A Son of Perdition: An Occult Romance. Hume Fergus
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with the sublime quietness of an Egyptian statue at his perturbed countenance. As he did not answer, she continued to speak in a deliberate way, which showed that his proposal had not touched her heart in the least. "My mother died when I was born, and I had Dame Trevel in the village yonder as my foster-mother until I was ten years of age. Then my father sent me to a Hampstead boarding school for eleven years. I returned only twelve months ago to live at Tremore" – she nodded towards a long low grey house, which basked on a neighbouring hilltop like a sullen reptile in the sunshine.
"But your father – ?"
"My father," interrupted the girl in a melancholy tone, "has no love for any one but himself. At times I think he hates me for causing the death of my mother by being born."
"Surely not."
"Well, you have seen my father. I leave you to judge."
Hardwick was puzzled how to reply. "He is not a man who shows his feelings, you know," he said delicately.
"I don't think he has any feelings to show," replied Alice indifferently. "I am used to his neglect, and so have schooled myself to be quietly agreeable without expecting any demonstrations of affection."
Hardwick nodded. "I have noticed, when dining at Tremore, that you are more like well-bred acquaintances than father and daughter. Perhaps," he added in a dreamy tone, "that is what first made me fall in love with you."
"I see," said Miss Enistor ironically, "you have come across the line of Shakespeare which says that pity is akin to love."
"I have never read Shakespeare's plays," admitted Mr. Hardwick simply. "I'm not a clever chap, you know. But you looked so forlorn in that dismal house, and seemed so starving for kind words and actions, that I wanted to take you away with me and make you happier. Yes," the artist quite brightened at his own perspicuity, "that is what drew me to you – a desire to give you a really good time."
Alice looked at him gravely, but with a suspicion of a smile on her pale lips. "Do you know, Julian, that I believe you to be a good man." The artist blushed again: he had the trick of blushing on occasions, which showed him to possess still the modesty of boyhood. "Oh, I say," he murmured almost inaudibly; then to cover his confusion added: "You call me Julian."
"Yes," Alice nodded her head in a stately way. "Henceforth let us be the greatest of friends."
"Lovers," he urged, "true honest lovers."
"No, Julian. We would be neither true nor honest as lovers. Our marriage would not be one of those made in heaven."
"Are any marriages made in heaven?" he asked somewhat cynically.
She looked at him in surprise. "Of course. When one soul meets another soul capable of blending with it, that is a heavenly marriage."
"Well then," he cried impetuously, "my soul and your soul?"
Alice shook her head. "We don't strike the same note: we are not in harmony, Julian. As friends we can esteem one another, but as lovers, as man and wife, you would end in boring me as I should finally bore you."
"One would think you were fifty to hear you talk so," said Hardwick crossly.
"Do you reckon knowledge by Time?" she asked, harking back to the phrase he had used earlier in the conversation.
He had no reply ready. "Still it is odd to hear a girl of twenty-one talk as you do, Alice."
"You are speaking of my new suit of clothes. I am as old as the world."
"Oh, that is the queer stuff your father talks. He believes in reincarnation, doesn't he?"
"He does, and so do I."
"I wonder that you can. A sensible girl like you – "
"My dear Julian, you speak without knowledge," she interrupted placidly.
"That can't be knowledge which can't be proved."
"I think you must be a reincarnation of Nicodemus," retorted Miss Enistor.
"That is no answer."
"Now how can I give you an answer, when you have not the capability of grasping the answer, Julian? If a peasant wanted a mathematical problem proved to him, he would have to learn mathematics to understand it."
"Yes, I suppose so. But you mean – "
"I mean that you have to live the life to understand the doctrine. Christ said that two thousand years ago, and it is as true to-day as it was then."
With his slow habit of thinking Hardwick had to revolve this speech in his mind before replying. Alice, with an impish look of mischief on her face, laughed also to prevent his answering. "I am taking you into deep water and you will be drowned," she said lightly, "suppose you begin your picture."
"No," said the man soberly. "I don't feel like painting the picture. I don't believe I ever could," and he looked at the fading glories of sea and land regretfully.
"Next time you are born you will be a genius," said Miss Enistor cheerfully, "as you are building up in this life the brain required by a master-painter. Meantime I wish you to be my friend."
"Well, it is hard to decline from love to friendship, but – "
"No 'buts.' Friendship is love from another point of view."
"Not my point of view."
Alice raised an admonitory finger. "You mustn't be selfish," she said severely.
"Selfish? I? How can I be?"
"By wishing me to give for your gratification what I cannot give for my own. I cannot love you as you desire, because there is not that spiritual link between us which means true love. Therefore to make me happy, if you really love me, you should be prepared to sacrifice yourself to the lower feeling of friendship."
"That is too high for me," murmured Hardwick despondingly, "but I see that you won't have me as your husband."
"Certainly not. I want a man to love me, not to pity me."
"It isn't exactly pity."
"Yes it is," she insisted, "you are sorry for me because I live in a dull house with a neglectful father. It is very nice of you to think so, and it is still nicer to think that you are willing to help me by tying yourself to a woman you do not really love. But I can't accept that sacrifice. You must be my friend, Julian – my true honest friend."
Hardwick glanced into her deep blue eyes, and unintelligent as he was in such subtle matters read his answer therein. "I shall do my best," he said with a deep sigh; "but you must give me time to cool down from passion to friendship. I want you to be my wife, and like all women you offer to be a sister to me."
"Or I will be your cousin if the relation will suit you better," said the girl, laughing outright at his rueful looks.
Julian took offence. "You don't pity me?"
"Not at all, since your feeling is not one of genuine love," was the cool response. "I would if it were."
"One would think you were a hardened woman of the world to hear you speak in this way."
"Perhaps I was a woman of the world in my last incarnation, Julian. I seem to have brought over a great deal of common sense to this life. You are a dear, sweet, placid thing, but although you have seen more of human nature and worldly existence this time than I have, you don't know half so much."
"Alice, you are conceited."
"Ah, that speech shows you are yet heart-whole, Julian. If you were really in love you would never dare to speak so to your divinity."
"Well, I daresay I shall get over it. But it's hard on a fellow."
"Not at all. Hard on your vanity perhaps, but vanity isn't you. Come," Alice sprang to her feet and took up her smart silver-headed cane, "the sun will soon go down and I must get home. We are friends, are we not?" she held out her hand smiling.
"Of course we are." Hardwick bent to kiss her hand and she snatched it away swiftly.
"That isn't friendship."
"Oh, with you friendship means: 'You may look, but you