with apparently not a
friend in the parish. The enforced narrowness of life which her limited
resources necessitated was now an additional safeguard against the
discovery of her relations with St. Cleeve. Her neighbours seldom
troubled her; as much, it must be owned, from a tacit understanding that
she was not in a position to return invitations as from any selfish
coldness engendered by her want of wealth.
At the first meeting of the secretly united pair after their short
honeymoon they were compelled to behave as strangers to each other. It
occurred in the only part of Welland which deserved the name of a village
street, and all the labourers were returning to their midday meal, with
those of their wives who assisted at outdoor work. Before the eyes of
this innocent though quite untrustworthy group, Swithin and his Viviette
could only shake hands in passing, though she contrived to say to him in
an undertone, 'My brother does not return yet for some time. He has gone
to Paris. I will be on the lawn this evening, if you can come.' It was
a fluttered smile that she bestowed on him, and there was no doubt that
every fibre of her heart vibrated afresh at meeting, with such reserve,
one who stood in his close relation to her.
The shades of night fell early now, and Swithin was at the spot of
appointment about the time that he knew her dinner would be over. It was
just where they had met at the beginning of the year, but many changes
had resulted since then. The flower-beds that had used to be so neatly
edged were now jagged and leafy; black stars appeared on the pale surface
of the gravel walks, denoting tufts of grass that grew unmolested there.
Lady Constantine's external affairs wore just that aspect which suggests
that new blood may be advantageously introduced into the line; and new
blood had been introduced, in good sooth,--with what social result
remained to be seen.
She silently entered on the scene from the same window which had given
her passage in months gone by. They met with a concerted embrace, and
St. Cleeve spoke his greeting in whispers.
'We are quite safe, dearest,' said she.
'But the servants?'
'My meagre staff consists of only two women and the boy; and they are
away in the other wing. I thought you would like to see the inside of my
house, after showing me the inside of yours. So we will walk through it
instead of staying out here.'
She let him in through the casement, and they strolled forward softly,
Swithin with some curiosity, never before having gone beyond the library
and adjoining room. The whole western side of the house was at this time
shut up, her life being confined to two or three small rooms in the south-
east corner. The great apartments through which they now whisperingly
walked wore already that funereal aspect that comes from disuse and
inattention. Triangular cobwebs already formed little hammocks for the
dust in corners of the wainscot, and a close smell of wood and leather,
seasoned with mouse-droppings, pervaded the atmosphere. So seldom was
the solitude of these chambers intruded on by human feet that more than
once a mouse stood and looked the twain in the face from the arm of a
sofa, or the top of a cabinet, without any great fear.
Swithin had no residential ambition whatever, but he was interested in
the place. 'Will the house ever be thrown open to gaiety, as it was in
old times?' said he.
'Not unless you make a fortune,' she replied laughingly. 'It is mine for
my life, as you know; but the estate is so terribly saddled with
annuities to Sir Blount's distant relatives, one of whom will succeed me
here, that I have practically no more than my own little private income
to exist on.'
'And are you bound to occupy the house?'
'Not bound to. But I must not let it on lease.'
'And was there any stipulation in the event of your re-marriage?'
'It was not mentioned.'
'It is satisfactory to find that you lose nothing by marrying me, at all
events, dear Viviette.'
'I hope you lose nothing either--at least, of consequence.'
'What have I to lose?'
'I meant your liberty. Suppose you become a popular physicist
(popularity seems cooling towards art and coquetting with science now-a-
days), and a better chance offers, and one who would make you a newer and
brighter wife than I am comes in your way. Will you never regret this?
Will you never despise me?'
Swithin answered by a kiss, and they again went on; proceeding like a
couple of burglars, lest they should draw the attention of the cook or
Green.
In one of the upper rooms his eyes were attracted by an old chamber
organ, which had once been lent for use in the church. He mentioned his
recollection of the same, which led her to say, 'That reminds me of
something. There is to be a confirmation in our parish in the spring,
and you once told me that you had never been confirmed. What shocking
neglect! Why was it?'
'I hardly know. The confusion resulting from my father's death caused it
to be forgotten, I suppose.'
'Now, dear Swithin, you will do this to please me,--be confirmed on the
present occasion?'
'Since I have done without the virtue of it so long, might I not do
without it altogether?'
'No, no!' she said earnestly. 'I do wish it, indeed. I am made unhappy
when I think you don't care about such serious matters. Without the
Church to cling to, what have we?'
'Each other. But seriously, I should be inverting the established order
of spiritual things; people ought to be confirmed before they are
married.'
'That's really of minor consequence. Now, don't think slightingly of
what so many good men have laid down as necessary to be done. And, dear
Swithin, I somehow feel that a certain levity which has perhaps shown
itself in our treatment of the sacrament of marriage--by making a
clandestine adventure of what is, after all, a solemn rite--would be well
atoned for by a due seriousness in other points of religious observance.
This opportunity should therefore not be passed over. I thought of it
all last night; and you are a parson's son, remember, and he would have
insisted on it if he had been alive. In short, Swithin, do be a good
boy, and observe the Church's ordinances.'
Lady Constantine, by virtue of her temperament, was necessarily either
lover or _devote_, and she vibrated so gracefully between these two
conditions that nobody who had known the circumstances could have
condemned her inconsistencies. To be led into difficulties by those
mastering emotions of hers, to aim at escape by turning round and seizing
the apparatus of religion--which could only rightly be worked by the very
emotions already bestowed elsewhere--it was, after all, but Nature's well-
meaning attempt to preserve the honour of her daughter's conscience in
the trying quandary to which the conditions of sex had given rise. As
Viviette could not be confirmed herself, and as Communion Sunday was a
long way off, she urged Swithin thus.
'And the new bishop is such a good man,' she continued. 'I used to have
a slight acquaintance with him when he was a parish priest.'
'Very well, dearest. To please you I'll be confirmed. My grandmother,
too, will be delighted, no doubt.'
They continued their ramble: Lady Constantine first advancing into rooms
with the candle, to assure herself that all was empty, and then calling
him forward in a whisper. The stillness was broken only by these
whispers, or by the occasional crack of a floor-board beneath their
tread. At last they sat down, and, shading the candle with a screen, she
showed him the faded contents of this and that drawer or cabinet, or the
wardrobe of some member of the family who had died young early in the
century, when muslin reigned supreme, when waists were close to arm-pits,
and muffs as large as smugglers' tubs. These researches among
habilimental hulls and husks, whose human kernels had long ago perished,
went on for about half an hour; when the companions were startled by a
loud ringing at the front-door bell.
XXII
Lady Constantine flung down the old-fashioned lacework, whose beauties