CHAPTER XXIX
Her conductor knocked at the study door, and the next minute Marigold entered. The old feeling returned of familiarity with her surroundings, and Mr Barringcourt, all anxiety banished from his face, seemed to bring back still more remembrances. And Marigold looked at him, a mixture of health and blushes in her cheeks.
“Good--good-morning,” she said, and held out her hand.
“Good--yes. Good-morning. You have slept very soundly through the night.”
“Yes; and it is very pleasant waking. That is--if--if you will forget all about my wickedness last night.”
“I can remember no wickedness--nothing but good.”
“Don’t you really think then it was very wicked of me?” And she looked up at him seriously, evidently no judge of her own line of conduct.
“No.” And he looked at her honestly and simply.
“It is very kind of you. Ah! there is Rosalie’s (her intonation on the word was very sweet) portrait, the one that was in little Patches’ room. You will be going to her, will you not?”
“Yes, very shortly.”
“And I wish you every happiness. But there is one thing, Mr Barringcourt.”
“What is it?”
“When you are married to Rosalie, you will never tell her about me. How I loved you and hated her, and all the things I did. She wouldn’t understand, you know. Women haven’t so much sympathy with one another. I don’t know how it is, but it is so.”
“I think she would have every sympathy with you.”
“But you will not tell her?”
“Not if you wish it.”
“What medicine did you give me, that has made me feel so well, so different?”
“A very simple one. A moral tonic, prescribed specially by Heaven for those who acknowledge their own weakness, and have conquered it.”
“I am thinking of going back to Fairy Sky very shortly. And, with all due deference to you as a physician, I must go back to Mendona House to-night. I--I am beginning to study appearances, and I don’t think it is quite the thing for me to be here. But I should like a bottle of medicine, if you can spare it.”
“Oh! you will find the one dose quite sufficient. But why should you not stay here? It is part hospital, part workhouse--and it will not be for long.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come with me.”
And he led her into the inner room with all its appliances--scientific and otherwise. And again the feeling of familiarity returned to Marigold.
And there upon the table was a crystal, and he took it and gave it into her hand, and set the room in darkness, with the door closed; and then he came and held her other hand, and, on the instant, a pale-blue mystic light lit up the magic ball.
She held it, gazing spellbound into it. And suddenly she saw a cottage bedroom, and a girl kneeling there--a pretty girl, with flaxen hair and a sad, thoughtful face. And again, the long vistas of the Temple--the heavy curtains drawn, revealing the same figure kneeling before the Serpent. And then again, the same girl in a garden surrounded by the loveliest brilliant flowers, with a look of eagerness and expectation on her face that Marigold somehow felt she understood. And then instantaneously a blight had settled on the garden--the flowers shrivelled and dead; but this as nothing to the human face, white and paralysed of every feeling except despair and pain. And then a deep-red glow, a palace garden, terraced and ornamented, a chariot and horses, and two figures just for the instant--and one was the Master, and the other the girl, who came and went all through.
“Rosalie.” The word slipped from Marigold’s lips, and then again was silence.
And then the image of the Serpent melted within the pure white fires of Heaven. Pure and intense--the real curtain that divides man from God.
And it seemed as if the crystal seethed and burned within this holy light a long time; and though there came no forms or scenes with it, it was to Marigold the most glorious scene of all, for she had felt and understood that fire--so cruel, yet, to the strong, so kindly.
And then at last another garden, with long lawns and blossoming bowers. And this time a little girl, playing alone, the sun having dyed her hair a pretty golden. And then Marigold looked a little while, and at last she put the crystal down, and she said:
“It’s me.”
And when the ordinary light came back to the room again, she looked around with a new interest and a heightened colour, and she rubbed her eyes.
“I don’t understand a bit,” she said.
“Neither did I,” he answered, smiling. “At least, not when you played the beggar girl. That was rather an expensive whim of yours, Marigold. Had I met you as the Lady of Ellel, I should have been prepared for you, and all would have been smooth sailing from the first. But when you’re looking for a Princess with a pair of lovely eyes, with an expression in them you have learnt to love and know through all the changes of eternity, and suddenly a beggar girl appears in rags, with just the same expression, you are allowed surely to feel--well, some annoyance.”
And Marigold laughed and clapped her hands.
“Oh! you are dull and stupid,” she cried gaily, shaking his arm and almost dancing with delight. “Don’t you see, I--I couldn’t have done anything better? I--I never knew what pain and suffering were till I became the beggar girl.”
“You’d learnt it all before.”
“Ah! was I--was I--am I--Rosalie?”
“Did you not remember the scenes?”
“Ye-es--ye-es. I don’t understand it. I can only feel. But there _must_ be a Rosalie, besides myself, because I was so horribly jealous of her. You know I was.”
“I know. That proves how reasonless jealousy can be.”
“And have you known this all along, and never told me?”
“How could I? If you had acted consistently to what you were, all through, there would never have been the slightest need for it.”
“Still,” said she thoughtfully, “I think there must have been some purpose to fulfil in acting as I did.”
“Yes, one--Marigold. And thank Heaven the purpose is fulfilled--and to our side the victory!”
“What do you mean?”
“It refers to the High Priest.”
She started, and the colour dyed her cheeks. “What of him?”
And seriously, too, he answered her:
“Last night was a serious time for you and for me, and for others. Had the High Priest fallen, and through you, he would have been one more big stumbling-block in the path from Lucifram to Heaven--and there are many. They wanted a soul to fill the hole in the broken net, to make it smaller. And he was chosen. But, since his election, for over quarter of a century he has shown a remarkable attention to duties. He has sacrificed in that direction almost more than a good man sacrifices to his God. No sin against him--for narrowness and bigotry, if they be genuine, are rarely let to count. In fact, the one great blot on his life was that plot against the late High Priest, which Rosalie exploded, and thus saved him a life-long penalty, and received small thanks for it. And now you, Rosalie over again, but with the deeper light of Heaven around you, came to him once again. Had he fallen, he had gone to Hell, to fill an office most contemptible, with the additional pain of hard imprisonment; for he, judging his Master hardly for the same offence, unjustly, was falling into it himself--the common fate of sinners. And you and I again had long been parted--lost to each other--and, knowing little of futurity, I cannot say how long. For you could not have lived in the higher state, even though almost of it, with those untamed passions still alive in you.”
“Ah! but it was St Armand. I had felt good for months--almost since little Patches went--and suddenly he came and put his arms around me, and I was ill and weak. What could I do?”
“What, indeed? But I should have blamed myself. I should have known you even in the beggar state, as Patches did.”
“Yes, he did--didn’t he? And you were so angry, and I thought you silly, because I thought he was getting too weak to think or see properly--and, being a doctor, I thought you should have known. And there he has been the cleverest of all--of both of us. I’m so glad I’m Rosalie, because it’s allowable to hate yourself. And I always used to hate myself when I was jealous of her. It _sounds_ rather mixed, but it doesn’t _feel_ mixed at all. I’m glad you’re Dr Quack instead of a scientist, because you’ve taught me so many nice things that they would shake their heads at. Do you think there are any scientists in Heaven?”
“Oh yes. Hell too.”
“And--and can they get any one to marry them?”
“Yes. Without exception, they have very charming wives. I thought I’d told you a story of one.”
“Oh no, you’ve never told me any stories--neither this time nor last. You only kissed me twice last time too. And once wasn’t a kiss at all, but what I call a mark of condescension.”
“And this time I haven’t kissed you at all.” And he turned and looked down at her.
“Oh yes,” said Marigold rather shyly, and moving back a step or two, “you’ve kissed me many times.”
And her hand went to the covering at her neck, and his eyes went there too.
“If you’re a doctor, you should be able to make this all right,” she said. And she removed the pearls, and held her face up, and he saw the red mark at the side of her neck. And then very gently he drew her to him, and stooped and kissed each place, and a deep rosy colour spread over her neck and face, and when it had gone there were no marks left--nothing but fairest beauty. And then impulsively, for his head still bent towards hers, she raised her arms and clasped them round his neck and kissed him.
And Marigold was very happy, because she knew she was secure in that strong love and those strong arms. And now there was no misunderstanding to dash the cup of happiness away, and leave nothing but bitter, humiliating dregs, and ugly scars of memory.
* * * * *
That night she stayed with him for dinner--too happy to eat much, radiantly contented.
“I don’t care very much for this house--do you?” she asked at length.
“No. It’s a necessity, so I tolerate it.”
“I think it would make me unhappy. It is so very gloomy, and the servants are so unapproachable. Alice says they’re as proud as if they were ‘the family.’”
He laughed.
“Poor Alice! You’ll have to pension her off, Marigold. You’re going where Alice cannot follow.”
“When?”
“To-night.”
“But I have settled nothing. Remember, I have an estate in Fairy Sky--I----”
“Oh! that estate is mine. That is why they sent you here. If I had looked better after that bit of property, I should have met you earlier, but I had no notion you were there.”
“It used to be very lonely, I can tell you. But it was very lovely. Now this place----”
“Is a heathenish barracks. I agree with you. But it’s right enough for business purposes.”
“Do you think if I began to re-arrange the furniture I could improve upon it?”
He looked at her with a half-indulgent, amused look.
“Why, no. But if you only knew the number of ladies who have raved about it, it would surprise you. They have considered it an ideal home for their daughters. But I don’t. Now, I must be going.”
“Where?”
“To see the great High Priest.”
“When he awoke last night, how was he?”
“Worse.”
“Was he pleased to see you?”
“He did not see me. He was as blind as usual.”
“Will he get better?”
“No. He is dying.”
“And what are you going to do with him? He--he is not like Patches.”
“No. He will die. It is a merciful dispensation. He has just missed Hell, and fallen far short of Heaven.”
“Had I met you earlier, before I went as a beggar girl, he would never have known me.”
“Yes, he would. That is perhaps one of the advantages of your escapade. You should then have tempted him, but under my protection.”
“Ah! and then he would have fallen. I think it was best that the temptation should have come to me as it did, for I was stronger. When will he die?”
“I expect to-night at midnight, for now there is no reason why he should live. But he may be longer. It depends upon when St Armand and myself have come to terms. It is only mortals who can foretell the future; to others it is the great game, uncertain.”
But before he went away, he took her to the moonlit garden, and showed her the stables with a doorway built in them, no longer cupboard-sized.
“At midnight come through here, and of two roads choose that to the left. Either is right, but on the higher road you’ll meet me sooner. I will come straight to you when I leave the High Priest’s Palace. Good-bye for a little while.”
And so saying, he kissed her and went away. And Alice and she walked through the moonlit gardens silently.